Prompt Post #1

[fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme]

 ROUND 1

FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER

Important links:
You can check for fill updates at our tumblr page
You can upload your stories on AO3 anonymously here
You can alert us that you've filled a prompt here
You can talk about anything here

Comments

FILL [6/?]: Newt/other, eventual Gramander; arranged marriage, past abuse, h/c, learning to trust

[(Anonymous)]

More creatures, continuing from the last part; but we're almost to Newt's trip to America.

------

Newt hikes through the Urals and a taiga forest and winds up in a place called Novgorod. Without meaning to, he finds the few wizards and witches who live there. They are suspicious of him until Newt presents his letter of introduction and safe conduct. Once it’s established that he’s not there to upend Russian wizarding politics they take him in and ply him with strong tea in a glass and hot beet soup.

Between everyone, there's enough broken English and Newt’s horrid Russian to tell Newt of a family of Bowtruckles (it may not be the official way to describe a group of Bowtruckles, but that’s how they act) that live in a tree in what used to be a courtyard. The buildings that once surrounded the courtyard were staffed by Muggle soldiers and the local wizarding community can't Obliviate them owing to something happening in the Muggle government. They're afraid the Muggles will burn the tree and that they may have to let it happen.

Newt sits up straight and before he can stop himself says: “No.”

The elder wizard- Newt thinks his name is Dmitri- stares at him. Newt goes cold all over and looks down.

“Then what?” Dmitri asks gruffly, “We can do nothing.”

Newt swallows thickly. “Let me try. Please. I'm a scientist.” Nobody looks particularly impressed and Newt’s stomach churns with nerves. To distract himself he digs around his coat pockets for his MoM credentials. “See? I’m- you could call me a magizoologist. I can help; it's my job.”

There is soft discussion and head shaking. Newt knows an argument when he sees one. He shrinks back in his seat, holding his tea glass tightly in his hands. They’re going to let the Bowtruckles die. He’s going to have to find them on his own.

As if sensing his distress, Dougal pokes his head out of the suitcase and clambers onto his lap. Newt wraps one arm around Dougal, keeping his hot tea safely away from wandering hands. “What have I told you about toying with those clasps?”

Dougal chirps his unrepentance. Newt realizes the room has gone silent and Dimitri has leaned forward.

“That is Demiguise.”

“Yes. I found him on my way through Tibet. I believe he’d escaped from someone harvesting his fur. He wouldn't let me leave without him once I was finished with my work in China,” Newt unsheathes his wand and points the tip to his temple. “I will show you if you like.”

“No need. Demiguise stays, and not invisible. Good. You try with Bowtruckles- save them and tree.”

Newt goes to the courtyard. Dmitri’s daughter keeps watch while Newt wonders how best to convince the Bowtruckles that they should join him. Their tree is a skinny thing that is about as tall as Newt. He would think it was a sick tree if he hadn’t just been through a forest full of them. It’s probably a moor birch, though he will have to check his books to be sure. Newt stands in front of the tree and considers it, a bowl of woodlice in hand. Unfortunately, he doesn't have quite the same time with which to bribe them that he had with Dougal, and Bowtruckles aren’t dumb enough to simply follow a trail into his suitcase.

Uproot and shrink the tree, maybe?

It could work, but only if he can get the Bowtruckles down- and from the angry-sounding chattering they’re doing in the branches overhead he’s not sure that’s an option. Although... one Bowtruckle is much farther down than the rest and its head is tilted as though it’s curious.

Newt holds out the bowl of woodlice to that Bowtruckle. He moves very slowly.

“Hello, up there. I’m sorry to disturb you, but the Muggles don’t seem to like this building much, and they want to burn your tree down.” The Bowtruckles go silent. Newt bites his lip, unsure what the silence means, but he takes a breath and persists. “I’d rather not see your tree burned, or you. I’m here to help if you’ll let me. I’ve got a place for you to live, with Hobbs and Dougal. I do a lot of traveling but I don’t think you’ll notice- I can take your tree with me.”

