Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing he remembered was light. Blinding whiteness penetrating the shadows that surrounded him.

The second thing he remembered was pain. A pair of voices screaming in unison, a terrible beast howling from within. The world around him was then torn to shreds, leaving him broken and drifting, a whisper on the wind.

His consciousness dissolved, returning only when the snows began to fall. Then, little by little, the darkness gathered around him, clinging to the brick wall where it solidified in the corner.

'Where am I?'

That was the first question that entered his mind. He remembered looking out from within the darkened mass, hugging his knees against his chest. He was alone. He was cold, his body aching, bleeding from the injuries he'd sustained. He wept in silence, wishing they had killed him. Wishing that he didn't have to exist.

It was some time before he began to explore his surroundings, waking from a troubled sleep and crawling through the wet snow and muddy garbage. One of his eyes was swelled shut. His throat burned, tasting blood on his lips each time he swallowed.

He found the wall and leaned against it, pain stabbing his insides when he made his first step forward. A feeble cry escaped his lips. His knees buckled and he fell forward, fresh tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Lowering his head, he took a deep breath and began to walk, using the wall as a crutch to keep some of the weight off his injured foot. What had they done to him? He assumed it was magic. All those spells in the subway. It made him realize his foolishness, thinking only that magic was a great and wondrous thing. He knew better now. He knew that magic could wound, that it hurt worse than anything his Ma had done to him. It was the first time he learned about pain through magic.

At some point he must have fallen. He didn't remember it, but he remembered lying in the snow and thinking how comfortable it was. He felt sleep drawing over him like a warm blanket, like the hand of death.

He closed his eyes. He remembered the silence of the deserted street, flakes of snow falling from the heavens. He was too numb and tired to be afraid. It didn't matter anymore.

In his delirium he imagined death in the form of a great bird with dazzling wings that flashed like lightning. Had he seen it somewhere before? He couldn't remember, but he welcomed its embrace as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

"Newt! Save him."

Those were her words in the beginning. The desperate, almost frantic look in her eyes urging him forward, hoping they could rescue the Second Salem boy. And although they had done their best, trying to calm him, trying to gently coax him out of the subway, in the end they were forced to watch as their fellow witches and wizards destroyed one of their one.

"We failed him," she murmured as the crowd began to disperse. Looking around, she wondered how they could resume their daily lives, continuing on their way as though nothing had happened. As though a frightened and helpless boy had not been murdered for a condition he had no control over. "I failed him," she continued, and Newt could hear the anguish in her voice.

When her sister emerged from the crowd, Tina practically fell into her arms, embracing her as a steady stream of tears trickled down her face. It wasn't until they parted ways with the No-Maj that Newt felt comfortable enough to reveal what he'd seen.

"I saw him," he began, hesitating slightly before continuing. "Or rather, I saw a piece of him, escaping through the rubble before disappearing on the other side of that wall over there. It acted in a most peculiar manner. Almost as if it knew exactly where it was going."

"What?" Tina looked at him, her eyes widening. "Are you suggesting that he consciously fled the subway?" She gestured vaguely towards the entrance, thinking it impossible that Credence could have survived.

"Yes, Miss Goldstein. That is precisely what I'm saying. Although I can't say with certainty that he is still alive, there's a chance he might be out there. Perhaps clinging to life in some form or another, unable to regenerate after sustaining serious damage."

That wasn't exactly a comforting thought. Credence could be anywhere, wedged between the boards in some old abandoned building, or tucked away in the crevices of a brick wall, shivering and cold. But it was enough to give her hope, and right now anything was better than thinking Credence might have died.

.oOo.

It took several hours before Tina was given the opportunity to search for Credence. This was due in part to the tremendous amount of paperwork following the incident in the subway. The rest was due to exhaustion, her troubled mind replaying images from the previous night after she collapsed on the sofa in the living room. She then left the apartment at half past three, visiting magical establishments and asking questions in an attempt to locate the missing boy.

It was easy enough to use her job as an excuse to question the locals, stating that she needed information for her report. The difficult part was seeing the reaction of those she questioned. One man hugged his eight-year old daughter, trembling at the mention of that terrible beast. There was fear in his eyes when he spoke, his voice quivering like a leaf upon the wind. Others refused to comment, their eyes darting upwards before hurrying past. It were as though they feared speaking its name would cause the creature to descend, unleashing a tide of destruction upon the citizens of New York.

In the end she was left to little to go on, her lack of information forcing her to revisit the area around the subway in hopes of finding evidence that Credence had passed through recently. From there she continued out onto the sidewalk, her fingers tracing jagged crevices in the wall, each one a possible hiding place for the wayward Obscurial. She was constantly alert for signs of movement, pausing to examine every shadow that darted past her field of vision. And all the while a barrage of questions circled endlessly in her mind.

What happened to his parents? How old was he? How had he managed to survive for so long? Surely he must be eighteen, maybe nineteen at most. And yet he often appeared much younger, looking for all the world like a helpless child, cowering in fear as he backed away from his abusive mother.

"Credence." Her voice was low, encased in sorrow with only the faintest glimmer of hope. "Where are you, Credence?"

Looking up, she could see the twilight of dusk painting the skies with streaks of midnight blue. She was thinking about returning home for the evening when the sound of glass crunching beneath the soles of her shoes drew her attention towards the street.

Broken bottles spilled out of the mouths of trashcans that had been overturned in the street, along with wet newspapers, crumpled boxes and bits of concrete that had been torn from the wall opposite the trashcans. Her curiosity peaked, Tina stepped over the pile of garbage, moving closer to investigate the damage. She could see where something had struck the trashcans before ricocheting off the wall and coming to a stop in the back of the alley.

"Credence?" She tried calling his name, softly at first, so as not to startle him. "Credence, are you in there?"

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that the streets were deserted, the streetlights wreathed in a layer of dense fog that clung to the edge of the building, helping to conceal her presence. It would have been easy for Credence to slip past, enveloped in a dark mist as he raced through the skies. But there was something, perhaps her own magical instinct, that told her he was here, his broken body lingering on the verge of death.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm, and stepped into the alley. A pale beam of light sprang from the tip of her wand, slicing through the darkness and illuminating a set of footprints in the snow. Every other step was smeared with blood, the crimson drops standing out against a crisp, white background.

"He's hurt," she whispered, her pulse accelerating as fear closed around her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She was practically running now, heedless of the cold and the late hour of the night. Newt and Queenie were probably wondering where she was, and heaven knows chasing an Obscurial through the city presented a high risk of death or injury. She could only hope that he recognized her, that he remembered the kindness she had shown him, and could control his Obscurus long enough for her to bring him home. She hadn't stopped to consider what might happen once he was in their apartment. All that mattered now was finding him.

A startled gasp pierced the silence of the cold night air. There in the snow lay the body of a young man, his clothing torn with dried blood streaked across his face and hands.

Tina's first reaction was to quickly cover her mouth with her hand, disbelief washing over her as she stared at his broken body.

Kneeling beside him in the snow, she carefully slid one hand under his back, rolling him over so that she could see his face. "Credence," she whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She held him against her chest, cradling him in her arms as the snow continued to fall around them.

How could they do this to him? He was just a boy, an innocent wizard who'd been forced through years of abuse to suppress that which came naturally to him. And even if she brought him home, was there even a chance that they could cure him of this terrible affliction? Or was he cursed to spend the rest of his days drifting in a darkened haze until the Obscurus claimed its final victim?

"I'm so sorry," she said softly, her voice choked with emotion. "You didn't deserve this, Credence. None of this should have ever happened."

His lips parted slightly, moaning in response to her voice. Though his eyes remained closed, he was slowly becoming aware of her presence, the warmth of her embrace helping to restore his senses.

"Credence?" she said again, her tone questioning as she lifted a hand and smoothed the hair out of his face. He whimpered and tried curling in on himself, still keeping his eyes closed in an effort to shut out the world around him.

"Credence, it's alright," she whispered, trying her best to keep him calm. She could see that he was in a fragile state, and that if he lost control it could very well mean the end of them both. "I'm not going to hurt you. I can help you. I can take you somewhere safe, but you need to calm yourself before I can move you."

It pained her to see him like this, his chest heaving as he struggled against the parasitic entity that was writhing beneath his skin. His muscles spasmed, and he screamed, the Obscurus rebelling against him in a last ditch effort to take control of his body. But instead of letting go she held him tighter, still whispering soothing words of comfort as blackened tendrils rose from the surface of his skin, engulfing them in a swirling vortex of chaotic energy.

Together they wept and fought for control, until at last the shadows began to retreat and Credence went limp in her arms. He was scarcely breathing when she lifted him off the ground, holding him close as she Disapparated.

Chapter Text

Apparating onto the street outside her apartment was the easy part. Walking up several flights of stairs while supporting a half-unconscious Obscurial was much more difficult.

Credence clung to her the entire time, his senses gradually returning with each step they took. He became aware of each and every breath he drew into his lungs, his limbs aching, heavy with exhaustion. He was aware of movement beneath his skin, that vile creature twisting in the pit of his stomach. He felt that more than anything else, as if it had become his entire being.

He paused halfway up the second flight of stairs, gasping and groaning, unable to move another step. Tina was there, her eyes darting from one closed door to the next, praying that no one heard them as she attempted to lead Credence to safety.

"Come on," she said, her voice pleading and desperate. She placed her arm around him, trying to hold him steady. "Credence, you can make it. Just a little farther - "

Her sentence ended abruptly when he grasped her arm, a low, shuddering breath gliding past his lips. He was pulling her down, his muscles tense as black sand-like tendrils coiled around his limbs.

He knew that he was hurting her, but he couldn't stop, the color rapidly draining from his eyes as he sank to the floor on his knees.

Tina glanced at the upstairs landing, her breath catching in her throat as she fought against the urge to scream. It was with great difficulty that she managed to control the panic rising in her chest, and with one final burst of strength she pulled him onto his feet and forced him to continue walking.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Countless doors and hallways, each one faded and distant, passing before his eyes in a haze of misty shadows. Tina's voice cut through the silence of the night, followed by the sound of footsteps, the feel of hands, and suddenly he was falling, unable to stop his descent.

"Mr. Scamander!" A pause, ragged breaths filling the silence. "I found him! He was four blocks from where the Aurors attacked him in the subway." Credence was practically dragged over the threshold, the fear in Tina's voice hurrying Newt along. "Mercy Lewis, I don't know how he made it so far out."

Newt acted without hesitation, helping Tina carry the Obscurial to the couch. They laid him down just as Queenie had finished repositioning the many throw pillows, his head lolling to the side as he sank into the cushions.

"Credence?" Newt moved closer, kneeling beside the Obscurial. "Credence, can you hear me?" When the boy failed to respond, Newt laid the back of his hand against his cheek. "Bring me a wet flannel," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Tina. "He's running a temperature. Feels like it might be well over a hundred."

Tina nodded once before getting to her feet, thankful to be doing something useful. She returned almost immediately, handing him a damp washcloth which he neatly folded and draped across Credence's forehead.

"I need to examine him," said Newt, grimacing at the wounds the youth had obtained. His hands found the buttons on Credence's vest, undoing each one and revealing a scarlet stain that had soaked into the fabric underneath. "Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed mildly, lifting the boy's shirt and noticing a series of bruises along his ribs. "These don't appear to be recent," he said slowly, glancing at Tina before continuing his examination.

More than a dozen wounds were cleaned and treated with dittany, the worst being a deep gash that started above his ankle and split the skin atop his left foot. From the looks of things, Credence had experienced a rough landing after careening through the alley, coming down hard and twisting his ankle. What was even more troubling was the age of some of his injuries, indicating that he had been abused over a long period of time.

"I was afraid of this," said Newt, dabbing a bit of dittany onto the last of Credence's wounds. "You told me his adoptive mother beats him. I assumed there would be signs of abuse, but I didn't imagine it would be so severe."

Silence stretched between them as Queenie moved to sit in the chair beside the couch. Newt glanced her from the corner of his eye, not daring to take his attention off the Obscurial. He began to think about what came next, the long nights spent caring for the Sudanese girl returning to haunt his thoughts.

He understood his responsibility, knowing that he would be the one to care for Credence. After all, he was the only one who had experience with Obscurials. He knew that Credence would need separate meals prepared for him once his digestive system began to fail. He knew that Credence's fever would worsen until he started having convulsions. He'd seen it all before; that unfortunate girl, still so young, too young to have suffered such a terrible fate.

"No," he murmured, his voice barely audible. He shook off the memories of her death. He had to, for Credence's sake. The boy needed his full attention. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted.

"What do we do now that we've brought him home?" Queenie asked, her voice low, inquisitive. Like her sister, she was genuinely concerned about the young man lying on their couch. Though she was also a bit curious, wondering what it would be like to have an Obscurial living in their apartment.

"We have to keep him hidden," Tina replied, answering before Newt had a chance to speak.

Newt lifted his gaze, seeing the fearful but determined expression on Tina's face. He was pleasantly surprised at how easily she set aside their strict laws in favor of helping this young man.

"He's a fugitive, so we're breaking the law by harboring a known criminal," Tina continued, her words tumbling out rather quickly. "He's dangerous, and if we're questioned regarding his whereabouts we're going to have lie about - "

"He's not dangerous," said Newt, cutting her off in midsentence. "Obscurials are no threat to anyone so long as we keep him calm."

Tina's lips parted, staring at him in wonder as he defended the injured Obscurial. "All I'm saying is that there will be serious repercussions if he's discovered, Mr. Scamander. But it's a risk we're going to have to take in order to protect him."

A sharp groan interrupted their conversation. Credence shifted slightly against the mound of throw pillows, moving restlessly as he began to come to. His eyes fluttered open. Brown eyes, glazed as though he were fighting a bout of the flu, seeing blurred faces leaning over him. And then it hit him. The church, his sister Chastity, dear God his mother, too. He remembered stumbling through the rubble, gripping the pendant and falling to his knees. Then came darkness spreading throughout the city as everything inside of him let go at once.

Horrified by what he had done, Credence began to cry in earnest. It was the most humiliating thing he could have done in front of these kind strangers, but he couldn't help it. He was tired and confused, and he'd had enough of feeling like something was constantly tearing at his insides.

"Shh, it's alright," came Tina's voice beside him. Her hand found his, closing around his fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "You're safe now. Newt and I will take care of you."

He didn't deserve their kindness, Credence thought miserably, turning his head and gazing into her deep brown eyes. He would have been better off in the street, left to die alone like the monster that he was. And yet there was a desire to cling to her, a desire to be loved and accepted.

"Why - " Credence began, breathing heavily as hot tears cascaded down his face. His sentence was cut short by a forceful spasm, his trembling hands gripping the cushions on the couch.

The tremors passed quickly enough, with Tina kneeling beside him, whispering soothing words of comfort while Newt refreshed the cloth on his forehead. Even so, Newt was able to look at him and watch the flesh creep avidly along the back of his hands, moving up and down as though some creature had burrowed beneath his skin.

These movements continued for several minutes after Credence had dozed off, for although he was able to sleep his Obscurus was still restless, twisting and winding its way through his body during the late hours of the night.

Chapter Text

Credence woke near dawn, shivering and sweating beneath a faded quilt Queenie had draped over him while he slept. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd fallen asleep. He barely knew where he was. The only thing he knew for sure was that someone was beside him, bathing his face and neck with cool water from a bowl on the coffee table.

"Easy now, Credence," a voice was saying. "You're going to be alright."

The sound was comforting, though in the back of his mind he couldn't help wondering why they brought him here.

He wanted to trust them, to believe that they were truly there to help him get better. He wanted to be part of the magical world, his thoughts moving sluggishly over the few times he'd witnessed acts of magic. Mr. Graves healing his wounds, only because he wanted something. It wouldn't surprise him if these people were the same as all the others.

However, Newt Scamander wasn't like the others he had met. He continued to care for him during the long days of his illness, and when Credence's fever showed no signs of breaking on its own, Newt was able to prepare a bitter potion that helped ease his discomfort. Tina was there for him as well, her tone patient and gentle as Credence cried out from endless fever dreams. She would sit beside him all hours of the day and night, watching him whenever Newt left to tend to his creatures.

Nearly a week had passed before Credence felt well enough to explore the apartment. He was just waking up, feeling clear headed and cool, when he spied Newt sitting across from him, his feet up on the footstool with a large dog seated beside him on the floor.

"Credence." Newt's expression brightened considerably when he saw the young man was awake. The Obscurial drew back, shrinking away from the animal as it climbed into Newt's lap. "Now now, there's nothing to be afraid of," said Newt, lifting a hand and stroking the furry creature. "This is an Irish moon dog. They're harmless really, so long as they aren't exposed to loud noises. Sensitive hearing," he added, pointing to one of his own ears to emphasize his point.

The creature whined and looked back at the Obscurial, his silvery coat shining with a faint ethereal glow. He appeared to have taken an interest in the boy, and was now gazing at him intently from across the room.

