11/6/2020
Eerie shadows bounced off the walls as the spark of wandlight wobbled in the dark. Newt shivered with cold and fear as he made his way slowly down the kitchen hallway, away from his dormitory and towards the great hall.
Holding his wand aloft, Newt peered out at the vast space, so different in the solemn darkness than it was during the day. He crept along the edge of the Slytherin table, keeping himself pressed against the wall as the trembling flicker of his wandlight increased.
Finally Newt reached the enormous oak doors at the far end of the hall and pushed one open, wincing at the loud groaning sound it made as it swung on its enormous hinges. He slipped out into another hallway, this one lined with torches, and ducked behind a suit of armour, hoping it wouldn't rat him out. He peeked out from his hiding place to see if anyone was coming, and was about to make a run for it when he heard footsteps approaching. Newt flattened his back against the wall and held his breath, hoping whoever it was would turn the other way.
The footsteps got louder, and Newt glanced frantically at the great hall doors, wondering if he should make a break for it. They were too loud, they would definitely alert whoever was approaching of his presence. Sliding down the wall, Newt drew his knees to his chest, clutching the bundle of sheets he was toting with him tightly. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, praying that the approaching footsteps wouldn't notice him.
Soon the steps stopped, and for a split second, Newt wondered if fate had intervened on his behalf. A moment later however, his hopes were dashed.
"Newt?" said a familiar voice, "what on earth are you doing down there?"
Newt swallowed and looked up slowly, taking in the slippers, nightgown, and eventually the face, of his transfiguration professor. "P-Professor Dumbledore," he said hoarsely.
Dumbledore frowned with concern, "Newt why are you out of bed at this time of night, and what's that you're carrying?" he asked, gesturing to the ball of sheets.
"N-nothing sir, I, I was just sleepwalking," Newt offered lamely. "I-I'm sorry sir, I'll just go back to bed now." He stood up quickly and made to turn back towards the great hall.
"Wait a minute," Dumbledore said, and Newt froze. "Are those your bedsheets?"
Newt was preparing to protest when Dumbledore flicked his wand, yanking the sheets from Newt's grasp and dangling them in the air. He flicked his wand again, and the sheets spread themselves out flat, hovering just above the ground. It was then that the reason for Newt's skittishness fell into place. On each of the cream linens was a large dark wet spot, and it didn't take a Legilimens to determine what it was.
"Oh Newt," Dumbledore murmured, turning his gaze from the sheets to his pupil. He stopped when he saw Newt, pressed against the wall with his head down as he tried to hide his tears. Both hands pulled down on his pyjama shirt, trying to hide his wet trousers as he sniffled valiantly.
"I-I'm sorry sir, i-it was an accident, honest. I-I couldn't wash them in the dormitory bathrooms in case someone woke up and heard me. I'm sorry sir, please don't tell anyone," Newt pleaded. He looked up earnestly at his professor, his eyes shining with tears of shame and humiliation.
Dumbledore looked sadly at the pitiful sight before him. "Of course I won't," he said gently. "Why didn't you wake your head of house?"
Newt dropped his head in shame again. "I-I couldn't. It was too embarrassing, and besides, it happens ev – " he stopped himself and looked away
Dumbledore waited for a beat, then supplied softly, "Every night?"
Newt swallowed, paused, then nodded just slightly.
Dumbledore sighed. Waving his wand over the still-hovering sheets, he banished the incriminating stain, then turned to Newt and did the same. "Come on, it's late, let's get you back into bed."
The two of them crossed back through the dark great hall and down the passage to the entrance of the Hufflepuff dormitory. Before tickling the pear painting to open the door, Dumbledore stopped Newt. "Wait a minute, I want to give you something," he said.
Newt watched as his professor pointed his want at his nightgown and severed two buttons from the top. With a silent wave of his wand, he transfigured them into convincing-looking galleons, then, still pointing his wand at them, muttered something Newt couldn't hear.
"There," Dumbledore said, handing one of the coins to Newt. "If you should need anything, day or night, I want you to hold this and say my name. My coin will whistle and let me know you need me."
