Prompt Post #1

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 ROUND 1

FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER

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Fill: The Whipping Boy (3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

(Sorry for the slow updates, been busy with holiday stuff)
Newt’s body still ached from the aftereffects of torture the next morning as he blinked awake. He hadn’t planned to sleep, but he had hit a point of exhaustion great enough that his body had just surrendered to the need for rest.

He was still silenced, held by a madman who was torturing him to persuade the young man still asleep on the bed to do whatever he wished. Carefully, he got to his feet, trying the door and finding it locked, his hands jerking away from the handle as it heated to his touch. The windows were solid and locked tight, and he could feel the levels of charms across them. Escape was out of the question then.

Just as he was trying to work out his next plan, the door swung open, and Director Graves was standing there, a stern look on his face.
“You.” He spat, and the noise woke Credence, the young man looking around frantically and then visibly relaxing when he saw the Director.

“Good morning Mister Graves.” Credence greeted politely, but the director didn’t respond other than to flick his wand at Newt, and send a fresh burst of agony running through him. Screaming in silent agony, Newt thrashed on the floor, trying to look to Credence for help. As the pain subsided he relaxed for a moment, even though he was sure more was to come. Graves raised his wand again.

“Stop.” Credence spoke softly from the bed, and both Newt and the Director turned towards him. The boy licked his lips, but didn’t back down, raising his hand.
“You…said that you were hurting him to remind me I was yours.” He stumbled through the words, looking at Newt and then back at the Director. “I know I am. I’m going to work hard for you, I swear it. You don’t need to hurt him. And it does look like it hurts him a lot when you do that.”

“You don’t know, do you boy…” Graves answered, walking closer to Credence and frowning a little. “You couldn’t imagine the pain I am putting him in. We will have to work on that. But like I said, I will not hurt you. You mustn’t answer back to me.”
“I’m sorry sir.” Credence whispered, and Newt closed his eyes as Graves leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Credence’s lips, Credence moaning softly in response. He couldn’t imagine that Tina would be happy with any of this, couldn’t imagine that the director would get away with taking advantage of the young man in the ministry.

“I know you are.” Graves answered, hand skimming down the young man’s side. “Now, we need breakfast. You have been through a lot the last day or two, I need you fully recovered.”
“Yes sir.” Credence stood cautiously, making his way to Graves, and Graves smiled at him.
“You can eat, and then any leftovers, you can come and bring to your pet, does that sound fair?”
“Yes sir.” Credence followed Graves from the room, and the door was locked behind him.

Newt found himself cursing that he had left the case with Tina. But it was safe there. No matter what happened to him, the creatures were safe, and he would try to care for the young man who was just as much a prisoner as he was. He wondered if Credence even knew that he was himself trapped, or if he thought himself the director’s guest.

He spent an hour searching the room, ignoring the aches in his body at the movement, and was rewarded finally by finding a notepad and pen that had been dropped behind the bedside table. He took a few moments to appreciate his finding, contemplating writing a note to Tina. But he couldn’t get it out of the room.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, he replaced the notepad in its hiding place, and curled back up, head resting on the cushion that had been given to him the previous night. Credence entered the room, followed by Graves, who flicked his wand, and Newt felt his wrists get bound behind him.

Credence sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, a plate with a bitten slice of toast on his lap. He squirmed.
“Now boy, I said you could feed him. If you don’t want to, we can forget it.” The director stepped closer, and Credence picked up the toast, tearing off a strip and holding it out to Newt, his hand shaking.

Newt thought of all the creatures he had cared for, how poorly they would have responded to being fed by someone so uncertain. But he understood that this was Credence doing all he could to be brave. Reluctantly, he shuffled forwards on his knees, and opened his mouth. The bread was cold, but it was the first food he had had since the chase across the city, and if he was ever going to get them both out of here, he knew he needed to keep his strength up.

When the meal was finished, Credence carefully wiped Newt’s lips with a handkerchief, then dropped the cloth and followed Graves from the room, the bindings on his hand disappearing once the door was closed. No words had passed between them but Newt looked at the handkerchief, and then thought of the notebook. A page torn from it could be hidden inside. He picked the handkerchief up, and was startled to find a small strip of bacon tucked into it.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Thanks for the update!

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

OP here: THIS IS AMAZING. I love how on the one hand Credence seems terribly naive about Grindelwald, but on the other hand he's (tragically) spent his whole life surviving abusive authority figures, so sort of has coping strategies to fall back on.

And oh Newt. Poor Newt. I suspect things are going to get worse before they get better.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Author: Glad you're enjoying this OP! It is a fantastic prompt so I'm having fun filling it. And Credence is used to abusive authority figures, so he's pretty good at defusing things. Not everything though, as Newt's going to find out

Fill: The Whipping Boy (4/?)

[(Anonymous)]

(Animal cruelty in this chapter)
Grindelwald watched the dear boy feed his pet, smirking at the obvious attention and affection that Credence was showing towards the British wizard. It made sense of course. The boy had been longing for care for his entire life, and he had been offered someone who was entirely reliant on him, who he got to control completely. It was clear that Credence was fond of his pet, that he would be willing to do a lot to keep him safe. Grindelwald planned to make full use of that.

The boy followed close behind Grindelwald as he left the room, sealing the room with a flick of his wand.
“Thank you Mister Graves.” Credence murmured, his gaze down at the floor, and Grindelwald couldn’t help feeling a little grateful to that Muggle woman who had tortured this boy, who had broken him so beautifully. Grindelwald leaned in, hand rising to the necklace the boy wore around his neck.

“You are mine my boy.”
“Yes Mister Graves…” Credence whispered, then gasped as Grindelwald leaned in to suck a mark against his neck, teeth brushing against his pulse. Grindelwald was tempted to indulge, but he knew that today, that wasn’t the right thing. The boy could wait, and it was important that Grindelwald didn’t put his desires before his success. There were other outlets, if it came to it. He stepped away, leaving Credence stood there panting, face flushed.

“You enjoy that my boy.” Grindelwald said firmly. “You don’t need to be ashamed of that. I rather enjoy the noises you make. But today, you need to start learning how to channel your magic.”
“You’ll teach me?” Credence asked, and Grindelwald could see the pure hope in his eyes there. He smiled and he nodded.
“Of course, my dear child. Someone needs to teach you, and I cannot have the others lay their hands on you. You saw how the other wizards turned on you, how they would have killed you had I not brought you back. You will be kept away from the rest of them, until you are able to defend yourself.”

“Thank you Mister Graves.” Credence nodded quickly, and Grindelwald chuckled.
“Here.” He pulled the wand he had taken from the real Graves, handing it to Credence. “This is for you. I have another wand, and as you are mine I would like to see you use my wand.”
“Thank you.” Credence took the wand reverently, holding it in front of him. “What are you going to teach me?”

Grindelwald thought of the healing touches he had given the boy, the way he had soothed him. He wasn’t going to teach him those. He might overindulge that pet of his. No, what would be most useful for him would be to know that Credence’s own obedience would enable obedience from others. An obscurial devoted to him was a valuable weapon to have. The imperius curse would be an early lesson, but perhaps a little ambitious for a first one.

“I want you to set a fire for me.” Grindelwald guided Credence through Graves’ house, and stopped him in front of the fireplace, loaded with logs. “Point your wand, and say Incendio…”
“Incendio.” Credence repeated, and a blaze roared to life, scorching the stone and licking across the mantelpiece. Unattended, it could have brought the house down, and the boy backed away with raised hands. Grindelwald raised his own wand to bring the fire under control, startled to see the raw talent the boy possessed. He had nearly dismissed him as a squib, but it was clear he had far more power than most wizards that he had encountered.

Their day continued, Credence showing incredible ability. He was a quick learner, responding both to instruction and to every touch Grindelwald blessed him with.
“Now boy…” Grindelwald ran his hand down Credence’s shoulder. “I have one more task for you before dinner. If you do it well your pet can join us.”
“Thank you Mister Graves.”

