The minutes passed in silence, a pair of wide, terrified eyes staring at the space where, just moments ago, the Obscurus had been hovering near the ceiling. The occupants of the room, though shaken by their experience, were alive and well, and after a moment had passed Newt raised his wand, dissolving the Shield Charm before taking a look around at the damage caused by Credence's Obscurus.
The dresser had been overturned and lay in a heap on its side, its contents spilling onto the floor. Bits of plaster had fallen from the walls, the lamp had shattered completely, with only a scorched remnant of the floral patterned lampshade lying in the corner beside the bed. And yet something wasn't right. The stillness was absolute, the room far too quiet after what had taken place.
Newt pushed himself onto his feet, his fingers leaving trails in the dust that covered the floor. Tentatively, he moved towards the bed, keeping his wand drawn in case the Obscurus decided to make a second appearance. Tina was watching his every move, looking up at him from the floor, her eyes brimming with tears.
He took another step forward, being careful not to step on the splintered fragments of wood and plaster, and knelt beside the bed, only to discover Credence motionless beneath the covers.
"No," he whispered, leaning over and placing his ear to Credence's mouth. The world went out of focus, dimming briefly as he felt the stillness of the air.
He reached for Credence's wrist, and after a moment he was able to detect a faint pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. It was irregular, barely enough to force the blood through his veins, but it was enough to give him hope.
"Still alive," Newt said, gripping his wand and positioning it over Credence's chest. "But not breathing." There was a half second pause, the image of the Sudanese girl flashing before his eyes, and in that moment he almost screamed.
"Halitatus!"
A flicker of light flew from the tip of his wand, forming a small sphere that shone with a dull silver gleam. The ball of light vanished into Credence's chest, but he did not move, nor did he resume breathing.
A second flash followed the first, then another and another. Beside him, Tina had broken down in tears, crying, "It's not working, Mr. Scamander! It's just not working!"
"I'm not giving up on him!" Newt exclaimed, feeling for a pulse again. "Not while he's still alive! Halitatus!"
Air rushed into Credence's lungs, his chest rising as he gasped and came awake with a start. This was followed shortly by a sudden surge of pain, building with every heartbeat and spreading to fill his abdomen. It was enough to make him shudder and moan, his mouth opening as he fought to draw air into his lungs.
"Easy now," Newt said, though his voice was distant, muted somehow, as Credence lay shaking and sweating. "I want you to take several deep breaths. That's it. Just keep breathing, Credence." There was a pause, Newt turning, telling Tina to fetch him a washcloth and a bowl of water. Credence closed his eyes, beginning to doze, when he was jolted from his sleep by the feel of something cool against his forehead.
"Why didn't you capture it?" Tina asked, her voice coming from somewhere far away.
Newt bit his bottom lip, frustrated with his inability to capture the Obscurus. "It wouldn't have worked," he said, still dabbing at Credence's face and neck with a damp washcloth. "That flicker of light, the energy at its center - you saw that didn't you?"
"Yes, I did," she said at length, her brow furrowing in confusion. "But what does that have to do with capturing the Obscurus?"
"That is the heart of the Obscurus. As long as something of the Obscurus exists within the host, the flicker of light remains. That light shows its attachment, mirroring the heartbeat of the individual." Newt sighed, refreshing the cloth in the bowl of water. "As far as I know the bonds strengthen with age, making it more difficult to remove. If Credence were younger, the situation might have ended differently."
Slowly, Credence's breathing returned to normal, his Obscurus settling in the area behind his navel. It then occurred to him that someone was speaking, though he was unable to make sense of what he was hearing.
The Obscurial turned his head to the side, muttering incoherently and shrinking away from his touch. He didn't want them here. He didn't want them to see him like this, moaning and twitching like a dying animal.
"Rest, Credence," said Newt, folding the cloth and draping it across Credence's forehead. "You'll be alright in a little while, but I want you to rest and conserve your strength. You shouldn't try to speak right now."
Silence gradually returned, the Obscurial drifting in and out of consciousness as the hours slowly passed. Most of the time he was unaware of his surroundings, unfeeling as Tina sat beside him, holding his hand and whispering soothing words of comfort.
Her voice, as well as her touch, was too far away from where he was, his mind unable to connect with the world around him. In his mind he saw himself cocooned in a layer smoke, his body growing cold and numb, unresponsive as the ties to his physical body began to slip away. It was some time before he opened his eyes, the light returning as pain flooded his senses.
The pain he felt came and went like the tide, building in his abdomen and waking him from sleep, retreating and allowing him to rest. Sometimes he would cry out, moaning and clutching his stomach as Newt carefully fed him a bitter liquid from a bottle on the nightstand. But the potion did little to ease his discomfort.