Newt looked skeptically down at the coin in his palm. "That's very kind of you sir, but I wouldn't want to –"
"I mean it Newt," Dumbledore said seriously, "anything you need, I want to know about it. If you're being bullied, if you get yourself lost in the dark forest, if you have another accident, it doesn't matter. I'll be there, understand? Even if you're doing something you're not supposed to, you can always call me and we'll figure it out together, all right?"
Newt felt his lip wobble traitorously as his eyes welled with tears again. "Yes sir," he said thickly, "thank you."
Dumbledore rested a hand on Newt's shoulder and squeezed. "Try to get some sleep, we can talk about it more when you're rested," he said.
Newt nodded, clutching the coin tightly in his hand as he turned to the painting on the wall and tickled the pear. It giggled raucously and the painting swung open to reveal a hole on the other side. Newt gathered up his sheets and slid through the hole, closing it behind him.
The next night, Newt fell into a troubled sleep. In his dream, he found himself standing on the castle bridge, overlooking the enormous lake. Suddenly he heard a chilling voice behind him.
"Well well well, look what we have here, a lone Hufflepuff who strayed from the herd."
Newt turned towards the voice, swallowing anxiously. There in front of him with two of his ever-present cronies in tow, stood Morphius Wiggins, the nastiest Slytherin, indeed the nastiest person, in the whole school.
Newt pulled out his wand with a trembling hand. "Y-you stay away from me!" he shouted.
"Ooh scary little badger's gonna hex me? You wanna fight you freaky little flobberworm?" Morphius pulled out his wand and took a step forward.
"Oh my God Morph look! He's wetting his pants!" one of Morphius's cronies cackled, pointing at Newt's trousers.
Newt looked down, and sure enough, his underwear grew uncharacteristically warm as the front of his grey trousers darkened to black.
Newt woke with a start in the dark, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He groped for his wand on the bedside table and whispered, "Lumos." The wand tip illuminated, and he drew his bed curtains so no one could see him. Slowly Newt drew back his blankets, already knowing what he would find. Indeed he could already feel the cold wetness soaking his pyjama pants and clinging to his skin, and the large dark puddle seeping over his bed sheets confirmed his suspicions.
Newt felt his eyes sting with tears of humiliation and anger as he looked at the mess. He was so tired, he just wanted to sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, preparing to strip the sheets, when the glow of his wand swept over something, making him pause. He moved the light back, spotting Dumbledore's coin sitting on the bedside table.
Newt picked the coin up, remembering what the professor had said. Day or night. But it was so humiliating. If Dumbledore caught him out of bed again, he knew there would be trouble, or worse, what if another teacher found him? Or Peeves? Newt shuddered at the thought of having his problem announced for the whole school to hear over breakfast. Sighing, he knew he didn't have a choice.
Newt pressed the coin between his hands and mumbled, "Dumbledore. Dumbledore are you there? I need your help." After a moment he felt the coin warm up in his palms. Did that mean it was working? All he could do was wait and find out.
It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually Newt heard footsteps outside in the common room. They made their way up the staircase, and soon the dormitory door creaked open. Newt could see the glow of wandlight filter beneath his bed curtains, and a hushed voice whispered, "Newt?"
Newt stuck a hand out through the curtains and wiggled his fingers. Dumbledore made his way over and slipped in through the gap. His gaze swept over the scene before him, and he looked sadly at Newt, sitting on the edge of the bed in his wet night clothes. "I'm so sorry Newt," Dumbledore murmured, banishing the stain on his bed with a wave of his wand. "Stand up and let me clean you up."
Newt took a breath to say something, but promptly burst into tears. He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, unable to look at his professor as the shame swept over him.
"Newt," Dumbledore said quickly, sitting down beside him, "Newt it's all right." He put an arm around both of Newt's shoulders, and was taken aback when the young boy turned and flung his arms around his chest and buried his face in his nightgown.
Dumbledore rested a hand on the back of Newt's head and stroked his wild mop of sandy hair gently. "I know," he murmured, "it's all right, I know." This only seemed to make Newt cry harder as he clutched desperately at his professor's dressing gown and choked on his own hitching sobs.
"Breathe Newt, just breathe," Dumbledore soothed.