Grindewald allowed himself a momentary touch to the boy’s side, squeezing over his hip before walking away, out to the garden. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, calling forwards a fox.
“Watch.” He instructed, raising his own wand. “Imperius.” A yellow smoke entered the fox, and he smiled, calling to the creature to stand up on its hind legs and dance. Credence laughed softly beside him. Grindelwald flicked his wand and removed the spell. “Your turn my boy.”
“Imperius.” Credence called out, and the same yellow smoke entered the fox.

“Good. Now, make it dance.”
There was a pause, before the fox started to make a few jerky movements.
“Well done.” Grindelwald showed him how to remove the spell.

“There’s one more thing for you to learn today.” Grindelwald instructed, seeing the joy in the boy’s eyes. He turned his attention to the fox once more. “Crucio.” He shouted the word with anger, and the fox howled, tearing at its own skin as blood poured from its nose. After a second, he waved his wand and called the curse away. He turned to Credence.
“Your turn boy.”

For a moment, Credence stayed still, and Grindelwald raised an eyebrow in silent threat. Reluctantly, Credence raised his wand, his voice trembling as he spoke.
“Crucio…” He whispered. The fox seemed unaffected, backing away.
“Say it with anger boy. Imagine it is your mother there.”

“I can’t… I’m sorry Mister Graves.” The boy snivelled, and Grindelwald watched him for a moment.
“Are you sure that is what you want to say boy?”
“I’m sorry.” The boy whispered, wand dropping to his side. “I can’t.”

“Come with me.” Grindelwald ordered, turning back to the house. The boy relaxed, following him obediently. The fox ran away, but Credence made no attempt to leave.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (4/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Newt is going to get hurt, isn't he?
Thank you for this update! It was nice to see how skilled Credence is with magic. Grindelwald is getting impatient if he wants Credence to use Cruciatus curse right of the bat.
I'm looking forward next part!

Fill: The Whipping Boy (5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Following Mister Graves up to his bedroom, Credence’s heart was hammering in his chest. He could feel the monster that he was, the evil inside of him building until it clambered to escape. Then Mister Graves reached for his hand, and that settled. He was a little calmer. He was still holding the wand that Mister Graves had gifted to him.

Mister Scamander was sat on the bed, although he stood as the door opened. Mister Graves turned to Credence, smiling at him fondly, but there was still anger in the back of his eyes, a threat.
“You said you wanted me to teach you.”
“I do.” Credence whispered. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been learning well. I’m going to try harder tomorrow, I promise.”

Mister Graves’ fingers stroked through his hair and he relaxed a little, tilting his head into the contact.
“I know you are trying. But you disobeyed. And you know why Mister Scamander is here, don’t you”

Reluctantly, Credence nodded.
“You said if I did things I shouldn’t, you would hurt him, remind me that I was yours.”
“So you did listen.” Mister Graves said slowly. “It wasn’t ignorance that made you disobey then. It was just weakness.”

“Yes sir. I am sorry Mister Graves.” Credence answered, bowing his head, and glancing over at Newt, trying to silently mouth an apology. What would happen now would be his own fault.
“Away from the bed Scamander. Credence has to sleep there. Let’s not make it messy.” The man stepped away, and let out an audible gasp as Mister Graves wordlessly removed the silencing spell. The Brit opened his mouth and began to talk.
“Credence whatever he’s telli-“

”Flagrate” Mister Graves spat, and a fiery line cut across Mister Scamander’s chest. He howled in pain, twisting so that his back was to Mister Graves, and Credence watched in horror as Mister Scamander was lashed, blood soaking through his shirt. He fell to his knees, whimpering and convulsing in agony.

“Stop.” Credence pleaded, then thought better of it, knowing he shouldn’t argue, shouldn’t answer back. “Please. Tell me what you want me to do.” He would do anything that Mister Graves asked of him if it would spare Mister Scamander more pain.
“Use that spell. The one you refused to use on a fox. Use it on him, and we can go to dinner. I’ll even let you clean him after we’ve eaten.”
“I…” Credence opened his mouth to protest, then flinched as another cut slashed Mister Scamander’s shoulders.

He raised his hand, his wand shaking in his fingers.
“Crucio.” He whispered, and Mister Scamander did not respond. Mister Graves slashed Scamander again.
“Say it like you mean it.” Mister Graves ordered, and now he was standing behind Credence, one hand on his arm. Credence focused on the fear he was feeling, the pain and anger that had created the monster Mister Graves had searched for for so long. He thought of his mother’s expression as she told him he had sinned.
“Crucio!” He cried out.

The noise Mister Scamander made was one that would haunt Credence’s nightmares for the rest of his life. But as the wand fell from his fingers, Mister Graves smiled.
“Now, my boy.” Graves asked softly. “What do you know about unforgivable sins?”

“Matthew, 12:31.” Credence began, repeating it like his mother had wanted him to. She had always been fond of teaching him to avoid sins of all kinds. “Anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age, or in the age to come…” As he spoke those words, he realised that was exactly what he had done. That he had betrayed the holy spirit by learning witchcraft. He flinched, realising how much sin he had committed, how wrong he was. But he had to keep going, to please Mister Graves and to keep Mister Scamander safe. He wasn’t allowed to stop now.

“Well done boy.” Mister Graves chuckled. “Well, there are unforgivable sins in witchcraft as well. And you have just committed one for me, dear boy…” He leaned in, to gently press a kiss to Credence’s lips. Credence opened his mouth slightly for him, shuddering as he felt Mister Graves’ tongue brush over his own. Mister Graves had saved him, had taken care of him for a long time. There was a faint groan in the background, and Credence flinched and licked his lips, tasting Mister Graves on them.
“Will you… will you please heal Mister Scamander for me?”

Mister Graves paused for a moment, then leaned down and whispered something to Mister Scamander. Credence saw the cuts fading slightly, the blood slowing from a wave to a trickle. Then Mister Graves attention was on him once more, and he bowed his head.
“Thank you Mister Graves.”
“Anything for you dear boy. Now come, we must eat, and then we can discuss what will happen tomorrow.”

Credence trailed behind him, glancing back over his shoulder and feeling sick when he saw Mister Scamander was weeping.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

OP: Oh noooooo. By which of course I mean yessss, this is so perfect. Credence struggling with so many conflicting needs and feelings - not wanting to cause pain, but not daring to disobey Grindelwald, but also on some level wanting to please Grindelwald for saving him. Poor Credence.

And poor Newt, oh my god. Grindelwald un-silencing him just so Credence can hear him scream? This is all the best kinds of awful.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Two unforgivable curses in one day? Poor Newt, poor Credence. The chains grow ever tighter.

Fill: The Whipping Boy (6/?)

[(Anonymous)]

(Hoping I've managed to put this in the right place. Some extremely dubious consent in this chapter but if you've got so far you can probably tell it's going to be dark)

Newt curled up on himself, shuddering as he felt the healing magic take away the worst of the pain, trying to concentrate. He didn’t dare try speaking again, not whilst the Director was in the room. He couldn’t see the man Theseus had spoken highly of in this monster. Newt might have been unsure about human relationships, but you didn’t need to be skilled to see that Credence was bargaining himself for Newt’s wellbeing, and that sickened him. As the other two walked away, he was unable to hide his sobs until Director Graves took his voice with a wave of his wand. He wondered how long this would continue, being given his voice only so that he was allowed to scream.

He ached, and he tried to stand but the pain was too much. The aftermath of the crucio dug into his bones, shooting spasms of agony through him and he crawled to where he had hidden the notebook. He took the pen with trembling hands, trying to decide what to say. He wrote for a living, but most messages weren’t as hard as this to phrase. He needed to write quickly, but he had to get the message right.

The boy had used the cruciatus curse on him. An unforgivable curse. Director Graves was intentionally isolating the boy from wizarding society, ensuring he couldn’t be accepted. He was taking advantage of a vulnerable young man, and teaching him magic. Credence was new to this world, so even what Newt had witnessed proved he was naturally talented and the director was corrupting the ability. Newt racked his brain to work out what it was that Director Graves was trying to do with him.