His Obscurus, now wounded from Newt's efforts to remove it, was still squirming uncomfortably in his abdomen. It was always in motion, making him feel as though he were on the verge of being sick. It wasn't until the sunlight faded and the stars emerged that Credence was able to sleep, exhaustion pulling him down into a restless slumber.
Newt stayed with him throughout the evening, keeping watch over the Obscurial while he slept. Evey now and then he would flip through the pages of his notebooks, turning each one without really seeing it. He was absentmindedly scratching Dormarth behind the ears when his suitcase began to vibrate, moving and shaking as it scooted across the desk.
One of the catches on the case flipped open. The suitcase was still a moment, bulging slightly as a speckled hare scratched at the interior of the suitcase. A brown paw with four little toes wedged itself between the lid and the body of the case. It felt around then quickly retreated, the second catch now flying open as the creature lifted the lid with its horn.
Duke the Al-Miraj appeared at the opening of the suitcase, his whiskers quivering as he began to explore his surroundings. His long ears drooped visibly, framing his face and trailing along the desk. Tiny claws clicked against the wooden surface, pausing only when he heard Newt Scamander shuffle his papers.
He'd never seen a place like this before, lit with artificial lights and filled with unusual sights and sounds. The speckled hare stood up on his hind legs, lifting his head and sniffing the air. He then started at the sound voices on the other side of the door, taking a step back and crouching on the edge of the desk.
He began to panic, not knowing who these voices belonged to or why they were here. Quickly he scampered across the desk, taking a flying leap and landing with his front end dangling over the side of the case. Below him, he could see the ladder leading down into the shed, his back legs flailing in midair. He could still hear the voices, coming closer and closer, then fading suddenly as their conversation came to an end.
The creature hung his head, half in and half out of Newt's suitcase. A moment passed and he began to twist and squirm, the case bouncing across the desk as he tried to turn around.
Two hops and he managed to turn around. One more and he was free, sitting on the desk and looking around the room. He spied a bed on the opposite end of the room. No, wait, there were two beds. But only one of the was currently occupied.
Curious, he began to look for a way down, seeing the chair as a stepping stool he could use to reach the floor. And yet he remained rooted to the spot, trembling and staring at the furniture. It was a long way down and the case was warm and cozy, protecting him from the outside world. He wanted to go back inside, but the boy he'd seen the other day had caught his attention, making him want to learn more about this peculiar individual.
Slowly, very slowly, he lowered himself onto the chair. His whiskers continued to twitch, his eyes darting this way and that. Where was the boy from yesterday? Was that him under all those blankets? The speckled hare stood up with his front feet on the back of the chair, listening to the gentle murmurs on the other side of the room.
Credence was moving his head restlessly on the pillow, his breathing quick and shallow. "Ma," he whispered, his voice pleading, desperate. "Ma, please... Please don't..." His muscles tensed, his fingers gripping the bedsheets as a scream clawed its way up his throat.
The hare's ears flattened against the base of his skull, his eyes widening as a low rumble shook the floorboards. He panicked as the noise grew louder, knocking the chair over in his haste and running for the suitcase.
Dormarth was instantly alert, standing up and barking at the fleeing Al-Miraj. The speckled hare slipped on a stack of papers, kicking them up behind him as he ran. Newt turned in time to see the flurry of papers become airborne, but his attention quickly returned to Credence as the Obscurial cried out in his sleep.
In his dreams Credence saw himself running from his adoptive mother, the belt buckle slicing into his calf as the leather strip wrapped around his leg. He was immediately pulled to the ground, striking the coffee table and losing one of his front teeth in the process. Blood poured from his mouth, his hands covering his face as he curled in on himself, shaking and sobbing. She then brought the belt down across his hands, until they too dripped with scarlet fluid.
"Credence!" Newt placed his hand on Credence's shoulder, gently shaking him in hopes that he would wake. "Credence, it's only a dream. Credence!"
"Unclean brat!" Mary Lou shouted, rising up and looming over the frightened boy. "You are not a child of God!" The belt struck again, tearing a strip of flesh from the side of his face.
Blackened blood and putrefied magic spilled from the gash in his cheek, spattering the floor with splashes of color that oozed and pulsed as though it were alive.
He was unclean. Tainted. The unholy spawn of bastard magic.
"Credence!"
Newt's voice penetrated his thoughts, and he came awake with a gasp, shaking and staring at the ceiling. He flinched at the sudden contact when Newt placed a hand on his arm, holding him steady as he awoke from his nightmare.
On the opposite end of the room, the Al-Miraj was watching him from the safety of the suitcase, unable to look away as the boy rolled onto his side and wept. He sensed a kindred spirit, broken and alone, but the timid creature couldn't bring himself to approach the Obscurial.
He sank below the rim of the suitcase, tumbling downwards where he landed on the floor of the shed. Maybe some day he would find the courage to approach him, but for now he was too terrified to move.