Eventually Newt's sobs turned to sniffles, and he looked up at his teacher. "I'm sorry sir," he said weakly as he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Don't be sorry Newt," Dumbledore said earnestly. "I'm very proud of you for reaching out to me when you needed help. Honestly I wasn't sure if you would." He looked down at Newt's lap. "Speaking of which, are you ready to let me clean you up?"
Newt nodded gingerly and stood up, grimacing at the dark patch on his trousers that trailed down the insides of both legs.
Dumbledore banished the stain without blinking and said, "You should still wash up, that spell only works on clothing."
Newt nodded solemnly and turned to head for the dormitory bathrooms. He looked back before he left and murmured, "Thank you sir."
Dumbledore smiled. "You're welcome Newt. I'll be right here when you get back to help you back into bed."
Newt was sure he could shower and return to bed quite sufficiently on his own, but truthfully he felt warm and safe at the thought of his professor watching out for him. He liked feeling like he mattered to someone.
Emerging some ten minutes later, warm, damp and very sleepy, Newt found the professor just where he'd left him, true to his word.
Dumbledore rose from the bed when he saw Newt returning, and he pulled back the sheets for him. "Come on then, hunker down," he said.
Obediently Newt climbed into bed and rested his head on the pillow as Dumbledore pulled the clean dry blankets over him, tucking them over his shoulders.
"Good night Newt," Dumbledore said softly.
"Good night sir," Newt mumbled, his eyes already closed.
Dumbledore picked up both his and Newt's wands and muttered, "Nox," plunging them both into darkness, before quietly slipping out the door.
The next morning just before breakfast, Newt felt a hand on his shoulder as he made his way towards the great hall. He tensed, ready for it to be a bully, but was surprised when he turned around and found Dumbledore following him.
"Newt, I wonder if I might have a word for a moment," Dumbledore said.
Newt nodded mutely, unsure of what his professor could want. The two of them ducked into an unused classroom, and Newt waited, looking anxiously at his feet as he picked at the hem of his robe sleeve.
"Newt I've been giving some thought to your nighttime problem," Dumbledore said bluntly. Newt cringed and shrank in on himself with shame. It was one thing to have his teacher helping him in the dark of night when he was tired and overwhelmed, but here in the sharp light of day, it wasn't something he at all wanted to acknowledge.
"You say it happens every night, correct?" Dumbledore asked more gently, watching as his student squirmed.
Newt nodded silently.
"I was wondering, well, if you'd thought about… trying protection," Dumbledore finished quietly.
Newt didn't understand. Was there a protective spell he could cast that would prevent this from happening? Would he have the skill to make it work? "What kind of protection?" he asked, still not looking up.
Dumbledore paused, trying to think of how best to phrase it. "I mean… protective undergarments that absorb your… accidents. I could speak to the infirmary about providing you with some, you're by far not the first or only student with this problem."
Newt's cheeks flushed bright red as he stiffened. "You-you mean… nappies? For babies?"
"They're not just for babies Newt, plenty of people need them. There's nothing to be ashamed of, you just need some extra help for a while, that's all," Dumbledore said reassuringly.
Newt didn't think his face could get any redder as his eyes stung with tears of humiliation. "Can-can I think about it?" he croaked.
"Of course, take all the time you need, and if you decide they're not right for you, that's all right too, I'll always be here to help you."
"Thank you sir," Newt mumbled, "may I go now?"
Dumbledore nodded, and Newt shuffled off quickly.
Newt was careful the rest of the morning. He did his best to avoid his housemates and keep a low profile, and he thought he'd almost gotten away with it until he sat down in transfiguration class.
Two tables in front of him, two Hufflepuff boys kept glancing back in his direction and snickering, then finally one of them approached.
"Well well if it isn't the baby!" the tall boy sneered, leaning over Newt.
"What do you mean?" Newt snapped, sliding his hand into the pocket of his robe and curling his fingers around his wand.
"Don't think we didn't hear you sniveling last night you little crybaby," the boy said. He scrunched up his face and brought his fists to his eyes. ""I'm sorry sir I'm sorry sir!"" he mocked. "What's'a matter? Baby wants his mummy?"
Newt grit his teeth and rose from his chair. His wand was halfway out of his pocket when Dumbledore appeared from behind him.