Somewhere there would be a clue. Newt tried to focus past the agony in his body. To remember exactly the order of events. Credence had been using the director’s wand. That stuck out. That the director would hand his wand over to Credence, would arm him while using another wand. That wasn’t right. He had never met any wizard willing to hand over their wand to another aside from in an emergency, and Americans were more strict than the British about such things.

He turned to the notebook, writing a few words. The things he knew to be true.
“Credence. He’s lying to you. You need to get out.” He hid the notebook once more, then the pen, and finally tucked the note into the bedsheets, careful not to brush blood against them. Exhausted, he lay on the floor. He needed to build up his strength, but he didn’t know how.

He was drifting asleep when he heard noises from the next room, the sound of moaning and rocking. It reminded him for a moment of being back in the Hogwards dormitory, horribly aware of the boy in the bed above masturbating and his mattress. Then he heard a second voice cry out. He tried to distance himself. It didn’t sound like pain. He closed his eyes, sickness building inside of him. It didn’t sound like pain.

Silence fell, and Newt woke as the door to his bedroom opened, and Credence gingerly walked in, carrying a tray. He crouched down beside Newt, stroking his hair from his eyes.
“I’m sorry you were hurt.” He murmured, and then began to dab at Newt’s visible injuries with a damp cloth. Newt realised that this kind of care wasn’t new to Credence. “May I remove your shirt?”

Newt nodded. Credence cleaned each cut across his back with tenderness.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring you any food right now, but I can tomorrow as long as I apply myself to my studies.”
Newt wanted to tell Credence he didn’t have to, but there were no words for him to use. The door creaked, and both of them looked towards the source of the sound. They were confronted by Graves leaning against the doorframe wearing a black dressing gown with white detail. The fabric looked like silk.
“Credence?”
“Yes Mister Graves?”
“You should sleep. And I brought some sweets.” He held out a few candies, and Newt watched as Credence took them and mumbled thanks. Graves walked away after another kiss, and Credence brought the food back to Newt.
“Here.” He held one out, and Newt opened his mouth, eating the sweet. It tasted good and Credence’s touches to his hair were gentle.

“I’d best…” Credence glanced over towards the bed. Newt nodded, and saw Credence climb in. He relaxed a little as Credence found the note, gazing at it for a moment before he crumpled it in his hand.
“I know Newt.” Credence whispered, and his voice sounded broken. “I know.”

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (6/?)

[(Anonymous)]

This story hurts in all the right places. Newt already knows something is very wrong with Graves, Credence knows it too, but he cannot disobey or Newt will get hurt, right? And Grindel!Graves laid his hands on Credence. Keep him away from Newt, please I almost repeated after Newt "it doesn't sound like pain". Poor boys. I can't imagine what else Gellert has in stock for them; I like how dark this story is becoming because I like dark stories, but at the same time I want them all to be happy ;u;

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (6/?)

[(Anonymous)]

It is sickening how GrindelGraves is not just forcing Credence to do his bidding, but also touching him. Argh!

Fill: The Whipping Boy (7/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Grindelwald slept well that night. His plan was falling into place, and by his side he had a beautiful young wizard of immense power who crumbled at his touch. Last night he had taken pleasure from the boy’s mouth, then praised him softly and stroked his hair until he had climaxed. A wave of his wand had been enough to clean his shoes, and he had let the boy return to his own bedroom. He’d even given the boy a few sweets as a treat, and he had liked those. Every evening, he would leave him with something to be grateful for, earn Credence’s trust and keep him in debt that way.

Yesterday had been a success. Credence was more powerful than he could have imagined, and responded remarkably well to both kindness and pain. Thinking back, it seemed Credence’s response to flagrate had been stronger than his response to crucio, probably because the wounds were more familiar to him. That was good, it would prolong Scamander’s life expectancy. Grindelwald could always strike Scamander with a belt if Credence was getting too difficult. The muggle woman had had a stroke of genius by making the boy wear the belt she used to beat him, a constant threat and reminder. He pondered for a moment whether Credence would react more to Newt wearing a belt or Credence doing so. It was something that he could experiment with later if the boy became a problem, but for now it was clear that Credence wanted to please him. As long as Credence kept being so cooperative, he wouldn’t hurt Scamander too much. Just enough to remind Credence where the power lay and who was in control.

He dressed, checking that his appearance was still in place, and then went to check on his boys. Scamander was lying on the floor. As he opened the door Scamander’s eyes flickered open and he glared up at him. Voiceless and wandless, looking angry was about all Scamander could do.

Credence was sprawled on the bed, the blanket draped across his hips, still dressed in the clothes that he had been given by the muggle woman. Impatient, Grindelwald waved his wand over the boy, changing the clothes to dark robes. Once he was satisfied with Credence’s dress, he cleared his throat.

The boy looked up immediately and then ducked his head, a faint blush on his cheek. Grindelwald extended a hand towards him and the boy took it with a whisper of thanks, standing from the bed.
“Robes?” He queried.
“You needed something clean. Something that suited a young wizard. You don’t object do you?” There was a hint of warning in that question, and Credence shook his head quickly.
“No Mister Graves. I was just… surprised, a little.”

Grindelwald kissed him softly, glancing at Scamander to see him fuming with silent fury.
“We have a busy day today. You have much to learn. It angers me, how much that muggle deprived you of. We are going to practice yesterday’s spells, and then I have some people I need to meet. Will you come with me? I would very much like them to meet you.”

“Yes Mister Graves. They won’t mind that I…” Credence’s voice trailed off, and Grindelwald shook his head.
“They are going to be fascinated by you my dear boy. Your actions in the church were justified and they will know that. And if they did pose a threat, I would defend you and they would fall.”
Credence nodded, soothed by those gentle words.

Grindelwald led him to breakfast and then continued the boy’s lessons. Credence was learning well, and seemed to be memorising each of the spells. Grindelwald worked hard on teaching him destruction, spells to burn and hex and tear. That way, he would not be able to help Scamander other than by his obedience.

Lunch was a warm soup which the boy fell upon, clearly famished by his exertions. It was filling and could not be stolen from the table like yesterday’s bacon. When he had finished eating, Grindelwald held out a piece of bread.
“You can give that to your toy.”
“Thank you Mister Graves.” Credence walked away, carrying the food carefully. Grindelwald waited patiently, sending ahead a message to his followers, explaining he would be bringing his new companion and that they were not to touch the boy.

Credence returned after a few minutes, eyes looking a little damp, but he smiled brightly at Grindelwald and walked to his side, leaned into his kiss.
“You enjoyed last night?” Grindelwald asked, curious as to how the boy would reply after all his mother had told him. Credence nodded quickly.
“Yes thank you Mister Graves.” His voice sounded a little shaky, so Grindelwald gently brushed his hair from his eyes.
“If you aren’t willing Credence, you can tell me. I would never lay a hand on you without your consent, and anyway Mister Scamander is-“
“No.” Credence gasped, then looked down and shook his head. “I enjoyed it a great deal.”
“Good boy.” Grindelwald praised, wrapping an arm around him for a side-along apparition, taking him to where his followers were waiting.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (7/?)

[(Anonymous)]

I like Grindelwald/Newt too much tbh because I wouldn't mind Gellert going to him *coughs* I think it was Credence's way to protect Newt? I hope someone will help those two soon.
I can't even imagine what awful things are waiting for Credence during that meeting. Killing no-majs for fun?
Thank you for this update; it was as amazing as always.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (7/?)

[(Anonymous)]

That is not consent! Grindelwald you sod! Oh dear, oh dear, Credence! Just mentioning Newt is enough to secure his cooperation. Poor boy. Will Newt pick up the clue Grindelwald unknowingly/uncaringly dropped? The American wizarding community don't wear robes, darling.

Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

(This chapter goes to some very dark places. The good news is I think the whole thing will be 15 chapters, so we're getting there)

Credence cowered, feeling sick as the air swirled and ground raced beneath them. He closed his eyes, wondering when he would have to learn that particular piece of magic. He hated doing it. But he thought of Newt, and maybe learning wouldn’t be so bad if it meant that they could get away. Mister Graves had shown him wonderful things before, how to heal and transform, but all Credence had learned was how to destroy and hurt. He didn’t understand why, what it was that Mister Graves wanted from him. He focused on his breathing, the way he had when waiting for one of Mother’s beatings. As he slowly calmed, he looked up to see where he was, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

They were in a forest clearing, and they weren’t alone. There were eleven or twelve different people standing around the forest, but Credence couldn’t seem to get an exact fix on their number, and their faces seemed to change from one moment and the next. It had to be magic. In the middle, there was a pile of wood, which seemed strangely familiar. Meeting in a forest, away from prying eyes, and he remembered his mother’s stories of satanic sacrifice, of children torn to shreds and blood ritual. Mister Graves had promised once that magic wasn’t like that, but now it seemed like just another lie.

If Credence had any chance of being forgiven by God, he would have fallen to his knees right there and begged for mercy, but he knew that God was dead to him now. The only God he had was Mister Graves, and he was no longer merciful.

Mister Graves strode forwards, leaving Credence behind, and turned to the assembled crowd.
“I thank all of you for your patience. We have spent too long in the shadows, but it will not continue for much longer now. Soon the muggles will bow before us.” Credence let the words flow over him, remembering kneeling during his Mother’s sermons. He lost track of what was being said until Mister Graves turned to him more impatiently.
“Step forwards Credence.”

He walked towards him, feeling like a criminal headed to the gallows. He could feel the eyes of everyone upon him, and once he was under Mister Graves’s arm he felt a little more relaxed. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking slow breaths, and then looking up towards him.
“This boy,” Mister Graves began to tell the assembled crowd. “Is the obscurial I have told you of. He is more than twice the age of any other, and he is only just beginning to come into his power. And yet he is already truly remarkable. Credence?” Mister Graves shifted his attention to him, and Credence squirmed a little beneath his gaze.

“I would like you to set a fire.” He pointed at the wood. “As I showed you earlier, using the wand I gave to you.”

Credence’s throat felt dry, but he raised his hand. At least this was a simple enough spell.
“Incendio!”. Flames flickered up the wood, bursting forth and soon the whole pile was ablaze.
“You see his talent.” Mister Graves chuckled. “Now that we have the fire ready, where is the auror…”

Two of the figures pushed forwards a blond man that Credence had never seen before. Mister Graves squeezed Credence’s hand.
“This is one of the men who tried to murder you my boy.” He told Credence, but the words didn’t feel like a comfort. Credence found himself wishing the man had succeeded.

He watched in silent horror as Mister Graves began to ask questions of the man, striking him with spells when he did not respond. Soon his face was bloody, but the man fought not to answer. Credence tried to look away, but he couldn’t block out the sounds of bones breaking, or the noise of other people laughing. He didn’t understand how this could be justified.

He risked a glance only when the figure fell silent, and Mister Graves shot out one last spell.
“Petrificus Totalis Hornbeam, Walls, make sure he is still breathing.” Credence relaxed a little, praying the torture was over. The man before him was mangled beyond recognition.

“Now, boy, you understand that no one without magic is allowed to know of what we can do.” Mister Graves asked, and Credence nodded slowly. Mister Graves nodded in response, looking at one of the other figures, who brought forwards a young woman. “This muggle here saw what you could become. I want you to show me what I taught you.”
“Crucio?” Credence whispered, silently wishing it wasn’t that. Mister Graves nodded, and Credence hesitated for a moment.

“I could fetch Mister Scamander instead.” Mister Graves told him, and Credence raised his wand. It was wrong to do this. He didn’t understand what Mister Graves wanted, but if he allowed him to keep using Mister Scamander against him, Credence would be drawn to all kinds of sin. An image of last night ran through his mind, horribly inappropriate in his current predicament. His mother was right, he was a wicked sinful boy, to have preferred being between Mister Graves’ legs to being in the church. But Mister Graves could be kind. He just wasn’t being now. Credence knew that the threat wasn’t empty, and he turned to the woman.
“Crucio.” This time he didn’t think of his mother, or of Mister Graves. He thought of Newt, how sad he had looked as he had eaten the bread, how he had held Credence’s hand for a long moment and made him feel safe. Mister Scamander couldn’t come here. Couldn’t suffer because of Credence’s wickedness. He focused on that as the woman screamed, before dropping the spell.

“Good. Now, I want you to learn how to petrify someone. It can help you if someone tries to attack you. It doesn’t kill them, just stops them moving.”
“Yes sir.” Credence murmured, painfully aware of the eyes of the assembled masses upon them. But Mister Graves was back to being a gentle teacher, and explained the spell slowly, patiently. It was an easy spell, and at least this didn’t harm the woman.
“Petrificus totalis.”

Graves raised his hands, and both bodies floated towards the flames that Credence had lit.

The fire looked like the one on the leaflets that Mother had printed, telling of witches being burned at the stake. Realising that, Credence retched, sickness and terror lodging deeply inside of him. Mister Graves rested his hand on Credence’s shoulder, pushing him to kneel, and continued to talk as Credence sobbed at his hip. Mister Graves’ fingers stroked slowly through Credence’s hair, and Credence tried to focus on that and nothing else.

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

I am sounding so repetitive at this point haha. Poor Credence, he is already aware that he has no real say in their situation but still tries so desperately to protect Newt.

I pity Grindelwald a little at this point, though. He hates muggles and wants wizard kind to be free from their oppression. In a very particular light, this could be viewed as a heroic mission. Yet by choosing to burn his enemies at the stake just like in the witch trials, he proves himself not to be, as he probably thinks, striking back with a strong message to muggles, but to have sunk just as low as the muggles he hates.

Thanks for the update!

Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

OP AGAIN. I HADN'T CHECKED FOR UPDATES OVER THE WEEKEND AND NOW IT'S LIKE CHRISTMAS ALL OVER AGAIN.

THE BESTWORST KIND OF CHRISTMAS WHERE EVERY CHAPTER ENDS ON ONE HELL OF A GUT PUNCH.

“I know Newt.” Credence whispered, and his voice sounded broken. “I know.”

I JUST. BOYSSSS. POOR TRAPPED BOYS. AND THEN GRAVES THREATENING TO RAPE NEWT IF CREDENCE DOESN'T "CONSENT" ASD;FLKJA

Although it looks like Credence is starting to realise that if you give in to coercion once, there'll be no end to it. That Graves will just keep pushing. Which makes me wonder what (if anything) the final straw will be. People being burned alive in front of him is certainly getting waaaaay up there on the dark and awful scale.

Thank you yet again for this wonderful fill, I can't wait to read more!

Fill: The Whipping Boy (9/15)

[(Anonymous)]

Newt made himself walk around the room. It was better to keep moving than lay curled up and wait for Credence to return. As he walked, he took stock of what he knew. He was trapped in a room, seen only by Credence and Director Graves, the traitor that had once been Theseus’s best friend. He was silenced aside from when the Director wanted him to scream. He was wandless, the room was warded, and he was being kept weak so that he couldn’t escape. So far, nothing of much use.

He was being held prisoner by a madman. He frowned, thinking of his options such as they were, and coming up a blank. He thought about what had happened this morning. Credence had been taken away by that monster for further lessons, and he was wearing robes.

That had been buzzing around his mind all day. Something disorientating about it. Robes. He remembered reading one of the letters his brother had received from this monster, which had laughed at the European tradition of robes. He’d said suits were better, that robes would stand out to the No-Majs. After a moment he realised something else. Director Graves had clearly said Muggle. Americans didn’t use that word, especially not one from as established a family as Graves. It was a word used by the English, by Europeans, not by those who lived here.

This man wasn’t Graves.

That one solid fact changed everything and nothing all at once. He could do nothing before Credence returned, and even then he was unsure what he would do. Try and get that information over to Credence perhaps. He was focused on that, until he heard the door to the apartment open.