The curious Bowtruckle climbs down further and leans forward, peering into the bowl. Newt holds it closer. Apparently, this one is an adventurous sort, as it ignores the slightly panicked sounding chatter and crawls onto Newt’s arm. It reaches in and plucks several woodlice to eat.

Once the curious Bowtruckle is content, the rest seem to decide that Newt is a viable food source. Another comes down, sounding and looking like he’s chiding the first Bowtruckle. Newt stands as still as he can, suitcase open at his feet. Soon the whole family is crowding around the branch by his hand, trying to get to the woodlice. Newt takes a step back and puts one foot into the suitcase. The remaining Bowtruckles launch themselves at him, and Newt suddenly has 6 crawling over his shoulders or clinging to his arms.

“Easy, please. We don’t want you falling off,” Newt mutters, descending, “Or me falling down this ladder.”

When only his head is left visible, he pulls out his wand and shrinks the birch tree, bringing it down with them. He plants it just to the other side of the Hobbs’s nest and lets it take it’s height back. The Bowtruckles grab for the woodlice and start climbing back up the tree branches. All but one, which stays sitting on his shoulder and occasionally cheeps until Newt lifts the woodlice bowl so it can reach.

Newt hums at them and watches as they make themselves comfortable again. “There, that’s much better, isn’t it? Now, I’m going to need names for you lot. Who’s first?”

+

“Any luck?” Percival asks.

“To an extent,” Theseus says, “Contacts in Constantinople and Shanghai say they’ve seen him.”

“That’s... quite a distance.”

“I know. It’s been 3 weeks since Zogby’s letter; Yuèzhèng’s just came a couple days ago. Apparently, a massive black market trade in Occamy eggs in Shanghai collapsed.”

“You think that was Newt?” Percival is, unable to completely contain the surprise in his voice.

“Oh, yes,” Theseus says, shaking his head, “He’s quite good with dragons and their kin. At any rate, both letters agree that he was in one piece and seemed well.”

“Reassuring,” Percival remarks. His voice is light, but the lightness sounds forced. “I’ll reach out to my people, see if we can’t come up with a better timeline of his movements between us.”

Theseus chuckles, but it comes out as little more than a strained noise. “I’ve asked everyone I’ve contacted to stay back unless he’s visibly hurt or sick. I don’t want to… I don’t want to frighten him again. He’s got very good at hiding since he turned 18.”

“Understood. I’ll direct the same.”

“Thank you, Perce.”

+

In Abyssinia, Newt runs into a nundu. Somewhat literally, as it happens. He's been following the trail of a smuggling ring he first heard mentioned in Constantinople, and later in Medina, Hejaz, and again in Aden. Rumors of the power the group has in Abyssinia due to the weird creatures it keeps finding has Newt changing all his plans.

They have a compound set up in the middle of nowhere, in the mountains of Abyssinia. Newt’s seen some similar set ups by Muggle scientists in his travels, but here the outer buildings are empty shells. Newt leaves his suitcase in one of these and sets wards around it. He commences reconnaissance to find the heart of the compound, sneaking around under a Disillusionment charm.

He finds a warehouse guarded by Muggles with guns, but with no other wards or alarm spells that he can detect. Newt moves carefully to peers through a window. The inside is crammed with cages containing animals.

“Not scientists, then,” he mutters.

He looks around to make sure the area is empty, then casts Alohamora on the lock and slips inside. There is stirring among the cages but it sounds lazy to Newt’s ears. He creeps from cage to cage, peeking in and frowning. The animals are non-magical, which is a relief, but very lethargic, like they’re under a ridiculous amount of sedation.

And then Newt comes across the cage towards the back.

“Oh, bugger.”

The nundu is very young. There’s some sort of binder around its neck that keeps it from inflating. It's so drugged, it can hardly move a paw. Newt thinks it’s probably too young to do much damage anyway, but inevitably the cub’s parents will track down the camp and it will not end well.

He hears footsteps outside and ducks down, pressing himself against the nundu’s cage. Once it is silent again, Newt creeps back out of the warehouse and locks the doors behind him. He retreats to his suitcase and writes to the Aurors of the East African Alliance to tell them of Muggles trafficking nundus. He sends the letter with a quick spell and turns to his notes. He reads everything he has on nundus or anything that seems tangentially related to one. His sources seem to agree that at such a young age the cub probably can’t kill with its breath. Newt hopes they’re right.

