Chapter Text
“Credence?” Newt murmured in the morning as they lay in bed together, “I was thinking of taking you to the woods today, a little bit outside of the city.”
Credence flushed. “I’ve never left the city.”
Newt seemed astonished. “Well, is that a yes, then?” He asked eventually.
Credence nodded. He imagined it would be like the forest section of Newt’s suitcase, only bigger.
“Why today?” he asked.
“You see… we rather thought it was time for you to try Apparating,” Newt explained, fiddling with his hands.
“Apparating?”
“Yes, it’s where you can disappear from one place and reappear instantly in the next—it’s how I got you here the first day on the street.”
“Oh.” Credence was generally eager to learn new magic, but he was fairly sure that this was more daunting than the stuff he'd been doing so far. “Is it hard?”
“Uh, yes. Sort of. Tina and I agree that you’re ready, though.”
Credence glanced at him. His face was full of conviction, which was comforting, as Credence knew that the man couldn’t lie to save his life.
“Alright then,” he agreed.
Newt considered him for a moment, head at a tilt. “It would make sense for us to Apparate there… but it so happens that Percival has offered to lend me a automobile.”
“A car? Really? I—I’ve never been in one,” Credence admitted, a little embarrassed. It went without saying that Mary Lou and her creed had walked everywhere—good for strength and character.
“I think you’ll like it,” Newt said, taking Credence’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “They make me claustrophobic after a little while, personally, but that’s an unusual reaction.”
Credence chuckled slightly. Of course Newt would hate being shut up in such a small space.
“If that’s all right, then—?”
Credence nodded. “It’s all right.”
They put on their overcoats in companionable silence and locked the apartment door behind them—both of the girls were out somewhere.
A rather large and affluent-looking car was waiting for them outside.
“Can you drive?” Credence asked hesitantly, peering through the darkened windshield apprehensively
“Ah, yes, though it’s been a while. I don’t think I’ll need to, though,” Newt said, and he gestured to the driver’s seat, which Credence had thought was empty. He looked a little closer, and realized that there was in fact a rather small person sitting behind the wheel, with a very wrinkled face and big, pointed ears.
“It’s a goblin!” Newt exclaimed. “Merlin, I didn’t think there were any left in America.” He went around to the driver’s side window and tapped on it politely. It rolled down silently.
“Excuse me, sir, I’m Mr. Scamander, and this is Mr. Barebone. We were hoping to make it to Harriman State Park.”
“Humph,” Credence heard the driver—goblin?—mutter. “We should get goin’ then. Get in.”
“Sure thing,” Newt chirped, and he tugged Credence around to the back door with him. They piled into the car on top of each other, and Credence stared in wonderment at the fine leather seats and the multitude of switches and buttons he could see in front of the driver.
He gasped as the car began to move. It was an odd feeling, having the earth peel away before him like that without moving his feet.
Newt was grinning, and it was infectious. The sun was even out, proof that spring wasn’t so far away. It was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating to be going so fast—Credence swore that the world blurred around them as they travelled.
The goblin drove in silence, resisting Newt’s many eager attempts at conversation. Credence, for his part, was content to stare out the window as the city buildings slowly faded into countryside. It seemed like something out of a storybook to him, with big trees and tall grass stretching endlessly across hills and valley. A flock of geese passed overhead.
“We’re here, Mr. Scamander,” the goblin grunted as they pulled into a dusty lot off the side of the highway. “When do I pick you up?”
“Five thirty would be wonderful,” Newt requested as he let them out of the car.
“Five thirty, then,” the goblin replied, revving the engine. He drove off in a cloud of dust, and just like that, they seemed alone in the wilderness. Everything from the smell of the breeze to the blue of sky seemed like a painting, more vibrant than real life.
Newt, on the other hand, was in his element. He was already trekking off towards a footpath that Credence hadn’t spotted, the tall grass shifting around his legs.
“Come on, love!” He called. “There’s a nice clearing a mile or two up, it should be good for our purposes.”
Credence jogged to catch up with him. His neck was getting a little sore from tilting up so much to stare at the sky and the soft clouds that were blowing by overhead.
