A/N: This fic is already completed, and I am uploading as I edit, so no need to worry about it being abandoned. This is set directly after the events of the first film of the Fantastic Beasts franchise. I began writing this fic before the second film came out, and this fic does not take into account any of the events in C.O.G. This fic was pure wish fulfillment – what if Credence was taken in by a good person? What is he was sheltered by someone who actually cares? What if he finally gets the chance to explore magic?

I must warn you before you begin: This fic is almost entirely hurt/comfort and a lot of fluff. I love the character of Credence, and wanted to see him begin to recover from the trauma outlined in the film.

The wizarding world and everything in it is the property of JK Rowling.

The Hedgehog's Dilemma

Part One – Empty Promises

Chapter One – The Subway

The subway was still and silent, but the blood roaring in Credence's ears sounded like echoing thunder. His head felt like it was full of a thousand angry bees, buzzing and itching to be free. His whole body was icy and yet on fire. He crouched by the tracks, the twisting black form that was his flowing up the walls, writhing a tempo with his roiling emotions. He felt crushing fear and anger buzzing in his head. In this form he had no hands, but if he did he knew they would be shaking. He wanted to scream and cry, but somehow couldn't. Some of that terrible anger and frustration had drained away as he tore through the city, ripping up the roads and tearing roofs from their walls, but not enough. It still ached and tore at him.

He heard soft footsteps and was instantly on the alert – it must be Graves, come back to torment him. He tensed, ready to fight or flee –

A soft voice called out to him, from a source outside of his line of vision.

"Credence?" the voice said softly, "It is Credence, isn't it?"

The voice was calm, and gentle. It did not plead or cajole like Graves. There was a short pause, and then the voice spoke again.

"I'm here to help you, Credence," it said, calmly, "I'm not here to hurt you."

The owner of the voice slowly paced into view. Credence could barely see him, just a tall and thin outline. He could see the wand though. A wizard.

"I've met someone just like you, Credence," the wizard said. Credence stared at him through the angry black fog that clouded his vision. Like him? There was no one like him, was there? He was a monster –The voice continued, still soft, calm and kind, "A girl – a young girl who'd been imprisoned, she had been locked away and she'd been punished for her magic."

The soothing voice seemed to still the beating of his heart, and he slowly felt the buzzing die down. He felt his form begin to shrink, pulling back on itself until he began to regain his old body. He crouched, shivering, and afraid. The wizard's words, and his benevolent manner was finally penetrating that sinking, crushing feeling of anger and fear. There were others like him? Was this… was this not his fault?

The wizard slowly crouched down, mirroring Credence's pose. He raised his hands, trying to show he was no threat – but Credence saw the wand in his hand and knew that was not true.

"Credence," the wizard said, looking at him with pity, and concern, "Can I come over to you?"

Credence looked up at him, tears slowly spilling down his cheeks. The wizard had a kind, open face, and a sincerity about his expression that made Credence instinctively want to trust him. But he couldn't – there was no one he could trust. After what he had done! If he had been alone before, he was even more so now. This wizard did not want to befriend him, he wanted to capture him – perhaps Graves had sent this man –

There was a huge BANG, and the kind-faced wizard was suddenly blown off his feet by a bright shock of white light. Credence leapt to his feet in terror. From the opposite end of the Subway strode the familiar figure of Mr Graves, face alight with fury. The other wizard scrambled to his feet and raised his own wand, but Credence saw nothing further. He turned and ran, blood once again pounding in his ears. He heard sharp crackles and saw bursts of bright light bouncing off the walls like a storm. He leapt over the rails, running, running, fleeing from the two men and the brutal show of magic.

His face was suddenly awash with dazzling light, and he realised with a burst of horror that he was running right into the path of an oncoming train – the horn sounded loudly in his ears, and he made to jump out the way –

Suddenly, in his head, came a little voice.

Just let it hit you.

He stared at the oncoming train in terror. The terrible power buzzed angrily in his ears.

Think about what you did.

His feet were glued to the tracks, eyes wide and unblinking as the train bore down on him.

Just let it end.

Suddenly an invisible hand seemed to grab him by the waist and throw him bodily out of harm's way. The train rushed past him, so close he could feel the gust of wind it left behind in its wake. He slammed onto the tiled floor with an ugly thunk, and felt a thick wave of nausea overcome him as his head smacked into the unforgiving floor. He reeled and tried to stand, conscious of continued bangs and bursts of fire from behind him. He got to his knees, but could go no further and collapsed back onto the station floor in a daze.

He lay there for several minutes, unable to see the two wizards, but still conscious of their battle, as flashes of painfully bright light bounced off the polished walls. Finally, when it felt like the nausea had subsided enough for him to stand, he did, and began to stumble back towards the tracks, hoping to flee before Graves bested his enemy. The other wizard was on the floor now, cowering and barely conscious as Graves flung fierce bolts of lightning at him, eyes alight with manic glee.

