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What You Crave


NEWT'S STORY CONTINUES...


Come quickly, with the case. Hurry.

Newt’s voice had echoed through the laboratory. The Niffler had stood on her hind paws and stared at the glimmering substance of the patronus and reached out one paw hopefully, her claws clasping onto thin air… Ned had followed the ghostly hippogriff out of the suitcase and onto the bank and he’d apparated across the lake, clutching the case… Ned Veigler ran through the trees. He could feel the moon’s beams in his bones, could feel the night coming, the sun’s protective power beginning to fail him. His knuckles were white with the strain of holding onto the suitcase’s handle as he ducked and dodged trees and limbs, following after the ghostly form of Mr. Scamander’s hippogriff patronus. His lungs burned with the effort and his skin crawled, the fur beneath it so desperate to come out.



He wanted to stop, to catch his breath, to give his joints and muscles a moment to recuperate, but he knew the moon was coming soon and he had to be to Newt before it did. And so he pressed on. Because it was the sort of determination that Newt Scamander would have had for any of his creatures - including him, Ned Veigler - and Mr. Scamander deserved no less in return. Because Ned owed Newt so much more than this, even.

He just hoped he could hold back the wolf long enough to get to him.




Fenrir Greyback grinned, his teeth gleaming yellow and sharp.

Newt shoved around Tina, reaching down to disengage Bradley Baker from ‘round his leg and pushed the kid into Tina’s arms as she knelt down and scooped him into her. Newt put himself between them and Fenrir Greyback and held his arms out protectively, his eyes on Greyback’s shoulder, not his face, and his lower lip trembling against his front teeth.

Greyback chuckled, “Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise? I came after the ickle pup and I find you... Newton Fido Scamander. Second name on the Werewolf Restriction Act, I believe, yes?” He smiled evilly and his teeth gleamed menacingly in the light of Newt’s wand.

Newt nodded. “Y-yes. Yes, I was.” He paused, “But I - I am a friend to werewolves… I’m no enemy.”

“Yeah,” nodded Fenrir, “You’ve got my old Omega tromping all over the continent with you after fantastic beasts, I’ve heard.”

Newt did not answer.

Fenrir slunk his way forward, closer, and Newt backed up, nudging Tina and the boy back a bit, his coat blocking them, trying to shield the boy from having to look upon Greyback’s face.

“No bother, though,” Fenrir continued, “I can just make a new one.” He grinned. “Give me the boy, Mr. Scamander.”

“No,” Newt said, and he shook his head.

“I don’t think you understand,” Fenrir said, “That wasn’t an option, that was a command. You’re on my territory now, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt replied, “I - I uh, don’t think that… that you understand, Mr. Greyback…” he looked up at Fenrir with defiant eyes, eyes that burned with determination. “I don’t - don’t give a damn what sort of c-commands you, uh, you give me. I’m not giving you the - the boy.”

Fenrir smirked, “You - you - you won’t g-give me the - the boy -” he mocked Newt’s stammering, his eyes twinkling maliciously, “So b-b-brave of you, Mr. Scamander.”

Behind Newt, Tina was positively enraged. “DON’T YOU MAKE FUN OF HIM, YOU FILTHY MAN!” she shouted.

Nothing made Porpentina Scamander angrier than when somebody mocked Newt’s disability.

And nothing is scarier than a New York woman when she is enraged.

Bradley clung onto Newt’s coat and Tina stepped ‘round Newt, even as he grappled at her arm to stop her, “Teeny - not worth it - Teeny, love, n-no --”

Tina shook her finger at him like an angry mother, her wand clutched in her other hand, “You’ve been a very bad boy, very naughty!” She glared at him, daring him to speak.

Fenrir Greyback’s eyebrows raised and he laughed - hard. “Are you scolding me?” he demanded, teeth gleaming.

“YES I AM SCOLDING YOU!” Tina said, her voice angry, “You’ve needed a good scolding for some time now. My guess is that you didn’t get enough of it when you were young! How long have you been a wolf, Mr. Greyback? Young I assume? Very young, before your mum could teach you your manners? Do you remember her, your mum?”

Fenrir stared at her.

Newt’s voice shook, “Teeny…” But she didn’t turn to him. He looked down and Bradley was tugging his coat and shivering with fear and cold and Newt bent down and he lifted Bradley from the snow, tucking him under his coat as the boy clutched to Newt’s torso.

“Mr. Greyback, answer me.” Tina’s voice was a firm, but gentle tone.

Fenrir looked at her, taken aback for a moment, and he growled, “My mum has nothing to do with this.”

Tina’s gaze was steady.

“She’s dead,” Greyback growled lowly, “Long dead. I killed her.”

The last three words shook Greyback’s voice and though the tone he said the words in insinuated cold blood, the tremble in them and in his eyes testified of guilt and Tina felt she was one yarn pull away from unravelling Fenrir Greyback.

“Mr. Greyback, you’re so busy being pissed off at the world for your own disability, being a werewolf and oh so sad little you, you’ve suffered all your life as a wolf, so you feel the need to go about and bark and bite other people. You feel so hollow and alone and you fill up the space with all these - these werewolves in this army of yours but you’re insatiable because none of them care for you, none of them respect you. They fear you. And fear isn’t what you crave, Fenrir Greyback. What you crave is love.”

Everyone stood very, very still, the words Tina had just said hanging in the silence around them.

