fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #1

Newt put off feeding his latest acquisition for last, so that he could spend more time with him without the others getting restless. It was always a bit awkward getting used to a new creature. It took time figuring their needs and habits, not to mention the things that pleased or upset them. The fact that he and the newcomer were technically the same species really didn’t change that.

Newt had never been all that good with humans.

Thankfully, Credence didn’t mind being treated like the other creatures. He accepted without a word when Newt invited him into the suitcase. He didn’t complain when Newt cast the spells to create a space for him. He didn’t comment when Newt carefully touched his wand to him and keyed the new room to respond to Credence’s desires. In fact, Credence didn’t talk at all for the first week. He was too busy being a tiny puff of smoke.

“I’ve brought eggs and tomatoes,” said Newt, conjuring the dish from the kitchen into his hand on a silver plate with a matching cover. He entered Credence’s den.

It was a dreary place. Dark, dank, empty, and cavelike. There were patches of slimy water on the ground. Credence was hiding in a nook in the ceiling. Newt looked about for a clean place to put the dish down. Finding none, he waved his wand and summoned a sturdy Victorian table with legs like griffin’s hindquarters. A matching chair appeared beside it.

“There,” said Newt with some satisfaction. “I shall put this right here for you and you can come down from there and eat like a good … human.”

Credence wafted a bit uncertainly, but didn’t come anywhere close to the plate.

“Oh come now,” said Newt trying his best to sound reasonable with just a bit of sternness. “You can’t keep up like that. You’ve had your sulk, now it’s time to pull yourself together. Eat some food. It’s good for you.”

Credence flared out into a mess of angry and dangerous looking spikes.

Newt put his hands on his hips. “Don’t get tetchy with me. And don’t think you can frighten me with all that posturing. I’ve put up with far more headstrong creatures than you.” He clapped his hands. “That’s it. Come down, this moment.”

To Newt’s infinite relief, Credence softened his spikes and drifted down to hover over the table. But then he grew droopy and faded and indecisive.

“Now, now, you’ve been a human for 18 years, don’t pretend you’ve forgotten how.”

Smaller spikes of irritation rippled out, but then, at last, the smoke settled on the ground and reformed into a human. Credence was still wearing the dreary muggle outfit Newt had seen him in last, but he seemed thinner and older and his stoop was lower.

“Oh, thank god,” said Newt. Then got ahold of himself before Credence could lose confidence and return to a puff ball again. “Sit, sit.”

Credence obeyed. Newt vanished the lid and watched with satisfaction as the young man gobbled up the food hungrily.

While he ate, the room began to transform around them. The floor dried up, and gritty mud and stone turned into dusty wood. The cavern roof grew rafters and cobwebs. An uncomfortable cot materialized some feet away, and within minutes they were in what was unmistakably someone’s attic.

Well, that was an improvement… of sorts.

Credence still wasn’t speaking a week later. Newt was beginning to feel put out about it.

“After such a good start, you really can’t stop here,” he said to Credence. “Look, you’ve settled down in human form, you might as well go the rest of the way and start acting like a human as well.”

The attic was still an attic — dusty, windowless, frequently bitterly cold with drafts that came from no where in particular or else stiflingly hot and airless. Occasionally one end would be cold and the other hot as if the room couldn’t make up it’s mind on which way would be more miserable. The cot was still a cot. A thin pillow and a lumpy mattress and a scratchy woolen blanket. Other than that there was nothing. Newt found it utterly depressing.

“Surely you can’t want to live here, like this,” Newt reasoned. “No one wants to live like this. This is … awful.”

Credence sat on the scratchy blanket and didn’t look at him. Obviously he did want live like this.

“And conversation,” said Newt, taking a different tact. “You really can’t expect me to do all the heavy lifting. I’m no good at all. You are going to have to talk sometime. Why not now.”

Success. Credence made a tiny noise, like a squeak. Shame was definitely a motivator.

Newt pounced. “There. You did it! Now try for words.”

“I’m sorry.” It was like the sound of a rusty hinge. Tortured metal with just a hint of music in it’s whine.

“For what?” asked Newt. “For not being social — well I hardly blame you. Not much for social skills myself.”

“For imposing on your hospitality,” said Credence. “I’ve nowhere to go.”

Newt was just so happy that Credence had actually talked that he dismissed the apology. “Well you are always welcome here.” He waved about to the unwelcoming room.

“Why?” Credence asked.

“Why what?”

“Why take me in. I wrecked half of New York. I’m an abomination.”

“Oh,” dismissed Newt. “Aren’t we all, though.”

