So this is actually my first official 'Harry Potter' story...but how could I resist after meeting Credence? He desperately needs a hug and I can't wait to see him in future instalments of Fantastic Beasts.

These will mainly be short drabbles after this chapter as there just isn't enough material to do full blown chapters, however I will work with prompts if people wish to write a few in the reviews :D

With that done on with the chapter...

He had only known one type of pain his entire life. The sharp, unforgiving sting of the belt slicing into his palms. Occasionally, when Ma was particularly angry, she served the punishment with the metallic buckle instead. That was nearly unbearable, and yet it was nothing compared to this heavenly white light that was ripping and shredding his body. This darkened mass he had become didn't protect him from the pain, it worsened it, and within it he screamed. He screamed for them to stop. He screamed for someone to save him. He screamed at himself for creating this beast. And then the screaming stopped. So did the white light. For a moment he believed he was dead, he felt dead, but then he heard voices. These voices were familiar and quiet and...sad? Why were they sad?

He didn't wait and ran away as fast as he could before they realised he wasn't dead. They wanted to use him. Hurt him. Kill him. Just like Ma. Mr Graves had been the same too. Just like Ma. He needed to get away from them all, but where? This had been his only home since he was born and he had no knowledge of family or anyone like him to turn to. Modesty was frightened of him. He had no one.

But still he ran, this small wisp of darkness, and found his way to the alleyway where Mr Graves had promised him salvation. He hovered there for a while. He thought about Mr Graves and Ma and what they had done. What he had done. He hadn't meant to hurt those people. Not truly. It was this beastly thing that had done it. It killed Ma, Chastity, and that man who had called him a freak. Freak.

The hovering wisp tangled and spiralled and intertwined until flesh and bone and solidness took its place curled up against the wall. He cried. His cries were quiet and ugly, much like the crying he had taught himself to do so that Ma didn't hear him at night. Tears and snot trickled down his face. He couldn't stop himself, even when people walked past the entrance of the alleyway, oblivious to his fragile form, he couldn't stop his cries. Though no words left his seared lips he cried for his mother, his real mother who must have loved him. At least someone had to love him. Where was she? Ma had always said she was dead but a tiny resilient part of him didn't believe her. If she was alive, however, wouldn't she have come for him by now? If she had wanted him then she would have come back a long time ago. He realised there, huddled against a smoke-stained wall, that that resilient part of him was useless.

His tears were slowed by a thunderous boom. He spasmed, and looked up to see terrifying lightning strikes across the blackened sky. Bitter rain splashed onto his face and he was forced to blink them away. At first he was confused by the suddenness of the downpour, fearful, but then a sensation rippled over his damaged skin. Calmness. It seeped into his body and soothed the bad memories. They were still there in his head and coiled piercingly in his skull, but the painful memories were softened as if by a powerful lullaby. It was magical, truly, and it helped him to wipe the bodily fluids away. It also numbed his skin, the fresh and old scars alike, and managed to give him the strength to stand up and lean against the brick wall. His legs quivered but he used the wall's sturdiness to guide him out of the alleyway.

He watched silently as mysterious men and women waved their wands and suddenly the structures and buildings he had destroyed were being fixed. Rusted balconies and corners of buildings flew systematically back into place. He ducked back into the alleyway if the men or women got too close, however the fear of discovery tangled with his excitement at seeing true magic being performed. This was what he had wanted, this was what he had wanted to learn: magic fixing everything. His usually dull eyes sparkled in awe. He wished that this magic wasn't as dark and agonising like the beast inside him.

Once the mysterious men and women were gone Credence shuffled forward and saw that people were walking around lifelessly as they always were. He frowned. Did this peculiar rain have something to do with it? It must have done as people weren't at all acting as if some giant force had almost destroyed New York. His small voice couldn't be heard above the loud pelting of the rain and so when he politely tried to talk to people they simply ignored him. This wasn't unusual to him. Eventually he simply reached out to touch a passer's arm; the desire for contact stronger than his rationality. The woman, dressed unconventionally in a green evening dress and a thin white coat, turned in shock but softened at the sight of this woeful young boy.

"Can I help you?" She asked sweetly.

Credence, still surprised by his own hand grabbing her, stuttered quietly. "I-I j-just wondered if you, if you found the rain strange."