He sat back down on the floor, curled up. He tried to look pathetic, tried to look as though he had been sat there all day, despairing his fate. He wondered what he would hear next, whether it would be those sounds from the previous night, or something worse.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Newt could see the bottom of a robe. He lifted his head carefully, and saw Credence standing there, face streaked with tears, eyes red from crying. He was pale, head ducked as though he could somehow shrink into himself. Credence stepped in, and the man pretending to be Graves was behind him.
“You just rest my special boy. You’ve done well enough today. I will bring you dinner later.” The man who wasn’t Graves kissed Credence once on the forehead, and then once on the lips, then walked away, closing the door behind him.

Newt got to his feet and approached Credence, wishing he could speak, wishing he could comfort him. As it was, he held his arm out towards him, guided Credence into his arms. Gently, he rocked Credence in his arms, and Credence curled into him. His body was trembling, and Newt wondered what tortures the man pretending to be Graves had inflicted on him that day.

He looked at the younger man, feeling the same emotion to him as he had when he rescued an injured creature. Credence was frightened, and in need of calming. He stroked his hand along the length of Credence’s spine. He wished he could say something, anything, to take that pain away.

Credence was exhausted, broken. He was barely staying standing. Newt guided him over to the bed, showing him how to lay down. Newt looked down at him, seeing how his body was shaking. Credence was terrified and lost, and Newt hated seeing him look so hurt. Humans needed touch, didn’t they? Kind, non-painful touch.

He climbed into bed beside Credence, and stroked his dark hair. Credence clung to him, and Newt held him tight, wishing he could get him out of there.

He paused, then wrapped an arm around Credence’s side, taking Credence’s hand with his own, and carefully started to spell out a word.
‘C R E D E N C E”
“Newt.” Credence responded after a moment, sniffling a little. “I can read. I can… We can talk. If you do this.”

Newt shivered. This was the first thing that had gone in their favour. A way to talk despite the silence that had been enforced upon him. There were so many things he wanted to say to him.
“WE WILL SURVIVE.” Newt spelt out firmly, even though he didn’t believe his words. Credence crumpled into his arms, and Newt held him tight until the door opened.

The man masquerading as the director frowned.
“You silly boy.”
Credence sprung from the bed as though he had been struck, what little colour there was in his face draining away.
“No pets on the furniture-“ The pretender raised his wand, pushing Credence out of the way and then lashing out with his wand. Newt was thrown from the bed and slammed into the wall behind, whimpering silently at the pain in his head.

Credence was taken from the room and Newt was left with his thoughts and the bruises forming across his back from where he had hit the wall. He made his way to the side of the bed furthest from the door, hiding out of sight while he tried to get his breath back under control.

He was woken from sleep when he heard two sets of footsteps approach. Credence lay down on the bed, and then after a few moments the bed sunk down further. Newt realised what was happening a few moments before it began, the sound of the bedsprings squeaking and breath coming in short pants. Newt looked up to see that Credence’s hand had fallen over the edge of the bed.

Newt reached for it, and felt Credence’s fingers clutch at his own, an anchor point. There was a groan, and Credence clung tighter, shivering a little. Newt held his hand in return.

That night the man who wasn’t Graves didn’t leave. He stayed in bed with Credence once the act was over, and Newt lay on the floor, holding Credence’s hand. He didn’t sleep. He was staying with Credence tonight, doing what he could to keep him safe. It wasn’t enough.

Fill: The Whipping Boy (10/15)

[(Anonymous)]

Grindelwald wasn't an idiot, whatever his boys seemed to think. He knew fully well that Credence had clung to Scamander's hand, that it soothed him to be able to reach Newt. That was part of the reason he had chosen to bed Credence for the first time in the bedroom he had given the boy. It was a clearer claim than his own room. Everything Credence had, he had at Grindelwald's whim.

It wasn't pleasant, causing distress to a young man who had known so much pain and focused it into a fury few could dream of. But it was necessary. Credence was already obeying without question. He had let Grindelwald have him last night with no more request than a glance at Scamander's sleeping form. He wanted to be the first to have seen Credence like that, know that Credence would never forget his place, and show the Scamander boy the same. But now it was done, if the two of them wanted to find solace against the cruelty of their captivity, Grindelwald wouldn't object.

He wanted Credence loyal to both Scamander and him, eventually willing to serve as Grindelwald's attack dog. His general, wielding more power than any other. But Credence was a long way from that day yet. Credence needed touch, and if Scamander provided it, it didn't bother him. If anything, by strengthening their bond it made his plans easier. He felt Credence start to stir at his side, and guided Credence's hand away from the edge of the bed to where his cock waited. Credence gasped a little but didn't flinch away.
"Just your hand this morning. I want to kiss you."

Credence nodded, stroking him slowly. The boy was a cautious kisser, seeming to test every movement, afraid of being second guessed, and it infuriated Grindelwald that someone with so much potential should be so careful. At least with his hand, there was a hint of a little experience. Grindelwald moaned, kissing him deeper, before running his hand down to Credence's hip. He could feel the boy was hard, guided him to rut against his thigh. He kissed moans from him, before his own climax swept through him. He cleaned them both with a wave of his hand.
"You're good at that."
Credence averted his eyes, but stayed silent.

"You are learning so well Credence. My special, wonderful boy." Grindelwald began, able to tell that he was losing the younger man a little. Losing his confidence was a potential disaster. Credence had looked at him the day before as though he were a god. That had to remain.

"Are we studying more today?"
"A little." Grindelwald smiled. "I thought I would teach you Bombarda to cause explosions, and Relashio" The latter spell he aimed at Scamander, who screamed as he was hit by fiery sparks. Credence jerked toward the sound, but Grindelwald held him firmly. "It's a good way to ensure people loosen their grip. First though my boy, we need breakfast."

Credence walked out ahead of him, pulling yesterday's robes over his shoulders in an attempt to preserve his modesty. Grindelwald cooked for him, not vocalising the spells. He didn't want Credence to pick up anything useful. Presumed dead, with only dark magic and no method of gaining food or even water, Credence had to rely on him. Grindelwald lingered in the doorway for a moment.
"I'll be coming to collect you soon Scamander." He informed him, before binding his arms and legs with rope from his wand.

Credence ate hungrily, thanking 'Mister Graves' for the food between each mouthful. Grindelwald had considered telling the boy his own identity, but thought this was too early. He wouldn't tell him until Scamander was gone and he was all the boy had.

"Lesson time." Grindelwald said, leading Credence back to the bedroom. Credence followed, looking confused until Grindelwald grabbed Newt's bound form and apparated to the field they had been using for training. "You have been learning so well Credence. You have so much potential. And you have done so much. But I know you can do more. I want to see the obscurus."

"I don't..." Credence swallowed. "I've never done it deliberately Mister Graves."
"Well then, you'll have to learn, won't you?" Grindelwald asked, keeping his voice deceptively quiet.

"I don't know-" The boy continued whining, but froze as Grindelwald waved his wand, pointing it at Newt and lifting the silencing spell.
"Flagrate!" He spat before Newt could speak, and fire lashed Newt's body, cutting deep into his skin. Newt tried to stay quiet, but on the second blow he howled and tried to move away despite his bindings.

"I don't...Please..." Credence begged as Graves struck out again and again, occassionally throwing hexes that bruised Scamander's body. But the best response had been to Flagrate so that was what he focused on.

"Please..." Credence was begging, but Grindelwald could hear the change in tone inside of it as it shifted from fear to anger. He struck Newt again, aiming to hurt, and fresh blood burst from his skin. Newt was curled up in a ball as best as he could manage, trying to present a smaller target, but it did little to protect him.

"This is your choice Credence." He said firmly, even as he continued the lashing.

He felt it before he saw it. The air thrummed as Credence gave way to a writhing angry mass, which formed over Newt and hovered above him.
"You did well." Grindelwald praised him. "Now, calm down, let me see you..." There was a pause before Credence resolidified.

"Now." Grindelwald paused. "I want you to do that three more times. If you need more of an incentive, I can strike him again."

The emotions playing over Credence's face were almost sweet, but eventually he nodded and slipped again into the other form. Each time he tried, he got a little quicker. Soon he would have mastered this creature, and Grindelwald had already mastered him.