He gathers raw meat from storage and starts up a batch of potion that should remove the sedative from the cub’s blood stream if they get to that point. He sneaks back into the warehouse and sits by the cage, casting Silencio on it before putting bits of raw meat on his spare scarf and pushing it through the bars.

The nundu growls softly and tries to inflate its neck, but Newt stays stock still. He mimics the nundu’s vocalizations back at the creature. Soon enough it noses into the meat. Newt holds his breath as the cub takes a careful lick, then a mouthful, then another.

“That's better, isn't it?” Newt whispers, as the cub eats.

When the scarf is empty of meant, the nundu paws at it and chuffs softly. It blinks large eyes at Newt as though it’s only just noticed him. Newt takes another handful of the meat he’s brought with him and places some of it on the scarf. The rest he holds in his palm.

The nundu sniffs at both scarf and human hand, and whines.

“Shhhh, shhhh, I'm only here to help,” Newt says, soothing as he can manage, “Here, now, you need more food, don't you? Come on, eat up. We’ll have you feeling better.”

By the time dawn breaks he’s fed the nundu all the rest of the meat he’d brought with him by hand, and he’s gotten the nundu to allow him to touch a paw. Newt brushes the cub’s fur gently as he murmurs a good-bye. He sneaks back to his suitcase in the outer building and sets an alarm for a two hour nap.

When he wakes up, the sedative-removal potion is done. Dougal has joined Newt, curled up at his side and holding Newt’s hand tight. He looks worried and Newt bites his lip. Dougal only gets that look when he foresees something about to go wrong. Well, worrying means you suffer twice.

He is perhaps a little too brazen when he casts bombarda maxima to destroy the shells of the outer buildings. Several of the inner circle of buildings also catch fire, because the shells were so flimsy that the debris blew inward. Less time than ever. The Muggles are shouting all across the compound.

One of their guards is pointing one of those small Muggle weapons into a cage at the far end of the warehouse when Newt runs in. Newt stuns the guard perfunctorily and levitates him carelessly through a window. The nundu cub is roaring in distress. Newt runs to the cage and opens it. He throws his suitcase inside. The confused shouting outside the warehouse is getting closer.

“Please come. I'll help you,” he says breathlessly, “I promise.”

The entrance to the warehouse crashes and crumbles in a haze of burning pieces. Newt waves his wand in a frantic, messy circle. The animal cages open all at once and any animals still conscious pour out out of them in a cacophony of frightened sounds. Newt blows back the confused Muggles- Statute of Secrecy be damned. The animals flood through the opening in the flames, shoving poachers to the side and trampling them.

The fire spreads quickly.

Newt casts a shield around the nundu and his suitcase as flaming debris falls on top of them. Flames lick at the bars of the cage. Newt barely points a finger at the binder and it snaps apart, releasing the cub’s neck. It inflates instantly. Newt absently hopes he’s not about to die.

He hears shots from those Muggle weapons- they’re firing wildly.

The fire blazes against Newt’s shield. He can feel the heat through it. It’s starting to falter; he’s kept it up too long. Smoke starts to filter through. When Newt coughs, the shield splinters. The nundu lowers its front to the ground, looking like a cat ready to pounce. Newt knows he can’t let it. The Muggles are firing towards them in the cage now.

The nundu jumps.

Newt grabs the cub mid-air and Apparates into his suitcase shack. When they appear the cub buries its teeth in his shoulder. Rather than scream and frighten the cub further, Newt bites down so hard on his lip that he bites through it. He wrestles the shaking cub to the ground and clambers back up the ladder, ignoring the pain. In a hail of weapons firing, Newt throws himself out of the suitcase and slams the lid shut.

He’s never Apparated with his suitcase. He’s always been good at it, and he’s gotten even better since embarking on his field work, but to bring the suitcase and put all his creatures in danger… He doesn’t really have a choice. Newt grabs the handle.

He pulls all his magic in desperately, and Apparates once more.