The woman blinked. The poor boy looked very distressed, she tried to chuckle as she answered: "It's been raining all day, hardly strange this time of year."

"R-right, of course."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Aren't you that Second Salem fanatic's son?" She asked with slight hostility. Credence took a step back and he almost crumbled in front of her. The woman shook her head and painted the smile back onto her face. "I'm sure she's worried about you, why don't you go home, eh? Better than being in this horrible weather. I'll take you back myself if you like?"

Credence immediately shook his head. "N-no!"

"Come on now boy. Let's get you home safe and sound-"

Once again he ran, this time on his own feet, and ignored the woman's shouts as he sprinted. The rain slapped his face bitterly but he refused to go back. He couldn't face what he - the beast inside him - had done. Not now, not ever. He swerved into another alleyway and once he was sure the woman's shouts had died away he stopped and caught his breath. The alleyway wasn't quite so bleak as the previous one, with its reddish brickwork and the roof between the two buildings protecting him from the rain, it was the perfect place to rest. He fell to the floor as his legs shook; never having the pleasure of running around with other boys playing games meant running was alien to him. With tiredness suddenly draining him, he curled up into himself and tried desperately to keep himself from freezing as he slipped into a nightmarish sleep.

It was only the rude honking of a car horn that startled him awake. His clothes had merged with his skin and his throat tickled with sickness. Even so it was a relief that the dreams of death weren't real. He stood up carefully and whimpered at the aches throughout his body. Now he had to decide where to go. He couldn't move from alley to alley forever and there was no one to return to if he went back home. And yet he feared leaving without anyone beside him. He thought of Modesty at first, wondering where she was and if she was safe, but then he became saddened at the memory of her looking at him with pure fear. He couldn't go find her, it would break him to see that look on her face again. Tears threatened to seep from his eyes again as loneliness sunk it's fangs into him.

"Mr Scamander it would've been quicker to apparate to the docks."

"True but I wanted to walk through New York one last time, it was awfully more fun than I first anticipated after all."

Credence recognised the two voices, both equally kind to his ears, and crept from behind the alleyway. There the two were walking down the street and it took willpower Credence didn't know he had not to cry out to them. His eyes followed them and soon his legs were too though he kept far enough away to remain out of sight to them. He hardly noticed the bright, golden morning around him as he followed the two towards the docks that were home to giant monstrous ships. The bustling crowds and constant urban noises didn't register to him as he focused on the case within the man's hand. They were talking occasionally but the man's attention was always swiftly changing between the woman, the crowds and supposedly the whole of New York. When his head turned to the left to examine a small sweet shop Credence noted the sunny smile on his lips and the glimmer in his eyes. He couldn't understand how someone could find something so normal so mesmerising, then again, as he walked past the shop himself he remembered when he would stand outside and gawp at the multicoloured sweets on display himself. Ma had always dragged him away from it.

He blinked. He was getting too caught up in the past. He searched and reassuringly they hadn't gotten too far ahead of him. In the back of his mind he was trying desperately to think of a way to approach them, he would have to eventually, but there was no true greeting he could think of after they presumed him to be dead. The chance to speak up was quickly being snatched away from him as they neared the docks. Distress entered his mind as his opportunity to be free was being taken away from him again. The overwhelming emotion clouded his mind so much he barely felt the tiny transformation into the wisp of blackness, nor the fact he had slithered into the slanted opening of the case until he crashed through a hole and onto a wooden floor. He winced at the little discomfort but then looked around him to find a room full of odd things: plants, glimpses of flying creatures, clothes, books...it was all in this little space. Credence, though curious, dared not go near anything and cautiously pulled his legs up close to him and waited.

The sound of locks clicking suddenly filled his head. His eyes opened to brightness and he realised he must've fallen asleep, but now wasn't the time to think about that as tension expanded his chest. The first thing to appear was dangling brown shoes, and then legs joined too until eventually the man jumped down gracefully. His somewhat regretful expression turned to surprise as he saw Credence huddled in the corner completely drenched through and shivering.

There was a long silence between them as the young man processed how the boy had gotten into his case. His eyes didn't show anger nor disgust or even hatred, but they were sympathetic and hopeful and bright. Credence had waited so long to see such warmth that he could do nothing but stare for a time. Then finally he let the cursed words fall from his lips.

"Help me"