"Name's Dormarth, by the way. The dog, I mean," Newt added, motioning with a nod towards the curious creature. "My name is Newt Scamander, though you probably remember me from our meeting in the subway." He paused, looking expectantly at Credence as though waiting for him to respond.

Credence, however, didn't seem interested in having a conversation. He stared at the dog in Newt's lap, eyeing him carefully before glancing around the room. Where was the nice lady, he wondered, noticing that neither Tina nor Queenie were present.

"Where - " Credence began, his voice faltering.

Newt was patient with him, humming softly as he continued petting the moon dog. There was a smile on his face, warm and pleasant, like a caring father looking after his only son. It was comforting, helping to ease some of the anxiety Credence felt since awakening in this unfamiliar room.

"Where are the others?" Credence mumbled, keeping his head down as he spoke. He didn't want to burden this stranger with too many questions. Surely he had better things to do than sit here and entertain some poor, pathetic orphaned child.

"Miss Goldstein and her sister had to leave for work," Newt replied in a casual tone. "I'm the only one here right now. And since I didn't want my creatures feeling neglected, I thought I'd bring one of them out and let him have a look around. You know, give him a bit of company and exercise."

Credence curled in on himself, his arms snaking around his waist, trembling with fear and uncertainty.

"Credence?" Newt sat up straight, keeping his tone gentle so as not to frighten him. "Credence, are you alright?"

The Obscurial lifted his head, finally making eye contact. "I don't know," he whispered hoarsely, measuring each breath as he attempted to control the shadowy beast coiling in the pit of his stomach.

This building, with its warm, inviting atmosphere, wouldn't stand a chance if he were to lose control. And Credence knew this. He knew that something was wrong, that he'd been losing long stretches of time and couldn't account for his whereabouts during these moments. The thought alone was terrifying, and it made him want to run, to hide himself away before anyone else got hurt.

"It's alright, Credence," Newt said slowly. "I can help you. I'm not going to hurt you." A pause. Then, he added thoughtfully, "Do you remember what I told you in the subway?" He was hoping this might redirect Credence's thoughts, giving him something positive to focus on.

The Obscurial trembled and nodded, rocking back and forth on the couch.

"That's good, Credence." The corners of his lips turned upwards. "That girl - when I met her some time ago, she was just like you. I was able to care for her, just like I've been caring for you since Tina found you in the alley. Now, I can't force you to stay here. I wouldn't attempt it. But if you're willing to remain in my care, I will do everything I can to help you get better."

Credence looked at him for a good long while, trying to decide whether or not he wished to stay. Most of the time he was told what to do and how to do it. Failure to follow orders meant punishment, usually in the form of several lashings with his belt. But this was something new, and it surprised him, while at the same time making him wonder why this man was being so nice to him.

"What if I don't want to stay?" Credence asked, his words tumbling out all at once.

"Then I'd have to let you leave," Newt replied, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. He shifted slightly, giving the dog room to resituate itself on his lap, and resumed petting the shaggy beast.

Credence sighed, glancing at the door before returning his gaze to Newt. As much as he wanted to leave this place, he knew that if he did he would probably die in the street in less than a month. He had no money, no food, and nowhere else to go. Not unless he fancied the thought of returning to his mother's church and making a home for himself in the rubble.

"I'll stay," he said quietly, his shoulders sinking in defeat. He didn't know what he was getting himself into. He could only hope that he wasn't making a mistake by deciding to live with these people.

.oOo.

There was much discussion following Credence's recovery. Questions were asked, such as where he would live, where would he sleep, and what size clothing he wore. The latter of which took him by surprise, his head bowed as he sat on the couch, watching with nervous anticipation.

Queenie was smiling at him from across the room, her wand hovering over a dressmakers dummy that was decidedly masculine in shape. "I've never made clothing for a man before," she chirped, delighted to be of use. She considered him for a moment, taking in his youthful appearance. "Only you're not a man yet, are you, sweetie?"

Credence wasn't sure how to answer that. He opened his mouth, but the words got stuck in his throat. A flush of heat rose in his cheeks. He wished these people would stop staring at him.

His attention was soon drawn towards the dressmakers dummy as cotton fibers began flowing from the tip of Queenie's wand. His jaw dropped even further when she started weaving them into a shirt.

"No, I think that's too small," said Queenie, more to herself than anyone in the room. A flick of her wrist and the shirt doubled in size, the fabric stretching so that it would comfortably fit the Obscurial. "Can't have you running around in those tattered rags all day, now can we?"

"You don't have to," were the only words that managed to escape. Credence was looking at the pair of sisters, from Queenie to Tina and back again, his mind reeling from the fact that he was indeed witnessing an act of magic.

"It's alright, Credence," Tina soothed, seeing the stunned expression on his face. "Magic can be used for many things. My sister often designs her own clothing using the spells we learned in school."

Credence gazed at the spinning strands with silent wonder, his heart aching with the desire to reach out and touch the enchanted threads. It seemed impossible, like something from a fairy tale come to life. And yet, as he watched, an oversized sweater began taking shape. Then came a pair of pants, dark in color like the sweater. The next thing he knew Queenie had removed the clothes with a flick of her wrist. The clothing folded itself into a neat little bundle, then slowly drifted towards him and landed on the couch.

"Go on then," Newt said when it became apparent that Credence would neither move nor speak. The Obscurial scooted sideways on the couch, staring at the pile of clothing as though it were something completely foreign to him. "They're yours, Credence. You can try them on if you like."

Queenie giggled. "I promise they won't bite."

Curiosity overcame fear, his trembling hands reaching for the clothes and hugging them against his chest. He could feel the weight of them in his arms, the soft fabric helping to solidify this moment, assuring him that this was real.

Credence looked around; the room was sparsely decorated and very tidy. There was a small living area, a kitchen and a bedroom, but where could he go to change? Surely they didn't expect him to undress right here in front of them.

He eyed the door across the room, a low whimper escaping his lips.

"It's okay," said Tina, her voice barely above a whisper. Credence jumped when he felt her hand on his shoulder, her gentle tone helping to calm his shattered nerves. "The bathroom is down the hall and to the right. You can get dressed in there. Just make sure you come right back when you're finished."

Credence nodded obediently, keeping his gaze fixated on the floor. He was still hurting, still terrified after the trauma he'd endured. And if experience had taught him anything, it was to do exactly as he was told, lest he wind up on the receiving end of another beating.

He slowly got to his feet and padded silently down the hall, crossing the threshold and closing the bathroom door behind him. It wasn't until he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above the sink that he realized the severity of his injuries.

Grotesque shades of purple and yellow laced the area above his left eye, making it look as though he'd fallen down a flight of stairs. His lip was split, though the swelling had gone down considerably since they took him in, and in some places his hair was matted and stuck to his forehead. Newt had cleaned and dressed his wounds, but the Magizoologist had only washed from the waist up, leaving him in the suit and tie he'd been wearing at the time of the attack.

It was just as well, Credence thought, knowing that his back had been horribly scarred from years of abuse. He didn't want them to see the faint, pinkish lines that crisscrossed his flesh, each one marking a moment in time when he wasn't good enough.

He gingerly stripped down, muscles aching as he contorted his body to peel off the rags that covered him. With another glance at the mirror, he stepped over to the wash basin and began to scrub himself down with a washcloth and some warm water. This, too, brought back memories of the time he lived with his adoptive mother, and he trembled at the vivid images that passed through his mind, seeing himself weeping and shaking, rinsing his hands as scarlet stains swirled in the greyish water.

When he had finished washing up, Credence dried off with a towel and put on his new clothes. They fit reasonably well; the shirt was comfortable, and the sweater was a little baggy, but it was warm and soft. He glanced back at the bathroom - he had made quite a mess. He quickly mopped the floor with the towel and scooped up his old clothes. They were headed for the trash.

Chapter Text

The gentle murmur of conversation met his ears as he approached the Goldstein's apartment. He could hear them discussing his living arrangements, though he wasn't sure what they meant by "giving him his own room inside my suitcase."

Credence paused, one hand on the doorknob, listening.

"It would only take a couple days to set up," said Newt, his voice pleasantly cheerful. "And it would allow me to keep an eye on him in case something goes wrong."

The door opened slowly, and the room fell silent, all eyes on Credence as he stood in the doorway.

A lopsided grin spread across Newt's face. "Credence, there you are." He crossed the room and stopped beside the Obscurial. "Still a bit warm," he muttered, placing the back of his hand against Credence's forehead.

Credence lifted his chin off his chest, unsure of what to say to these kind people.

"I think we ought to let him rest," said Newt, half-turning and glancing over his shoulder at the pair of sisters. "Get something warm and nourishing in his belly, then we can let him lie down for a bit." He looked back at Credence, who was still cowering in the doorway. "It's alright. You're safe, Credence. Nothing can harm you here."

Tina came forward, removing the bundle of soiled clothing and depositing them in the trash. Credence gave her a look in passing, one that didn't go unnoticed by Newt. He saw in his eyes a look of hopeless longing, searching for the love and affection he'd never received from his adoptive mother. When he saw this, Newt moved to put his hand on Credence's back, and felt the Obscurial start slightly, his eyes darting to the side where they lingered on Newt's face.

"I think you should take him," said Newt, giving Credence a gentle nudge in Tina's direction. "Get him situated for the night. We can figure out what to do with him in the morning."

There was a slight pause, a moment passing between them as Tina reached out to the frightened Obscurial, and Credence slowly made his way towards her, step by step, shuffling across the floor.

"Queenie, could you make him something to eat?" asked Tina, her arm curling around him in a protective gesture. Credence felt sheltered by her embrace, his shoulders sinking as he began to relax. "Something light, like a bowl of chicken soup."

"That would be good," said Newt, nodding in approval. He watched as Tina led Credence into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar as she pulled back the covers and helped him into bed.

.oOo.

Surrounded by comfort and warmth, Credence slept through the night and well into the next morning. It was nearly noon when he awoke to the sound of conversation, low and droning, just outside the bedroom door.

He rolled over in bed, listening to them speak. The suitcase was mentioned again, and by now he was getting curious as to what they were talking about.

"Are you sure that's the best choice, considering what he is and what he's capable of, Mr. Scamander?"

"Please, call me Newt. And yes, I'm certain it's the best place for him. The majority of my time is spent with my creatures, so I'll be able to care for them and Credence at the same time. Much more convenient, you see."

The floorboards creaked. Credence pulled the blankets up to his chin and huddled beneath the covers. A face appeared in the doorway. It was the blond lady, though Credence wasn't sure what her name was.

"Oh! You're awake," she tittered pleasantly. The words had barely left her mouth when Dormarth ambled up, his pink tongue dangling from the side of his mouth. Queenie bent down to pet shaggy dog, and would have succeeded in doing so if the creature hadn't sprinted past her and into the bedroom.

Credence let out a yelp as the creature ran at him, stopping beside the bed and raising himself up on his hind legs. The bedsprings squealed beneath the dog's weight, his front paws sinking into the mattress as he moved a little closer, sniffing the Obscurial.

The dog seemed to consider him for a moment, his tail waving back and forth as Credence sat up in bed, holding the covers against his chest as though they were a shield capable of protecting him from Newt's creature.

"Dormarth!" A voice from down the hall, followed by the sound of footsteps.

Up flew the covers on the bed, and the Obscurial quickly disappeared beneath them.

Newt cautiously approached the quivering lump on the bed, pausing to place his hand on the back of Dormarth's neck. The dog immediately withdrew, a low whine cutting across the silence of the room.

"It's alright, Credence," said Newt, moving to sit beside him on the bed. "He's not going to hurt you. He only wants to have a look at you." Slowly, he raised his hand and peeled back the covers. "As do I," he added softly, keeping his tone gentle so as not to frighten him.

Credence curled in on himself, shaking and staring at the Magizoologist. He remained seated with his knees drawn up against his chest, allowing Newt to place the back of his hand against his forehead.

"Normal," Newt breathed, his lopsided grin returning. "Do you think you could eat a solid meal?"

"I guess I could try," Credence mumbled, though he really wasn't hungry. Most days he had little to no interest in food, choosing to nibble a piece of bread or leftover soup from his mother's kitchen. Anything more and his insides would rebel, leaving him on his knees in front of the toilet.

Newt remained cautiously optimistic, watching as Credence slid his feet over the side of the mattress. He would carefully observe the Obscurial during lunch, seeing if he exhibited any of the symptoms he'd noticed while caring for the Sudanese girl. There was always the chance that Credence's health could take a sudden turn for the worst. But for now he appeared to be on the road to making a full recovery.

.oOo.

Newt gave Queenie instructions on what to prepare for lunch, presenting her with a list of foods that were easily digestible. Though he wouldn't explain why Credence required separate meals, the look on his face was enough to tell them that something was wrong.

Tina approached Newt as he was sitting at the kitchen table. "Is something bothering you?" she asked, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard by Credence. The Obscurial was currently seated on the couch, watching with rapt attention as Queenie charmed a wooden spoon to stir the pot on the stove.

Newt looked up suddenly, his train of thought broken by the sound of her voice. "No." He shook his head, jiggling the loose curls that encircled his crown. "Just waiting," he added as an after thought, his eyes darting towards the figure on the couch.

The younger of the two sisters tapped the pot with her wand, and the wooden spoon began scooping a portion of rice pudding into a bowl. Another brief motion and the bowl lifted off the counter. "Lunch is ready," she cooed, using her wand to send the bowl soaring towards the table.

Tina couldn't help but smile at the expression on Credence's face. He was so child-like in his wonder and curiosity, his shuffling, staggering movements resembling that of a toddler who was just learning how to walk.

She pulled out a chair, and Credence took a seat at the table.

The Obscurial kept his head down, not looking at any of them as he dipped a spoon into the pudding and stirred it. The spoon was halfway to his mouth when he paused, lifting his head and looking at the people around him.

"Why do you care about me?" Credence asked, his voice low, timid.

It was Newt who answered this time, shifting slightly and leaning forward in his seat.

"Because I can't stand to see the suffering of others." At this, the moon dog whimpered softly, moving in close and licking Newt's hand. "You've been hurt, Credence," Newt continued, scratching Dormarth behind the ears. "You're hurting because people have done horrible, unfair things to you. You don't deserve to be treated like that. No one does."

Credence's gaze traveled downwards, lingering on the dog that had settled on the floor beside Newt's chair. He'd always heard that animals were a good judge of people, seeing their true nature and knowing whether or not they could be trusted.

Gradually, he started to relax, his attention returning to his meal. It smelled sweet, like honey and cinnamon, and when he tasted it Credence quickly discovered that there were apple slices mixed in with the rice.

"It's good," he said softly. "Thank you."

Queenie smiled, pleased by his compliment. "I'm glad you like it, honey. It's an old family recipe our mother used to make when we were kids."

The rest of their meal passed in relative silence. Credence avoided speaking whenever possible, preferring to stay quiet while the others conversed. Though Newt tried striking up a conversation with him, Credence only responded with short sentences, never looking him in the eye when he spoke.

After lunch Credence returned to the couch, watching in silence while Queenie conjured a second set of clothing and a nightshirt. He was fascinated by everything he saw, wanting to learn and be a part of this magical world.

He considered asking if they would teach him how to perform magic, and for the longest time the question lingered on the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken. But whenever the thought entered his mind he began to tremble, thinking back on all the times he'd been punished for accidentally using magic.

At first he'd been too young to understand, knowing only that his actions infuriated his mother, who would then order him to stand in the corner and remove his belt. He tried to run, hiding under the couch or the kitchen table, only to have her seize him by the back of his pants and haul him out from under the furniture. And if she pulled his pants down in the process, well, that was fine with her. Because Mary Lou didn't care where the belt made contact, be it his hands, chest or even his backside.

He leapt up when Tina placed a hand on his shoulder, looking around and realizing that this wasn't his mother's church. He was with them now, real witches and wizards who performed magic on a daily basis.

"Credence," she murmured, and suddenly he was back home with Chastity kneeling beside him.

His sister had found him in the corner, wedged between the dresser and the bed. He'd spent the night there, unable to sleep for fear of what might happen if he closed his eyes.

"Credence?"

It was alive. It was alive and moving beneath his skin. There was something more than blood trickling down his face. It was black, oozing and pulsing as it dripped onto the floor.

"Credence, can you hear me?"

It moved. He was certain of it. Moving and breathing as though it possessed a consciousness. He watched it rise, a living shroud of fury and hatred, engulfing his body and ensnaring his mind, causing him to scream as it tore at him from the inside out.

"Newt!"

The Magizoologist was beside them in an instant.

"Credence, look at me. Everything is alright." His fingers closed around Credence's wrist, guiding his hand and holding it against his chest. "I need you to breathe with me. Focus on the sound of my voice and breathe, Credence. Just breathe. You'll be alright in a minute."

Credence was shaking violently, unable to catch his breath as blackened tendrils rose from the surface of his skin, surrounding him in a dense layer of swirling mist. He was distantly aware of movement beneath his fingers, feeling the rise and fall of Newt's chest as he struggled to control his breathing.