Two days later, at breakfast, there was a book next to Credence’s cot. It was sitting on a spindly end table that hadn’t been there the night before. Newt felt a burst of joy rise up from his chest.

“You made a book!” he exclaimed. “Well look at that!”

Credence pulled his head off his chest long enough to look over his shoulder. “It’s not a real book.”

Newt picked it up. It had a worn leather cover and a thick ragged sheaf of pages, but when Newt opened it up, it was blank. It was the idea of a book, but not the substance.

“Well, yes, of course,” said Newt. “The spell has it’s limitations, and writing literature is a bit out of it’s depths. Still. This is good, Credence.”

Credence met his eye for perhaps the first time. “How so? I can’t read it.”

“But it means you want to read it. Wanting is very important.”

Credence’s chin was back on his chest again. “Mother didn’t think so. She said we should be happy for what we have and not to go wanting for what we haven’t.”

“Rubbish,” dismissed Newt. “If we were all content with our lot, we’d never get anything done. We’d just sit about and be right lumps. Oh.”

Credence seemed to shrink.

“I’m not calling you a lump. You’ve had a bad time of it.” Newt pursed his lips and looked at the book. “However I’m all for you attempting to improve yourself. And I can do something about this. Get you a real book or many. Give me a few days to find a library. Come up with a list of the sort of books you like.”

“You needn’t bother,” said Credence.

But of course New needed to. He couldn’t stand any of his creatures being unhappy.

Ever since Newt was a child he’d had a soft spot for creatures. He could sense when they were hurt, or lonely, or frightened. He understood when they were lost and felt the yearning to be home. It was the same for humans, it seemed. Or at least it was the same for Credence.

Credence was lost. He was hurt. He was lonely. Newt felt it in every fiber of his being. It was just all out there — with none of the pretense or polite clap trap that made human beings so inscrutable. That’s what he liked so much about Credence. His lack of pretense. What you saw was what you got.

What Newt didn’t like as much was Credence’s lack of trust, which at times came off as a bit ungrateful.

“Why do you take care of me?” Credence asked.

“Because someone has to,” replied Newt, a bit harshly. “Eat your dinner.”

Credence curled over his plate and ate with the furtiveness of someone who was afraid the food might be taken away at any moment. Newt put a hand over his face and willed himself to be more patient.

Newt was sharing as many meals as he could with Credence these day — which sadly wasn’t that often. Credence needed more than just books for company. But Newt had a job to do. He couldn’t put everything on hold just to coddle a single creature. The other creatures knew that. He’d set spells to feed them when he couldn’t attend to in personally. Credence wasn’t going to starve, but it did mean that he couldn’t always give them the attention they craved.

Which gave Newt an idea.

“If you are feeling like you need to contribute in some way, I do have a job for you.”

Credence perked up. “Doing what?”

“I’m going to be awfully busy for next few days. You see there is a hyppogriff that’s being held on a farm near here. It’s blood and feathers are being harvested for their magical properties by the nastiest group of warlocks you can imagine. I’m going to be frightfully busy finding a way of freeing it without getting parceled out as ingredients myself. But if you could take care of the other creatures for me — feed them, give them a bit of attention, I’d be very thankful. I’d be a load of my mind.”

Credence’s dark eyes grew huge. “But I don’t know how to do magic. Not the kind you can do.”

“You won’t have to. The food is all in the pantry, labeled, along with a schedule for feeding and a map and a list of does and don’ts.” Or rather there would be one by the time Newt left. “I’ll walk you through it. So do you think you could do this for me? Just for a day or two?”

Credence looked sickly green for a moment, and Newt was certain he’d beg off. But when he found the words, it was to say, “I’d be glad to help.”

“You sure?” asked Newt gently.

“Yes,” Credence said, more firmly. “I don’t want to be a burden. I can pull my weight.”

Good for you! Thought Newt and mentally gave himself a pat on the back for a good plan. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Credence hadn’t stepped foot outside his attic since the day he’d arrived. Credence was being brave and Newt couldn’t be prouder of him.

Liking this so far! You're the best, anon!

Thanks, I was hoping this was sort of what you wanted.

THIS IS AMAZING

Thank you!

NICE.

"But of course Newt needed to. He couldn’t stand any of his creatures being unhappy."

this is exactly what I came to the kinkmeme for, A++++++++++

I'm so glad!

By the time Newt returned, sorry hyppogriff in tow, with enough bruises on his skin to make him look nearly as frightful, Credence had become quite comfortable exploring all the environments of the suitcase. He seemed to be most drawn to the obscurial, which worried Newt a bit. He didn’t want Credence returning back to that state of chaotic, groundless emotion. But thankfully Credence remained human and the obscurial seemed almost soothed by his presence.

