"H-how am I…alive, sir?" Credence asked, sounding baffled. His eyes darted up, his head jerking oddly as his stiff neck quirked briefly to allow that dark gaze to meet Newt's light one, before he once again lowered his head.

Newt nodded, taking another sip of his tea, before setting the cup aside, the calming draught having sufficiently began to soothe his frayed nerves. "Yes – how are you alive?" When the boy made no move to respond, Newt continued. "After all, the last time I saw you, you had been shot an inordinate amount of times by an array of different spells and curses by a group of strong wizards, causing your very form to disintegrate into thin air. So tell me, Credence, how is it that you are still in the land of the living?"

The boy moved slowly, shifting uncomfortably on Newt's bed. A hand shakily rose to his forehead, brushing his hair down nervously, before he managed to stutter out, "W-would you believe me if I said…that I d-don't know?"

"Normally, no," Newt admitted bluntly. "I may be a Hufflepuff, but I am not so ignorant of the real world that I would take just anyone's word at face value. Human beings are, after all, some of the most vicious and conniving beasts I have ever come across, and I have dealt with goblins many a time before." Credence once again shot him a strange look, appearing to be distinctly uncomfortable. Newt was immediately reminded of the fact that the boy had been raised as a Muggle, in America no less, and most likely had not understood a single thing he said. "However, given your unique situation and your lack of knowledge about how things work in the magical world, I will assume you are telling the truth. I have to ask, though, what do you remember?"

Credence breathed in a deep shuddering breath. Beneath his harshly cut black hair, his forehead scrunched and pain flickered briefly in his eyes. He seemed to be trying to talk, but something was holding him back, and Newt had a pretty good idea what.

"Take your time, and drink your tea," Newt advised, trying to sound soothing, though he wasn't necessarily sure how well he succeeded in that endeavor, given the way Credence tensed at his words. He needed to remind himself to think of Credence like a cornered beast rather than the human he was, for only then would he be able to sound as gentle and reassuring as Credence no doubt needed him to be. "It won't bite. It's just plain black tea, with a bit of a calming draught mixed in, so it will have a little bit of a cherry twinge to it, but I think it adds to the taste rather than subtracting from it. I do have some sugar in one of my pockets I think, but no cream – I tried carrying a bit of cream around in a potions vile before, but it ended up breaking and making an awful mess."

Newt forced himself to stop rambling and to take another sip of his own tea. His leg stopped its incessant bouncing, and he was able to breathe deeply once more – it had been an unfortunate side effect of the brief torture inflicted upon him by Grindelwald that Newt's nervous habits had intensified slightly over the past few days. He watched over the rim of his teacup as Credence slowly lifted his bony hands into the air, grasping the tea cup. The spell holding it in the air released, allowing it to settle into the boy's shaky hands. He took a rather small sip, blinking in apparent shock at the taste, before his body returned to its previous posture, tea cup still settled in his hands. Newt held back a sigh of frustration at knowing the boy most likely had not drank enough of the tea-potion combination to have any effect on his frazzled state, deciding to let the young man go at his own pace.

"Th-thank you, sir…for the tea," Credence said, startling Newt out of his musings. The boy sounded almost apologetic, in his gratefulness. Newt waved his hand.

"Think nothing of it. I had already began brewing it, before you knocked at my door."

Credence flinched, the tea sloshing slightly against the sides of the cup. Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say.

"I…I apologize sir. I did not mean to be interrupting you…"

Newt once again waved his hand. "Nonsense, you needn't have hesitated." Newt paused, eyeing him closely. "I am curious, how you came about finding me."

Credence swallowed convulsively, taking another, larger drink of his tea. His shoulders appeared to relax slightly, which was at least an improvement. "I…I followed you…onto this boat, and then later…to this room…"

Newt looked vaguely surprised. "Were you incorporeal at the time? I never saw you."

"I was…as I appear now…" Credence paused, before adding, "I can…blend in sometimes, if I want to."

Newt raised an eyebrow, eying everything from the boy's dreadful haircut to his subdued posture to his Puritan-esque fashion. Somehow, he doubted 'blending in' was an easy feat for the boy. Regardless, Newt once again asked, "What do you remember, of the battle in the subway and your apparent transformation back into human form?"

"N-not much…" Credence admitted. He sounded almost ashamed of that fact, every inflection of those two words dripping with an unspoken apology. As expected, the spoken apology soon followed. "I'm sorry sir."