The darkness flickered like dying flame, contracting and expanding with each inhalation of breath. A hand brushed against the top of his head, helping to still the Obscurial's restless twitching.

"You're alright now," said Newt, his tone surprisingly calm. "That's it. Just keep breathing, Credence. In and out, slowly. Don't think about anything else."

Exhausted from his efforts, Credence collapsed against Newt's chest, allowing the older wizard to place his arms around him.

"I'm s-sorry," he mumbled, clinging to him like a frightened child. "I d-dont mean t-to be so much trouble."

It felt wrong to be this close to someone. He didn't know if they would turn on him like Mr. Graves. But at the same time he couldn't force himself to move from Newt's embrace.

"Nonsense," said Newt, gently patting him on the back. "Don't ever think of it as a bother, Credence." He looked at Tina, who had been watching them from the opposite end of the couch. "This is my fault. He's overstimulated. I should have put him to bed after lunch."

Together with Tina's help, they managed to lift the trembling Obscurial off the couch, helping him to his feet and guiding him towards the bedroom. Once they got him settled, Credence was asleep in a matter of minutes, his frail body wrapped in one of Tina's old quilts.

Newt stayed with him after that, drawing up a chair and taking a seat beside the bed. His companion, Dormarth, stationed himself on the foot of the bed, his paws neatly folded under his chin as he watched the sleeping Obscurial. When he was certain that Credence was resting comfortably, Newt retreated into his suitcase, returning a short while later with a stack of tattered notebooks, photographs and sketches.

"I don't think either of them will mind if we keep him company," said Newt, depositing his supplies on the nightstand. He then lowered himself onto the chair and started flipping through the pages of his manuscript, making note of the incomplete sections he needed to work on.

Chapter Text

Credence continued to eat and sleep, taking it one day at a time while Newt worked on creating a room for him in his suitcase. Some days were better than others, and when he was feeling good he asked for a piece of Queenie's blueberry crumb cake for dessert. It was during one of his better days that Queenie, delighted by his interest in her culinary skills, decided to make stuffed pasta shells for dinner.

Newt tried to discourage her from giving Credence anything that might upset his stomach. However, when he saw the way Credence was eyeing the dish with an expression of longing, he decided to step aside and allow the Obscurial to partake of Queenie's pasta.

The result was surprising, with Credence happily digging into the delicious meal.

"How wonderful!" Queenie said, clasping her hands together in front of her. "You know, I thought you were looking rather thin." She motioned towards a loaf of freshly baked bread. "You can have some, if you want. Growing boys need all the nourishment they can get."

"He's not a boy," Tina corrected, looking up from her half eaten plate of pasta. She hesitated slightly, glancing at Credence who had paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. "At least, I don't think he is," she murmured, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

By now everyone was staring at him, and Credence had begun to squirm in his seat. He lowered his chin onto his chest, his hand shaking slightly as the fork made contact with his plate.

Though none of them had said anything about Credence's advanced age, it was a thought that weighed heavily on their minds, seeing as how none of them had ever seen an Obscurial survive beyond the age of ten.

"Credence," Tina began, keeping her tone gentle. "Forgive me for asking, but how old are you?"

Slowly, he lifted his gaze, finally making eye contact with the older sister. "I-I'm twenty-five," Credence stammered. He then leapt nearly a foot out of his seat as an explosion of sound erupted on his right.

Newt had been taking a sip from a cup of tea when Credence announced his age. Startled by the number Credence provided, he accidentally inhaled his tea and began to choke. Tina leaned sideways in her seat, thumping him on the back until he managed to clear his airway and could breathe normally again.

"Sorry," Newt rasped, turning his head and covering his mouth with a napkin. He coughed, wiped his mouth on the napkin and pushed his chair out. "So sorry," he apologized again, then got to his feet. "Excuse me. I think I need some air."

Credence's face fell. Had he done something wrong?

When she looked back at him, Tina saw that Credence was trembling, his shoulders hunched as he sat staring at the floor.

"Credence, it's alright." Tina reached towards him, and he cringed, not knowing why the Magizoologist was so upset. "It okay," she soothed, rubbing his arm in an effort to keep him calm. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why did he leave?" Credence murmured, his voice sounding so small, so hopelessly lost and confused.

Wordlessly, Tina let her gaze drift towards her younger sibling, each gazing at the other in silence. They knew the answer to his question, though neither of them seemed able to speak the truth. Instead, she pulled him close, leaning sideways in her seat and sheltering him in her embrace. It was all she could do to ease his shattered nerves, wishing that the boy had never been cursed with such a terrible affliction.

.oOo.

Later that evening, Newt was sitting alone inside his suitcase, the snows of winter swirling about his lean frame. A dark mass was twisting and writhing in the air above him, contained within a floating sphere that simmered with opalescence hues.

He'd considered bringing Credence into his suitcase, showing him the Obscurus and explaining his condition. But how do you tell someone that they should have died when they were ten? How do tell someone that this monstrous entity was slowing consuming them from the inside out, and that there was little to no hope for a cure?

Newt sighed heavily and combed his fingers through his hair. Sooner or later he would have to tell Credence the truth about what he was, but he was by no means looking forward to it.

He put his coat on and headed towards the shed, past the numerous creatures who called this place home. The Niffler raised his head then started towards him, but even he could tell that something was wrong. And so he remained where he was, nestled in a pile of gold and trinkets.

Outside, the lid on the case opened, and one by one Newt climbed the rungs on the ladder.

"Credence," Newt called gently, stepping outside and beckoning him with a wave of his hand. "There's something I'd like to show you. If you don't mind coming a little closer."

Credence was seated on Tina's bed, head bowed obediently as Newt emerged from the suitcase. He was eyeing the case with nervous anticipation, silence stretching between them as Newt patiently waited for the Obscurial to come forward.

"Come on then." Newt held out his hand, hoping this might offer a bit of comfort to the frightened Obscurial. "Come on, it's alright."

A moment passed in silence. Finally, Credence got to his feet and walked towards him.

He was cautious as he approached the suitcase, not knowing what to make of this enchanted piece of luggage. To him, it looked like an ordinary suitcase. But he remembered hearing something about adding rooms and giving him a place to live. Credence also remembered the first time he saw Dormarth, and how Newt had said something about letting him out for some exercise.

Was it possible that Newt kept magical creatures inside his suitcase? Credence wouldn't be surprised if that were true. He supposed anything was possible when dealing with people from the wizarding world. However, he wasn't expecting the variety of creatures and habitats that unfurled before him as he reluctantly followed Newt into his case.

A pair of birds, white and shining with a luminous aura, perched upon the branches of a willow tree overlooking a crystal blue pond. A miniature waterfall sent a spray of droplets into the air, forming a prism against the cloudless sky. Beyond that, the Bowtruckles were clambering over each other to get a better look at the stranger passing through their habitat. Dougal, on the other hand, decided he'd rather not be seen, and had turned invisible the moment Newt entered the case.

Credence moved as though in a daze, looking left and right at the fantastical landscape that seemed to go on forever. One environment blended seamlessly with the next as spreading sand dunes gave way to rocky plains and emerald fields, dotted with clusters of lilac and primrose.

He took another step forward, transfixed by the sight of small, greyish creatures frolicking in the moonlight. As he watched, he noticed that they were gazing intently at the moon, a flicker of gold darting between their legs, startling some of the younger creatures.

Newt immediately came forward. "No, Duke. What have I told you about pestering the Mooncalves?"

The Mooncalves scattered, with only a few choosing to stand their ground as they watched the scene unfold.

They watched as Newt entered their habitat, reaching for a speckled hare that was running across the grass. The fleet footed creature dove into the nearest burrow, only to be summoned by a flick of Newt's wand.

Credence swallowed hard, taking a step back as the Magizoologist grasped the creature by the scruff of its neck, lifting then cradling it in his arms like an infant. This hare, which seemed perfectly normal except for the spiral horn protruding from the center of its forehead, produced a shrill cry before burying its face in the crook of Newt's arm.

"So sorry." That lopsided grin was back, his mood decidedly more cheerful now that he was back in his suitcase with his creatures. Newt's fingers disappeared into the mane of fur around the creature's neck, gently stroking the speckled hare in an effort to calm the frightened creature. "Al-Miraj," he said, forgetting that Credence had no knowledge of such beings. "This one has a bit of history. Not the most pleasant of experiences either."

He was brought out of his reverie when the hare slowly turned, whimpering and trembling.

"Right then." Newt repositioned the hare so that it was draped across his shoulder. He rubbed the creature's back, comforting the animal until its cries began to subside. "One moment please. I have to get Duke back in his enclosure."

The Magizoologist swept past, leaving Credence to stare at his back as he moved towards the adjacent structure.

"Off you hop," said Newt, smiling and offering some words of encouragement. The timid creature was gently lowered onto the ground, whiskers and ears twitching, constantly alert and fearful. "That's it. You're alright now. You're alright."

Credence stood off to the side, watching as the hare flattened itself against the earth when Newt stroked its back. His attention was then drawn towards a plane of solid white, an enclosure so unlike the rest, with snowflakes drifting on a frigid wind that brushed against his cheek.

He lifted a hand, almost disbelieving, and felt the snowflakes melt against his skin. "Mr. Scamander," he whispered hoarsely, still staring at the rippling fabric that separated the enclosures. Something inside felt familiar, a force that radiated power even at a distance.

Newt stood up slowly and saw what Credence was looking at. "Do you want to have a look inside?"

The Obscurial turned and nodded.

Newt inhaled deeply, reaching out and grasping something invisible. He tugged on the transparent fabric, the air peeling back like a sheet of rolling mist, revealing a snowy tundra that stretched across the horizon.

The air inside was still, seizing up when Credence entered the enclosure. At its center, the energies were in a constant state of unrest, twisting itself into a painful knot of fury and despair.

"Go on," said Newt, gently urging him forward. "Nothing inside is dangerous."

Credence gave him a look which clearly stated that he knew more of what was inside than Newt could ever imagine. It was an expression of absolute misery, of helplessness screaming from within an endless void, and once more the tremors began, his limbs shaking as he continued past the snow covered hills, on into the center of the habitat.

He stopped when he saw the darkened mass swirling within its protective sphere, his breath steaming in the cold.

"Is that..." Credence began, his voice trailing off into silence. He had never seen what it looked like from outside, always from within, trapped beneath its darkened coils. "Is that what I am?" he said, wondering if this was why Newt wanted to give him a room inside the suitcase.

"Not entirely," said Newt, coming forward to stand beside the Obscurial. "That is an Obscurus. It's a type of parasite that develops when a child suppresses his or her magical abilities. The person who plays host to the Obscurus is called an Obscurial. That's what you are. And an extraordinary one, at that. See, most don't live past the age of ten."

His sentence ended abruptly, pausing with his mouth open when he realized what he'd said. Credence was already trembling when he looked back at him, black tendrils rising from the surface of his skin.

"Hey hey, easy now." Newt was remarkably gentle, not unlike the way he spoke to one of his creatures. "Credence? Credence, are you with me?"

Memories flooded Credence's vision, returning him to moment when he'd lost control of his Obscurus. He saw people screaming, running in the streets, and there in the middle of it all was Percival Graves, the young man holding out his arms, calling to him amid burning vehicles and shattered buildings.

"To survive so long, with this inside you, Credence, is a miracle. You are a miracle."

Credence hadn't understood at the time because he didn't know what was wrong. He knew that he'd been ill for several years, and that his adoptive mother often chose to look away whenever he was too feverish and weak to get out of bed in the morning. There were also strange lapses in memory, blackouts that coincided with the destruction that had been taking place throughout the city.

Eventually it reached the point where his symptoms couldn't be ignored, and when he confided in his younger sister Chastity, she tried to ease his mind by telling him that stress was often the cause of someone getting sick.

"You're bothered by what's been going on in the city," she calmly stated, pausing to refresh the damp cloth that had been draped across his forehead. "Nobody knows what's causing it. It doesn't help that mother isn't pleased by these recent developments," she added in a nervous whisper. "That alone is enough to make someone sick. Just give it some time and I'm sure you'll start feeling better."

But no matter how much time had passed, Credence still felt the presence of some otherworldly force twisting and churning in the pit of his stomach.

'There's something wrong,' he told himself. 'There's something wrong with me.'

The Obscurial uttered a great, heaving sob, unable to stop the flow of tears streaming down his face. Heaven help him, he didn't know why he was crying. It was so childish, so pitiful and disgusting, as though he were some miserable two-year old.

"It's alright," Newt soothed, placing a hand on Credence's back. The Obscurial responded by slumping against his chest, his shoulders shaking as he wept. "It's alright, Credence. I'm here. I promise I will do whatever it takes to help you get better."

"I think I understand now," Credence muttered thickly. He gripped the fabric of Newt's coat, his fingers digging into the material, holding on as though he feared falling forever if he let go. "Mr. Graves said I was a miracle. It's because I shouldn't be here. I wasn't meant to survive."

His words dissolved into hiccuping sobs, and it was at this point that Newt began to lead him away from the enclosure.

Chapter Text

Tina was there when Newt brought him out of the suitcase, watching through the gap between the door and the wall as Credence leaned against Newt for support. She heard him whimper, moaning and crying as Newt sat beside him on the bed, his arms around the Obscurial like a protective father caring for his only son.

One by one, the minutes slowly passed, the late hours of the night dragging on until Credence had exhausted all his tears. He fell asleep just after midnight, but his troubles were far from over, for that was when the nightmares began.

In his mind he saw their faces, each one bearing the marks his Obscurus left behind. At the center there was fire, scarlet flashes of light that burned a path across their skin. Their wounds were deep, but so were his own, aching and screaming from within the endless void.

He felt himself being propelled upwards, moved by a force that was beyond his ability to control.

The belt was raised, striking him across his back.

The pain was growing. His threw his head back and unleashed a terrible cry, howling in unison with the tremendous force that threatened to consume him. He continued to scream, hoping against hope that someone might hear him and save him from himself.

The belt struck again, blood spattering the walls, opening the scars on his chest and hands.

A gathering of shadows formed at his feet, rising up and engulfing his body until all that remained was a cloud of darkness. He clawed at his face in a desperate attempt to remove the creeping parasite, its tendrils latching onto his skin and burrowing into his flesh. He was screaming when he came awake at half past two in the morning. Newt was beside him, holding his wrists to prevent him from hurting himself.

Unable to free his hands, Credence started kicking and trashing, his body wreathed in swirling strands of blackened mist. He didn't want to kill them. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Least of all his sister Chastity, whose body he discovered in the ruins of his mother's church.

It was some time before Newt managed to calm him down. He then placed his hand underneath Credence's head, lifting him off the pillow and holding a bottle to his lips.

"I need you to drink this, Credence. It'll help. Trust me, it'll help."

Credence gasped and opened his eyes. He was barely conscious of his surroundings, and yet he still managed to follow Newt's instructions, taking a small sip before being lowered onto the pillow.

His head lolled to the side, strength falling from his limbs as the shadows retreated, returning to the vessel from which they came.

"I'm sorry," Credence whispered hoarsely, fresh tears standing out in the corners of his eyes. "Chastity... Chastity, please..."

"It's alright now." Newt smoothed the hair out of his face, gently stroking the ebony strands as though he were petting one of his creatures. "Rest, Credence."

The Obscurial was still, exhaustion taking hold as the potion crept into his veins, helping to ease his tired body into a deep, dreamless sleep.

.oOo.

When morning came Tina found Newt sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by a sea of parchment and notebooks. There were dark circles under his eyes and a light dusting of stubble on his chin, yet he was wide awake and pouring over several pages of hastily written notes.

"There must be something here," he muttered, not bothering to look up when Tina approached the couch. "Something..."

"Mr. Scamander," she said, her tone gentle, curious.

"Oh!" Newt started slightly, his train of thought broken by the sound of her voice. "Good morning." He looked up at her, a tired smile creasing the corners of his lips.

"You've been awake all night, haven't you?" she asked, though she vaguely remembered waking up at three in the morning when he unloaded his books and parchment onto the coffee table.

"Yes." Newt was skimming the pages of his notebook as he said this, desperately searching for something that might help the poor boy. "See, I know it's possible to remove an Obscurus from the host. I've done it before actually. But whether or not Credence survives the process is another matter completely." He set the notebook on the coffee table, leaning forward and licking his finger before flipping through the pages. "Here." He tapped the page. "This is what I was looking for."

Tina rose from her seat, wrapping her robe tight around her waist before coming forward to examine the notebook.

"The Sudanese girl," Newt continued, motioning towards a series of photographs pasted onto the pages of the notebook. "She was in my care for two months before she was consumed by her Obscurus."

A look of horror crossed her face. "Consumed?" Tina echoed, her eyes widening.

"Unfortunately, yes." He shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the subject they were discussing. "As the Obscurus grows, the host's body begins to deteriorate until all that remains is the Obscurus. That is why some Obscurials are able to transform. It's seen only in the most advanced cases. It's also the first sign that the Obscurus is beginning to consume the host."

Tina stared at him, then slowly her gaze drifted towards the girl in the photographs.