"Very good." Grindelwald smiled. "Now, what would you like as a reward?" He wasn't sure what Credence would ask for. More food perhaps, or silk sheets a book. Whatever it was, within reason, Grindelwald was willing to give it to him.

"Please Mister Graves..." Credence began, then hesitated from fear before he spoke once more. "May I take Mister Scamander to the bathroom and wash him. And... and have some clean bandages."
"As you wish." Grindelwald kissed Credence softly. "Now, lets get you home."

Fill: The Whipping Boy (11/15)

[(Anonymous)]

Credence curled into Mister Graves’s side as the man grabbed Mister Scamander and apparated them all back to the house. Mister Graves pressed a kiss to Credence’s forehead, and then kissed him softly.
“I’ll give you an hour, then we need to get back onto lessons.”

“Thank you Mister Graves.” Credence smiled softly, glancing at Mister Scamander. “I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll float the bandages in to you.” Mister Graves promised, and Credence moved forwards to support Mister Scamander’s weight. Carefully he walked him to the bathroom, wishing he had the strength to carry him. Mister Scamander was leaving a trail of blood on the floor.

“I’m sorry.” Credence whispered, seeing how Mister Scamander was biting his lip so hard that blood was trickling down his chin. He was limping and Credence felt guilt. This was all his fault. His Mother had been right. He was a wicked boy. He deserved everything that was happening but Mister Scamander didn’t. He led him to the bathroom, shaking a little. “I’m so sorry.” The door closed behind them and he sat Mister Scamander down on the edge of the bath as he started to run the water, testing with his hand to ensure that it was a suitable temperature.
“It’s alright.” Mister Scamander whispered. “It’s not your fault.” Credence stared at Newt in shock, thinking it through. Mister Graves hadn’t silenced him.

“I’m sorry Mister Scamander. I don’t know how to heal you.” Credence admitted. “I’m sorry. Anyway, Mister Graves has my wand. But … I want to help.”
“It’s okay. Anyway, you can call me Newt.”
“I’m sorry about last night.” Credence whispered, and then he jumped slightly as Newt leaned forwards and wrapped both arms around Credence.

“It’s not your fault.” Newt said, and he spoke with such firmness that Credence couldn’t help believing him.
“You should wash.” Credence murmured, not sure what to say in response. “I won’t look.”

Newt undressed, clambering into the bath. The water turned pink from his blood, and Newt curled up in it, taking slow breaths.
“We need to get out.” Newt said, and his voice was so soft that Credence didn’t feel scared.
“I don’t know how.” Credence whispered. “Can’t you do magic?”
“Not without my wand.” Newt whispered. “Not this hurt.”

The door to the bathroom opened, and Mister Graves walked in, smirking and casting Silencio.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s an obstacle to what we are doing.”
“Yes Mister Graves.” Credence mumbled, dipping a flannel into the water and starting to wipe at Newt’s back, avoiding the injuries. Mister Graves handed him some bandages, and Credence smiled at him, murmuring thanks until Mister Graves left.

“Sorry.” He mumbled to Newt. “I don’t know how to heal you…”
Newt frowned a little, and Credence paused then held out his hand for Newt to write on.
“WHAT SPELLS?”

Credence sighed softly.
“I … I know Fl.. flagrate, confringo, diffindo…in…incendio…” He shivered, remembering the people burning, the smell in the air. “Crucio, im… imperius…” He was shaking. Every spell he listed was to destroy, to burn and explode and cause pain. “I used to think magic was something beautiful…” He swallowed.

Newt squeezed his hand gently.
“IT CAN BE.” Newt frowned a little, and Credence carefully washed him and handed him a towel. Newt clambered out from the bath, wrapping the towel around his hips as Credence carefully dabbed him with the towel, cleaning him as best as he could.
“LET ME TEACH YOU.”

Credence stared at Newt, nervous, eyes wide in fear. But Newt had been kind, and he had got Newt hurt. He owed this to him. He nodded nervously. He watched as Newt mouthed a word, waving his hand, imitating a spell.
“LUMOS.” Newt wrote out on his hand, mouthing it and repeating the movement. “THEN NOX.” He demonstrated again.

Credence tried to copy the gesture.
“Lumos…” He mumbled, and Newt gave him an encouraging smile and patted him on the arm. “Nox?” Another nod. Credence smiled in return. “What’s it do?”
“LIGHT.” Newt explained, and Credence picked up the bandages, wrapping them carefully around Newt’s chest over the worst of the injuries, careful not to put too much pressure on them – he had learned how to do this from Chastity, and he could help with this. Newt pulled on his clothes once he was bandaged.

Credence stroked his fingers through Newt’s hair tenderly.
“I’m going to try and keep you safe. I’ll ask for more food.”
Newt smiled softly at him, then jumped as the door swung open. Credence cringed slightly at Mister Graves walking in.
“Hour’s up boys. Time for him to go back to his room.”
Newt stumbled away, and Credence walked over to Graves, following him as he sealed Newt back in their bedroom. Mister Graves handed over his wand.

They went back to the training ground. Bombardia went well. Credence aimed it at a small tree and it exploded, splintering into the air with so much force that Mister Graves had to throw up a shield to keep them both safe. Mister Graves laughed and patted his back. “Good. Now, watch.” He started to teach Credence Relashio.

Credence watched, wand down by his side. Carefully, he flicked his wrist in the movement Scamander had shown him.
“Lumos” He whispered. The end of the wand lit up brightly, reflecting off the ground. “Nox.” He mumbled, and the light disappeared.

Mister Graves smiled.
“Your turn now Credence.”
Credence swallowed.
“Could you show me again please sir?”
Mister Graves demonstrated and Credence copied him, thinking of the slight glow on the end of his torch. It had only been for a moment, but it hadn’t hurt. It was beautiful. But Mister Graves was waiting for him to learn to cause pain, and he couldn’t risk Newt’s safety by disobeying.

Fill: The Whipping Boy (12/15)

[(Anonymous)]

Newt lost track of time after the first few days. He slept on the floor of Credence’s room, and got brought what food Credence had been able to bring. He ate while trying not to think about how Credence might have earned that food, what the man who wasn’t Graves might have asked for. Credence was looking more broken every day, his eyes unfocused as he stood beside their captor. When he lay in his bed he mumbled to himself, words of prayers that were meant to bring comfort, and he clung to Newt’s side like he was air and Credence was suffocating. Newt tried to calm him, to take care, but it didn’t always work.

But Newt was being beaten less often. He wondered if the others thought that he was dead. This man would probably kill his friends if he got the chance. That he wasn’t boasting had to be a good sign. In a way the lack of beatings was a reassurance but he worried about what Credence was doing to keep him safe.

Credence had gone off with the man for another day’s lessons and Newt could hear the sounds of spells being practiced from the main room. Newt curled up on the floor to sleep, and dozed off until Credence walked in with a plate of food – there was some ham on the plate today alongside a thick slice of bread. So the lessons were going well.

Newt smiled at Credence, and Credence managed a sad smile in return, handing over the food. Newt put it to one side, and cuddled Credence closely, rubbing his back. Credence curled towards his touch.
“The water spell worked well.” He murmured softly. “And I managed to make a flower, just like you taught me. What are we learning later?” There was a sense of desperation in his voice, needing something positive to cling to. He was looking to Newt for hope.

“SUMMONING.” Newt spelt out on Credence’s hand. An idea of an escape plan was beginning to form in his mind, but not everything was in place yet. Credence nodded, embracing Newt tightly for another moment before letting go and walking away. Newt ate his sandwich and let himself sleep.

He was impressed by how hard Credence was working. He spent his days with the man that wasn’t Graves, often his evenings as well. Then during the night the two of them would practice spells that weren’t to cause pain. He talked Credence through the method, holding his hand to write out the name of the spells, and using the pen as a practice wand. If Credence got a chance, he would practice – but the man was careful to always keep control of Credence’s wand. Credence was hungry for knowledge and for kindness, and Newt did what he could to provide him with both.

