Newton Artemis Fido Scamander—caring and respected magizoologist—threw his book at the wall.
He had become increasingly agitated over the past few days. It had been weeks since he'd heard from Tina, and while he had always told himself that his creatures were all he needed, his life felt empty. His ban on traveling prevented him from even attempting to see her.
His creatures were his only comfort. They always had been. Newt was socially awkward and could communicate better with animals than with humans. When he had met Tina, however, he felt as though he could truly express himself and communicate with her. Now even that connection was gone. He was a royal screw-up.
Leaving to check up on his creatures, he caressed the feathers of the Thunderbird and spoke to it softly.
"I wish I were a beautiful beast like you. Human worries are nothing to you. You're powerful and magnificent...I'm just a ridiculous boy trying to find a place in the world."
Seeming to understand, the Thunderbird nuzzled him and nudged his back as he turned away, making him stumble. Newt shook his head and stood, addressing all his creatures.
"It's time I go away for a bit. I need to take my mind off of things. Maybe I'll find another fantastic beast. People keep trying to hunt you beautiful creatures; the best I can do is keep you all safe."
With that, he packed up his briefcase and apparated to a secluded section of the woods. He didn't really expect to find anything; he just needed time. In the quiet. Alone.
Or, so he thought.
The reason he apparated to this place was because it was an undocumented section of land; apparently no one had ever explored it or felt the need to visit. This was why he loved it. He'd never found a magical creature here, but didn't count out the possibility. Now, laying in the grass and nearly dozing off, he heard a rustle in the distance. He sat up immediately and raised his wand. The rustle sounded again from behind.
Newt stood and turned. He lowered his wand in awe at the creature that stood before him.
It was enormous—larger than a hippogriff—and was essentially a gigantic golden eagle with forelimbs. Its wings were what took Newt's breath away. They were pure white underneath, turning to a deep golden-brown towards the tips. The longer flight feathers seemed nearly translucent and were speckled with dark brown and what could only be pure gold. The creature raised its wings to the sky in a display of dominance, and the sun glimmer through. Newt knew in the back of his mind that he should be frightened but couldn't seem to make himself do anything other than stare.
He vaguely registered that the creature was getting closer. This snapped him out of his daze, and he lifted his wand again, which he immediately realized was a big mistake. The beast glared at the wand charged at him full-speed. Dropping the wand, Newt instinctively began to run with the intention of apparating back home, only to realize he really needed his wand to do so. He fell to the ground on his back and covered his head with his hands. The beast opened its beak to expose a row of sharp teeth, which it sank into Newt's forearm. Newt cried out. The sensation that ran through him was unlike any other. It was as though some sort of energy seeped into him, through his entire body and into his bones.
He suddenly realized that he might not make it out of this alive. The beast lifted him by the arm, shook him for a moment, then flung him about 20 feet to the side. Stunned, Newt cradled his arm but didn't move from the ground, expected to be torn to shreds. But nothing happened.
He opened his eyes and the creature was gone.
For a few more minutes, he stayed where he was, breathing hard. His whole body tingled and his arm throbbed severely. Black began to creep into the corner of his vision. He knew passing out could be a death sentence, but couldn't fight it as he faded into oblivion.
A voice was nearby. It was familiar, but he couldn't seem to place it. He was warm and comfortable, but a sharp pain was disturbing his peace. The voice continued to speak to him, calling his name. Was he dead?
"Newt."
He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as though they were made of lead. If he was dead, it didn't really matter.
"Newt!"
Couldn't the dead sleep in peace?
"NEWT!"
His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring at Queenie's troubled face a few inches from his. He yelped in surprise and fell off the couch he was laying on, groaning as the movement jostled his injured arm.
"No, no, don't move. You're hurt. What happened? Newt? Hello?"
Newt's grunted in response. His head was still spinning and his back hurt, probably from being flung to the ground so unceremoniously.
"I'll make you some tea."
"Mfffno," he mumbled from the blanket he was tangled in. "Home."
"Not until you tell me what happened."
Newt sat up carefully, holding his aching head. "One of the animals bit me. I'll be ok."
"Which one?"
"I said I'll be ok!" Newt snapped. His arm hurt, his back hurt, his head hurt, and he was humiliated. Queenie huffed.
"Ok, be that way. Honestly, you need to be more careful."
"How did you find me?"
"I'm a legilimens." That was apparently the only explanation she was going to give, and Newt decided that he wouldn't be getting anything else out of her since he himself wasn't up to telling her what happened. He nodded.
"Thanks."
"Mhm. Go home and rest. You sure you don't want tea?"
"No, Queenie, I'm ok, really."
"If you say so."
He apparated back home and collapsed into bed, the ache in his back rivaling the pain in his arm. He fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, he awoke with a cry of pain. His back was hurting far worse than it had the night before. He pulled off his night shirt and walked to the mirror, turning and inspecting his back. The skin was a mixture of red and black, swollen and irritated.
"Great. I can't put salve on my own back."
His arm was still painful but was healing. The veins around the teeth marks had turned black, as if there had been some sort of venom in the creature's teeth that had gone into his veins and through his body. He shivered at the thought.
There was a knock at the door, and he jumped.
"Newt? Newt, I'm just here to check that you're ok! Newt?" It was Queenie. Again. Newt reached for his shirt but the motion pulled at his back and he hissed.
"I'm alright, Tina!" He yelled.
Queenie sniffed but made no comment at the wrong name. "I'm coming in."