Suddenly, overhead, the full moon was revealed by moving clouds and a sharp beam of it sliced through the trees, striking Fenrir Greyback like a knife. He stiffened one by one the others lurking behind him in the woods did, too, and Tina turned to face Newt, burying her face in his neck as the trees were suddenly filled with the sound of cracking bones and transforming flesh. They were utterly surrounded by werewolves - dozens and dozens of werewolves - and no way to escape, with the anti-disapparation charms hanging over the trees. Newt put his arm around her as Bradley cried into the collar of Mr. Scamander, his tiny fingers wrapped around Newt’s red suspenders that had been hidden by his coat, beneath his tweed vest.

“Newt, what do we do?” Tina begged.

“I don’t know, love,” he choked.

Suddenly from the trees burst a figure, half transformed already, face contorted in agony -- it was Ned Veigler, with the briefcase and he lunged forward, using the case to pushed Fenrir Greyback out of the way and he fell to the ground before them, his legs giving out as he hit the ground and he pushed the briefcase forward with the very last of his consciousness, his eyes going to Newt Scamander and he opened his mouth to say something -- just as his face burst forth into the snout of his wolf.

“Ned! Oh, Ned!” Tina sobbed and she launched herself away from Newt to grab the briefcase from the ground, pulling it to herself.

“C’mon,” Newt said. The briefcase had given him hope. “C-C’mon.” He grabbed Tina’s wrist and tugged her away. “Tina! Now.”

“But Ned --”

“Ned w-will attack you, as - as look at you, same as they will. Come!” Newt pulled her away, through the trees. “Hold tight,” he told Bradley, who still had his arms and legs wrapped about Newt Scamander.

They ran. Tina kept looking back helplessly, afraid for Ned, who had become a sort of son to her, and she sobbed as Newt dragged her away from him through the trees, crashing and smashing their way, breaking branches and leaping over fallen logs. The woods were suddenly filled with howls and barks and low cries as the wolves all changed, and Bradley wailed, terrified.

“S-sing a song,” suggested Newt to the boy, “Do - do you know the one about - about the d-doggy?”

“The doggy in the window?” sniffled Bradley.

“Yes, do you - you know that one? It’s one of my - my favorites. Will you sing it?”

Bradley’s voice was a murmur, “How much is that doggy in the window…

“Yes, yes, that’s the one,” Newt said. He cupped one hand over Bradley’s head and he could feel Tina’s shaking - her trembling so strong that it vibrated through Newt himself as he held onto her to keep them from getting separated.

The one with the waggly tail… how much is that doggy in the window… I do hope that doggy’s for sale…

The trees were thinning, they were approaching a clearing.

I don’t want a bunny or a kitty… I don’t want a parrot that talks… I don’t want a bowl of little fishes… I can’t take a goldfish for a walk…

They broke through the trees and there was a house, a small cottage, really, and Newt ducked what he thought was a hanging branch, only to look up and see it was a bone - and he pulled Tina away from it, and she looked up and let out a cry. The trees were strung thick with bones - bones of all shapes and sizes and she covered her mouth as Newt dragged her on toward the gate of the house - a little wooden thing set into a stone wall. Over it hovered dementors.

How much is that doggy in the window… the one with the waggly tail…

Newt released Tina’s wrist and drew his wand. “Expecto patronum!” he shouted and the ghostly hippogriff appeared once more, charging at the dementors at full force, and it barrelled through them, creating a pathway, and they ran through to the house, their feet scrambling over the stone walkway and Tina broke ahead of them, grabbed the handle of the door and pushed it opened. Newt ran through as the hippogriff puffed out of existence and the dementors went back to guarding the gate of the house. Tina ducked after him quickly.

The house inside was dark and cold, the windows covered up, the only light coming from smoldering ash in the fireplace.

How much is that doggy in the window? I do hope that doggy’s for sale,” Bradley finished the song.

“Ve-very good,” Newt stammered, “Very good, B-Bradley. I uh, I really enjoy that one. You did it, uh -- you did it marvelously.”

Bradley’s face trembled with a hint of a smile.

“What is this place?” Tina asked as Newt put Bradley onto the ground, and he scrambled to Tina, clutching onto her again. Newt took his briefcase from Tina and she took Bradley’s hand as she inspected the room they were in - a tiny kitchen.

Newt looked about, too. His fingers flexed about the briefcases’s handle in relief. He’d missed the feeling of it in his fist.

“This is where we were before,” Bradley said.

Newt turned.

“Are the other children near here?” Tina asked.

“Downstairs,” Bradley answered. “There’s a mean lady here. She has snake hair!”

“Snake hair?” Tina asked, confused.

“Yes, snake hair!” Bradley shook.

“Gorgon,” Newt said.

Tina looked up. “Those are real?”

Newt nodded.

“I hate snakes,” whispered Tina.

Newt nodded, “I know.” The he turned to Bradley, “Do you know how to, uh, to get downstairs?”

Bradley nodded and he walked, pulling Tina along, to point at a door in the corner.

Newt wrenched open the knob and he reeled back at a stench of horrible proportions came up from the cellar steps. He paused, then turned back and looked at Tina. “W-Wand at the ready,” he commanded her.

She nodded and raised her wand.

Newt raised his, too, and he took the first step into the basement with a creak.

They inched along down… down, down into the dark… and he muttered, “Lumos,” and lit up the space below. He was halfway down before he could see what was there… cages… cages lined the walls and in them were children. Loads and loads of children. Some were sitting, some where standing, some were sleeping. There were children crying, children pressing their faces through the bars of the cages… staring at the stairs to see who was coming…

“Who are you?” asked one - one that looked like he might be the oldest, probably ten or eleven. He stood in the corner of one of the cages, and several of the kids huddled around, as though hiding behind him.

“I’m Mr. Scamander,” he announced. “And who are - are you?”

“I’m Quirinus,” he said. “Quirinus Quirrell.”

“Well, Mr. Quirrell,” said Newt, “We - we’re here to - to rescue you.”