Crossover – There's talk of a mysterious beast in a little town of Ireland, and talk like that is bound to bring strange visitors. There's really none stranger than Newt Scamander and a Doctor in a blue box.
It was the year 1924, and one particularly rural corner of Ireland was going through a rather strange time. The town of Kenmare had been noisy with complaints of vandalism - torn up gardens, broken fences, strange tracks in people's yards. To an outsider, the commotion wouldn't have seemed all that warranted; surely it was just a fox or a dog or something, scavenging for a few final scraps of food before winter set in. Even stranger, really, was the reaction of the townsfolk. They were stirring up a storm over the incident, and it didn't seem quite right.
Not only did the townsfolk insist on setting up bonfires in the streets and stoking them through the night, but they strictly enforced a new policy of keeping their children locked up in their homes at all hours. Not a single child, or an adult for that matter, had gone missing or been hurt or anything of the sort, but the fear of it happening was adamant.
All this would have seemed strange to any outsiders, but none of it really got the chance to, because the townsfolk were also quite adamant about keeping any outsiders very much on the outside of the town. All the men took up arms and turned any visitors away at the bridge, and if anyone did happen to make it further into the establishment, they would surely have been chased out of town in an instant. The little town of Kenmare was closed for business.
All of this meant that a few miles outside the town limits, a strange man who just so happened to be exactly that – an outsider – was very busy trekking the boggy terrain all on his own.
He wore a long, dark blue coat and a shabby-looking vest underneath; his trousers were dark brown and rather singed, and strewn over the entire outfit was a long, thick, blue-and-yellow-striped scarf. He clutched the handle of a clunky brown case in one hand, and a long, narrow, slightly knotted wooden stick in the other.
Newt Scamander was his name, and he was striding along with a very decisive kind of purpose on that chilly autumn day. His eyes were firmly tracked on the ground beneath his feet, and yet he marched along at full speed.
That's why it really wasn't a surprise at all that he nearly crashed straight into the vivid blue police box that for some reason was placed all the way out here in the middle of a bog.
Luckily, it was only a very near thing, and Newt managed to notice that bright blue base before he walked right into it; instead, he came to an abrupt halt and leapt a step back. From there, he lifted his head and squinted at the obstructing box with a confused frown.
The object really was quite strange. Tall, broad, complete with paneled windows and a sign that said something about public calls. Also, it was very, very blue. Clearly a police box, though it was nothing like the ones that Newt had encountered before. This one was much sleeker, less bulky; as a matter of fact, he quite liked the look of it.
Still. Suspicious. What in the world was a police box like this doing out here, in the bogs of Ireland?
Newt frowned at the box a bit more before carefully taking a few steps further away, where he gently set down his case. After bending over to check on the clasps – all firmly locked – he straightened and approached the police box again.
It seemed to be just a box. Newt reached out a hesitant finger and touched its surface – definitely wood, or at least appeared to be.
Taking a slow step back, Newt gripped his wand a little firmer and curiously leveled it at the object. Tilting his head inquisitively, he quietly murmured a few words.
"Specialis revelio!"
For a moment, absolutely nothing happened. Then, the light that was perched on the top of the box brightened with a flash, and Newt took a hasty step back.
The light flashed for a few seconds more and then faded away, and after that it didn't seem like anything was happening at all. An expectant silence fell as Newt watched the box with interest, and the box just sat there.
Then, the door of the box sprang open and a strange man hopped out.
Newt stumbled back, eyes widening is surprise, and the man from the box came to an abrupt halt as soon as his eyes lighted upon Newt. He seemed to look Newt up and down over the course of a second, and the slightly concerned look that he'd worn was quickly replaced by a broad smile.
"Oh, hello!" The man exclaimed in pleasant surprise, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long brown coat. Beneath it, he wore a neat pinstriped suit and a pair unusual shoes; upon his head was a pile of unruly (but, in Newt's opinion, perfectly respectable) brown hair. His eyes twinkled with unrestrained excitement and adventure.
Newt didn't quite know what to think just yet, but then he never really did when it came to people. The man didn't really give Newt the time to do anything at all, as he continued talking with a grin. "Was that you just now?"
Newt started, blinking. "Sorry?"
The man rocked back on his heels, and his grin turned wry. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not one of those…what'd you call 'em, here? Is it…Muggles! That's it! Oh, I haven't said that word in a good long while. Brilliant. But that was you just now, wasn't it, doing one of your spells on the Tardis?"