"What's going on here Mr. Finnegan?" Dumbledore asked the older boy. "You know better than to bully your classmates, run along and have a seat, and if I hear you at it again, it'll be detention, understand?"
Finnegan scowled darkly but nodded stiffly. "Yes sir," he mumbled, casting one last angry glance at Newt.
Dumbledore watched him go, then turned back to Newt. "Let me know if he or anyone else causes you any more trouble, all right?" he asked.
Newt nodded, pursing his lips. As Dumbledore turned to leave, he blurted, "I don't want it!"
Dumbledore looked back at him, "Want what?" he asked.
"It… that – that stuff you mentioned earlier, the protection," Newt lowered his voice, "I don't want it."
Dumbledore's face softened as he looked at the humiliated, angry little boy in front of him. "All right," he said quietly, "that's fine, the choice is yours, and as I said, I will continue helping you however I can."
Newt nodded once, staring at the back of Finnegan's head furiously. He wasn't about to let that bully beat him.
That evening after dinner, Dumbledore cornered Newt once more. "I wonder if I might run another idea by you," he murmured, ushering the boy into another empty classroom.
Newt sighed, but allowed himself to be taken aside once more.
"Newt, since you don't like the idea of using protection, and it's clear that your classmates are starting to get wind of some essence of your sleep difficulties, I wonder how you would feel about sleeping on a cot in my chambers. I'll be right there to help you should you need it, and it'll keep anyone else from finding out things you'd rather they not know."
Newt blinked. He hadn't been expecting this. "You-you'd do that? For me?" he asked incredulously. It seemed too good to be true. No more sneaking out in the middle of the night with wet sheets, no more worrying that someone in the dorms would catch him in his wet nightclothes, and no one yelling at him to shut up when he woke screaming from his nightmares.
Dumbledore smiled, "Of course I would Newt, I just want you to be taken care of, and it seems I'm in the best position to provide that right now. What do you say?"
"I – thank you sir, I'd like that very much," Newt said, allowing a smile to pass his lips for the first time in days.
Dumbledore returned the smile, "Excellent, just meet me in my office this evening and we shall retire to my chambers together. I already have a cot set up for you."
Newt's smile grew wider and he had to keep himself from skipping down the hall as he left the room. Things were finally starting to look up.
That night, just as they'd discussed, Newt met Dumbledore in his office, clutching his pyjamas and toothbrush tightly.
Dumbledore looked up from the papers he was tidying away and smiled. "Oh good, there you are, are you ready then?" Newt nodded nervously. Dumbledore glanced at Newt, who was staring at his shoes, and chuckled, "Don't worry about a thing, I've spoken to your head of house and cleared everything. I didn't tell her why you're staying with me, just that we're working on a project together and that you won't be sleeping in the dorms for a while."
Newt breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you sir," he said, looking up briefly, then dropping his gaze again.
"Come on then," Dumbledore said, "follow me." He led the way towards the Gryffindor common room and stood in front of the painting of the fat lady. "If anyone asks why you're here, I gave you detention, understand?" Dumbledore murmured softly so the fat lady wouldn't hear.
Newt nodded, and Dumbledore gave the painting the password, to which it promptly swung open. The professor stepped through the threshold and marched purposefully past the few Gryffindors who were lounging in the common room, not giving them time to comment on the scrawny little Hufflepuff who was following in his wake.
Newt hurried after Dumbledore, clutching his belongings close so as not to reveal what they were.
Dumbledore led the way up a side staircase that had been tucked away in the wall, and unlocked an old wooden door with a large brass key produced from his pocket. "Here we are," he said, swinging the door open.
Newt stepped into a small, tidy bedroom, in the middle of which sat a large mahogany double bed draped in rich red velvet sheets. On either side sat a matching nightstand, each holding a large oil lamp, which Dumbledore lit with a flick of his wand.
Pushed against one wall was a small metal cot that looked like it had been procured from the hospital wing. It was covered with crisp white sheets and a thick grey wool blanket, and had a small wooden night table sitting against it, on which sat a single empty glass.
Dumbledore strode to the opposite side of the room and pushed open another door, revealing a bathroom. "You can change in here," he said, "I'll be right behind you."