The child, no more than eight years old, was in the process of dying when Newt found her. There was a growing pallor, her face shrunken and hollow. Her eyes, once bright and shining with the energy of youth, had become lackluster, glazed in white and unable to perceive the world around her.

The notes written beneath these photographs told the story of her passing, documenting each step as her health began to decline. Tina was only able to read the first few paragraphs before turning away, her throat constricting with emotion.

She remembered her sister's words, commenting on how thin Credence was. She thought it was due to malnutrition. Goodness knows his adoptive mother hadn't done her best to care for him. But after seeing these photographs she began to wonder how far along he was, his pale complexion and sunken features mirroring those in the photographs.

"He seems alright," were the only words she could manage, desperately trying to convince herself that Credence would survive.

"For now," Newt murmured, lowering his gaze and turning the notebook around. He turned the page and began to read. "I'm in hopes I was able to catch it in time. But his age might complicate things, making it difficult to remove the Obscurus." He paused, looking up at her. "I'll do what I can, Tina. And with a little luck, I might be able to save him."

Chapter Text

It was nearly noon when Credence began to stir. He turned over in his sleep, feeling splinters of pain igniting in his limbs, his bones aching as the Obscurus closed around his ribs, making it difficult to breathe.

His arm snaked around his waist, moaning softly as Newt sat down on the side of the bed. "Please," Credence whispered hoarsely, his lashes lifting to reveal cloudy brown eyes. "I want you to get rid of it, please." He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "I'm tired of living like this... I want this out of my body."

There was anguish in every syllable when he spoke, begging the Magizoologist to cure him of this terrible affliction.

"Alright, settle down now." Newt's tone was firm but gentle, hoping against hope that the boy could still be saved. "I can help you, but I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me, Credence?"

"Y-yes." Credence nodded, fresh tears standing out in the corners of his eyes. "I think so."

His expression grave, Newt lifted a hand and combed his fingers through his hair. In his mind he saw the Sudanese girl, her eyes white and staring, blind to the world around her as her dying screams echoed in the stillness of the room. He cradled her against his chest, kneeling on the floor amid the ruins of his apartment. The walls were crumbling around them, but he refused to let go, hot tears leaving trails in the dust that clung to his cheeks.

"Credence," Newt began, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. "Now, I'm not going to lie to you. I can try to remove the Obscurus, but there's no guarantee you'll survive. The risk of complications is much higher for someone your age, and it is by no means painless. I've been going over my notes while you slept, and I found the instructions for the procedure. But if you agree to this, you have to understand that it might kill you."

Credence lowered his gaze, staring at the floor beside the bed. "What choice do I have?" he murmured, carefully avoiding eye contact as he spoke. "It's going to kill me if I don't - " His sentence ended abruptly, grimacing as the muscles in his face and neck contorted.

Newt leaned forward, lifting the Obscurial and holding him against his chest as the spasms intensified. Seeing him now, shaking and twitching as he fought for control, was one of the most agonizing scenes he'd ever witnessed. It was the Sudanese girl all over again, but this time he swore he wouldn't fail.

"I've got you, Credence. You're alright." Dear Merlin, he was really going to go through with this. "Look at me, Credence."

The Obscurial sniffled and lifted his head.

"I need a moment to prepare. I also need some things - a potion. Something that'll help you stay calm for the procedure. Do you think you'll be alright if I leave you alone for a minute?"

"I..." Credence began, the rest of his sentence getting caught in his throat. He was terrified, but underneath it all there was a will to survive, determination pushing him to overcome his fears. "Yes, I think I'll be alright."

"Are you sure?"

Credence nodded. This was his opportunity to be whole again, and it was worth fighting for.

.oOo.

The bedroom door swung closed behind him, the Magizoologist moving swiftly and purposefully towards the suitcase on the table. Tina was behind him, questioning him on how it went, but Newt was lost in thought, unable to hear what she was saying.

"Mr. Scamander!" She moved to stand beside him, watching him go through the pockets that lined the interior of his suitcase. "Mr. Scamander, how is he?" she asked, her tone exasperated, concerned.

"Not good," Newt muttered, still not looking up at her. "He's upset, and frankly I don't blame him. Ah, here it is." He removed a small brown bottle from one of the pockets, holding it up to the light so he could see how much potion was left. "He's agreed to let me remove the Obscurus, only I'm not sure if I'll be able to get it out, what with his advanced age and the severity of his condition."

Tina seized him by the arm just as he was turning to leave. "What is that?" she asked, indicating with a nod the bottle in his hand.

"Calming draught," Newt said simply. "He needs to be sedated for the procedure."

A pause, silence filling the space between them.

Tina's lips were set in a thin, narrow line, determination shining in her eyes. "I'm coming with you," she said, unwavering in her decision.

"No." Newt shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you can't go in there. Not while I'm trying to remove the Obscurus."

"Why not?" Tina sighed, her frustration growing by the minute. "Credence knows me. He knows that I helped him when his adoptive mother - "

"Because it will be immensely difficult to keep an eye on you and the Obscurus at the same time," said Newt, cutting her off in midsentence. "A number of things could go wrong, and I'd rather not lose both of you at once."

"Are you saying he may not survive?" It was a question she didn't want to ask, and yet the words came without hesitation, her heart racing in her chest.

His look was enough to confirm her fears.

Tina swallowed hard, and after taking a deep breath she continued, shakily. "All the more reason why I need to be there for him - "

"Tina, please." Newt lifted a hand to silence her, but she plunged forward, heedless of his actions.

"In case something goes wrong," she finished resolutely. Another pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath. She was fighting the urge to cry.

"Fine," Newt muttered, turning and looking away. "But you have to promise that you'll stay close - stay within the protective barrier and follow any instructions I give you."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Scamander." She nodded, glancing at her sister before following him into the bedroom.

.oOo.

Credence was breathing heavily, willing himself to remain calm. He could feel the Obscurus squirming beneath his skin, and he was afraid, sitting up in bed with his arms around his chest. He looked up when the door opened, seeing both Newt and Tina in the doorway.

Her name fell from his lips, lost amid a ragged sob. He would have liked to get to know her better. Maybe find out more about her job and what it's like to work in the wizarding world. But in the back of his mind he knew his life could end, and for the first time in his life he truly wanted to live. Live and be part of the magical world.

"Credence." She practically ran to him, her arms around him in a gentle embrace. "It's alright, Credence. Newt and I are going to take care of you."

Newt was already uncorking the potion bottle. He stood beside them for a moment, giving them some time before reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Tina," he whispered, her eyes lingering on the boy before rising to meet his gaze. He gestured with his free hand, indicating that she needed to step away from the bed.

Wordlessly she backed away, leaving Credence alone and trembling.

"Are you ready?" Newt asked. Credence nodded, and Newt moved to sit beside him on the bed. "I want you to drink this." He held out the bottle, offering it to the frightened Obscurial. "Just a little something to help you relax."

Credence eyed the bottle warily, keeping his head down as he sat with his hands in his lap. A muscle twitched over his left eye, the spasms returning, causing him to double over in bed. It was only with Newt's help that he managed to sit up straight, the Magizoologist holding the bottle to his lips, helping him drink.

Drop by drop the liquid slithered down his throat, slowing the movements of his Obscurus. A tired sigh filled the silence of the room, his vision blurring as Newt lowered him onto his back, doing his best to make him comfortable.

"Alright, Credence?"

"I think so," Credence slurred, his voice low and groggy. There was movement in his abdomen, but it was sluggish and weak.

His eyes rolled towards the ceiling, staring vacantly at the cracks in the surface. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it was like having an operation. Credence would go to sleep and wake up feeling better than he had in years. Or so he hoped.

Once he was settled, Tina knelt beside him once more, holding Credence's hand in an effort to keep him calm. Credence turned his head to the side, his breathing considerably slower. He knew that she was speaking to him, but his thoughts had become muddled, making it difficult to focus on his surroundings.

'Just close your eyes,' Credence told himself. 'It'll be easier that way. And if you never wake up, at least you'll be able to see Chastity again.'

By this point in time Newt had situated himself in the center of the room, his eyes closed, breathing slowly through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. He raised his wand, moving it across the room in a circular motion. The atmosphere shifted, the air shimmering as a protective barrier materialized around the bed. He continued muttering incantations, making complex patterns in the air until he was satisfied with the enchantments.

"Minor precaution," said Newt, coming forward and standing beside the bed. "The last one is so the neighbors won't hear the screaming."

"Screaming?" Tina echoed, but it was too late.

Newt positioned his wand over Credence's abdomen. "Extrahere obscurus!" He flicked his wand, and Credence's hips jerked forward, his back arching as though pulled by invisible strings.

Pain exploded behind his navel, the enchanted cords digging deeper, reaching for the blackened tendrils that had taken root at his core. His Obscurus reacted violently to the intrusion, rising up and slamming against the inner walls of his stomach.

Credence began to scream, his body contorting in agony. Newt repeated the incantation, louder, more forceful this time. The result was instantaneous, the Obscurial's voice morphing into a sickly, feral growl, his eyes glazed and staring, whiter than the fresh snows of winter.

Tina drew back, terrified by the look in his eyes. What she saw in them was not the fragile soul of one possessed by a monstrous entity, but the entity itself, a creature born of living shadow that tore at its host in a desperate attempt to escape.

The parasitic limbs began to stretch, the spell ripping the Obscurus from its host. To Credence it felt as though he were being torn in two, layers of muscle and tissue separating, pulling away from his bones as nerves and tendons snapped. He threw his head back, shrieking and crying, gasping and desperate, convulsing against the mattress. He was on the verge of losing consciousness when a tremendous roar shook the walls, his own anguished cries merging with that of his Obscurus as the lamp on the bedside table exploded in a shower of sparks.

A wave of destructive energy flooded the room, sending Newt and Tina sprawling on the ground. The connection between Newt's wand and the Obscurus was severed, the magical bonds dissolving as he fell to the floor.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of Credence's harsh, ragged breathing. The lights in the hall flickered, plunging the building into darkness. It was a moment before they saw it: a shadow moving against the blackness of the room, its center alive with streaks of livid flame.

The Obscurus had escaped and was swirling near the ceiling, its shapeless mass contracting and expanding. There was a pause, the length of a single heartbeat before it dived, forcing Newt to conjure a Shield Charm in order to protect them from the vicious onslaught.

"Credence!" Tina called out, hoping to reach him before it was too late. "Credence, stop!" But her cries went unheard, the Obscurus ramming the shield only to break apart and reform, diving and striking once more.

Together they watched as the parasitic lifeform tore through the room in a staggering display of power, ricocheting off the protective enchantments and demolishing everything within reach. The barrier was nearing collapse when the shadow drew back, weakened by the potion its host had consumed.

Its core flashed dangerously, the only light amongst a sea of darkness, shuddering as Credence fought to draw breath. It was only a matter of time before the creature dissolved entirely, and with one last vicious snarl it retreated into the figure lying on the bed, leaving behind a chaotic mess of broken glass and furniture.

Chapter Text

The minutes passed in silence, a pair of wide, terrified eyes staring at the space where, just moments ago, the Obscurus had been hovering near the ceiling. The occupants of the room, though shaken by their experience, were alive and well, and after a moment had passed Newt raised his wand, dissolving the Shield Charm before taking a look around at the damage caused by Credence's Obscurus.

The dresser had been overturned and lay in a heap on its side, its contents spilling onto the floor. Bits of plaster had fallen from the walls, the lamp had shattered completely, with only a scorched remnant of the floral patterned lampshade lying in the corner beside the bed. And yet something wasn't right. The stillness was absolute, the room far too quiet after what had taken place.

Newt pushed himself onto his feet, his fingers leaving trails in the dust that covered the floor. Tentatively, he moved towards the bed, keeping his wand drawn in case the Obscurus decided to make a second appearance. Tina was watching his every move, looking up at him from the floor, her eyes brimming with tears.

He took another step forward, being careful not to step on the splintered fragments of wood and plaster, and knelt beside the bed, only to discover Credence motionless beneath the covers.

"No," he whispered, leaning over and placing his ear to Credence's mouth. The world went out of focus, dimming briefly as he felt the stillness of the air.

He reached for Credence's wrist, and after a moment he was able to detect a faint pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. It was irregular, barely enough to force the blood through his veins, but it was enough to give him hope.

"Still alive," Newt said, gripping his wand and positioning it over Credence's chest. "But not breathing." There was a half second pause, the image of the Sudanese girl flashing before his eyes, and in that moment he almost screamed.

"Halitatus!"

A flicker of light flew from the tip of his wand, forming a small sphere that shone with a dull silver gleam. The ball of light vanished into Credence's chest, but he did not move, nor did he resume breathing.

A second flash followed the first, then another and another. Beside him, Tina had broken down in tears, crying, "It's not working, Mr. Scamander! It's just not working!"

"I'm not giving up on him!" Newt exclaimed, feeling for a pulse again. "Not while he's still alive! Halitatus!"

Air rushed into Credence's lungs, his chest rising as he gasped and came awake with a start. This was followed shortly by a sudden surge of pain, building with every heartbeat and spreading to fill his abdomen. It was enough to make him shudder and moan, his mouth opening as he fought to draw air into his lungs.

"Easy now," Newt said, though his voice was distant, muted somehow, as Credence lay shaking and sweating. "I want you to take several deep breaths. That's it. Just keep breathing, Credence." There was a pause, Newt turning, telling Tina to fetch him a washcloth and a bowl of water. Credence closed his eyes, beginning to doze, when he was jolted from his sleep by the feel of something cool against his forehead.

"Why didn't you capture it?" Tina asked, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

Newt bit his bottom lip, frustrated with his inability to capture the Obscurus. "It wouldn't have worked," he said, still dabbing at Credence's face and neck with a damp washcloth. "That flicker of light, the energy at its center - you saw that didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," she said at length, her brow furrowing in confusion. "But what does that have to do with capturing the Obscurus?"

"That is the heart of the Obscurus. As long as something of the Obscurus exists within the host, the flicker of light remains. That light shows its attachment, mirroring the heartbeat of the individual." Newt sighed, refreshing the cloth in the bowl of water. "As far as I know the bonds strengthen with age, making it more difficult to remove. If Credence were younger, the situation might have ended differently."

Slowly, Credence's breathing returned to normal, his Obscurus settling in the area behind his navel. It then occurred to him that someone was speaking, though he was unable to make sense of what he was hearing.

The Obscurial turned his head to the side, muttering incoherently and shrinking away from his touch. He didn't want them here. He didn't want them to see him like this, moaning and twitching like a dying animal.

"Rest, Credence," said Newt, folding the cloth and draping it across Credence's forehead. "You'll be alright in a little while, but I want you to rest and conserve your strength. You shouldn't try to speak right now."

Silence gradually returned, the Obscurial drifting in and out of consciousness as the hours slowly passed. Most of the time he was unaware of his surroundings, unfeeling as Tina sat beside him, holding his hand and whispering soothing words of comfort.

Her voice, as well as her touch, was too far away from where he was, his mind unable to connect with the world around him. In his mind he saw himself cocooned in a layer smoke, his body growing cold and numb, unresponsive as the ties to his physical body began to slip away. It was some time before he opened his eyes, the light returning as pain flooded his senses.

The pain he felt came and went like the tide, building in his abdomen and waking him from sleep, retreating and allowing him to rest. Sometimes he would cry out, moaning and clutching his stomach as Newt carefully fed him a bitter liquid from a bottle on the nightstand. But the potion did little to ease his discomfort.

His Obscurus, now wounded from Newt's efforts to remove it, was still squirming uncomfortably in his abdomen. It was always in motion, making him feel as though he were on the verge of being sick. It wasn't until the sunlight faded and the stars emerged that Credence was able to sleep, exhaustion pulling him down into a restless slumber.

Newt stayed with him throughout the evening, keeping watch over the Obscurial while he slept. Evey now and then he would flip through the pages of his notebooks, turning each one without really seeing it. He was absentmindedly scratching Dormarth behind the ears when his suitcase began to vibrate, moving and shaking as it scooted across the desk.

One of the catches on the case flipped open. The suitcase was still a moment, bulging slightly as a speckled hare scratched at the interior of the suitcase. A brown paw with four little toes wedged itself between the lid and the body of the case. It felt around then quickly retreated, the second catch now flying open as the creature lifted the lid with its horn.

Duke the Al-Miraj appeared at the opening of the suitcase, his whiskers quivering as he began to explore his surroundings. His long ears drooped visibly, framing his face and trailing along the desk. Tiny claws clicked against the wooden surface, pausing only when he heard Newt Scamander shuffle his papers.

He'd never seen a place like this before, lit with artificial lights and filled with unusual sights and sounds. The speckled hare stood up on his hind legs, lifting his head and sniffing the air. He then started at the sound voices on the other side of the door, taking a step back and crouching on the edge of the desk.

He began to panic, not knowing who these voices belonged to or why they were here. Quickly he scampered across the desk, taking a flying leap and landing with his front end dangling over the side of the case. Below him, he could see the ladder leading down into the shed, his back legs flailing in midair. He could still hear the voices, coming closer and closer, then fading suddenly as their conversation came to an end.

