The sun beats down relentlessly as Newt makes his way through the dry underbrush. The heat slows his progress, weighing down his limbs and the entire Savannah; plants under the barren sky wilt, defeated, and the wild dogs only pant and stare as he passes by them. The only creatures not affected by the weather are the mosquitoes that pester him incessantly. With every heat wave, sweat builds at his hairline and dampens his shirt; he had already shed his coat and surcoat, his waistcoat close to following.
He powers through it all without complaint. Once he gets to where he's traveled so long to, all the unpleasantries can usually be overlooked- though he has to find it first. He had heard about a "monster" all over South Africa, vague rumors that sparked up in small villages and trading posts, and with every story he'd become more and more intrigued. The locals couldn't agree on what it looked like- not one description matching the others- other than the fact it was black, and that only spurred his determination to locate it.
It's something unknown, a new beast he's never read about, and that is reason enough to take a detour from his schedule to investigate. Who knows what he'll find!
What is strange is despite the terror that comes from speaking about it there's been no talk of casualties, nor where the monster has made its home (another fascinating mystery). It was only recently that he received a break, a slip of the tongue by the more open natives that tell of a village settled near where the White Nile and Sobat meet.
Newt takes the tip and doesn't hesitate to make the journey to this obscure place.
He spends days searching, from the dry Sudanese desert to humid swamps, and, finally, he thinks he's located the village. It's smaller than those he's visited, hidden beneath the thick cover of jungle, mud huts with thatched roofs speckled across the barren patch of dirt.
Traveling Africa for weeks has prepared him for the less than welcoming attitude of the locals, but he only has to sway the minds of a few to dissolve possible problems. When he inquires about the "monster" that brought him there, he doesn't need magic to get answers. The villagers assume he's there to rid them of it, banish it from their home, and they tell him about it without much prompting.
It's dangerous, they say, it can kill a man without even touching him. A spawn of chaos and dark magic, it will curse them and take their souls if it's left to its own. They've run it off multiple times only for it to keep coming back, and they can do nothing now but appease it and await its death.
He asks where to find the beast and they direct him toward a small hut at the outskirts of the village. Newt feels a strange twinge in his gut when he lays eyes on it, only it's not from the usual excitement of finding a new beast, but rather like something's amiss. Compared to the rest of the villagers' homes, the beast is kept in a hut so small and so shoddy that it looks to be an afterthought and that itself solidifies this strange feeling he's getting.
The villagers don't come within twenty meters of the hut, hanging back and silently watching Newt as he enters the beast's lair. Pushing aside the flap that acts somewhat as a door, the first thing he notes is the smell. It's not as horrible as the latrines in the Muggle parts of London, but still Newt covers his nose. As he takes in the bare space and the minimal lighting, coupled with the smell, the unsettling feeling he felt outside intensifies.
The shadows move at the edge of the light coming through the small window to his right shining past him and there's a scuttling sound. The soft noise reminds Newt more of bare feet on compact dirt than claws or talons.
"Lumos," he whispers. The shadows recede as the hut is bathed in a soft light- all except those bunched at the far left.
Newt frowns, raising his wand higher. The shadows continue to remain, curling like heavy smoke in a gentlemen's club, but he swears there's something else hiding within them. He steps forward, intrigued, squinting past the withering mass and-
He stops.
There's no emotion, no words, nothing that could adequately describe what he feels at the moment. It's a mixture of shock and despair, hollowing out his chest and setting his mind numb.
The child scuttles back when he brings himself to his knees and Newt's heart goes out to her. He ignores the black magic clutching at her skin that hisses to his proximity, his eyes only on the girl shaking under the despair it emits.
"I'm so sorry."
A/N: There's going to be more parts.