Silently Newt slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. He changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth, and emerged shortly after with his robes and clothes bundled in his arms. He folded them neatly on the end of the cot, then sat on it, waiting for Dumbledore to return.
Moments later the professor emerged from the bathroom in the same dressing gown Newt had seen him in the previous two nights, and he smiled at Newt. "Would you like some water?" he asked, nodding at the empty glass on the table beside Newt.
Newt shook his head, "No thank you sir," he said. He knew drinking anything before bed was a bad idea.
"Right then, do you need anything else before we turn in?" Dumbledore asked, sitting on his bed and kicking off his slippers.
Newt shook his head again and stood to pull back the blankets on the cot, "No sir, I'm fine," he said. He crawled under the heavy blanket and snuggled down into the firm pillow.
"Good night Newt," Dumbledore smiled, banishing the flames in the oil lamps with a flick of his wand.
"Good night sir," Newt mumbled, eyes already closed.
As Newt slid into a heavy slumber, the dreams returned. He found himself standing on the edge of the black lake, peering into its inky depths. He was looking for kelpie, which he had been told lived in the lake, but he was wary of the merfolk that lived there too. He'd heard stories of students getting too close to the water, or falling in, and being dragged to their deaths by the merpeople who didn't appreciate interlopers.
Suddenly Newt heard raucous laughter behind him, and he turned around with a shiver running up his spine. Morphius Wiggins and his band of idiot friends was approaching. Newt glanced around for a place to hide, but they spotted him.
Morphius strode up confidently, a smug smirk on his face. "Well well if it isn't the creature freak. What are you doing out here Jeepers Creepers? Looking for flobberworms?"
"No, I'm looking for kelpie," Newt said quietly to his shoes.
The group of boys laughed, slapping each other on the backs, "I told you he'd be out here looking for some creepy crawly!" Morphius howled. "You're never gonna find your precious kelpie up here on the bank, better go for a swim and take a closer look!" Before Newt could react, Morphius reached out and shoved him backwards into the lake. He stumbled into the thick mud and landed with a splash among the weeds. Freezing water drenched his clothes, and his waterlogged robes made standing difficult.
Newt shoved his hands into his pockets in search of his wand, but discovered it missing. He looked around frantically and spotted it floating away. He waded deeper into the muddy water after it, noticing the ripple in the water as a smooth fin arched into the air and slipped away again.
Morphius and his friends saw it too, and scrambled away, leaving Newt to struggle in the muck.
Newt's feet could no longer reach the bottom by the time he lunged for his wand and succeeded in snatching it. He kicked his way back towards the shore, but suddenly felt his left foot get trapped by something. He tried to yank it free, but whatever it was had too tight a grip on him. Suddenly it started pulling him downwards, and he began to panic. "Petrificus totalus!" he shouted, pointing his wand into the water. The spell seemed to have no effect, and he continued to sink.
Newt kept struggling until at last his head slipped beneath the water, and he looked down to see the blue-green face of a mermaid glaring up at him, its sharp teeth bared in a hiss. Its webbed hand was wrapped tightly around his ankle, and in the distance he could see more merfolk approaching, their tridents pointed right at him. Newt tried desperately to break free, but as he looked up, all he could see was the sunlight fading as he was dragged deeper and deeper. As his vision began to fade, he heard the merfolk whispering his name, "Newt, Newt, Newt..."
Newt gasped as his eyes flew open. He snatched his wand from his bedside table and pointed it into the darkness.
"Newt it's all right, it's me," came a voice.
Newt blinked and squinted in the blackness, and slowly Dumbledore's face came dimly into view. "L-lumos," Newt said, and his trembling wand tip illuminated. Dumbledore's form lit up, and he saw the professor kneeling by his bedside, one hand resting on his shoulder.
"It's all right Newt," Dumbledore said softly, "you were having a nightmare, quite a violent one if your thrashing was anything to go by. You're safe now."
Newt took a deep breath and looked down. His blankets and clothes had been kicked to the floor, and he lay on the bare cot, his shame visible for all to see. The once-white sheets were now translucent and wet. His pyjama pants stuck uncomfortably to his legs, making him shiver. They weren't yet cold, suggesting that the incident had happened very recently. Suggesting that Dumbledore had watched it happen.