The creature hung his head, half in and half out of Newt's suitcase. A moment passed and he began to twist and squirm, the case bouncing across the desk as he tried to turn around.

Two hops and he managed to turn around. One more and he was free, sitting on the desk and looking around the room. He spied a bed on the opposite end of the room. No, wait, there were two beds. But only one of the was currently occupied.

Curious, he began to look for a way down, seeing the chair as a stepping stool he could use to reach the floor. And yet he remained rooted to the spot, trembling and staring at the furniture. It was a long way down and the case was warm and cozy, protecting him from the outside world. He wanted to go back inside, but the boy he'd seen the other day had caught his attention, making him want to learn more about this peculiar individual.

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered himself onto the chair. His whiskers continued to twitch, his eyes darting this way and that. Where was the boy from yesterday? Was that him under all those blankets? The speckled hare stood up with his front feet on the back of the chair, listening to the gentle murmurs on the other side of the room.

Credence was moving his head restlessly on the pillow, his breathing quick and shallow. "Ma," he whispered, his voice pleading, desperate. "Ma, please... Please don't..." His muscles tensed, his fingers gripping the bedsheets as a scream clawed its way up his throat.

The hare's ears flattened against the base of his skull, his eyes widening as a low rumble shook the floorboards. He panicked as the noise grew louder, knocking the chair over in his haste and running for the suitcase.

Dormarth was instantly alert, standing up and barking at the fleeing Al-Miraj. The speckled hare slipped on a stack of papers, kicking them up behind him as he ran. Newt turned in time to see the flurry of papers become airborne, but his attention quickly returned to Credence as the Obscurial cried out in his sleep.

In his dreams Credence saw himself running from his adoptive mother, the belt buckle slicing into his calf as the leather strip wrapped around his leg. He was immediately pulled to the ground, striking the coffee table and losing one of his front teeth in the process. Blood poured from his mouth, his hands covering his face as he curled in on himself, shaking and sobbing. She then brought the belt down across his hands, until they too dripped with scarlet fluid.

"Credence!" Newt placed his hand on Credence's shoulder, gently shaking him in hopes that he would wake. "Credence, it's only a dream. Credence!"

"Unclean brat!" Mary Lou shouted, rising up and looming over the frightened boy. "You are not a child of God!" The belt struck again, tearing a strip of flesh from the side of his face.

Blackened blood and putrefied magic spilled from the gash in his cheek, spattering the floor with splashes of color that oozed and pulsed as though it were alive.

He was unclean. Tainted. The unholy spawn of bastard magic.

"Credence!"

Newt's voice penetrated his thoughts, and he came awake with a gasp, shaking and staring at the ceiling. He flinched at the sudden contact when Newt placed a hand on his arm, holding him steady as he awoke from his nightmare.

On the opposite end of the room, the Al-Miraj was watching him from the safety of the suitcase, unable to look away as the boy rolled onto his side and wept. He sensed a kindred spirit, broken and alone, but the timid creature couldn't bring himself to approach the Obscurial.

He sank below the rim of the suitcase, tumbling downwards where he landed on the floor of the shed. Maybe some day he would find the courage to approach him, but for now he was too terrified to move.

Chapter Text

Leaves rustled as Duke peeked out from beneath the bushes, lifting his chin and gazing skyward at the sound of voices coming from overhead. There had been talk about adding a new room to the suitcase, and now that it was complete, he along with his fellow creatures wondered who or what would be joining them in their enchanted home.

Some of the animals had gathered on the outskirts of their habitats, watching and waiting, while others remained oblivious, grazing in fields or napping in the sun. The occamys twittered away in their nest, occasionally stopping to preen their feathers, while the niffler stacked coins near the entrance to his burrow. Dougal remained alert and curious, clinging to a branch with one hand while turning his head this way and that, hoping to get a better look at the newcomer.

Dormarth was pacing in front of the shed, panting and wagging his long, shaggy tail. He seemed agitated this morning, stopping and uttering a low, plaintive whine as the door cracked open, allowing him a glimpse of the unsteady figure being helped along by his owner.

"Steady now. You're alright."

Newt had Credence by the arm, holding him upright. The boy had been utterly miserable following the failed attempt to remove his Obscurus, his nerves on fire with constant pain. It wasn't a dull throbbing ache, nor was it a sharp stabbing pain, but something in between. And if he put his mind to it, it was bearable enough that he could get out of bed so long as he had assistance.

"Easy does it." Newt slowed his movements, carefully guiding Credence over the threshold and out into the first habitat. "That's it, Credence. We're almost there."

Credence squinted in the bright light, leaning on Newt for support while trying to ascertain where he was. Everything was pale and shimmering, the air damp and clean. Groaning, he turned his head and saw a pair of magnificent waterbirds perched upon a rock by the water's edge.

"What is that?" he whispered, his voice rasping in his throat. When he focused on the bird nearest the water, the creature looked away, turning its back on him as it skimmed the surface of the water in search of edible plants and insects.

"That is a caladrius," Newt replied, pleased to see Credence making an attempt at conversation. "A miraculous healing bird, capable of drawing illness out of the body then flying towards the sun, dispersing the illness and healing both itself and the patient."

Credence vaguely wondered if such a creature would be able to rid him of his Obscurus. Goodness knows he felt sick enough, but removing an illness and removing a parasite were two very different things.

He was steered towards an enclosure on the edge of the mooncalves' habitat, a sliver of moonlight spilling across the floor as Newt pulled back the fabric separating the habitats, revealing a dimly lit room with cream colored walls. There was a dresser made from rich dark wood, as well as a twin bed situated beside the window, overlooking a crystal blue pond in the adjacent habitat.

"Alright, Credence?" His tone was hopeful, stopping in the middle of the room while Credence looked around. "I expect you'll want to lie down for a bit."

His eyes half closed, Credence lifted his chin off his chest. So this is where they brought him to die, his last days spent alongside a variety of bizarre, otherworldly creatures. Is this what they thought of him? That he was a monster, no better than the animals that roamed the forests outside his window?

"Come on." Newt was already moving towards the bed, reaching out and pulling the covers back. "Let's get you settled so you can rest."

"Why did you bring me here?" Credence finally managed, forcing himself to make eye contact with the Magizoologist. Newt wasn't expecting this question, his mouth opening wordlessly as he struggled to formulate an answer.

"I brought you here so that you could have a bit of comfort, a place to call your own. Because you're deserving of such things. And because it will enable me to stay close to you while I look after my creatures."

There was a pause, the Magizoologist looking at him in wonder as though he were one of his creatures. It made Credence uncomfortable, though not because of the unwavering stare he was receiving. It was because he'd seen something more in his eyes. Something that hinted at the reality of this place, that he had in fact been brought here to die, away from the Goldstein sisters, away from the prying eyes of the world that saw him as a freak of nature.

"Now, I don't want you to worry, Credence," Newt continued, carefully guiding him towards the bed. "I know the first attempt was a failure, but I'm going to work on finding a solution. In the meantime, I want you to focus on getting some rest."

The Obscurial sank into the mattress, allowing Newt to cover him with the blankets. He felt ready to sleep right then and there. But before he could close his eyes, Newt offered him a bottle of dreamless sleep potion, holding it to his lips and helping him drink.

It was just as well, Credence thought miserably. If this was how it ended, then let it come peacefully. No more screams of terror or cries of pain as he lay cradled in the arms of endless sleep.

.oOo.

The nights that followed were long and restless, often accompanied by haunting cries and gentle whispers as the creatures stirred in their enclosures. Credence heard them as he lie awake in bed, listening to the voices of the wild.

There were always sounds here, and when he was unable to sleep, Credence would move towards the window, gazing out at the magnificent waterbirds while sitting on his bed. Though long about now his movements had become sluggish, his limbs heavy, exhausted by the daily struggle to continue living and breathing.

He grasped the curtain, drawing it back as a sudden pain pierced his side. Whimpering, he clutched his abdomen, his gaze never leaving the pair of white, shining birds asleep on the water's edge.

Gazing out the window, he noticed a hint of movement, the caladrius coming awake and preening its feathers. His lips parted, his breathing labored, and with his last ounce of strength Credence pressed his palm against the window.

Credence eventually fell asleep, leaning against the windowsill with his knees drawn up against his chest, wishing the loneliness would end.

.oOo.

The following morning, Newt woke early and went down to check on Credence. He would often visit him throughout the day, keeping a close watch over him while he slept. But Credence needed something more, and knowing how well animals could comfort humans with their unconditional love and friendship, Newt decided to take him outside, helping him up after giving him a brief examination to make sure he was well enough to leave his room.

He took Credence by the hand, supporting him as he led the Obscurial out into a moonlit field, then held on tight as he carefully lowered him into a sitting position on the ground.

"I thought you could use a bit of fresh air," he said gently, taking a seat beside him in the grass. "Maybe some time with my creatures to clear your head a bit."

His expression downcast, Credence looked towards the nearest creature then flinched and drew back, not wanting to get too close. He wasn't sure how this was supposed to make him feel better. The Obscurus was still moving, twisting painfully in the pit of his stomach. Though he supposed it was nice to have a change of scenery, away from his bed and the emptiness that filled the room.

"This is a mooncalf," Newt explained, reaching for the wide-eyed creature and affectionately stroking her back. The mooncalf purred, tilting her head and leaning into his touch. "They're perfectly harmless. I was wondering if you might want to feed one of them."

He demonstrated the proper technique, dipping his hand into a bucket of pellets and tossing them into the air. The mooncalf came closer, her tiny ears flapping as her head bobbed up and down, gobbling up the tasty feed. He was in hopes that Credence might form a bond with them, but the Obscurial was hesitant, shying away from them as he had when Newt first brought him into the suitcase.

'Why would they want anything to do with me?' Credence thought, trembling and staring at the unusual creatures. He was sick, possibly dying, and he was useless. He couldn't help Newt care for them. He'd only get in the way.

And yet he was curious. These creatures, as well as their environment, all of this was possible because of magic. He'd come so far, always searching for his place in the magical world. And now that he was here, surrounded by magical beasts and beings, he was on the verge of losing everything. Everything he'd ever hoped and dreamed for.

Maybe he could hold onto this moment and enjoy it while it lasted. Maybe one of them would like him. He wouldn't know unless he tried. Unless, of course, they were scared of him.

The Obscurial extended his hand, holding it out to the friendly creature. The mooncalf leaned forward, a small pink tongue gliding past her lips and licking his hand, which Credence quickly withdrew.

Newt chuckled and grinned, lifting a hand and rubbing Credence's back. "There you go. You're alright, Credence." He offered him the bucket. "Would you like to feed her?"

Credence sat with his hands in his lap, not knowing what he should do. The mooncalf was looking expectantly at him, her large eyes shining in the moonlight. She moved towards him, her flat feet slapping against the ground, flattening the grass as she cooed and nuzzled his shoulder.

"That's it," Newt said encouragingly, watching as Credence scooped up a handful of pellets.

The Obscurial gently tossed the pellets into the air, where they were caught and eaten by the mooncalf as they slowly floated towards the earth. It was a marvelous sight to behold, one that made a tired smile flitter across his face. He then closed his eyes, leaning sideways and slumping against Newt's shoulder.

"Oh," Newt said in surprise, looking over at the young man beside him. Credence had done all he could, and was thoroughly exhausted. "You did well, Credence," he murmured, putting his arm around him and helping him to his feet.

There was nothing more they could do here, but at least Credence had made some progress with his creatures.

Chapter Text

Newt returned to his shed after Credence had gone to sleep, carrying stacks of notebooks and depositing them on the table next to his typewriter. He flipped through the pages, muttering under his breath as he searched the books for a specific piece of information.

His finger landed on the middle of a page, marking his place once he'd found what he wanted. He began to read, still muttering to himself as he read aloud from the book, then turned towards the medicine chest in the corner. Inside were several pills and tablets, vials, bottles, tools and herbs. He was in the process of rummaging through the medicine chest when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Newt called out, his head down as he pulled two vials off the shelf. He then returned to his notes, marking the page with a ribbon before opening a second book.

A sliver of golden sunlight spilled onto the floor, the lid opening to reveal the anxious face of Tina Goldstein. It had been a while since she last ventured into Newt's case, and for a moment she was still, pausing to have a look around before descending the ladder.

Newt started slightly when he looked up from his work and saw her standing beside him, gazing curiously at the vials in his hand. "Oh, hullo there." He grinned, pleased as always to have her by his side. "Don't mind the mess. I'm just working through some things at the moment."

He transferred one of the vials to his other hand, holding it up to the light and giving it a gentle shake. The contents of the vial swirled sluggishly, with flecks of silvery-blue floating in the dense fluid. "Yes, that will do," he said, more to himself than to anyone in the room. "But the others..." He trailed off, returning to his notebooks and flipping through the pages.

"What is all this?" Tina queried, her eyes narrowed as she watched the softly shimmering contents settle at the bottom of the vial.

"Research," Newt replied, not bothering to look up from his book. He checked the label on the vial in his hand, then kept on reading. "More specifically, research that involves the healing powers of certain magical creatures."

Her expression brightened. "Do you think there's something in there that'll help with Credence?" she asked, her tone somewhat hopeful.

"Possibly. Though for now everything remains untested." He replaced the vials then motioned towards a drawing of a medium-sized bird with white plumage. "That is a caladrius. I was studying them in Jerusalem, seeing if I could harness their healing powers."

Tina moved closer, studying the drawings. "What exactly does it do?" she asked, lifting her gaze from the pages of the book.

In the short time that they had been together, she and Newt had become something akin to parents, caring for Credence as if he were their own. It was up to them to look after him, and Tina had quickly risen to the challenge. Beautifully so, if Newt had anything to say about it.

"In its simplest form, the caladrius can cure disease by touching its beak to the patient's mouth, taking the illness into itself then flying towards the sky where the disease is burned away." He turned to her, his eyes mirroring her own hopeful expression. "I'd like to see how Credence responds to the bird after he becomes acquainted with my creatures. At the very least, it may offer some relief from his symptoms."

"And if it doesn't?"

"I'll think of something," he said, finding his voice after a moment of hesitation. "I might be able to use the caladrius to prolong his life, easing his discomfort while I work on strengthening the spell to remove his Obscurus. It's a long shot, but I think we might just have a chance at saving him."

.oOo.

While they were talking, Credence was moving restlessly in his sleep, moaning softly as he turned over onto his side. His arms snaked around his waist, his flesh positively crawling. He made the mistake of glancing at his hands, the tissues bulging, threatening to split wide open along the scars that laced his palms.

It's no wonder they left him here to die. He deserved it. He was hideous, he was worthless. Nothing they did was ever change that.

A hoarse sob filled the silence of the room. Credence held himself tighter, terrified and helpless. He grappled for himself in the dim light filtering through the curtain, struggling, as he had done following the destruction of his mother's church.

His vision blurred, obscured by rising tendrils of smoke that tangled around his limbs. In the back of his mind he became aware of how horribly tired he was, exhaustion creeping into his veins as he lay huddled beneath the mound of blankets on the bed.

He couldn't do this any more. He just wanted to go to sleep. To lie there in his bed and not have to get up in the morning, wasting away until his Obscurus consumed him at last.

He let go of himself and allowed his thoughts to wander, dozing in the midmorning sun. Reality shimmered, becoming warm and bright then fading into nothingness. He didn't even realize that he had a visitor, the spiral horn of Duke the Al-Miraj lifting the fabric that separated him from the other enclosures.

The speckled hare cowered in the doorway, one paw inches off the floor, suspended in midair. He had started to move when his senses drew his attention towards the ceiling, his gaze lingering on the dark mass revolving slowly above the bed.

Credence's face was just discernible within the mass, his eyes twitching beneath their lids, his breathing ragged and shallow. The shadows that surrounded him appeared to expand and contract, shrinking with each exhalation of breath. It was the sound of this low, rasping breath that made the Al-Miraj tremble with fear, his ears drooping as he stared in horror at the spectral entity that engulfed Credence's sleeping form.

This shadowy cocoon felt warm and safe, a protective barrier through which no spell could penetrate. His knees against his chest, Credence curled in on himself, allowing its feverish warmth to fill his aching bones. He would stay like this forever if he could. It was the only way he felt safe anymore.

Outside the protective sphere, Duke had started moving again, his belly pressed against the floor as he crept across the carpet. His movements were slow and cautious, lifting one paw then stopping, lifting all four paws and hurrying along before pausing suddenly in the middle of the room.

The Obscurus shuddered, dripping down the wall as its tangled strands coiled around its host. It was a defensive gesture, attempting to further ensnare the young man at the center of its very being. However, Credence was unaware of its movement, adrift in a state of suspended animation. He neither moved nor spoke, his eyes opening as he stared vacantly at the wall, catatonic and numb.

