Newt remembers the various ghosts of Hogwarts. He remembers being barely twelve years old, and distractedly running towards a class, Charms, maybe, and running headlong through Sir Nicholas. Sir Nicholas was a very kind ghost, and if one had a choice of which Hogwarts ghost to run through, Sir Nicholas would be his second choice, and the Bloody Baron would be his last. The Fat Friar, of course, would be the first, being the Hufflepuff ghost. However, no matter which ghost it was, if one runs through them, the outcome is the same: it would feel as though someone has doused you with a freezing cold bucket of water. This is not unlike his new and unexpected experience with Credence just moments before, when a small patch of black cloud had abruptly swept into the open window of his cabin on the ship and latched onto him. Only since Credence is still on him, it feels more like being submerged in an ice cold bath.
He tells Credence this, offhandedly, keeping his tone carefully even and his breathing regular. He doubts Credence could even understand his words at the moment. Past experience with his creatures gives him the insight that the words don't count as much as the way he says them.
It didn't take long for Newt to figure out what the black cloud was, especially since the cloud was projecting feelings. Mainly, coldcoldcold and helpneedhelpneedhelp and needwarmth.
Newt's instincts tell him that Credence is not going to kill him, despite the fact that the Obscurus has a body count in New York. He sees more than feels a black tendril stroke the skin of his collarbone, and sees it retreat after a moment. He experiences the curious sensation of something not quite smoke burrow into his clothes, and settle there like a particularly dark shadow.
--
He finds an empty bit of parchment, and notes that the Obscurus is starting to tolerate longer and longer amounts of skin contact.
He also notes that Credence is not violent towards him, or the Muggles on board the ship, or the the other creatures in his case.
--
He finds himself taking longer and longer to finish his rounds on his case. He feels constantly cold, and no amount of hot water or warming charms or layers of clothes works to warm him up.
He notes this down as well.
--
He flicks his wand to summon some woodlice for Pickett, and nothing happens. Pickett chatters worriedly from his home tree, along with the other bowtruckles. Pickett had voluntarily climbed down from his place of honor in Newt's collar after the third day, unable to take the suffocating atmosphere of darkness that the Obscurus gave off. Newt shuffles over to the woodlice container, then shuffles back to the bowtruckles' home tree. Lifting his feet has never felt so tedious before. He gives them their woodlice, and does his best to reassure Pickett that he is okay. Pickett is not impressed.
He has never shied away from doing manual labor, but he never realized that there was so much to be done without magic to help him. He is exhausted, but he carries on regardless. Dougal is a godsend, especially with the baby occamies. He is a week away from home.
--
He wakes to searing pain, more painful than the several minutes of lightning that he endured from Grindlewald. He opens his eyes to darkness. There is a single thought, and it is not his.
I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU.
He remembers the girl he failed to save in Sudan. If this was the pain she felt when he separated the Obscurus from her, he could understand why she died. She'd been an Obscurus for several years by then, and was very weak.
But...he'll be fine. He's nearly home. He's going to see Theseus as soon as he could, and he'll be fine.
"Credence, calm down. It's alright. I won't die. And I won't let you die either. It's fine."
He continues on this vein for a while, until the pain fades as Credence stops pulling away. He slips back to unconsciousness, and it is time to get off the ship when he wakes up.
--
He downs two Pepper-Ups before he walks into the Ministry of Magic to look for Theseus. This translates into nervous energy, and he squirms uncomfortably under the stares of everyone he encounters on the way to his brother's office.
Theseus takes one look at him and adopts a dueling stance, but keeps his wand pointed away. Newt knows it takes all of Theseus' willpower to do so, and he has missed his brother terribly, but he thinks that under the circumstances, he'll forego the brotherly hug.
He fumbles his explanation when Theseus demands it, but just because Theseus was a Gryffindor doesn't mean he lacked brains. He catches on quick, and Newt smiles at him proudly.
He has the best brother in the world and he's looking forward to introducing him to Credence.
---
Oh god Newt was so hard to write! I'll post this on Ao3 when I get home. And maybe I'll think of a better title by then.
Fill: Obscuri are parasites 2/2
He tells Credence this, offhandedly, keeping his tone carefully even and his breathing regular. He doubts Credence could even understand his words at the moment. Past experience with his creatures gives him the insight that the words don't count as much as the way he says them.
It didn't take long for Newt to figure out what the black cloud was, especially since the cloud was projecting feelings. Mainly, coldcoldcold and helpneedhelpneedhelp and needwarmth.
Newt's instincts tell him that Credence is not going to kill him, despite the fact that the Obscurus has a body count in New York. He sees more than feels a black tendril stroke the skin of his collarbone, and sees it retreat after a moment. He experiences the curious sensation of something not quite smoke burrow into his clothes, and settle there like a particularly dark shadow.
--
He finds an empty bit of parchment, and notes that the Obscurus is starting to tolerate longer and longer amounts of skin contact.
He also notes that Credence is not violent towards him, or the Muggles on board the ship, or the the other creatures in his case.
--
He finds himself taking longer and longer to finish his rounds on his case. He feels constantly cold, and no amount of hot water or warming charms or layers of clothes works to warm him up.
He notes this down as well.
--
He flicks his wand to summon some woodlice for Pickett, and nothing happens. Pickett chatters worriedly from his home tree, along with the other bowtruckles. Pickett had voluntarily climbed down from his place of honor in Newt's collar after the third day, unable to take the suffocating atmosphere of darkness that the Obscurus gave off. Newt shuffles over to the woodlice container, then shuffles back to the bowtruckles' home tree. Lifting his feet has never felt so tedious before. He gives them their woodlice, and does his best to reassure Pickett that he is okay. Pickett is not impressed.
He has never shied away from doing manual labor, but he never realized that there was so much to be done without magic to help him. He is exhausted, but he carries on regardless. Dougal is a godsend, especially with the baby occamies. He is a week away from home.
--
He wakes to searing pain, more painful than the several minutes of lightning that he endured from Grindlewald. He opens his eyes to darkness. There is a single thought, and it is not his.
I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU.
He remembers the girl he failed to save in Sudan. If this was the pain she felt when he separated the Obscurus from her, he could understand why she died. She'd been an Obscurus for several years by then, and was very weak.
But...he'll be fine. He's nearly home. He's going to see Theseus as soon as he could, and he'll be fine.
"Credence, calm down. It's alright. I won't die. And I won't let you die either. It's fine."
He continues on this vein for a while, until the pain fades as Credence stops pulling away. He slips back to unconsciousness, and it is time to get off the ship when he wakes up.
--
He downs two Pepper-Ups before he walks into the Ministry of Magic to look for Theseus. This translates into nervous energy, and he squirms uncomfortably under the stares of everyone he encounters on the way to his brother's office.
Theseus takes one look at him and adopts a dueling stance, but keeps his wand pointed away. Newt knows it takes all of Theseus' willpower to do so, and he has missed his brother terribly, but he thinks that under the circumstances, he'll forego the brotherly hug.
He fumbles his explanation when Theseus demands it, but just because Theseus was a Gryffindor doesn't mean he lacked brains. He catches on quick, and Newt smiles at him proudly.
He has the best brother in the world and he's looking forward to introducing him to Credence.
---
Oh god Newt was so hard to write! I'll post this on Ao3 when I get home. And maybe I'll think of a better title by then.