“Well,” he said, watching the obscurial waft and the human hunker in silent communion. “I see you two are getting along fine.”

“This is what I looked like?” asked Credence, more curious than disturbed. Without the fringe over his eyes, Newt could see they were quite soulful and expressive. “It’s not too bad.”

“No, or well, yes it rather is.” Newt rubbed the curls on his head. “Actually, you are the first person I’ve heard of ever to come back from such a state. It’s usually quite fatal. Which is why I’d prefer you to resist the temptation to return to it so much as you can.”

Credence looked thoughtful. “Mr. Graves said that only small children become them and that they died young soon after if they weren’t helped. He said that they were powerful wizards and witches who rejected their magic. I didn’t think that it was me. It couldn’t have been. I thought maybe I was daydreaming that I was special, magical, powerful. If that were so, maybe he’d … want me.”

Newt shuddered. Having a person like Grindelwald want you was not something he’d consider desirable, but he refrained in saying that because Credence looked horribly heartsick. So he deflected: “I can say with utter confidence you were meant to be an extremely powerful wizard.”

“Can I still become one?” Credence asked, he looked painfully hopeful. “Mr. Graves said that I was a squib.”

Newt snorted. “You definitely aren’t a squib. And yes, you will have to. I suppose I’ll need to find you a tutor, sooner rather than later.” The last was spoken more to himself than the Credence. For the first time, Newt felt a sickly wave of worry come over him. He couldn’t keep Credence hidden forever in his case. But who would teach an impossibility like Credence?

“Can’t you teach me?” asked Credence, confused.

Newt stared at him, horrified. “Me? I didn’t make it though school myself. I’d be a horrible teacher.”

“You seem really good at spells.”

“Well, yes — the ones I use and the ones I find important. But I’m not so good with theory or figures or tests. Or homework. Or following other peoples schedules. Or mornings. I’m positively terrible at mornings.”

Credence looked down at his shoes again. “Mother said that school put sinful ideas in peoples heads. That what I needed was to work hard and God would take care of me.”

“Your mother sounds positively dreadful,” said Newt without thinking.

“She was. That’s why I killed her.”

He said it so flatly, like he might have described throwing out a broken item, but Newt could see the shock in his eyes. Some horrors simply couldn’t be taken in at once, lest it push one over the edge of sanity. Newt knew better than to push at it. In time Credence would have to find some way to live with himself and what he’d done. From past experience Newt knew that was a whole lot harder once the numbness wore off.

Impulsively Newt grabbed Credence about the shoulders and pulled him into a quick hug. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure things out. “I won’t let you down.”

Newt knew that Credence had killed of course. Twice. It was a big reason why the American Ministry of Magic had worked very hard to kill him. It was why even now, an ocean away, it wasn’t safe to let Credence out of the suitcase. The story of the destruction of New York was still filling the papers of Europe with lurid details and endless speculation. There were moving pictures of Credence turning from human to obscurial on the front page of every major paper across the Continent. It would be a long while before the furor would die down.

But Credence was right, he needed to learn magic and soon. Without some outlet for his strengths the temptation to return to miasma of violence would eventually overcome him. He was getting stronger, now. More restless. Adventure novels and creature feedings weren’t going to be enough when the magic overfilled him again. In the mean time it was Newts job to prevent Credence from feeling ashamed of the wild magic pouring off of him — which was a great deal harder than it sounded.

“Right,” said Newt, the next morning when, triggered by nothing Newt could fathom, a lamp unexpectedly flung itself at a wall. “We really can’t put it off any longer or you are going to erupt. I have to go to Hogwarts. If all goes well, I’ll bring a visitor here to see you.”

“Hogwarts?” said Credence. The bits of lamp pulled themselves up from the floor and reassembled in almost the correct places. “Mr. Graves said Hogwarts was a wizarding school. Will I be learning magic soon?”

“You must,” said Newt.

“But why can’t you teach me?”

“Because I’m rubbish. Weren’t you there when I said that? I don’t know who else I would have said that to.” Newt fretted nervously about, summoning a mirror and checking his appearance. The hair was tidy enough, no breakfast on his face. He sniffed his sleeve and hoped the fact that he couldn’t smell any of the animals on himself was because he didn’t smell and not because he’d gone nose blind.

Credence followed him about doggedly. “So, I’ll be going to Hogwarts?”

Newt cringed, and slowly turned to face Credence’s hopeful face. Credence, seeing his expression looked absolutely crushed for a moment, but then ducked his head down and away, understanding what Newt couldn’t say.