Newt almost regretted asking. "That's alright. In spite of my initial shock upon finding you outside my door, I had already developed a theory you had lived, in spite of what happened. You are, after all, an anomaly already, given the fact that you have survived past the age of ten…it would make sense that your power, having saved you from a premature death, would save you once more in this situation." Newt turned from Credence, riffling through the stacks of papers on his desk, before he came across the very minimalist outline he had created on information regarding Obscurial beings. Though he currently had no intention on including the section in his manuscript, Newt wanted to have some notes on file, lest (Merlin forbid) another situation arise where such information would be needed. Although Credence defied the majority of the tentative rules Newt had developed in regards to how Obscurial beings lived and died, any information, however theoretical, he could glean from the boy could possibly come in handy.

"Typically, when an Obscurus bursts forth from the host's body with such ferocity that yours had, it immediately destroys the host. However, with you, it acted more as a form of protection, protecting your body from harm." Newt paused, before adding, "It acted out when you felt threatened, such as in the case when Grindelwald approached you, and later when the Aurors attacked, leading me to believe that you were at least semi-conscious of what was going on, as you were able to make those judgements, though the amount of control you truly possessed appeared to be minimal…wait, didn't you say you remembered Tina speaking to you?" Newt turned back to Credence, curious, his quill poised above the paper.

Credence was actually looking at him straight on, though the expression on his face was no less heart wrenching than his previous, agonized posture. Newt slowly returned his quill to its inkwell, before saying, "I'm sorry. I tend to get carried away on certain subjects and I start thinking aloud and rambling all over the place. It's a real problem, and I am truly trying to work on it, I really am, but I don't talk to a lot of people so I don't tend to notice when I just get going on a tangent. I talk a lot to my beasts you see, and none of them appear to care, and some are even comforted a bit if I just keep talking…like…I'm doing right now…" Newt chuckled, awkwardly running a hand through his tangled, windswept hair. "People tend to find me annoying," he added, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn't work, as Credence merely raised the teacup to his lips once more, his eyes not meeting Newt's. In an effort to not overwhelm the poor boy further than he already had, Newt refrained from speaking, allowing the boy to slowly process everything Newt had said.

Eventually, the empty teacup was lowered to rest in Credence's lap. Though the boy still looked rather ill, which was concerning, he appeared to be far less anxiety-ridden than when they had begun the conversation. After a moment's pause, Credence slowly asked, "This…this thing inside me… this m-magic…can it…can I truly learn to control it?"

Credence's tone would have almost been considered suspicious, if it weren't for the layers of fear and desperation surrounding the plea-like question. To Newt, it sounded almost like the boy had been promised control over his powers before, only to have that promise broken and the opportunity snatched from him. Recalling the way Grindelwald had talked to the boy in the subway, Newt had a sinking feeling that such an occurrence was not too far-fetched.

After allowing a long pause during which Credence's hands began quivering once more, Newt finally forced himself to say, "It has never been done before, though as I said earlier, you are an incredibly unique case. With enough drive and motivation in a controlled environment with a good enough teacher, I believe control over your powers is entirely possible."

Credence shifted forward slightly on the bed, his eyes timid as they met Newt's. "Would you…would you be willing to be my teacher, sir?"

Newt hid a wince. Ah yes, they had managed to weave back around to the boy's initial proposition, for Newt to teach him magic. Newt pointedly avoided looking at the boy as he said, "Credence, I don't believe that I am the best man for the job…"

"B-but sir-"

"Please, call me Newt," Newt interrupted, having been called 'sir' one too many times.

Credence swallowed hard. "N-New…M-Mr. Scamander, I…I know it is a lot to ask…and I…I'd understand if you said no…b-but please…please, I'm begging you to reconsider…"

If anyone else would have spoken to him like that, Newt would have immediately turned them away, feeling their words to be along the lines of guilt-tripping. Credence, however, sounded the exact opposite of manipulative; the boy appeared to truly believe he understood the amount of burden educating him would put on Newt, that he would completely understand and accept Newt's refusal to teach him. In spite of that, the boy was still trying, still begging and pleading with Newt to reconsider, even though he appeared to believe that it was all in vain.

Newt did understand where the boy was coming from. After all, he was alone in the world, powerful but incredibly vulnerable, having just discovered a part of himself that he had been forced into hating and suppressing his entire life. The boy was scared and was drowning in a toxic combination of trauma and raw power…he was looking for something familiar to latch onto, and Newt just happened to fit the bill. Though Newt doubted he had gone through the amount of pain Credence had in his short life, he knew what it was like to be scared and alone and to desire some form of comfort or security, however small.