He woke to sounds drifting down the hall from the man’s bedroom. He tried to ignore them, focussing on smoothing the bedsheets, making sure everything looked tidy. Credence deserved a comforting home to return to.

Credence walked in after a few moments, his eyes looking a little dazed. Newt walked over, wrapping his arms around him, and Credence whimpered, clutching Newt tightly.
“He’s talking about killing No-Maj’s again. He said that in a few days he’s… he’s going to teach me how to kill and I don’t … I don’t want to…” He sobbed. “If I don’t he’ll kill you and I don’t want that either….”

Newt wrapped his arms around him tighter, nuzzling Credence’s ear, and swallowing.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and then froze, the two of them pulling away from each other.

“You… you spoke.” Credence whispered, and Newt nodded, licking his lips nervously.
“I did… I think…” He looked at Credence. “I think you cancelled the spell.” He paused. “Until he next silences me…” Credence through himself forwards, clinging to Newt tighter, and Newt staggered backwards a little.

“This… this is good. Wandless magic is advanced. A lot of wizards never master it. But if you can…” He swallowed. “I think I know how we are going to get out of here. But there’s one more spell you need to learn.”
“Anything.” Credence whispered, and Newt hugged him tight.

“It’s not going to hurt anyone.” Newt promised him, knowing Credence didn’t want that. “Just need to learn how to bring things to us. Because if you can do that, you can get your wand.”

Credence’s eyes lit up.
“Can you do it?” He asked nervously, and Newt shook his head.
“I’m too weak. But you removed the silencing spell Credence. You can do this.” He rubbed Credence’s shoulders, and Credence smiled up at him, sitting on the bed and signalling for Newt to sit next to him. Cuddling up together, they began to plan.

Fill: The Whipping Boy (13/15)

[(Anonymous)]

Grindelwald knew that all his pieces were falling into place, just as he had planned. Every day Credence’s control of his power became stronger and more controlled. Credence listened to what he said, his eyes shining. He even contributed to his discussion, shuddering at mentions of his mother. He had thrown himself into his studies with a new devotion, allowing himself to become the perfect student.

Credence could morph into the obscurus at will now. He could destroy and inflict pain on Grindelwald’s command. Over the past few days, Credence had been paying more attention to Grindelwald and less to Scamander. Scamander was reaching the end of his usefulness – Credence still asked for Grindelwald to heal Scamander, and asked for food for him, but it seemed more an afterthought than his first request.

Today, Credence had been working on apparition. He was struggling a little, even going across a field leaving him doubled over and retching. Eventually, Credence looked up at him and smiled softly, walking over and brushing his lips against Grindelwald’s.
“I think I’ve practiced enough for today Mister Graves.”
“Alright. You did well, my special boy…” Grindelwald ran a hand down Credence’s back and then took his arm, apparating them back. He made dinner as Credence went to wash.

Credence ate hungrily, then asked for any scraps to give to Scamander. Grindelwald handed over a few.
“I’ll see you later.” He told Credence. Credence bit his lip and looked away, a faint blush on his cheeks. He was so beautifully responsive, gorgeous on Grindelwald’s bed and lethal at his side. He let the boy have a few minutes with his pet before heading to his room.
“Credence?”
Credence was laying on the bed, curled up under a sheet, still dressed. Grindelwald smirked at him and Credence yawned.

“I’m tired.” He said softly. “Apparation is hard…”
“Apparation is. But I’m teaching you, and you should thank me.”

Credence ducked his head.
“I am thankful Mister Graves. But I can’t… I’m still sore, and… I don’t feel well.”
“If you can’t, Mister Scamander can.” Grindelwald pointed out, taking the silencing spell from Scamander who whimpered and backed away.

Credence swallowed and closed his eyes.
“I … I can’t. I’m sorry Mister Graves. I will in the morning, please…” He begged softly, his voice shaking. “Just one night off.”
Grindelwald was tempted to give Credence what he wanted. But he didn’t want Credence to think that he could get away with taking liberties, even if he was exhausted.

“You or Scamander, Credence. It’s your choice.”

Credence swallowed and closed his eyes, then slowly turned his head away.
“I’m sorry Mister Graves. I don’t feel well. I can’t…”

Grindelwald snorted.
“As you wish. I have always promised I will never force you Credence.” He grabbed Scamander by the wrist and dragged him from the room as he struggled. The Brit was exhausted and weakened from lack of food, and he was easy to drag away. Scamander whimpered, and from in the room Grindelwald heard Credence sob.

He pulled Scamander to his own room, and threw him down onto the bed on his front. He shucked off his coat, leaving both wands on the bedside table. With a flick of his hands he vanished Scamander’s clothing, leaving the man naked and shaking on the bed. He reached out, grabbing Scamander’s hands and guiding them to the headboard.
“Hold that.” He ordered, stripping off his own clothing. “This is going to hurt.”

With Credence, he was always careful, ensuring the boy came and enjoyed the contact. He had no such concerns about Scamander.
“Are you a virgin?” He asked softly, and Scamander gave no response. He shot a spark of the Cruciatus curse through Scamander’s body, making him scream, and pressed down hard on his shoulders. “Are. You. A. Virgin?”

Beneath him, Scamander was trembling. Cautiously he nodded, and Grindelwald laughed, leaning down to whisper in Scamander’s ear.
“I want him to hear you scream.”
Scamander tried to get away from him but Grindelwald pulled him back. Scamander was weak enough to pin down with his weight, then hold in place with a spell. He forced Scamander’s legs apart, and as he pressed a finger into him Scamander began to scream.

Credence could hear this, and he would learn not to say no. And if he still didn’t respond, Grindelwald would be able to get rid of Scamander without worrying.

Fill: The Whipping Boy (14/15)

[(Anonymous)]

Credence curled up in his bed, wrapping a blanket around him, and trying to ignore Newt’s screaming. It wasn’t the first time he had heard him scream – but it was one of the more difficult ones because this wasn’t down to his inability but because of his reluctance.

He closed his eyes and focused on what Scamander had told him about the suitcase. There were the living branches called Bowtruckles that ate woodlice, the soft and caring Demiguise which could see into the future in some way, and the mole-like niffler who stole silver and gold. Magical creatures that Newt studied in his life outside of this hell. Newt had taught him about them because he knew Credence was interested, not because it would be of any kind of help but because Credence smiled. And now, Credence had let this happen.

All this time trying to protect Newt, and now Newt was getting hurt on the back of his weakness.

Newt was weakening. That was why he had taught Credence directions, insisted he ate more – even if Newt still had his wand, he would struggle to cast a spell. He was the best thing in Credence’s life, and he was dying.

The screaming from the other room was getting louder, and Credence blinked back tears as he stood up. This was the only way, Newt had told him. They were sealed in the bedroom during the night, and during the day Mister Graves was always carrying his wand. Credence was strong with magic, but he knew he was not as skilled as Mister Graves, and had learned only one wandless spell so far. A wandless spell which would hopefully be their salvation.

Last night, Newt had held his hand and joined him in bed, let him cuddle up for one last moment of comfort before this attempt. If it went wrong, Newt would probably be killed. They both knew that. But they had to do something.

Credence didn’t want to be a monster, and Newt had given him a way not to be one. It wouldn’t be easy, that much was obvious. It relied on surprise, and on distraction. Credence recalled how uncomfortable he had felt the first time Mister Graves had laid him out on the bed – and he had been comparatively gentle. But this was Newt’s plan, and Newt was getting weaker by the day. If not now, then it might be too late.

He crept bare foot down the corridor to Mister Graves’ room, pushing open the door and freezing for a moment at the sight of Mister Graves’ portrait staring from the wall. It was the only portrait in the house which stayed still, eyes dark and brooding, but at times Credence had fooled himself there was a kindness to it. Now, he was sure he had imagined that. Newt was on the bed, sprawled beneath Mister Graves’ form, his breath coming in sobs and whimpers as Mister Graves took his pleasure. Credence tried not to see, to remember the smile Newt offered him. He didn’t want to do this. But he had to.