Newt couldn’t imagine Hogwarts taking in Credence. He was far too old and even if he weren’t he was wanted for killing muggles, something Hogwarts allowed no leniency whatsoever over. Furthermore, the place was unforgivingly strict about so many nuisancy rules that Credence was unlikely to thrive there even if for some unimaginable reason they did accept him. He’d turn back into an obscurial out of sheer frustration.

“I was thinking more along the lines of finding you a tutor.”

Before Credence could ask anything else, he pushed on. “Now, Hogwarts won’t let me apparate in, so I’ll have to actually carry the case there, which means you’ll be on your own again for a while. Do you think you can hold yourself together?”

The lamp rearranged itself again, bone china undulating like jelly, the pattern running and muddying. Newt eyed it suspiciously but Credence didn’t seem to even notice.

“Can I at least see Hogwarts?” Credence sounded so childishly wistful that Newt’s heart broke and he almost said “of course,” before thankfully good sense got hold of him.

“I — perhaps. We’ll see.”

Credence sighed, resignedly, and returned to his bunk.

Behind him, the thing — not a lamp anymore — settled down on the end table. It was melted lumpy thing that resembled a toad more than anything else. Thankfully the room was lit by an ever-glow spell, because that lamp was never going to do anything practical again. With any luck the rest of the suitcases furniture wouldn’t end up similarly rearranged before a solution was found.

Ahh im so excited to see where this is going! :D

Yay.

There was only one person at Hogwarts that Newt trusted. He found Dumbledore’s office on the seventh floor, a short, curved flight of stairs up from the Transfigurations classroom. It was a homey place full of threadbare furniture and mismatched cabinets where Dumbledore kept the tangibles for his classes. There had been a rumor, back in Newt’s Hogwarts days, that Dumbledore had an invisible chest somewhere that contained items that the Ministry of Magic had deemed too dangerous to legally possess, but that was just scandalous gossip, like as not.

All along one wall was a large glass display case full of unusually and amusingly shaped oddities, the results of years of unfixable student mistakes. Harmless as it was, Newt always thought that enshrining mistakes was bit mean spirited. For the first time, he considered them in a different light: not as mistakes, but as surprises. After all, forgetting unwanted results came with it’s own sort of cruelty. Perhaps there was some new use in them.

“Good afternoon,” came a voice from behind him.

Newt turned around. Albus Dumbledore sat comfortably in an overstuffed armchair where he hadn’t been just a moment before. He was sporting beard trimmed to a rakish point and his rusty-brown hair curled neatly around his shoulders. Other than that he looked much like he had three years earlier when Newt had last seen him.

“What brings you by to visit?” Albus asked warmly. “Tea?” A silver tray with two china cups, a carafe of cream and a bowl of sugar appeared on the table between them, along with an assortment of fancy biscuits and sliver-thin sandwiches.

Newt felt the old flustered feeling grab hold of his tongue. “No, thank you. It’s not a social call. It’s actually a rather delicate matter. I need—“

Albus raised his hand and looked about the room. “Shh.”

Newt shushed.

“I see you brought a very charming suitcase. May I examine it?”

Newt mutely handed him the case. Dumbledore opened it with two flips of his thumbs and glanced down inside. “How wonderful. You’ve quite the set up down there. Is that a kitchen? Do you mind?”

Newt opened his mouth and shut it. He was hoping Dumbledore would come down and see Credence but he wasn’t expecting Dumbledore to anticipate him. He’d rather hoped to soften Dumbledore up to the notion of Credence a bit first. But Dumbledore never did what people expected him to, which was what made him, as much as his skill with spells, so formidable. After an awkward hesitation, Newt said, “Yes, please. Absolutely.”

“I so enjoy seeing proper extra-dimensional spells in practice. So elegant. So practical. Hungarian design is it not?” Dumbledore gently set the case on the stained and ratty Persian rug and carefully stepped inside. Newt watched him sink slowly but gracefully, obviously not using the stair, but some levitation spell.

“It’s charming,” Dumbledor’s voice called up. “Do let’s have our tea in here.” The tea tray rose up and followed Dumbledore down. Newt hesitated a moment out of sheer befuddlement, but then stepped into the case himself. There was nothing doing but to join in.

To his infinite thankfulness, Credence was not in the kitchen. Newt had worried that Credence might be so eager for a look at Hogwarts that he’d ignore Newt’s instruction to stay in his room. Dumbledore had made himself comfortable at the wooden table and was sipping his tea when Newt climbed down.

“Do shut the lid if you don’t mind. Seeing my ceiling way up there is a little disconcerting.”