He emphasized the word spells with a mix of glee and ridicule, and Newt simply stood there for a long moment, gaping slightly at the strange man. Apparently he was a wizard, after all, but beyond that, Newt really didn't know. He caught himself after a pause, snapping his mouth shut and averting his eyes.
"…Erm… it might have been, yes," said Newt awkwardly, feeling vaguely apologetic. "…Sorry about that."
The man tilted back his head happily, and his grin got even broader. "Oh, don't be, the Tardis is more than able to handle a little something like that. In fact, I think she likes it – seems to wake her up a little. Almost like a jolt of caffeine to her system, only it's mid-level psychic manipulation. Weell, not quite mid-level. Well…mid, anyway. Well…" He trailed off, seeming to shake himself internally, and did away with the musing expression that' stolen across his face.
"Sorry! Look at me, blathering on, and I haven't even introduced myself!" He leaned forward from where he was standing, smiling toothily. "Lovely to meet you. I'm the Doctor."
Newt nodded slowly, eyebrows raised in slow-moving surprise. "Um…yes. Pleasure to meet you, Doctor…?" He trailed off, rather than asking directly for the man's actual name. The Doctor nodded slightly, still smiling in a slightly manic way, and wasted not a second to reply.
"And you are?"
Newt blinked again, feeling rather at a loss. "Oh, erm…Newt Scamander. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
At this point, the Doctor fell silent, at least temporarily. His eyes widened even more, if that was possible, and his mouth fell open into a wide, overjoyed grin.
After what felt like a very long moment of silence that Newt spent averting his eyes and fidgeting, the Doctor leaned forward again with an expression of near-reverence plastered on his face – it was beginning to make Newt feel even more fidgety than normal, and quite uncomfortable really.
"Newt Scamander." The Doctor said the name slowly, seeming to savour every syllable. "Oh. Brilliant. No, really–" He opened his mouth, seeming to fish for words in his mind; his eyes darted everywhere, bright and merry. After a moment of falling short, he shook his head in happy disbelief. "Just – brilliant. That is a…brilliant name."
Newt swallowed with a grimace, feeling distinctly lacking in the area of words. He smiled vaguely, hoping to make up for it.
The Doctor said something under his breath, still grinning, and Newt got the feeling that he had repeated Newt's name again. Luckily, immediately after that the Doctor blinked and launched onto a new topic.
"So, Newt Scamander –" Apparently, the new topic still had to contain his full name in it– "What brings you to the lovely city of Cardiff?"
Even as he said it, the Doctor turned his head to take a look around. His smile faded slightly in response to the surrounding landscape. Newt took a glance around as well, pursuing his lips in apology.
"Erm, sorry, but you're not quite in Cardiff," said Newt after a pause.
The Doctor nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows and blowing out his cheeks. He looked rather put out. "Oh, right." He raised a hand to ruffle through his already-tousled hair. "…Where are we, then?"
Newt took a breath, glancing around at the bog again. "Uhm, Ireland, actually. Just off Kenmare."
The Doctor ran a hand over his face, turning back towards Newt again. "Right. Okay. See, I was sort of aiming for Cardiff…it's a bit of a fueling station for my…vessel…" He wrinkled his nose with a sniff, seeming almost unsatisfied with the chosen term. "Ship. And it looks like I've misplaced it!"
Newt frowned, slightly confused. "Your ship?"
"No, no – Cardiff. Nah, if I misplaced my ship, then I'd really be lost. Loster than lost. Very very much so. But that's alright, Cardiff's not too far off! And we're all right on fuel for now, really. Besides, this place is quite nice around now. Lots of dancing. No, this is really too much to pass up…"
The Doctor kept talking, seeming almost like he didn't really know when to stop, and Newt felt rather badly about not following. But even as the Doctor ranted on about various things that Newt didn't really catch on about, the lower left-hand inside pocket of his coat poked him.
Newt glanced down immediately, placing a hand over the spot where the inside pocket was – just near the kidneys. The lump of warmth fell still for a moment, before twitching and poking him again. Newt's eyes widened; this was really not good timing. As strange and different as this man was, and certainly in what seemed to be a nice way, he was still a wizard, and wizard's reactions to this sort of thing was seldom good.