“You’ve been here before?” he asked, once he’d caught up.
“Yes, the last time I visited the US,” Newt replied thoughtfully. “I was a teenager, and my family was visiting Theseus on his year abroad at Auror training.”
“Theseus… your brother?” Credence vaguely remembered the name.
“That’s the one. Insufferable prick, he is,” Newt shook his head and smiled. “Anyway, we had a family picnic out here on his day off. I met some displaced leprechauns.”
“Leprechauns?” Credence exclaimed. “You’ve never mentioned leprechauns.”
Newt shrugged. “They’re independent, and quite tricky. They don’t particularly like humans… especially not British ones.” His smile flickered for a moment.
“Why not?” Credence probed gently.
“Well… British muggles have never been kind to the Irish, historically speaking. There aren’t so many of them around anymore.”
“Oh.”
They hiked in companionable silence, broken only occasionally by Newt pointing out some bird or bug that they passed. For a maizoologist, he was remarkably familiar with non-magical wildlife. When Credence asked about this, Newt just shrugged and said, “I love them all the same, really, it’s just that the magical ones are much more misundrestood.”
Within a half hour or so, they reached a small clearing by the side of the trail. Newt forged through the tall grass cheerfully, and Credence followed in his wake.
“Brilliant!” Newt said, stopping somewhere near the middle. “A few muggle repelling charms and we should be good to go.”
As he walked around casting wards, he started to explain things to Credence. “Cave Inimicum— alright, apparition. It’s fairly simple in practice, really, but it’s the thought process—Protego Maxima— that can get you. Essentially, you just need to think very hard about getting where you want to go. You have to visualize yourself—Salvio Hexia—in whatever location you’re a pparating to, and then most wizards generally tend to do some sort of turning motion as they disappear. Muscle memory and all that. Let’s see… Muffliato. That should do.”
Credence let the information sink in. “So, is there an incantation?”
Newt shook his head. “No, it’s nonverbal magic. That’s why they usually make students wait until their fifth or sixth year of study to learn it—that’s when you start to learn nonverbal spells. I think you’re ready, though.”
“Erm—do I—“
Newt pointed to a stump across the clearing. “Sure. Give it a shot. Aim for the stump.”
Credence closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure exactly how to go about this—Newt hadn’t been particularly specific—so he just closed his fingers around his wand and felt the magic as it ran through him. He could see the stump quite clearly in his mind’s eye, and he imagined himself standing on top of it, looking back across the grass at Newt. Keeping that image planted firmly in his mind’s eye, he turned on his heel and clutched his wand tightly.
The clutching darkness that he remembered from his previous experiences enveloped him, but the initial euphoria faded as he stumbled back into reality on the stump, a horrible pain radiating from his right hand. As he looked down, to his horror, he realized that three of his fingers were missing. What had he done wrong?
Newt was by his side in an instant, cursing quietly. “I’m so sorry, Credence, I can’t believe I forgot to mention—“
He reached over to the injured hand, and Credence felt his limb jerk away automatically. Newt pulled away in turn like he’d been burned.
“Credence? Hey, Credence? Look at me?” he asked quietly, waiting until their gazes met. “I’m not angry, I just need to see your hand. I can mend your fingers.”
Credence slowly extended his hand, looking away. Newt must have done some spell to regrow them, because after a few seconds of uncomfortable stretching, he looked back to find them good as new.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about Splinching. Slipped my mind, I guess. It’s a common thing for beginners especially, to lose a few body parts. You’re lucky it was only the fingers. I knew a boy who splinched off both of his legs once.” He noticed Credence’s horrified expression. “Ah, he was fine—they found them both and reattached them. Not a pleasant business.”
Credence was’t really up for doing more, still shaky from stress and blood loss, so they sat for a while on that stump together, back to back, hands clasped (well, just the right ones. Credence’s left was still tender).
“I’m sorry I’m no good at this.” Credence muttered, eventually.
Newt shook his head and squeezed Credence’s hand. “You’re as wonderful as ever, love. Don’t sell yourself short.”