It would be incredibly difficult, though. Newt hadn't finished school, let alone received his teaching license – he had no clue how to teach anything, aside from Magizoology and perhaps some basic Potions skills. On top of that, he still had a lot of work to do on his book, having at least three more sections he hadn't even begun his research on yet. Additionally, there was the little fact that the Wizarding World was currently in the middle of the worst war since the Middle Ages, and the risk of becoming involved with a powerful young wizard that had already drawn the attention of Gellert Grindelwald himself seemed like a spectacularly bad decision.

Newt groaned slightly, his leg bouncing as he rubbed his forehead. After a moment, he forced out, "I will…think about it. I am not completely against teaching you, but I believe there are other better options available for you and your…unique, situation. When we reach England in a week's time, I will take you to see one of the professors at my Alma Mater, and he will be able to advise you better on your future than I would be able to."

Credence appeared unsure, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip and his hands clenching around the teacup, but after a moment, he gave a small nod.

"Great!" Newt clapped his hands, causing Credence to jolt. "I will call him over the Floo in my suitcase tonight to see when he's free for a meeting. In the meantime, you should rest – it appears as though recent events have not been kind to your health."

Credence nodded slightly, standing as soon as Newt did. Newt relieved him of his teacup, saying, "I don't suppose you packed any nightclothes? Ah, no bother, I can transfigure your clothing for the night. Transfigured clothes aren't necessarily the most comfortable to sleep in, but I assume you'd rather sleep in your own clothes rather than mine, especially considering the fact I have been putting off doing my laundry for an excessive amount of time. No worries, I will handle that tomorrow, and then you won't have to sleep in your day clothes. I assume my clothing will fit you, at least length-wise, though certain things may be a little loose, as you are rather thin. When we get to London, we will be sure to stop at Madam Malkin's shop in Diagon Alley to get you fitted with a proper set of robes, as London can be bitterly cold this time of year, and I will not have you catching your death after having just escaped it."

Newt slipped his wand out of his sleeve, before grabbing ahold of Credence's wrist without thinking. The boy flinched from his touch, jerking away from Newt, and lowering his head. Newt immediately forced his voice to become softer, slower, as he asked, "Will you please raise your arms out to the side a bit?"

Credence did as was asked, seemingly embarrassed by his display, if the blush dancing across his prominent cheekbones was anything to go off of. Newt flicked his wand a couple times, murmuring under his breath. Credence's jacket and vest vanished, his white dress shirt loosening and lengthening until it reached his calves. The scuffed black dress shoes the boy wore transformed as well into a pair of house slippers, the boy's socks vanishing as well. Newt nodded his head, hiding his smile at the boy's wide awestruck eyes as he touched the nightshirt reverently. "I will let you remove your slacks at your discretion, as I will be going into my suitcase shortly. You may sleep in the bed, as I have arrangements of my own."

Newt turned from Credence, who had not moved an inch since Newt had transfigured his clothing, and laid his suitcase on the floor, carefully undoing the bindings. He paused, however, glancing over his shoulder. Credence had, after all, had a rather rough few days, and judging by his sickly appearance in combination with the bags under his eyes, it was obvious the boy's sleep had been spotty at best. Newt opened his suitcase, reaching in and feeling around until he found the vile he was looking for on one of the shelves. Standing, he turned back to Credence, holding out the potion.

"This is Dreamless Sleep. It is highly addictive and can lead to major health issues if administered too often…but when used sparingly, it can work wonders for those afflicted with nightmares." Newt hesitated, before setting the vile in Credence's hand. "Take a sip for tonight. You need your rest."

He turned from Credence, now feeling more at ease with escaping into his suitcase for the night. He was waist deep when heard Credence softly say, "Th-thank you, Mr. Scamander."

Newt met the boy's wide grateful eyes briefly, before descending the rest of the way into the suitcase, reminding the boy, "Call me Newt."

A/N I had decided I would add the second chapter of this fic as soon as I got 100 kudos - and wow, that happened so quickly! I am so grateful for all the support this fic has already received through bookmarks, kudos, and comments...it all means the world to me! Thank you so much for reading, and please leave a comment on the chapter if you so desire! (As a quick little aside: I really enjoyed writing Newt as an awkward, rambling person in this chapter - he is too precious)!