That turned out to be more difficult than Newt anticipated. After all the anticipation, Credence had become unexpectedly horridly shy. He refused to leave his room. He huddled inside his attic, clinging to one of the rafters as if it were a life line, his black hair nearly completely obscuring his face.
“What if he tells,” he whispered. “I’m a murderer. I did horrible things. Will they come after me and lock me up or … or kill me?”
“Nothing of the sort,” said Newt. “Not Albus Dumbledore! He’s not one to just follow rules blindly. He has compassion for those of us who have fallen. He can help you far more than I can. I trust him, implicitly.”
“But I don’t want him to help me.” Credence met his eye, pleading. “I want to stay with you.”
Newt grabbed Credence’s arm and tugged. “Hush. I’ve explained this. I can’t teach you. I do not teach. And you have to be taught.”
Credence pulled away with surprising force.
That precise moment, the stack of books on the floor by the bed exploded. There was an ear splitting crack and the air was filled with ink dotted confetti. Both of them flinched.
Newt was horrified. Those books belonged to Newt’s rather stodgy uncle in Froghold who agreed to allow Newt to borrow them out of a mild sense of familial duty. There must be a hundred thousand pieces of paper fluttering like snow in a globe about the room. It would be an impossible task to sort it all out. Nor could he afford to replace the books. Saving creatures was hardly a lucrative business in the best of times and Newts trip to America had all but bankrupted him. Uncle Olm might never forgive him.
Credence seemed to realize his mistake and threw himself on the floor, covering his face with his arms as if expecting a blow.
Before Newt could do anything, the fragments in the air seemed to gather in a strong draft and sweep together, sorting themselves out and mending before returning to a neat stack on the end table. Newt looked at Credence and Credence hearing his gasp peeked out between his fingers. Both realized quickly that neither of them were responsible.
“Quite sorry for barging about uninvited,” said Dumbledore mildly from the doorway, “But my time is limited and it seems we do have things to discuss.” He walked over to where Credence cringed on the floor and held out a hand. “Up you get, my young man.”
Newt’s tongue tied again. “He’s — This is —“
“I know who he is. Though I must confess to some surprise that he’s alive. It’s not many who can survive a death attack by a dozen aurers. He must have a very strong will to live.”
Credence just stared, obviously unsure whether he was being complimented or not.
Dumbledore patted his arm lightly. “You needn’t be frightened of me. I won’t tell the Ministry about you.” He turned to Newt. “You’ve been smart not to let him out of the suitcase. It’s not safe for him. Not until we establish a new identity for him and change his appearance somewhat.”
“He has to learn magic.”
“Well of course he does. Soon as possible. You should teach him.”
Re: newt/credence, credence accompanies newt- FILL 8/?
“What if he tells,” he whispered. “I’m a murderer. I did horrible things. Will they come after me and lock me up or … or kill me?”
“Nothing of the sort,” said Newt. “Not Albus Dumbledore! He’s not one to just follow rules blindly. He has compassion for those of us who have fallen. He can help you far more than I can. I trust him, implicitly.”
“But I don’t want him to help me.” Credence met his eye, pleading. “I want to stay with you.”
Newt grabbed Credence’s arm and tugged. “Hush. I’ve explained this. I can’t teach you. I do not teach. And you have to be taught.”
Credence pulled away with surprising force.
That precise moment, the stack of books on the floor by the bed exploded. There was an ear splitting crack and the air was filled with ink dotted confetti. Both of them flinched.
Newt was horrified. Those books belonged to Newt’s rather stodgy uncle in Froghold who agreed to allow Newt to borrow them out of a mild sense of familial duty. There must be a hundred thousand pieces of paper fluttering like snow in a globe about the room. It would be an impossible task to sort it all out. Nor could he afford to replace the books. Saving creatures was hardly a lucrative business in the best of times and Newts trip to America had all but bankrupted him. Uncle Olm might never forgive him.
Credence seemed to realize his mistake and threw himself on the floor, covering his face with his arms as if expecting a blow.
Before Newt could do anything, the fragments in the air seemed to gather in a strong draft and sweep together, sorting themselves out and mending before returning to a neat stack on the end table. Newt looked at Credence and Credence hearing his gasp peeked out between his fingers. Both realized quickly that neither of them were responsible.
“Quite sorry for barging about uninvited,” said Dumbledore mildly from the doorway, “But my time is limited and it seems we do have things to discuss.” He walked over to where Credence cringed on the floor and held out a hand. “Up you get, my young man.”
Newt’s tongue tied again. “He’s — This is —“
“I know who he is. Though I must confess to some surprise that he’s alive. It’s not many who can survive a death attack by a dozen aurers. He must have a very strong will to live.”
Credence just stared, obviously unsure whether he was being complimented or not.
Dumbledore patted his arm lightly. “You needn’t be frightened of me. I won’t tell the Ministry about you.” He turned to Newt. “You’ve been smart not to let him out of the suitcase. It’s not safe for him. Not until we establish a new identity for him and change his appearance somewhat.”
“He has to learn magic.”
“Well of course he does. Soon as possible. You should teach him.”