Duke looked at him, unsure of how conscious he was, but worried nonetheless. He'd glimpsed the Obscurus Newt kept in the adjacent habitat, his senses warning him not to get too close. It was no different with Credence, his instincts screaming at him to run for his life and never look back. But beneath the layers of fury and anguish he was able to detect something familiar, and it pulled him closer, calling him to Credence's side despite what he had become.

He raised himself up on his hind legs, twitching and staring. A feeble moan could be heard emanating from within the shifting mass, its form more fluid than it had been a moment ago. It appeared to consider him, congealing and reforming as Credence flexed the fingers on his left hand. Mindlessly, he controlled its movements, and the Obscurus began to close around the helpless animal.

The hare's eyes widened, his heart beating frantically against his ribs. He didn't see this gesture for what it was, the young man reaching out, desperately searching for anyone that could help him.

"Help me," Credence whispered, speaking in a guttural, inhuman voice. "Please."

Duke lowered his head, both paws covering his scalp as he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his nose in the carpet.

"Please, help me."

Gradually, the smoke began to clear, the veil lifting as feeling returned to his limbs. Credence landed with a soft thump on the bed, still reaching for the frightened animal as he lay in a semiconscious haze.

Duke lifted his head, blinking up at the figure on the bed. His sharp claws found the blankets trailing over the edge of the mattress, the hare's back feet flailing in midair as he pulled himself onto the bed. He then leaned forward and licked Credence's fingers.

No response. Duke pressed his nose against the scars on Credence's palm, gently nudging him then licking the back of his hand.

The Obscurial twitched, groaning and coming awake. He gazed up at Duke through blurry eyes, mumbling incoherently as the speckled hare snuggled against his chest. It wasn't long until sleep found him once more, his eyelids beginning to droop as the Obscurus twitched one last time before settling in his abdomen.

Chapter Text

Credence continued to sleep as the sun sank towards the horizon. Whenever he stirred, he could feel the gentle warmth of Duke's body pressed against his side, reminding him that he was not alone.

At first he thought he must be dreaming, that he was back home with his sister Modesty. She would always find him after he'd been beaten by their adoptive mother, climbing into bed with him and curling up on her side. Her being there for him was enough to suppress the darkness that was gnawing at his insides. But sometimes, when he was feeling particularly low, Modesty would sing him a lullaby, helping him fall asleep.

It was this sound he remembered, as he lay there in the twilight surrounding the final hours before dusk, thinking back on all the moments they'd shared during the time they were together.

He suddenly found himself longing for the sound of her voice, for that gentle hum that helped him through his pain. Without her he would have succumbed to his Obscurus long ago, sadness giving way to hatred and rage, until all that remained was a vicious storm that rampaged through the city.

He reached for her, illness and exhaustion clouding his thoughts, not knowing that she was far, far away. Instead he found the speckled hare that had burrowed into the blankets, his trembling fingers making contact with the spiral horn in the center of Duke's forehead.

The hare opened his eyes, blinking up at him as Credence stroked the scraggly mane of hair around his neck.

Tears stood out in the corners of his eyes. But instead of losing control, Credence continued petting the Al-Miraj until the rumbling in his belly subsided. In time he began to relax, sighing as he lowered his hand onto the mattress.

"I'm sorry," Credence murmured, his voice strained as though he were coming down with laryngitis. "You can go home now, if you want. You don't have to stay with me."

The Al-Miraj continued to stare at him.

Credence frowned. "I'll probably be dead in a few weeks. It's better if you go... Pretend I never existed."

Duke lowered his head and combed his ears. The task done, he closed his eyes and snuggled up close.

Though it came as a surprise that this creature wanted to stay with him, Credence didn't protest his decision. He rolled over onto his side, embracing the warm bundle of fluff as they slept together throughout the remainder of the day.

.oOo.

It was nearly nightfall when Newt came to check on him. He grasped the fabric that separated the enclosures, peeling back the invisible canvas and revealing the speckled hare nestled in Credence's arms.

Duke's ear twitched, alert to the sound of footsteps outside the room. He lifted his head off the mattress, his eyes bright and staring.

Newt stood in the doorway, his eyebrows lifting towards his hairline. A look of curious amusement flitted across his face, his lips curling in a smile. But the hare, knowing that he was out of place in this strange environment, leapt off the bed, his back feet kicking the covers up over Credence's chest as he dove beneath the furniture.

"Oi! Come now, just where do you think you're going?" Newt's tone was mild, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he bent to retrieve the animal. He lifted the duvet and peered under the bed, turning his head at the sound of Credence's voice.

The Obscurial was moving restlessly in his sleep, his arms empty now that Duke had fled the scene. He whimpered softly, clutching the mound of blankets that had been kicked up by his furry companion, and slowly came awake.

"Where did he go?" Credence murmured, blinking and looking around in bewilderment. "I thought he wasn't going to leave me."

Despite his insistence that Duke return to his habitat, Credence felt terribly lonely now that the Al-Miraj was gone. Sadly, he hung his head, still hugging the blankets against his chest, and muttered, "Of course he's gone. He was right to leave. I'm not fit to be around anyway."

"Now Credence, don't say that." Newt offered him a comforting pat on the arm, only to watch the Obscurial flinch and draw back, retreating from his touch. "He's just frightened, is all."

Credence lifted his head. "Is he afraid of me?" Hearing this made his heart sink, thinking that he'd probably scared the animal when he was in his Obscurus form.

"No, actually he's frightened of anything that moves. Bit of a rough time with that one. You probably noticed the scars on his left flank."

Thinking back on their most recent encounter, Credence recalled feeling a narrow strip running along Duke's side. Several of them in fact. They were bald patches where his fur had been incinerated, the hair thinning around his neck where most of it had grown back with time.

"Someone thought it rather clever to practice their fire charms on him," Newt explained. "On top of that, he'd been tied up for quite some time before I managed to rescue him. His collar was embedded in his neck, you see. Forcing me to remove most of his mane in order to dig it out."

Credence winced, his mind conjuring images of a pet hare with scorch marks on his fur. What little color was left drained from his face, his muscles tense as he gripped the blankets to keep from having another outburst.

"Sorry. You probably didn't want to hear that," Newt said apologetically. He could see that he'd made Credence uncomfortable, and quickly changed the subject. "If we leave him alone, he'll come out when he's ready. For now, I think we ought to consider getting you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," said Credence, his gaze drifting off to the side. He turned and glanced over the edge of the mattress, trying to see if the creature had emerged yet.

Newt moved closer and studied the Obscurial, noting his sunken features and pale, clammy appearance. He also noticed that Credence's nose was running, and that the boy kept sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"Credence, I'm going to ask you to hold still for a minute. Can you do that for me?"

Credence nodded, watching anxiously as Newt withdrew his wand. The Magizoologist muttered a brief incantation, causing a light to flare at the tip of his wand. This startled Credence, who had never seen such a thing. He started to back away but paused when Newt gently reassured him that everything was alright.

"I want to check your eyes," said Newt, motioning with his free hand for Credence to sit up. "Come on now. I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

Reluctantly, Credence sat up in bed and allowed Newt to examine him. The older wizard shined the light in his eyes, checking to see how they reacted to the light. He was also searching for minute traces that would indicate whether or not Credence health was deteriorating. Unfortunately, he found what he was looking for in the form of a white glaze, clouding Credence's eyes and making them appear dull and colorless.

"Are you having any trouble with your vision?" Newt asked, extinguishing the light and pocketing his wand.

"Everything is watery... Fuzzy, sort of. Like trying to see through water." Credence sniffed, lifting a hand and wiping his streaming nose on his sleeve. "Mr. Scamander, am I... am I dying?"

"No." Newt shook his head, unwilling, or perhaps unable to tell him the truth. "No, you're not dying, Credence. You're just very sick. Now, I'm going to go to the kitchen and get you some soup. I don't want anything heavy until I'm certain it won't upset your stomach."

Another sniff. Credence looked away, his attention focused on a loose thread that was dangling from the corner of his blanket. His limbs were heavy and his thoughts were sluggish, making it difficult to concentrate on his surroundings. Everything was slowing down, and long about now he was too tired to refuse Newt's offering of food. Better to be done with it so he could be left alone to rest.

He ate what Newt brought him, though it was clear that he was having difficulty feeding himself. It was starting to feel as though he were being pulled down by a tremendous weight, his hand shaking as he dipped the spoon into the bowl and brought it to his lips. Newt was reaching for his wrist to help steady his movements when Credence dropped the spoon, the silverware clattering against the tray as it slid from his grasp.

"I'm sorry," Credence muttered, his head down, ashamed of his weakness. He felt the urge to remove his belt and hand it to him, believing that he ought to be punished for his actions.

"No worries," said Newt, lifting the tray and sitting down on the side of the bed. He smiled slightly, trying to keep a positive attitude, but Credence ignored him. "I can help you with that, if you like."

Credence sighed and slumped against the pillows. "I'm useless," he said, blinking back tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks.

"Now, stop that," Newt chided. "You can't think that way."

"But it's true. I can't do anything on my own. I'm a burden." Credence wiped his eyes and turned away, embarrassed that he had started crying again.

"You're not a burden to us. We're here because we care about you, and because we want to see that you get better, Credence."

The Obscurial didn't respond. Instead he continued to gaze at the wall, sniffling and wishing that he could be left alone to sleep. He wasn't worth their time anyway.

By now Duke had become curious enough to peek out from under the bed, his whiskers twitching as he lifted the duvet with his horn. He sniffed the air, smelling the warm broth and fresh vegetables. The scent made his mouth water.

Enticed by the alluring fragrance, the furry creature crept out from under the bed, crawling on his belly as he moved across the floor. Credence spied the creature out of the corner of his eye, and was now watching as the hare hugged the bedframe, slowly but surely making his way towards the head of the bed.

Newt followed his gaze, looking down in time to see the speckled hare pawing at the duvet. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, and Duke lowered his head, whimpering and backing away. "Do you want up here? Well, come on then. It's quite alright."

Duke eyed him warily then reached up and placed his paw against the mattress, looking for some word or gesture that meant he was welcome.

"I think he's waiting for your approval," said Newt, looking at Credence and waiting to see what he would do.

It took a moment for these words and images to piece themselves together, his thoughts moving sluggishly through the haze that clouded mind. Credence didn't know what this creature wanted from him. Almost everyone wanted something. To use him like Graves did, or to force him to work, standing for hours at a time on the frozen street corner at night.

He blinked several times and the creature came into focus, and suddenly he remembered that this wasn't his mother's church. He wasn't sitting next to Chastity, listening to Modesty sing as the children shuffled through the door. Where was he?

Credence closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. He was here in bed. He was sick. This man said that he was going to help him get better. He didn't know why this man wanted to help, but he had learned from experience that people were not to be trusted. Animals, however, were something else entirely. And as he opened his eyes, he motioned for the Al-Miraj to come forward, lifting one hand off the mattress and holding it out to the creature.

It was the gesture he'd been waiting for. Duke quickly climbed into bed, sitting beside the Obscurial and looking up at him.

Not knowing what else to do, Credence fished a carrot out of the bowl of soup and offered it to the creature. Rabbits were supposed to like carrots, and this animal was at least part rabbit. That much he was sure of.

Newt's eyes went wide, his expression brightening as that familiar lopsided grin slid into place. He watched as Duke approach the Obscurial, sniffing the carrot before taking the food and nibbling on it. When he looked back at Credence, he saw the faintest of smiles flicker across his face.

Maybe he would be alright. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

"Credence," Newt said softly after a moment had passed. "Would you like to finish your dinner now?"

The Obscurial looked up at him and nodded. He seemed to be feeling better now.

"Alright then." Newt dipped the spoon into the bowl, feeding him a little at a time while Duke sat beside them, happily munching the carrot that Credence had given him.

Chapter Text

Newt continued to help Credence with his daily meals, bringing him mild foods such as crackers, tea and vegetable soup so as not to upset his stomach. Most of the time Credence was able to feed himself, then there were days when illness and exhaustion completely overwhelmed the young wizard, leaving him in a dull, listless state, unable to move or sit up in bed. During these times, Newt would prop him up on a mound of pillows, keeping him elevated while helping him sip from a mug of lukewarm broth.

When he was satisfied with Credence's ability to eat and digest smaller meals, Newt started offering other foods such as applesauce, rice and toast. These went down better than expected, though there were times when Tina questioned why Newt was only giving him bland foods.

"It's a complicated process," said Newt, keeping his back to her while dabbing at Credence's mouth with a napkin. "In his weakened state he can't tolerate anything beyond the process of digesting simple foods. He needs nourishment, but not so much that his body will reject it."

"Reject it?" Tina's eyebrows lifted towards her hairline. "Is that another way of saying he'll throw up?"

"Yes." It was a short answer, but it was the only one he felt comfortable giving.

He looked at Credence and tried not to think about the weight he'd lost, or the trouble he'd had getting out of bed. He pushed aside the memories of the Sudanese girl, hoping that it wouldn't end the same for this unfortunate young man.

As he watched, he noticed that there was a slight tremor in his hands when Credence tried lifting the mug and bringing it to his lips, but Newt didn't know whether to attribute it to his illness, shivering or nerves. He continued to feed Credence his evening meal, pausing when the blankets shifted and began to move, revealing the wet nose and spiral horn of Duke the Al-Miraj. The creature had taken to hiding beneath the covers whenever Tina entered the room, and was just now making his presence known.

"Duke," Credence murmured, turning his head and looking at the tented fabric on his right. The speckled hare came closer, sniffing and twitching as he always did when in the presence of strangers. He then lowered his chin onto Credence's chest and hummed softly.

This timid creature had taken to sleeping in the Obscurial's bed. He would often lie down on the pillow beside Credence's head, or curl up against his chest, watching over him as through he were protecting him from some unseen force. He had done this night after night, refusing to leave no matter how many times Newt tried picking him up and returning him to his habitat. Eventually, Newt decided to leave him be, knowing that this was exactly what Credence needed; an animal companion to help him recover from the trauma he had suffered at the hands of Mary Lou.

A moment passed before Credence lifted his hand and placed it against the creature's back. His strength was failing rapidly, and it was with great difficulty that he managed to slide his fingers along the spotted pelt, gently stroking the speckled hare as he began to fall asleep.

"Credence," said Newt, his tone gentle as he steadied the bowl in his lap. "I see you're about to nod off. Just one more bite then you can get some rest."

The Obscurial nodded, his eyes beginning to close. He opened his mouth, allowing Newt to feed him the last spoonful of soup, then sank into the mound of pillows with a tired sigh. Within minutes he'd fallen into an uncomfortable doze, his arm around the speckled hare, holding him close as he slept.

"He's sleeping better now that he has Duke with him." Newt's expression brightened, the sight of the two friends making his heart feel lighter than it had in days. "It's comforting, having an animal companion throughout the night. He also hasn't been having his usual nightmares. They seem to have slacked off now that he has someone to stay with him and keep him calm."

"I don't know about this," said Tina, lifting a hand and anxiously chewing her thumbnail. She watched the hare yawn, one paw outstretched as he gently touched the side of Credence's face. "What if the creature bites him?"

"He'll do no such thing," said Newt, leaning over and tucking the blanket under Credence's chin. "See, that's one of the reasons why I wanted to write a book on magical creatures. Most people believe the rumors that Al-Miraj kill and eat people. They're just misunderstood, really. That horn is used for defense, though they're typically used to ward off predators and rival males. It can wound and their claws are rather sharp, but they don't eat humans. Only vegetables and herbs."

If this information had come from anyone else, Tina would have dismissed it as an outrageous lie. There had been stories for centuries about this unusual beast, goring humans and devouring prey much larger than itself. Then again, the creature hadn't been thoroughly researched. And if anyone knew a thing or two about fantastic beasts, it was Newt Scamander.

"Tell me the truth," said Tina, moving to sit beside him on the bed. She lowered her voice, glancing at Credence before she continued speaking. "Do you think he's going to be alright?" It was a question Newt had expected, her eyes dark with worry as though she were regarding her own son. Newt frowned and glanced at Tina.

"It doesn't look good right now," he said quietly. "I want to have another go at it. Removing the Obscurus, that is. But in his current state, a second attempt will probably kill him."

Her lips began to quiver and she placed a hand over her mouth, inhaling sharply. The noise startled Duke, who leapt up and shot under the covers.

Credence stirred but did not wake, muttering softly as he rolled over onto his side. His hand groped the air beside him, trying to find his missing companion, and Newt took it gently, whispering soothing words of comfort as the Obscurial moaned in his sleep.

"I'm bringing the caladrius in tomorrow morning," Newt continued, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the Obscurial. "If he is to survive, then I'm going to need the help of my creatures. Hopefully they can ease his symptoms enough that he can rest and recover. Then it will be safer - not perfectly safe, mind you, there's always a bit of risk. But his chances for survival will be better, I think."

.oOo.

An hour passed before Newt felt comfortable enough to venture out of his suitcase. It had been a while since he'd stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, and right now the air was rich with the smell of Queenie's delightful cooking.

He took a seat at the kitchen table, unable to focus on his meal despite the delicious aroma. There was a faraway look clouding his eyes, his fork winding the spaghetti on his plate without really thinking about what he was doing.