Newt patted his coat rapidly, making a quiet shushing sound as the Doctor talked on. For a moment it seemed like it worked, but then – an odd sensation that resembled inflation crept across his midriff as the small lump grew into a foot-long lump with clingy claws, all in a matter of seconds. Newt grimaced worriedly, starting to stroke the creature quickly. He turned his body to the left, hoping to hide what must look like a strange bulge protruding from his ribcage.
Just then, the Doctor paused, taking a breath and pinning Newt with a shrewd gaze. "Are you alright?" asked the Doctor with mild concern. Newt raised his eyebrows in question, before realizing that his hand was still stroking his side as if he were rubbing at a wound.
"Oh yes, sorry, no, I'm perfectly alright. Just…erm, scratching an itch." Newt trailed off lamely, attempting to smile. "You were…saying?"
The Doctor frowned, eyebrows pinched sharply, and watched Newt for a moment. Newt reluctantly pulled his hand away from his side, smiling faintly, and folded his arms awkwardly in front of his chest. After a second more, the Doctor cleared his throat and nodded.
"Right, well anyway – yes. You! What brings you to Ireland, then? Are you…studying anything, by any chance? Investigating?"
Newt nodded in a disrupted series of movements, only paying half of his attention to the Doctor at this point. The enlarged lump was slowly making its way around his side and down his back. "Um, yes, right – studying. Writing a book, actually."
The Doctor nodded, grinning. "Writing a book, that's marvelous. I imagine your writings have taken you all over, hmm?"
"Oh, I suppose – yes, I've been… here and there, you know. It's quite – enjoyable, really –" Newt forced out his reply, trying his very hardest not to look around. The pinch of claws had paused just on the small of his back, and a sense of foreboding was beginning to creep over him.
"I can imagine," said the Doctor, eyes bright with a sort of ecstatic light. "And what was the topic of your book? The subject of all your travels?"
Newt opened his mouth to answer, and promptly said absolutely nothing. At that moment, the pressure on his back vanished; the pricking sensation of claws disappeared. Bugger.
He drew in a deep breath, nodding quickly. "Er – creatures – magical creatures. Habitats, mannerisms, that sort of thing." He lowered his gaze to search the ground all around; there was no sign, none at all. A familiar sinking sensation was making its presence known. This always happened, didn't it, but with another wizard around – that could make things more difficult. At least Pickett had the sense to stay in his pocket this time.
The Doctor sighed happily at Newt's response, tilting his head back and nodding in satisfaction. "Magical creatures. What a topic. Your book, it's the first in hundreds of years to take on that attitude, and let me just say…" The Doctor rambled on again, and Newt tuned him out. He'd just caught a glance of his runaway – a flash of silver-green appeared for a split-second, darting past the Doctor's foot…and straight up to the base of the blue police box.
Newt clapped his hands, stepping forward briskly. "So! Doctor, please – I would really love for you to tell me about your police box. It's quite fascinating, really." Newt interrupted shamelessly, striding up to the box. The silver-green speck had vanished amongst all the blue, but Newt knew that she was here somewhere.
The Doctor paused, silent for a moment, before nodding and turning to stand alongside Newt. "Ah. Right. Well, this police box is certainly something special. Not quite what it seems, but I'm sure that you're more than used to that sort of thing already." He tilted his head to the side, grinning widely at Newt, who was very busy examining the surface of the box. The wizard shuffled along its side, circling the entire thing while the Doctor followed in a casual saunter.
"This blue box is actually my ship. A method of transport, and I must say, it's a really quite good one. Loads of special features. Now I know you've got the entire Apparation thing going for you, which is brilliant, by the way, but my ship – well, it's incomparable. She's called the Tardis, stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."
Newt didn't hear a word of the Doctor's speech, but he nodded and spoke disinterested words of encouragement nonetheless. It really was quite rude, but he couldn't let one of his creatures get lost here. He scanned every inch of the surface as quickly as he could, searching for any hint of silver or green amidst all of the deep blue. Just when he'd circled the entire thing twice and was about to release a disappointed sigh, it happened – silver and green, a small sliver of twinkling color perched at the very top of the box. Newt spun around, wide-eyed, and came face-to-face with the Doctor.
The man in question grinned cheekily, tilting his head to the side. "Gorgeous, isn't she?"