He raised his hand, staring at the wands on the table. If this was going to work, he needed his own – there was no point worrying with Mister Graves’. If Mister Graves had the chance he could do enough wandless magic to defeat Credence.

Wordless, wandless magic was the hardest kind, but deprived of his wand and afraid of disturbing Mister Graves, it was the only option available to him. He was grateful Newt couldn’t see how much his hand was shaking as he willed his wand to him. It wobbled for a moment, and Credence held his breath. Accio. He channelled his fear and his hope together, pulling the wand towards him.

That time, the wand came to his hand, slamming into him enough to make him stumble. He stood silent for a moment, the only noise in the room Mister Graves’ moans of exertion and Newt’s whimpers.
“Petrficus Totalus. Brachiabindo. Incarcerous.” He called out, running through the sequence of movements that Newt had trained him in, until he could perform them without thought or hesitation. He closed his eyes for a second, opening them to see Mister Graves frozen in place, his limbs and arms tied with chains and ropes. He walked closer, pointing his wand at Mister Graves, thinking of the crucio curse, of all the pain Scamander suffered.

Beneath him, Newt whimpered, and Credence made himself focus. He pointed his wand at Mister Graves. “Silencio.” He pushed Mister Graves off of Newt, who clung to Credence for a moment and smiled, blinking back his tears.
“You did so well.” Newt whispered, crouching to pull on the clothes that had been worn by Mister Graves. Newt’s own clothes weren’t visible, and Credence averted his eyes from the blood that was trickling down Newt’s thigh. He had never bled, and a strange sense of guilt welled up in him at that.

Credence realised with some surprise that he was shaking, convulsive tremors running the length of his body. Newt pulled him close.
“You are doing so well Credence. One more spell. Can you do it?”

Newt had said this was important, that he needed to get it right. Newt hadn’t said what would go wrong – but Mister Graves had mentioned exactly what happened to wizards who failed at apparition. Newt was clung to his side, and Credence focused on the description. He had lived in New York all his life. He knew where Mrs. Esposito’s boarding house was, even though he had never dreamed of being inside.
“Go on.” Newt prompted, his voice gentle, and Credence focused, feeling himself in that location.

The room he saw as he opened his eyes was magical in a way Mister Graves’s house had never been. There was washing doing itself in the sink, and a scarf knitting itself near the fire. The air thrummed with warmth.

The lady who had helped him with his mother – Tina, that was her name – ran forwards, wand drawn, and Newt stumbled in front of him. Credence realised in shock that Newt was protecting him even now.
“Tina.” He gasped. “Help-“

There was a gasp from the bedroom, and a beautiful blond lady ran forwards and grabbed Credence’s hand.
“Come with me. It’s okay, but we need to get you out of sight.”

Credence looked at Newt desperately, but Newt nodded and Credence let the woman pull him away.

COMPLETED Fill: The Whipping Boy (15/15)

[(Anonymous)]

Newt turned to Tina, his heart racing. He was relieved and proud that Credence had managed to execute their plan so perfectly.
“Graves isn’t … it’s not him.” He started, then swallowed. “Are my creatures alright?”
“Your creatures are fine.” Tina smiled softly. “They’ve missed you, but they’re fine. Your book had good information. Come with me…” She wrapped her arms around him, and he let her apparate him away.

“Where were you?” She asked, as he was brought into a medical wing. Mediwitches and doctors swarmed around him, and he cringed back slightly.
“Graves’ house. But it’s not him. He said muggle-“
“We’ll get him.” Tina promised, patting his arm. “Let them look after you.”

Newt hesitated.
“I want to help – “ He protested, and Tina sighed.
“I know. But this is auror business now.”

One of the wizards caring for him stepped forwards, and a flick of their wand knocked him out. He woke a few hours later, to see Queenie sat in a chair at the edge of the bed. She smiled at him.
“Good morning. Tina wanted me to tell you he’s been apprehended.”

Relief swept through Newt at that, and he felt another wave of pride towards Credence. Queenie reached out and tapped his arm.
“The obscurus boy…” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s safe at our home. But it’s best the others think that he’s dead.”

Queenie smiled encouragingly as she spoke, and Newt nodded, a little disoriented. The important thing was that Credence was safe, and so were the creatures. Now that he wasn’t a prisoner, he realised just how much he missed his creatures.
“Can I –“
“Not quite yet sweetie.” She said softly. “You were tortured. The doctors are doing what they can to heal you, but even with magic you need another day or two to recover.” Newt whimpered, wanting to get home. Queenie patted his shoulder sympathetically.

He slept again, his body exhausted and needing the rest. The next time his eyes opened, Tina was there, and she smiled at him.
“Grindelwald is in custody.” She said it with such certainty, and Newt cursed his own lack of observation – of course the man behind all his pain was Grindelwald. He took slow deep breaths to remain calm, and Queenie hugged him gently.

“You did well to escape.” Tina said firmly. “Now, Director Graves wants to meet with you.”
Newt paused.
“If I’m well enough to meet him, can I see my creatures?”
“After.” Tina said softly. “You need me to come with you?”

Newt thought of his last time in Director Grave’s office – he had been there with Tina and with the man who ordered his execution and would go on to rape both him and Credence. Hesitantly, he shook his head.

Tina supported him as they made their way to the office, Newt unsteady on his feet. She smiled at him a little nervously.
“I’m glad you survived Newt. I’ll be just outside, if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Newt murmured, and pushed open the door.

The man behind the desk was startling in how much he looked like Newt’s tormentor, but Newt walked forwards, leaning against the table in an attempt to look confident.

“You can sit down if you want.” Graves suggested, and Newt sat, eyes glancing around the room before settling on Graves’ wand, which had been placed on his desk. Seeming to notice Newt’s gaze, Graves pushed it forwards towards him.
“I know he broke your wand. I can’t use this… not after he’s used it. You can have it.”

“I have spares.” Newt mumbled. “I mean, I travel a lot, they get broken, I’ve got two in the case.” Newt frowned a little as Graves leaned forwards, looking into his eyes.
“That madman,” Graves began, “transfigured me into a painting on his bedroom wall. I could do nothing but watch what he did. I saw him torture you with my wand. I can’t keep it. You might find a use for it.”

Newt hesitated, then reached for the wand. This was the one Credence trained with after all.
“Thank you.” He murmured, wondering what the Director knew about Credence. Was this Graves’ way of giving him support? Credence would be pleased to have a wand.
“I hear the obscurus boy died during the battle of the underground?” Graves asked, and Newt nodded dumbly. If Graves had been the portrait, he would have seen everything – Credence had been in Graves’ room several times, including that final encounter.

“And the obscurus he found in your case has been returned?”
“I haven’t had the chance to check yet. But I believe so.” Newt asked, still trying to work out was happening.
“You are the most qualified person to care for her, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Newt agreed, beginning to see where this conversation was going.
“If there was ever another obscurial in America, would you be willing to consult?”
“Of course.” Newt nodded.

“I assume you know that in America, the punishment for committing the Unforgivables is death.”
“Yes…” Newt murmured, squirming a little.
“So Grindelwald will be executed.” Graves said softly. “You do not need to fear him. Go home to your creatures Mister Scamander. And once you have cared for them, take care of yourself.”

Newt nodded and walked back out, smiling at Tina who was waiting outside.
“Come on.” She took him back to her apartment. The door opened, and Queenie greeted them, shooing Newt towards the back room.
“Your case is in there.”

Newt walked over to see, opening the bedroom door and being startled to see Credence sat on the bed, one hand on the case.

Credence smiled a little nervously.
“I missed you.” He murmured. “I’ve been keeping the case safe.”
“Thank you.” Newt said softly, then reached out his hand. “Do you want to take a look?”
Newt helped Credence to his feet before he opened the case and climbed in.

“Come on-“ He called up to Credence, and Credence dropped down, embracing Newt for a moment. Newt smiled at him and pushed open the door as Credence’s fingers wrapped around Newt’s own.


(This is up on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9270725/chapters/21011156)