Newt shut the lid, then joined Dumbledore at the table.

“Sorry about imposing on you this way,” said Albus gently, “But a few of the paintings in my room are terrible gossips and you seemed to want to speak privately.”

Newt nodded. Now that he was with Dumbledore he found his throat tightening up again. That awkwardness he always felt around people had reached up to strangle the words right out of him. Funny how he hadn’t felt that around Credence at all. Perhaps because Credence was even more tongue tied than he was.

“Out with it,” said Dumbledore with a firmer edge. “Or would you rather I tell you what I already know? Oh, Newt, you have gotten yourself involved with quite a string of messes lately. I read something about your managerie escaping and causing havoc at a zoo. Or perhaps robbing a muggle bank? Is that what has got you in such a fluster? Or … perhaps it is none of that. There was also this unfortunate affair with Grindelwald going on at the same time that rather dwarfed all that nonsense. Is that why you came to see me?”

“Yes, uh, yes, but no,” fumbled Newt. “That’s not why I came to see you, though maybe, now that you mention it, it would be something to understand as well. I heard that you and he knew each other. He mentioned your name when we met.”

Dumbledore smiled beatifically. “Did he now. Said nothing good about me, I’m sure.”

“Not exact— no. He didn’t seem to care for you much.”

“He wouldn’t. Jealousy is an ugly emotion.” Dumbledore looked graver. “But what business did he have with you? I’m worried that you came to his attention at all. “

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I advise you to stay away from him as much as possible. He is far more dangerous than he seems and he is extremely persistent when it comes to getting what he wants. He can be quite seductive as well when he puts his mind to it. Do not fall for him.”

Newt let out a breath. “No, he wasn’t after me. He didn’t want me. I got in his way, that’s all.”

“Then you are very lucky to be alive. But I wouldn’t be so quick to think that was all there was between you. I’ve heard some mutterings in dark corners that some of Grindelwald followers are still looking for you.”

“They are — why?”

“You did defeat him.”

“Well, yes there is that. But,” blurted Newt, “It might be something else. I have something that he wanted.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Oh dear. That thought hadn’t occurred to me. And that’s why you are here — to give it to me?”

“No! It’s not an it. It’s a he. I’ll — wait here. I’ll bring him out.”

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.”

Newt gasped and Credence stared at him hopefully. “But I can’t. I’ve never even tried to teach anyone anything.”

“You never know what you are good at until you’ve tried,” said Dumbledore with a kind smile.

Then he turned grave again and looked very hard at Credence, to the point where Credence started to squirm and buried his chin in his chest. “But in this case you must make the effort. Grindelwald’s sympathizers are everywhere. The least suggestion that Credence is alive will bring him breathing down your neck, Newt. And you have already attracted far too much of his attention.”

Credence looked shyly at Dumbledore. “You think he still wants me?” There was a note of hope in his voice.

“Oh, my dear friend,” said Dumbledore. “I also know what a terrible, powerfully magnetic thing it is to be the center of that man’s attention. Do not give into the temptation if you value yourself. Wether or not he wants you — don’t let him have you.”

“But wasn’t he executed?” said Newt, bewildered. “I thought that was what American Wizards do — chuck you in a black pond of death the moment you slip up.”

Dumbledore sighed. “If only he were. The Americans could no more hold him than they could hold water in their hands. He never even made it to the MACUSA. They hushed it up of course. They hate to appear incompetent.” Dumbledore rolled his eyes. “Grindelwald is once more in the wind.”

He then turned back to Credence who appeared to be staring into some internal void. “But don’t you be afraid. Newt is very good at hiding. And if I might suggest it, perhaps Paris might be the place to go. There is a very discrete wandmaker in those parts who Newt is familiar with.”

Dumbledore stepped back and waved his wand gently and a small bottle appeared. He handed it to Credence. “A parting gift. Polyjuice. Only three doses, so use them wisely. But it should be enough to get you a wand.”

He turned to leave, but grabbed Newt by the sleeve on his way out. “Do not invite anyone else down here. And I need not say, don’t breathe a word of our young friend’s existence to anyone. Not a word. I myself will endeavor to put it out of my mind.”

Love this!!!

Oh man, this is great! Would you consider posting it on ao3? I want to be able to easily check for updates!

OH HELL YES I LOVE THIS
though im anxious about the eventual newt/credence (the power imbalance between them is enormous, the consent issues are bewilderingly immense), i feel this fic could convince me, its been so good this far!

Hopefully by the time they do anything with each other that power imbalance will have worked itself out somewhat.

Prompt Post #1

Re: newt/credence, credence accompanies newt- FILL 1/?

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