Newt gulped, pressing his lips into a thin line. Rapidly nodding, he stepped sideways in a semi-circle, maneuvering himself so that the Doctor was standing between Newt and the police box, or Tardis, whatever it seemed to be called. The Doctor turned willingly in order to face Newt, still smiling broadly.
"What'dya think?" asked the Doctor.
Newt nodded slowly, eyes locked onto the sliver of silver and green. Only about two inches long – even as he watched, she twitched and suddenly spurted out another six inches. Newt gulped again, dropping his gaze back to the Doctor, who'd begun to lose a bit of his grin. Before the man could turn to look behind, Newt nodded fervently, smiling.
"Oh, it's – it's – it's really quite something," said Newt quickly. "Very – blue."
He tried his best to keep his eyes downturned, but he couldn't help it – another glance upward, and that was it. The beautiful silvery-green reptilian had expanded all the way into her full eleven-inch form. She dangled off the very edge of the Tardis, flicking her triple-forked tongue out teasingly.
Newt frowned at the mischievous Moke, tipping his head to the side in dismay. This time, the Doctor seemed to have had enough; he turned, squinting at his Tardis suspiciously.
"What exactly are you–" Newt heard the exact second that the Doctor caught on – the man gasped in a disbelieving, drawn out way. "Oh. Oh. You've got to be joking!"
Newt was on his toes in an instant, darting around the Doctor to stand between him and his blue box. He held his hands up to near his chest, extended in hopeful peace – it was the Doctor's box, after all, and here Newt was trying to keep him from it.
He licked his lips quickly, drawing a thin breath. "Now, Doctor, please…she's not dangerous. Mokes are natural residents of Ireland, they're no harm to anyone and they're certainly not capable of knocking down anyone's fences, so please…just let me take her back." Newt's heart thudded hopefully; he'd liked the Doctor so far, despite his strangeness, and he really hoped that he was as kind as he seemed.
The Doctor gaped at him for a long moment, his expression half overjoyed and half offended. "Oh, but that's…hang on, sorry, what? You didn't think that I…oh, no, listen, you've got this all wrong!" The Doctor exclaimed loudly, straightening in mild indignation. "I would never…oh, no, I – I adore magical creatures. Would never dream of hurting them. Sorry, I thought I'd mentioned." The grin was back, wider than ever; Newt felt that he could half-reciprocate it, this time around, but his facial muscles seemed to have been frozen.
The Doctor shook his head in disbelief once again, turning to look back up at the lazing Moke on the roof of the Tardis. "No, she's simply brilliant. Beautiful! Amazing! Can shrink and enlarge herself at will. Talk about a defensive mechanism, aye? The second she hears a stranger approaching – wham! And suddenly she's a quarter of an inch long. What'd you call her, a Moke? Hah, a classic magical creature. Or, I should say – supposedly. Because really, more often than not, magical creatures aren't actually that, they're more like…visitors. From quite a long way away, most of the time. In fact…." The Doctor took a breath and paused, clearing his throat and looking back at Newt apologetically.
"Well, anyway. Point being. Your Moke is welcome to lounge on my Tardis." The Doctor's grin seemed quite explosive at that point, and Newt finally worked up an optimistic smile.
The Moke on the Tardis let out a scratchy growl, earning the affectionate gazes of both men. Newt cleared his throat quietly. "I take it you've encountered Mokes before, then?"
The Doctor nodded, managing to tear his gaze away from the lizard. "Oh, yes, a long time ago and a few worlds away –" His words cut off short abruptly, and Newt met his wide-eyed, thoroughly shocked gaze with a start. He almost asked what was wrong, before noticing a slight tugging sensation around the collar.
Newt sighed in mild exasperation, looking down at his breast pocket. A fragile green head poked out, along with two leafy limbs and a stem-like torso. Newt shook his head scoldingly, reaching up to stroke the delicate creature with a careful finger. "Really, Pickett, how many times do I have to tell you?" Newt murmured, raising his eyes ruefully.
The Doctor was standing stock-still, appearing to be quite thoroughly shocked. Newt almost felt worried again, but the second that he met the Doctor's eyes, the other man's face immediately split into a grin of pure joy.
"Brilliant," whispered the Doctor, delighted. "A Tree of Cheem!"
Newt raised his eyebrows hesitantly, slightly extending the hand upon which the tiny green creature had climbed up on. "Meet Pickett the Bowtruckle?"