"Wait!"
The door unlocked with a click and Queenie entered. If he wasn't in so much pain, Newt would be furious at her blatant intrusion on privacy.
"Queenie. Please go," He said, breathing heavily.
"Newt, you look terrible. Did you get any sleep at all? Let me see your arm."
He turned away in anger. He didn't need her attention.
"Newt, your back! What on earth?"
"Please. Please go, Queenie."
"Promise me you'll see a doctor!"
"Fine," Newt lied. Queenie nodded, turned on a heel, and left.
Newt cast a pain-relieving spell, which took the edge off. He couldn't just ignore his work.
He managed to function for two days, living off of pain-relieving spells and potions. One morning, he dragged himself to his creatures, petting the Thunderbird. It nudged him in the back again, but this time he fell to the ground in pain, breathing through his teeth and clenching his fists. He went to the kitchen and collapsed onto a chair. What was wrong with him?
The doorbell rang.
"Go away, Queenie!" He yelled.
"Newt, are you ok?"
It was Tina.
"Newt? Queenie said you were injured. I just wanted to check if you're ok. I heard you haven't been at work for a few days. Can I come in?"
"N...now's not a very good time, Tina."
"You're going to tell me that I came all the way out here for you to push me away?"
"No...I—I'm not feeling so well, Tina, I—"
"Well, I can at least come in and take care of you."
Newt liked the idea but didn't want her to see him in such a miserable state. Tina took his silence for approval and stepped into the house.
"Newt?"
"I'm here."
Tina gasped as she stepped into the kitchen and saw Newt, on a chair, leaned over the table shirtless and panting in pain.
"Newt, you..." She was about to say 'You look awful' but decided that wouldn't exactly be helpful. "You don't look so well."
It was an understatement. He was pale and shaking, but what alarmed her most was his back. The skin was swollen at his shoulder blades, cracking and blistering in two symmetrical stripes down his back. She would have assumed one of his creatures did it, but the skin seemed to be breaking from the inside rather than from a tear on the outside. It was disturbing and unnatural. She cautiously moved closer to him.
"Queenie said it was bad, but...I didn't realize how bad. Newt, what happened?"
Newt had stopped shaking. He slumped on the chair, nearly falling on to the floor. Tina caught him—he was heavier than he looked—and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. She took the chance to call a doctor; she knew Newt would disapprove, but it was clear he needed medical attention.
When the doctor arrived, he found Newt on the floor and Tina trying to drag him off the tile. She straightened up, a flush in her cheeks. "He passed out."
"I can see that."
The doctor examined his back, feeling the swollen skin. "I've never seen anything quite like it. The veins around the swells have turned black. Did he say what happened?"
Tina sighed. "No. He passed out before I could get heads or tails from him."
The doctor reached into his suitcase and pulled out a salve. He spread it on the skin, and the redness began to lessen. "This is a special salve that reduces swelling and irritation. He'll need to apply it once a day. Most likely with help."
"Thank you," Tina said, taking the jar. The doctor looked at Newt again, clearly still bemused by his back.
"Let me know if it doesn't get better within a few days."
"I will," Tina said.
About 20 minutes after the doctor left, Newt was still unconscious. While she didn't want him to be in pain, she was concerned. She needed to give him the salve and leave for a meeting at work. The fact he hadn't woken up yet was worrying her. She said an apology under her breath and whispered "Ennervate".
Newt awoke with a start and looked around, his eyes softening when they fell on Tina.
"Newt, I need to go. Here is a salve for your back. I'll stop by tomorrow to help you with it." She knew he'd protest so she quickly made to leave.
"Tina," Newt said just before she stepped out the door. She turned back to look at him. "Thanks," He murmured.
Newt fell again into a deep sleep. When he awoke, he couldn't bear the pain anymore. It felt as though his back was being split. He fell off the couch and onto the floor. Whatever was splitting his back was trying to get out, whatever that meant, and he noticed blood running down the sides of his torso. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to cry. He was thankful Tina had gone. He lay on the floor, the pain escalating until he wished he were dead.
In one last burst of pain his back really did split. Newt screamed at the top of his lungs, and then the pain lessened. There was a weight on his back that wasn't there before. All of a sudden, he saw something move in his peripheral vision. He jumped to his feet but felt off-balance and stumbled backwards. Something was pulling at his back. He could feel something was very, very different. With a turn of his head, he saw why.
Wings. He had wings.
They were just like the wings of the creature that bit him. Instead of awe, however, this time he was horrified. He couldn't seem to handle the concept that they were attached to his back. He turned sharply and felt one of his wings knock a vase over.
Wings.
His wings.
He took steadying breaths. He tensed muscles that he never had before, and felt the wings move. It was so foreign, and yet so natural, as if he were simply moving his arms. Enormous arms with feathers. He flexed them, and they spread outwards, farther than he intended. There was a deafening crash as everything that was once on his desk was now on the floor. Newt began to hyperventilate. Wings. Wings! He had to get out of this room before he knocked everything over. Pulling his wings as close as he could to his body, he tried to walk with this new weight pulling him backwards. Right foot. Left foot.
He slipped on a vial that had fallen on the floor, and his wings instinctively shot out to catch his fall, sweeping clear yet another desk with several loud crashes. "Get a grip, Newt," he told himself, standing up carefully again. Everyone in the neighborhood must be awake by now. He turned towards the doorway and scanned the floor for any more slipping hazards.
There was a knock at the door.