Newt's cheeks burned with shame and humiliation and his eyes pricked with tears as he looked down at his hands. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with his professor right now.
The hand that had rested on Newt's shoulder moved to his head, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. It came to rest gently on his cheek, and Dumbledore's thumb brushed away a stray tear that leaked traitorously down his face.
"It's all right Newt," Dumbledore repeated softly, almost in a whisper. "It was an accident, you have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Don't I?" Newt choked, his voice breaking as two more tears spilled from his eyes. "Oughtn't I be ashamed of this? This ridiculous babyish behaviour that just won't stop?"
"No," came the prompt, gentle reply.
Newt looked up at Dumbledore's face, which was blurred with his tears. He sniffed and wiped his sleeve over his face as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Why not?" he asked the floor.
Dumbledore erased the wet stain on the linens, leaving them clean and dry, and sat down next to Newt. "Because this isn't your fault," he said, resting an arm around both of the boy's thin shoulders and pulling him close. "You can't control this, and there's nothing wrong with you because it happens. Lots of people deal with bedwetting Newt, I promise you're not alone. I'd be willing to be you're not the only one in the school who deals with it either, it's not as uncommon as you think."
Newt's lower lip trembled and his eyes flooded with tears again as he looked up earnestly at his professor. "But why – " he choked, "why does it happen to me? Why can't I make it stop?" His face crumpled and he buried his face in his hands, leaning against Dumbledore and letting the older man stroke his hair soothingly.
"I don't know why it happens to you Newt," Dumbledore murmured gently, "but I do know you can't make it stop because your brain and your bladder aren't ready to work together yet, you're still too young. You'll stop one day when you're older though, I know you will."
"H-how do you know?" Newt sniffled.
Dumbledore sighed, "Because it used to happen to me too," he said quietly.
Newt looked up. "It did?" he asked.
Dumbledore nodded. "Until I was nearly sixteen. I was just like you, I didn't want anyone to know, I'd sneak out of the dorms night after night to wash my sheets in the bathroom sink, and I'd feel alone, ashamed, guilty, like I'd done something wrong and was being punished. That's no true though Newt, you didn't do anything wrong, and I promise you're not alone. Not while you're here at Hogwarts."
Newt burrowed his head deeper into his professor's dressing gown and gripped the back of it tightly. "How did you make it stop?" he asked plaintively.
Dumbledore sighed again. "I didn't, I just waited until one day I found I didn't do it any more. You just have to be patient, I know that's not easy, but it's all you can do."
Newt looked down and remained silent for several seconds, then murmured, "Can I ask you something else?"
"Of course," Dumbledore said, running his fingers through Newt's tousled hair again.
"Did-did you have… nightmares?" Newt asked softly. He felt the fingers in his hair pause for a moment, then they continued more slowly along their path.
"No," Dumbledore said at last, "not like yours. I'll admit your nightmares do have me somewhat worried. Do they happen every night?"
Newt nodded slightly. "They're always different, but I'm always being bullied by the same Slytherin boys," he mumbled. "Tonight they pushed me in the black lake and some merfolk dragged me under until I drowned." He paused then glanced up at his professor. "I was scared," he whispered.
Dumbledore turned sideways to face Newt, and wrapped his other arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tight. "I'm so sorry Newt," he said heavily, "no one should have to experience that kind of trauma night after night. Do you mind if I speak to Professor Harding about your dreams? He's head of divination and might be able to shed some light on them."
Newt looked up nervously. "Does he have to know it's me?" he asked, "and does he have to know about my… accidents?"
Dumbledore shook his head, "I'll leave your name entirely out of it," he said, "but he might need to know about the bedwetting. It sounds like it's these nightmares that are causing it, and if we can make them stop, maybe it will stop too."
Newt allowed himself to feel hopeful for a second. "Really?" he asked, "you think so?" He hid a wide yawn behind his sleeve and rested his head back against the professor's side.
"Yes, I think so," Dumbledore affirmed. He looked down at the child who was falling asleep beside him and said, "Stand up and let me clean you up, we'd better get you back to bed."
"But I don't want to sleep," Newt whined, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, "what if I have another nightmare?"
"Then I'll be right there to help you," Dumbledore assured him, lifting him into a standing position by the elbows.