Credence felt tears pouring down his face in earnest now, and he let out dry, heaving sobs as he stumbled onto the tracks. Graves was practically laughing, relishing the other man's torment. He had done no harm! Credence knew the savage feeling of triumph when a tormentor was silenced, but some part of him knew that this was different. This was the unbridled joy of inflicting pain, and it simply wasn't right.

That man had wanted to help Credence! He had been kind, and gentle. His face was honest and open and in such contrast to Grave's fierceness and anger. And now Graves was torturing him! It wasn't right! If Credence was a monster, then what did that make Graves?

He felt a terrible, burning anger beginning to resurface, felt the buzzing in his ears grow. How dare he? It was wrong, all wrong! Graves was supposed to be the one to save Credence, to punish his Ma and raise him up from the Hell he lived in. Now his Ma was dead, Graves had used him, abandoned him, and cast him aside like he was nothing. That was enough to set the beast inside him roaring for release, but the sounds of the other wizard's screams were too much. He couldn't keep it in, the anger and fear and the guilt, it tore at him and itched and buzzed, until he wanted to claw at his face and arms and let it all out –

He felt his human form melt away, replaced by what felt like a dark, heaving swarm. He saw, through his distorted vision, Graves standing, gleefully over the inert body of his adversary. He hovered, ready to strike.

Graves turned, slowly. The glee on his face melted away as he saw Credence. His face went milky-white with terror. He sunk to his knees and cowered before him. He called his name, terror in every syllable, but Credence couldn't hear him. The buzzing anger was deafening. He saw Graves begin to raise his wand and, before the man had time to utter a spell, he struck. He flung himself at Graves, but with a bang the wizard disappeared. Credence careered through the marble floor, feeling nothing aside from the boiling pain inside him. He flung himself at Graves once again, blindly lashing out, feeling the masonry around him smash and tumble. He felt a fierce wave of satisfaction at the sight of Graves fleeing from him.

He flew about the station, crushing pillars and benches, sending thick metal rails spearing into the walls, letting the hatred fill him with power. He burst from the subway, up, up, into the freezing night air. He climbed, higher and higher, free and full of terrible joy.

He saw the crowd of people below. Watching him.

Let them watch, he thought, let them see what happens! They laughed at me and scorned me! Let them run!

He careened back down at the hole he had made in the road, saw Graves standing below, and tensed himself. He slammed into the ground where, a second before, Graves had stood. The wizard had vanished again. Credence couldn't see him, couldn't see anything. His vision was dark and blurred, the blood pounding in his ears deafened him to all else. He was going numb even as he brought more of the ceiling raining down around him. He twisted and writhed, wanting to get at Graves, to attack him, to make him feel as much pain as he had inflicted. But he couldn't tell where he was. The anger was subsiding and fear was taking its place, a blind panic that had him lash out at everything and scream in terror. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know who he was, all he knew was the fear tearing him apart from the inside. Voices called to him, but he heard none of them. He was nothing. He wasn't Credence Barebone. He was just terror, and anger, and pain.

"Credence, no!"

The new voice somehow managed to slice through the fog of panic. A familiar female voice, coloured with fear. Tina. Yes, that was her name.

He felt the fear fade a little, as that familiar, soothing voice spoke.

"Don't do this, please." Tina looked straight at him, eyes wide and afraid. Credence felt a great surge of misery at the sight of her. He wanted to reach out to her, to cry with her, because he knew she, she of all people, would listen.

"I know what that woman did to you," Tina said softly, and Credence could hear the tears in her voice, "I know that you've suffered. You need to stop this now."

He felt the fear begin to ebb away, leaving him feeling drained and empty. He thought of returning to his own form, falling to his knees and crying, letting Tina hug him, protect him… he ached for that feeling, to be safe, to be loved –

"Newt and I will protect you," she whispered.

He felt a calm steal over him, the energy borne of his terror leaving him. Tina would protect him. She had saved him from his mother before, she could save him from Graves –

But before he had time to collapse, the footsteps of a wave of people rang out across the subway. He saw alien faces, hard eyes and raised wands. The fear was back.

"No, shh!" he heard Tina cry, "You'll frighten him!"

He began to back away, his form swirling and boiling again. He heard Graves shouting, heard Tina pleading, with the strangers and with him.

He saw the wizards and witches raise their wands, Tina's pleading still ringing in his ears –

Then white hot pain engulfed him. The hoard of strangers shot hundreds of bolts of bright, burning light at him. Wherever they struck he felt a lance of terrible agonising pain. It rained down upon him, tearing him apart and filling his head with thundering unbearable noise –

And suddenly, he was nothing.