He recalled the days spent caring for the Sudanese girl, comparing her appearance to that of the Obscurial who now occupied the corner of his suitcase. At the time her frail limbs had been permanently engulfed in smoke, the twisting tendrils swirling ominously whenever he approached the bed. When it came time to feed her, he would carefully lift her out of bed and position her on his lap, one arm holding her against his chest as he attempted to spoonfeed her a bit of broth.

The first attempt had been a disaster, and she immediately vomited down the front of his shirt. This was also the first step towards discovering the truth about Obscurials, explaining why so many of them died before reaching their tenth birthday.

Credence had yet to realize this horrible truth on his own. He knew that harboring a parasitic lifeform meant being ill and exhausted, and that most of the time he was unable to walk or feed himself without assistance. He knew that it meant being in constant pain, and that sometimes, when he was very tired or going through periods of emotional distress, he would lose control and become the creature he longed to escape.

It was this monstrous entity that woke him from his slumber, not knowing where he was or how long he'd been asleep. The hours passed like minutes, flitting briefly before his eyes each time he slid downwards into darkness.

That darkness, he thought, was comforting. It was the only way he could escape what was happening to him, giving in and allowing all physical sensations to fade. Credence pondered this option, lying there in a semiconscious daze as Duke crawled out from under the covers.

The Al-Miraj gently nuzzled him, whimpering and pressing his cold, wet nose against Credence's cheek. But the Obscurial had begun to focus on something else. Something besides the smoky haze that filled his vision. It was a kind of gurgling growl that came and went every few minutes, accompanied by the feel of pressure in his abdomen.

The pressure began to increase, pain spiking in the area below his navel. Credence felt the room spinning as he rolled over and clutched his stomach, first one way then the other, until all sense of direction was lost. Where was he anyway? These walls didn't look familiar. They were darkening with smoke, with shadows and fog that crept along the surface of his skin.

Gasping, Credence managed to throw the covers off, knowing only that he had to leave this place at once. He didn't even know where he was, and it was with great effort that he managed to remain upright, stumbling sideways and reaching for the doorframe. But his feeble grip failed to support him, and he fell to the floor like a sack of bricks.

The Al-Miraj was beside him now, stamping his foot as though trying to draw attention to himself. But Credence couldn't hear him. He began the laborious task of dragging himself across the tiled floor, the roar in his abdomen growing louder, until at last his trembling hands found the porcelain structure he'd been searching for.

The lid struck the back of the toilet with a resounding thud. Credence forced himself onto his knees, leaning over and vomiting into the porcelain bowl, his whole body shuddering. His head cleared, and he could finally hear the continuous thump-thump of Duke frantically stomping the floor. It was a signal to the man outside the suitcase, and within a matter of minutes Newt came running into the bathroom, only to find Credence lying on the floor beside the toilet.

Chapter Text

The Obscurial curled in on himself, his arms around his midsection, shaking violently. "Cold," he whimpered, a trickle of vomit running from the corner of his mouth. "Feels cold and hurts. Hurts bad. Make it stop. Please make it stop hurting."

"What hurts?" Newt asked, kneeling beside him on the floor. "Tell me where it hurts, Credence."

"St-stomach," Credence stammered, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

Newt worked quickly, summoning a washcloth from the counter and moistening it with a bit of water from his wand. He carefully cleaned the vomit off Credence's face, then lifted the Obscurial off the floor and carried him back to his room. Tina was already coming down the ladder as he deposited Credence on the bed.

"Hold still, please," Newt was saying as Tina rounded the corner. The witch let out a startled gasp as a large hare went skittering across the floor. The creature then turned sharply, narrowly avoiding Tina's feet as he ran past her into Credence's bedroom.

Both Duke and Tina made it to the bedroom in record time. They stood back, watching helplessly as Credence moaned and writhed against the sheets, not knowing what was wrong or if there was anything they could do to help.

"Credence, hold still," Newt repeated, gently coaxing the Obscurial's hands away from his abdomen. He lifted the fabric of Credence's pajama top, exposing his midsection. "I want you to take a deep breath. Breathe in and hold it for a few seconds."

Credence complied with his request, his muscles spasming as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. The Obscurus, crushed between his expanding diaphragm and stomach, snarled and tore at the inner walls of Credence's abdomen, causing his flesh to bulge hideously.

"There it is." Newt leaned over and pressed his fingertips against the quivering mass, massaging the area in a circular motion. "That's it. Now exhale slowly. You're doing fine, Credence."

"What are you doing?" Tina asked, watching Newt work.

"I'm relieving some of the pressure," Newt explained. "As the Obscurus grows, it has a tendency to attach itself to the internal organs, causing pain as it expands to fill the abdominal cavity. The massage forces the Obscurus into a different part of the body, relieving the pressure on the internal organs. But it will only do so much," he added, seeing Credence arch his back and kick his legs in obvious discomfort.

He continued rubbing the troublesome mass, his fingers chasing the Obscurus as it moved towards the lower half of Credence's belly. Every now and then the Obscurial would tremble with the force of his own barely suppressed magic, the tremors racing down his arms and sparking at his fingertips; pure, raw and uncontrollable.

"Tina." Newt sounded breathless now, the urgency in his voice drawing her attention. "In my shed, there's a medicine chest on the shelf. It's the second shelf on the right. I need you to bring me a pain relieving potion. Quickly now, while I'm still able to keep his Obscurus in check."

Credence had settled some from his initial pain, lying on his back as Newt massaged his abdomen. The close contact had both alarmed and comforted him, startling him at first until he noticed the pain had begun to subside.

He closed his eyes, a tired sigh gliding past his lips, and relaxed slightly. This man really was trying his best to care for him. And even if he wasn't - if Newt turned on him like Graves - he doubted that anything could make him feel worse than he already did. Except perhaps that thing stirring in his middle.

Tina returned a short while later, her footsteps hurrying across the floor as Duke ran to get out of the way. Newt had not paused in his actions, nor did he stop to look up at her until she held out the bottle containing a thick, golden brown liquid.

"That's it," said Newt, relief spreading through his chest as he reached over and plucked the bottle from her grasp. "It has willow bark to help with the pain, and l'theanine to help ease him back to sleep." He uncorked the bottle and leaned over the bed, his hand sliding beneath Credence's head and lifting it off the pillow. The bottle was halfway to Credence's lips when the Obscurial uttered a low, pitiful whine and turned his head to the side.

"No more," he breathed, his voice dissolving into a wretched moan. He'd already been sick once this evening. Anything more and he would surely lose what little remained of his dinner.

"I need you to take this. It's a potion that'll help you feel better." There was a pause as Newt suddenly remembered Credence's Muggle upbringing. "It's medicine, Credence," he said, thinking that the Obscurial might understand if told in some way that was familiar to him. But Credence no longer had the ability to comprehend what was being said to him.

He looked up at Newt, still shaking and sniffling, unable to see past the haze that clouded his vision. There were fingers curling around his hand, warm and comforting, but he couldn't feel them anymore. There were voices, reduced to unintelligible noise, and somewhere in the middle of this dull, distant clammer there was something familiar. But he was having trouble remembering what it was.

"He's ill," Newt muttered, frustration etched into the lines on his face. "Credence is gravely ill, and he's in too much pain to understand that we're trying to help him." He looked over at Tina, who was holding Credence's hand and kneeling beside the bed, then back at Credence, who appeared to show some flicker of recognition. "Try getting his attention so he realizes what we need him to do."

Tina acted without hesitation, using her free hand to gently stroke Credence's hair. "Credence, it's alright. We're only trying to help you." She lowered her hand, allowing her fingers to brush against his cheek. "Credence? Credence, can you hear me?"

His eyes rolled towards her, his frail form quivering like a leaf in an autumn wind. There was something there, beneath his glazed expression that told her he had understood, and so she continued.

"I want you to listen to me, Credence. Newt has something he wants you to drink. It's going to help you feel better. Do you understand?"

Abruptly, almost shockingly, Credence rolled over onto his side, lowering his head and wrapping his arms around waist. The movement was so swift and sudden that Newt, now worried that he'd been struck by a sudden pain, moved towards him, concerned, until he saw the convulsive heave of Credence's chest and realized that the boy was crying.

"Shh, it's okay," Tina soothed, stroking his back in an effort to help him stay calm. She hadn't realized that his thoughts had turned, recalling the moment when she materialized from the crowd, raising her wand and disarming his mother. It was all he could see as he moved towards her, still trapped in the memories of his past.

His body shook with hiccuping sobs until he couldn't cry anymore, lying on his side with Duke snuggled up beside him. It wasn't until he'd finally tired himself out that Newt was able to ease him onto his back, supporting him as he held the bottle to his lips. This time Credence drank, too tired to care and too sick to worry about what they were giving him. It didn't matter anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

.oOo.

Within a few hours Credence began showing signs of fever, and once more Newt found himself beside the Obscurial's bed, examining him while he slept.

Dormarth was beside him as he began the examination, his tail drooping towards the floor. This, in itself, was a bad sign, for the creature had the unique ability to sense when someone was dying, his mood and behavior changing accordingly depending on the health of the patient.

"There there, old chap," said Newt, scratching the dog behind the ears. The dog whined and lowered his chin onto the mattress. Duke responded by flattening his ears and hissing, upset that his space was being invaded by this oversized hound.

The chair beside the bed creaked as Newt stood up, patting the shaggy mutt before turning to leave the room. "Look after him," he told Dormarth, then turned and addressed the speckled hare. "And you, behave yourself. You can both keep watch over him. He needs all the help he can get right now anyway."

Tina was waiting for him in his shed, seated at his desk with her hands neatly folded in her lap. Those hands, Newt noticed, began to twist uncomfortably the minute he entered the shed.

"It's not looking good," he began abruptly, never knowing how to properly start a conversation. "His temperature is one hundred and three. I don't know how else to say this but he's failing. And quickly, I might add."

"Failing?" Her voice was hoarse, her throat constricting with emotion. She looked at him, not wanting to listen, not wanting to believe what he was saying. And all the while her heart beat faster, aching, for she knew these were the final days of Credence's life.

"To be properly technical, his organs are shutting down. The Obscurus, you see, doesn't take in nutrients the way humans do. It has no need for them. It feeds off the host's emotions. Therefore, when it begins to grow, it damages and eventually destroys the internal organs. That is why an Obscurial can transform, because the body is slowly disintegrating until all that remains is the Obscurus."

"But you told me the Obscurus can't survive without the host."

"That is correct. The Obscurus can only survive for a minute or two without the host. So, when Credence dies, his Obscurus goes with him." Newt sighed wearily and rubbed his temples, then moved to sit beside her on a crate. "He's currently at the stage where he's losing the ability to digest food and take in liquids," he continued, and heard the thickness in his own voice. "By morning he'll be unable to speak, unable to swallow anything that we give him. I don't even know if the caladrius will help at this point."

"Can't you at least try?" she asked, desperate, still hopeful.

"I can. But let's give him some time to rest. He's not going to die right away, Tina," he added, seeing her open her mouth in protest. "Death is a process. I know because I've seen it before. And after what happened this evening, he needs to rest a bit before we go messing with him."

Chapter Text

It was just after eleven 'o clock when Newt took a seat beside Credence's bed, exhausted, but still trying his best to care for the Obscurial. He encouraged Tina and her sister to get some sleep, stating that he would bring the caladrius in later after everyone had a chance to rest. He was nearly dozing when a low whimper woke him from his sleep, and he opened his eyes to see Credence lying on his side, shaking with feverish chills.

"Don't leave me," Credence whispered, reaching blindly for whoever was close enough to hold him. "It's so dark and quiet... Please, don't leave me."

His eyes opened momentarily, but he could not see. The world around him was shrouded in darkness, thin trails of blackened smoke rising and obscuring his vision. His only comfort came in the form of Newt taking his hand in both of his, but even the sensation of touch was beginning to fade.

Credence drifted off with Newt still holding his hand, the Al-Miraj curled up beside him. The floorboards creaked, but he never heard them, as Tina entered the room and sat down on the floor beside the bed.

Newt looked at her and nodded, knowing that it was pointless to argue with her. They all wanted to be there for Credence, fearing what might happen if they left him alone.

They stayed with him throughout the night, resting when they could, comforting him when he woke up and giving him a second dose of pain relieving potion. Newt also tried giving him something for his fever, but the potion had little effect. It was during the wee hours of the night that Tina fell asleep, leaving Newt alone with his thoughts.

Newt leaned forward with his head in his hands and sighed. 'We're losing him,' he thought miserably, remembering how the girl's body was wreathed in smoke towards the end of her life. It was constantly seeping from her pores, like dark steam rising from the surface of a bubbling cauldron. 'He's close. If he reaches the final stage, there'll be no stopping it.'

Slowly, he lowered his hands, looking out the window into the habitat that was home to a pair of waterbirds. These creatures might be the solution to their problem. They could possibly ease Credence's discomfort, keeping him alive or, at the very least, making him comfortable in the final hours before death.

But there was something else, an ability he'd chosen not to mention during his earlier conversations with Tina. He remembered reading about it in the medieval bestiary he carried with him during his travels, the tattered book making note of the creature's ability to predict whether or not a person suffering from a serious illness would live or die. And while he had never been one to put much faith in predictions, he believed wholeheartedly in his creatures, knowing that an animal's instincts were more reliable than human prophecy.

He imagined entering their habitat, scooping up one of the white waterbirds and placing it on Credence's bed. If the creature gazed intently at the Obscurial, then it meant the boy would live. But if it turned its back and refused to look at him, then Credence would surely die.

"Credence," Newt whispered, exhaustion blurring his vision as his eyes began to close. He blinked, trying to clear the haze, and felt tears trickling down the sides of his face. "You deserve better, Credence. I only wish I'd found you sooner."

The caladrius uttered a low, mournful cry, its wings outspread, covering the body of Credence Barebone while he slept. It seemed as though the bird were crying, then all at once the Obscurial sat up in bed, causing the caladrius to rise, screeching and fluttering into the air.

Newt watched in horror as the spreading shadow engulfed the young wizard, its burning core flashing with a thousand points of scarlet light, each moving and vibrating of its own accord, until Credence no longer existed but had become part of the entity which consumed him.

"Why didn't you help me?" Credence shouted from within the churning mass. "Why did you let this happen?"

The Magizoologist was sinking to the floor, the entire ceiling transformed into a swirling vortex of rage and torment. He could hear the roar of the Obscurus merging with Credence's voice, the sound twisting and inverting upon itself, until it no longer resembled anything which could be considered human.

"Credence, no! I'm sorry, but I tried my best." Newt was screaming now, his voice lost amid the unearthly howls. "Credence, please, you have to stop! Credence!"

He awoke with a start as the Obscurus lunged at him, the terrifying roar still echoing inside his mind.

"A dream," Newt breathed, turning and catching sight of his reflection in the window beside the bed. Beads of perspiration stood out like a galaxy of dots on his forehead, his heart pounding frantically against his ribs. "It was only a dream."

He glanced at Credence, who was still asleep in his bed, then looked down and saw Tina clutching his coat, using it like a pillow while she slept. He was on his feet in a flash, moving quickly towards the flap that separated the enclosure from the rest of his suitcase.

His creatures stirred as he moved from one habitat to the next, the Niffler lifting his head as moonlight glinted off the pile of coins he was using as a bed. One of the Occamys uttered a low chirping sound and snuggled up close to its nest mate, then all was quiet once more.

Newt reached the caladrius in record time, seeing the pair of majestic birds dozing beside the water's edge. The oldest, a two year old female named Iris, had bedded down in a nest of sticks and leaves, insulated from the cold with a layer of soft, downy material taken from a cluster of cattails. Her long tail feathers trailed over the edge of the nest, each one shining faintly with an ethereal glow.

Her entire body began to shine as Newt approached the nest, carefully lifting the delicate creature and holding her in his arms. Her companion, an eight month old male named Luke, was roosting in a nearby tree. He lifted his head, blinking and cooing as he watched the Magizoologist carrying his friend out of their enclosure.

Before long, Newt returned to Credence's bedroom, kneeling beside the bed and gently lowering the large bird onto the comforter. "It's alright now," he said softly, watching her head turn this way and that. She was looking at the layers of blankets on the bed as though she were afraid they might bite her. She then turned suddenly, a gleam in her eye as she pecked at a loose thread dangling from the corner of the blanket.

"Easy now. It's not going to hurt you." Newt tucked the loose thread under the mattress. "There we go. Much better now."

Iris cooed and stretched her long neck, examining the speckled hare that was fast asleep on the bed. So far, she had looked at everything but Credence. Yet she hadn't turned her back on him, meaning that there was still a chance to save him.

"Iris." Newt snapped his fingers to get her attention, then motioned towards the sleeping Obscurial. "Iris, I want you to have a look at him. Go on now, it's alright."

The graceful bird turned towards the Obscurial, her shining feathers brushing against the back of Newt's hand. She nuzzled him gently, indicating that she had understood his request, then knelt down to examine the boy.