Newt stood still while Dumbledore whisked the cold damp stain off his trousers, then sat back down on his clean dry bed.
"Here," Dumbledore said, flicking his wand at the empty glass on the night stand. "Aguamenti." It filled itself up with water, but before Newt could reach for it, he circled his wand over it again, and the water turned milky white and started to steam. "Drink this, it'll help you sleep," the professor said, handing Newt the glass that now contained warm milk.
Newt hesitated and glanced anxiously at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore smiled gently, "Don't worry, if you have another accident, I'll be right here to help with that too. I told you Newt, you're not alone anymore."
Slowly Newt accepted the glass and sipped at the contents. The soothing warmth flooded him and he realized for the first time how tense he'd been. He relaxed his muscles and slouched back on the bed, leaving one hand wrapped around the glass as he set it back on the night stand.
Dumbledore picked the tossed blankets back up off the floor and draped them over Newt, drawing them up to his chin. He took Newt's still-illuminated wand and flicked it, putting out the light. "Good night Newt," he murmured gently, carding a hand through the boy's ruffled hair one last time. All he got in response was a slow rasping breath.
The next morning before classes started, Dumbledore cornered Professor Harding in his office. "Good morning Professor," he said warmly, "I wondered if I might have a word with you about a student of mine. They need some help and you might be able to provide it."
Harding gestured towards a chair in front of his desk and sat down on the other side of it. "Of course," he said, steepling his fingers, "I'll be happy to help, which student is it?"
Dumbledore glanced away, "Ah, well, that's a matter of some delicacy, and I promised the student I wouldn't reveal their identity. They've been having difficulty for some time now with nightmares… and accompanying… bedwetting," he said slowly.
Harding nodded. "Little first-year I assume? They always seem to have the most trouble with this sort of thing, usually owing to homesickness or something similar. How long has the problem been going on?"
"I'm not sure, quite a while I believe, and yes, the student in question is a first-year, although I believe these incidents have more to do with bullying than homesickness," Dumbledore said.
"Hmm, well dreams can be tricky things," Harding said thoughtfully. "It really would be helpful if you could convince the student to allow me access to their dreams, perhaps then I'll be able to analyze them fully and offer some insights. For the time being, what can you tell me about the nightmares?"
"Not much I'm afraid, we don't really talk about the contents. Last night's involved drowning in the black lake after being pushed in by some other students. Unfortunately I can't much comment beyond that. I'll speak to the student, it's possible they may be willing to allow you to see their dreams, but they're very sensitive, and it may take some coaxing."
"Do what you can," Harding said, "I'd like to be able to help if I can."
Dumbledore nodded and rose from his chair, "Thank you Professor, I appreciate it more than you know."
"No," Newt said stubbornly, crossing his arms.
"But it's the only way he can help you," Dumbledore pleaded, glancing over his shoulder at the closed classroom door.
"I don't care, I'm not letting anyone, especially not a stranger, look at dreams that end with me weeing in my pants like a baby," Newt insisted, his cheeks burning red at the thought.
Dumbledore sighed and rested a hand on Newt's stiff shoulder. "I know you're embarrassed, and I know you don't want anyone to know about your problem, but Professor Harding has dealt with this kind of thing before. He's a professional and I have the utmost trust in his abilities and his discretion. Please Newt, just let him help."
Newt glowered at Dumbledore and bit his lip uncertainly. "You really think he can make the nightmares stop?" he asked.
"I think he's our best shot at trying," Dumbledore said. "He wants to meet with us this evening and use occlumency to access your dreams."
"Why can't he just use a pensieve?" Newt demanded. He didn't like the idea of going back into those dreams while he was awake.
"Because he wants to feel your emotions while he's watching," Dumbledore explained, "to see if he can pinpoint the moments you feel fear and help you reduce it."
Newt sighed and chewed the inside of his cheek uncertainly. Finally he looked up at Dumbledore. "Okay," he mumbled, "I'll let him try."
Dumbledore smiled softly. "I'm proud of you Newt," he said, "I know this isn't easy, but you're making the right choice."
Newt certainly hoped so.
That evening, Newt waited anxiously behind Dumbledore as the professor knocked on the divination teacher's classroom door.
