All The Magic I'll Ever Need

Sometimes the small things were enough to remind him of how much his life had changed. It could be something as simple as a gust of wind fluttering the fabric near the entrance of the tent. Or perhaps one of the firedrakes came awake in the dark, squealing and nipping its companion before going back to sleep.

This time it was the simple task of writing in his journal that left the Obscurial struggling to understand how his fellow wizards managed under such conditions. The lighting was terrible, with only a single candle on the crate beside his bed, and writing with a quill was easier said than done.

He adjusted his hold on the quill, switching to his left hand to make the process easier. But try as he might, Credence still left ink blotches on the parchment, and the lines were so thick he couldn't read his own writing.

Sighing, Credence lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at the flickering candle, a frown creasing the corners of his mouth, then looked back at his messy handwriting.

'You wanted this,' he reminded himself. 'You wanted to live in the wizarding world. You wanted an escape.'

Another weary sigh, and Credence slumped against the mound of pillows on his bed. His eyes were itchy and tired, aching from trying to see in such low light. He was nearly dozing when Nagini brushed aside the hanging canvas, taking a step forward and standing beside the bed.

His eyes opening wide, Credence started slightly and gasped when he saw her. He then quickly covered the pages of his journal with his hands.

Nagini chuckled sweetly. "I wasn't reading it if that's what you're worried about."

"No, it's just..." His voice trailed off and he lifted his hands from the parchment, the quill still held in his left hand. "I can't write," he finished awkwardly, his face reddening with embarrassment.

"Oh?" Now she appeared curious, tilting her head a fraction and listening intently. "You're having difficulty writing?"

"It's the lighting in here," Credence explained, motioning towards the candle. "Sometimes we used an oil lamp back home, usually when it was very late and we didn't want to wake up our mother. But it was easier when I had electricity so I could see what I'm doing."

"Let me show you something." Nagini reached out with her right hand, keeping her ring and pinky fingers curled, and swiped her hand through the air in front of the candle, causing the light to shine brighter than it had before.

Watching in amazement, Credence saw the flame double in size, the flickering light casting shadows across the contours of his face. "How did you do that?" he breathed, wondering if she could teach him how it was done.

Her gentle laughter filled the tent, delighted and amused by his innocence and curiosity. However, this only made his flush deepen, afraid that he had said something wrong.

Eager to take the attention off his previous question, Credence tried shifting her focus to his journal. "My writing," he said, a hint of frustration in his tone. "How do you write with a quill?"

He regretted asking this question as soon as the words left his mouth. Surely she would unleash a stream of insults, berating him for his ignorance. But instead she placed her hand on his shoulder, and Credence flinched at her touch, hearing her voice in his ear as she leaned in close.

"You're an Obscurial, Credence. You can't be expected to know such things."

Silence followed this statement, his shoulders sinking as he turned, hesitating before finally looking over at her.

"I can help you with your magic," she said thoughtfully, speaking without the slightest trace of anger or impatience. "I can also help you with your writing. Though I don't want you to feel bad or ashamed of yourself, Credence." She motioned towards the smudges and ink drops on the parchment and said, quite simply, "This isn't your fault. None of it is."

Why was she being so nice to him? It was a question that formed in his mind, lingering on his lips, not daring to be spoken. He let his gaze drift towards the streaks and splotches, still feeling rather embarrassed by his mistakes, and softly murmured, "I don't think I need any help with my magic."

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. He was so afraid to speak, afraid that he might lose the one person who actually cared about him. And yet she wasn't cross with him, she was curious, wondering why he would say such a thing.

And then, pushing past his nervousness, Credence finally managed to smile. "You're all the magic I will ever need."

There was a stirring of affection in his chest, a light fluttering against his ribs. Nagini could be his friend, a companion who offered to help him with his penmanship. But in the back of his mind he knew they could be so much more.