Newt swallowed hard, watching carefully as the bird leaned in for a closer look. For a moment everything seemed alright. Then Iris turned around and sat on the edge of the mattress, bowing her head in silence.

"No," Newt breathed. "No, it can't be."

He refused to accept this. Maybe the bird was wrong, or maybe her prediction would only come true if he didn't try to remove the Obscurus. Although judging by his appearance, Newt couldn't help thinking that Credence wouldn't survive a second attempt.

Then she saw it, a flicker of darkness moving beneath Credence's skin. Iris looked down at the back of his hand, tilting her head and uttering a faint chirp. Something was moving under there, like a tantalizing worm, plump and juicy and ready to be gobbled up for lunch.

She pecked at the skin below his knuckles, snatching at some unseen force and pulling it from Credence's skin.

Newt's jaw dropped as he watched the caladrius wrestling with what appeared to be a black parasitic worm. Her beak closed with a snap, yanking and twisting, pulling backwards and straining with all her might, her wings flapping wildly. Then all at once the shadow came to life, hissing and snarling like a wild animal.

The noise was enough to disturb the sleeping Al-Miraj, who immediately withdrew into the corner, twitching and staring at the horrific tug-of-war taking place on the bed.

Iris continued to struggle with the hideous parasite, her talons digging into the comforter and snagging the material. She gave the worm one final tug, losing her grip and falling over backwards. Once freed, the Obscurus quickly retreated into Credence's body, gliding along the back of his hand and absorbing into his skin.

One by one, the pieces of the puzzle came together in his mind, and suddenly he had the answer. He knew exactly how they were going to save Credence, and he would do it with the help of his creatures.

Chapter Text

"Tina!" Newt leaned over and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle nudge. "Tina, I've got it! I know how we're going to save Credence."

Strands of hair fell forward into her face as he nudged her a second time. She opened her eyes and saw him grinning at her, a curious sight given the current circumstances.

"Mr. Scamander, what's going on?" She lifted her head off the bundle of fabric she'd been using as a pillow, yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes. Newt was still grinning, still bubbling with excitement as he motioned towards the waterbird.

"Iris," he blurted out, forgetting that she didn't know the bird's name. "She did it. Credence was asleep when she approached him, and she managed to catch the Obscurus and was trying to pull it out through the back of his hand."

Tina grimaced, recoiling at the description of what had taken place. She imagined nerves and tissue stretching in ways that shouldn't have been possible, causing a great amount of pain and possibly ripping the boy's flesh clean off the bone.

"She didn't get all of it, but it's given me an idea," Newt continued, breathless with anticipation. "I can't remove the Obscurus on my own. But Iris can help - both of them. They can facilitate the process. And if we work together, all three of us at the same time, it might be enough to finally remove it."

"I thought you said that trying to remove it could kill him," she said, looking at him with concern.

"It might. However, leaving it in will definitely kill him." Newt turned, looking down at the speckled hare who had come forward and was nuzzling Credence's side. Like all animals, Duke could sense that the time was drawing near, and was desperately trying to get Credence to respond.

Newt approached the bed. "Take him," he said, lifting the speckled hare and holding him out to Tina. "I don't want Duke in here while I'm trying to remove the Obscurus." A pause, and after a moment of thought he added, "You probably shouldn't be here either."

This time Tina didn't argue with him, but hesitated slightly as she slowly got to her feet. Her gaze flicked upwards, briefly checking to make sure it was alright to hold the speckled hare. It was only when Newt nodded and smiled encouragingly that she took the magical creature and held him against her chest.

"Thank you," Newt said quietly, reaching for the speckled hare when the creature began to struggle. "Easy now," he soothed, speaking directly to the Al-Miraj. "I want you to go with her. Just for a little while. And I want you to behave yourself. Understand?"

The Al-Miraj lifted his chin, allowing Newt to stroke him through the mane of fur around his neck. He went limp in Tina's arms when the Magizoologist broke contact, his sides rising and falling with rapid breaths. He was frightened, that much was clear, his eyes widening as he twisted in her arms, climbing up the front of Tina's blouse where he lay draped across her shoulder.

Silence followed the sound of footsteps, closing in around them like an ominous weight. Even Dormarth had gone quiet, the only sound coming from Credence's labored attempt at breathing.

"Alright, Dormarth?" Newt looked down, placing a hand on the dog's head and ruffling his fur. The dog responded by licking his wrist. "I should probably keep you here in case my final attempt ends in failure. Hopefully we won't need any of that," he added, now turning and glancing at the waterbird who remained perched atop the bed.

Iris was carefully eyeing Credence's left hand, watching for any sign of movement beneath the skin. Her movements were quick as lightning, her eyes darting this way and that, snapping at his wrist when a thin wisp of smoke curled around his arm and tried slithering out from underneath his sleeve.

This was it. There was no delaying it any longer.

Newt entered the caladrius habitat and scooped up the remaining waterbird, the curious youngster chirping and looking around as they passed the other habitats. When he returned to Credence's room, Dormarth had taken a seat beside the bed, with Iris standing guard over the Obscurial. Both of them were alert, poised and watchful, sensing the great battle that was about to begin.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, stroking Luke's back while Dormarth and Iris watched, waiting to see what he would do. After a moment of consideration, Newt came around to the opposite side of the bed, placing the bird on Credence's right so that he had one creature on either side of him. He was about to step away when he was startled by a sudden gasp.

He looked down and saw that Credence was becoming agitated, his lashes lifting to reveal eyes the color of freshly fallen snow. He leaned over him and placed a hand on Credence's cheek, drawing the disoriented wizard to focus on him.

"You're alright, Credence," said Newt. "I know that you must feel awful, but it will pass."

Credence finally met his gaze, but his expression remained unreadable. The Magizoologist knew that vision was often the first to go when an Obscurial was dying, followed by hearing and finally the sense of touch. Credence might be able to feel him, but the ties to his physical body were beginning to fade, eclipsed by the parasitic entity that was quickly becoming his entire being.

"Credence," Newt murmured, watching his chest rise and fall with shallow, uneven breaths. The Obscurial reached for him, his trembling fingers closing around Newt's wrist.

"I'm sorry," Credence rasped, his voice no more than a hoarse crackle. Moisture pooled in the corners of his eyes, trickling down his face as he shuddered and gasped. "I-I nuh-never meant t-to hurt anyone..." A moment passed between them, his hand squeezing convulsively before going slack.

"Credence!" Newt called out, grasping the Obscurial's hand and fumbling with the sleeve of his pajama top. He felt for a pulse along the inside of Credence's wrist, breathing a sigh of relief when he detected a faint flutter of heartbeat. "Unconscious, but still alive and breathing."

Quickly he rose, drawing his wand and moving swiftly towards the foot of the bed, muttering incantations as he went. A sweep of his arm conjured a magnificent dome around the bed, shimmering with golden energy and stretching towards the ceiling. Another incantation and the atmosphere shifted, creating an amber haze that filled the room with an ethereal glow.

One by one the protective enchantments built upon each other, their collective energies blurring the images outside the dome until looking out became impossible. Already the Obscurus sensed a change in its environment, the haze distorted by miniature streaks of scarlet lightning, moving and flashing in the air above the bed.

Newt raised his left hand, urging the pair of waterbirds to remain calm. They were both squawking and flapping their wings, snapping at the shadowy strands that closed around them. They were nearly suffocating when Newt slashed the air with his wand, slicing through the spreading darkness and allowing them to breathe once more.

"Now!" he shouted, aiming his wand at Credence's abdomen. "Extrahere obscurus!"

All at once the Obscurus exploded, filling the dome with flickers of shadow and light. Luke and Iris shrieked, each grasping one of the writhing tentacles in their beaks and pulling with all their might.

Twisted sinews of aged magic rose into the air, festering and corrupted from years of suppression. They struck at the inner walls of the dome, the Obscurus howling in agony as Newt's voice rose in a scream, sparks flying from the tip of his wand.

He repeated the incantation just as the pair of waterbirds took flight, launching themselves off the bed while attempting to drag the Obscurus along with them. This resulted in a second explosive wave of magical energy, surging forward and striking the barrier like a tidal wave. The force was enough to split the dome along its side, bits of plaster falling from the ceiling as the vibrations within the earth began to swell.

The roar of the Obscurus filled the room, merging with the anguished moan that clawed its way up Credence's throat. A quick glance in Credence's direction told him the boy was showing signs of waking up, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his eyelids.

'No, Merlin please, let him stay under,' Newt thought desperately. 'Don't let him come to now. He doesn't need to be awake for this. He doesn't need to experience that kind of pain.'

The crack in the dome was growing, stretching towards the floor. Newt made a twisting motion with his wand, then pulled back sharply as the pair of waterbirds tore the parasite from Credence's body. Together they were able to sever the ties binding the Obscurus to its host, and with one final movement Newt flicked his wrist and conjured a glowing bubble around the enraged beast, successfully removing and containing the Obscurus.

Gasping, Newt fell to the floor on his knees, one hand against the ground, the other raised, still gripping his wand that was pointed towards the softly shimmering bubble. He was utterly spent, and yet he still managed to force himself onto his feet, stumbling and grasping the bedpost to keep from falling on his face.

"It's alright," he breathed, trying to calm the ragged hound that was whining and nuzzling his side. "I'm fine, Dormarth. It's Credence I'm worried about."

Using the bedpost as leverage, Newt steadied himself and came around to the side of the bed. He placed his free hand against the mattress, gradually lowering himself into a sitting position while checking for signs that Credence was still alive.

A low whimper drew the Magizoologist's attention, and he moved closer, running a hand over Credence's hair before placing the back of his hand against his cheek.

"Credence? Credence, can you hear me? Can you understand what I'm saying?"

The young wizard twitched and gasped, his senses slowly returning as he awoke from the feeling of being everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was a feeling he often associated with his transformations, that surreal sense of existing within an entity that was without a physical form.

"That's it, Credence. You're alright. You're safe."

The next sensation was that of pain, blood seeping from torn muscles and ligaments where his Obscurus had been attached. It would build and break with each inhalation of breath, fading into something more bearable then returning in full as he drew air into his lungs.

"Credence. Credence, look at me."

Credence uttered a pained gasp, his fingers gripping the bedsheets as he turned his head away from the sound of Newt's voice. His eyes rolled in their sockets, seeing everything and perceiving nothing. It was all color and shapes, blurred images and lines, his mind unable to grasp his location and figure out where he was.

"Focus, Credence. Focus on my voice and follow it."

The voice he heard was comforting, familiar in a sense that he could just make out what was being said. It continued to speak from somewhere far away, drawing his attention and pulling him back towards a conscious realm where sights and sounds became clearer, more prominent and defined.

Credence blinked and Newt's face appeared before him.

"There you go." The Magizoologist smiled sympathetically at him. "Welcome back, Credence."

"Mr. Scamander?" The voice that spoke was low and groggy, his mouth parched with very little saliva.

"That's right." The smile widened, relief spreading through his chest as Credence met his gaze. "Now, what's your name?"

The young wizard opened his mouth, closed it and swallowed before opening it a second time. "Credence."

"And where are you?"

Credence looked towards the ceiling, the edges of the suitcase just visible beyond the panelled walls. "My room."

He shifted slightly, grimacing as he pressed his back against the mattress. Credence thought that if he could melt into the sheets the pain would dissolve with the rest of his body, but the ability to do so had been lost.

"I wouldn't recommend moving around too much," said Newt, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "You've still got a temperature, and you will need time to heal internally now that your Obscurus has been removed."

"You... you mean it's...?" Credence's voice trailed off into silence, his gaze slowly drifting towards the swirling mass just visible on the edges of his peripheral vision. It was the first time he'd noticed it, the hazy bubble suspended in midair near the foot of the bed.

"Yes, Credence. It's out now. And in my professional opinion, I think you're going to be just fine."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Credence's lips, existing for but a moment before his eyes began to close. His tired body finally decided that it had had enough, and within a few minutes he had drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The warmth of the summer sun was upon his face as he slept, his back against the wall as he rested comfortably on the window seat in Newt Scamander's house. Pillows had been added for extra comfort, the padded surface soft and inviting. It was the perfect place to nap as the final days of summer passed by.

Duke had settled in Credence's lap, his chin resting on Credence's thigh as the wizard stroked his speckled fur. Together they had dozed off, sleeping peacefully in the late afternoon sunshine.

Then, a cry arose from the bedroom down the hall, and Duke lifted his head, searching for the source that had disturbed his rest.

His whiskers twitched as he sniffed the air, his eyes bright and gleaming. He no longer wore the frightened expression of a tormented creature, his courage strengthened by the bonds of friendship he had made with Credence.

He listened carefully, hearing the gentle cries of Newt's infant son. It wasn't long until Credence heard them too, shifting and yawning as he awoke from his afternoon nap.

The wizard lifted a hand as the cries became stronger, more demanding. "What is that?" he murmured, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He felt the weight of the creature in his lap, the soothing sunlight on his face and hair, and for a moment he almost drifted back to sleep. But then he remembered that Tina had left for work, the infant's father disappearing into his suitcase not long after she had left. It probably wouldn't be long until Newt returned, but the sound of the crying baby made Credence nervous.

"I'm sorry, Duke," he said, lifting the speckled hare and setting him aside. "But I think I should check on the baby."

The speckled hare was placed atop one of the many throw pillows that lined the window seat. Credence then slid over to the edge of the seat, his bare feet touching down on the hardwood floor.

He moved quickly and quietly towards the infant's bedroom, head bowed slightly as he stood in the hall with one hand on the doorframe. He waited for Newt to appear, glancing down the hall and wondering if maybe he should retrieve the child's father.

The hiccuping sobs broke and hitched, until finally Credence entered the bedroom and carefully lifted the child from the crib. "It's okay," he said softly, adjusting his hold on the baby so that the child was comfortably nestled in his arms.

Credence sank into the chair beside the crib, rocking the infant and looking around for any sign of the child's father. With his free hand he summoned a bottle from the kitchen, using wandless magic to warm the milk before testing a drop on his wrist.

"It's okay," he said again, offering the bottle to the crying child. "I know I'm not your Da, but maybe I can help."

The child's cries softened, his eyes glistening with tears as he reached for the bottle, muttering something in his unintelligible baby babble.

Credence sighed with relief when the child took the bottle, holding it carefully as the infant drank. He could do this. It was no different than feeding Newt's creatures.

He turned his attention towards the blue skies beyond the window, his thoughts wandering over the many years he'd spent living with Newt Scamander and his wife. They had been kind enough to take him in, offering him spellbooks and encouragement as he gradually learned how to harness the gift of magic. In time he was able to control his abilities, though he still had difficulty using a wand.

"Understandable really," Newt said when he saw how easily Credence summoned an object with a simple hand gesture. "He's been using magic in very unusual ways. It's as if some routes have closed off, making it difficult for him to use a wand as a conduit for his magic."

When Credence heard this, he worried that he'd done something wrong, bowing his head and trembling as he lowered the wand onto his lap. He stared at the length of oak, remembering how Newt explained about wands choosing their owner.

Maybe this wand didn't like him. Maybe none of them would because he wasn't good enough. He was, as Newt Scamander had put it, using magic in an unusual way. Because something was wrong with him. Because he'd lost the ability to do things properly.

Seeing that he was upset, Newt had gently reassured him that everything was alright. Credence could still remember the look on his face, that lopsided grin spreading from ear to ear as he spoke.

"You're stronger and more talented than you realize," Newt told him. "There aren't many in our world who have mastered wandless magic. No, quite the contrary. You are an extraordinary wizard, Credence. You just need to believe in yourself."

Credence was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. He started slightly, looking up and seeing Newt Scamander standing in the doorway.

"Credence," Newt breathed, looking relieved to see him. "Should have known you'd have everything under control." He moved to sit beside him, taking a seat on the toy chest next to the crib. "You're doing quite well, you know. You've come a long way since that night Tina found you in the alley."

Silence followed this statement, and Newt could see that Credence was getting anxious. He watched as Credence shrugged his shoulders, lowering his gaze until he was staring at the floor.

Though the years had passed, some of Credence's nervous habits still remained. Newt supposed the boy would never completely be rid of them; people didn't recover from abuse overnight, not even in wizarding world. But as he watched, Credence slowly lifted his head, making eye contact for the first time since he'd entered the room.

"Thank you," said Credence, and Newt smiled at him. "But it was really you that helped. I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you." The last sentence was said so quietly that Newt almost missed it.

"I suppose there is a grain of truth in that," Newt said casually, his hands folded in his lap. "But you've had to fight a very difficult battle, Credence. Every victory was your own. Learning to trust, learning to heal, and most of all, learning to believe in yourself."

Credence gave a short nod but said nothing further.

"You'll be alright, Credence." Newt placed a hand on Credence's shoulder, and this time the boy neither flinched nor shrank from his touch.

A smile teased the corner of Credence's lips, lingering at the realization that he'd found his place at last. These people were like family to him, and he was quite content living out the rest of his days in the home of Newt Scamander.