"Come in!" came a shout from within.
Dumbledore pushed the door open and poked his head inside. "I brought my student as you requested," he said, "are you ready for us?"
Harding nodded, "Of course, do come in, both of you."
Newt kept his eyes glued to the floor as he shuffled into the room behind Dumbledore. His cheeks burned crimson and he wrapped both arms around himself.
Harding looked kindly down at him and asked, "And what might your name be young man? I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance."
"Newt Scamander sir," Newt mumbled barely above a whisper.
"Newt, well, my name is Professor Harding. I understand you need some help examining some rather unpleasant dreams you've been having lately," Harding said.
Newt nodded silently, still looking at the floor.
"Right, well, if you'll just have a seat over here in this chair, and Professor Dumbledore, you can sit beside him on this stool, I'll just have a poke about and see what I can find," Harding smiled, gesturing towards a wooden chair behind him. When Newt made no move towards it, he chuckled, "don't worry, it won't hurt a bit. I will warn you though, it might get rather frightening at times, but just remember that none of what you're experiencing is real, you're perfectly safe here with me and the professor in this room. I will make sure no harm comes to you, I promise."
Slowly Newt glanced up at Harding, then back towards the chair. He shuffled reluctantly forward and planted himself in it, gripping the edges tightly in both hands.
Dumbledore followed and perched himself on the wood stool beside Newt's chair. He rested a hand on the boy's trembling shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about a thing," he said, "just remember I'm right here with you."
Newt nodded stiffly and dropped his gaze to his lap.
"All right," Harding said, standing in front of him, "ready? One, two, three, legilimens!" He pointed his wand at Newt and instantly their minds were connected.
Newt gasped and his eyes grew wide. He could feel the professor in his brain, scanning through all his thoughts and memories. He saw night after night of wet sheets and tears flit through his mind's eye like a horrifying slide show. His eyes welled with tears as the hot feelings of shame and guilt came rushing back as if he were back in those moments all over again. Somewhere in his periphery, Newt could feel Dumbledore's hand take his and squeeze tightly.
Finally Harding seemed to find what he was looking for, and plunged into a dream.
Newt was overwhelmed with a sense of panic as he saw Morphius and his cronies approaching him from over a hill. He tried to turn and run, but Morphius cast petrificus totalus, causing his body to freeze and fall like a log, his face landing hard in the dirt.
Morphius kicked him in the side to roll him over and laughed. "Freak!" he shouted, "I should just leave you out here to rot, maybe your remains will get picked off by one of your weirdo creatures!"
Newt could only stare blankly up at Morphius, then at the grey cloudy sky as fat raindrops began to fall.
"Come on guys, let's get out of here," Morphius said, leaving Newt's field of vision.
Newt heard them retreating over the wet grass as the rain continued to fall, soaking his clothes as the cold settled into his bones. His legs burned with a sudden heat he couldn't explain, and it lingered for a moment before growing cold again. With that, darkness crept in around the edges of his vision, until all he saw was black.
Newt gasped and sat bolt upright in the chair as his senses came rushing back to him. His breathing came in ragged hitches as he tried to get his bearings.
"Newt, it's all right, you're safe," a voice beside him said. Newt turned and registered Dumbledore sitting beside him. He looked down and realized the man was still holding his clammy hand, and Newt was squeezing his fingers so hard his knuckles were white.
"Wh-what happened?" Newt asked breathlessly as he continued to tremble. "Why did you stop?" he looked up at Professor Harding, who was gazing at him with pity written all over his face.
"Newt," Dumbledore lowered his voice almost to a whisper and leaned in closer, "you wet yourself."
Newt's mouth dropped open as he stared frozen in horror at his professor for a moment, then he forced himself to look down, only to see that the man was right. His grey trousers were wet and black all the way down the insides of both legs, and even his socks were damp. Beneath the chair where he sat, a large puddle had formed, and a quiet dripping sound could be heard as residual urine dripped from his trouser cuffs onto the floor.
Newt's eyes swam with tears as he jumped up, wrapping his robes around himself. He stumbled towards the door and stammered, "I-I have to go."
Dumbledore rose from his stool, "Newt wait," he said, but the boy dashed from the room, leaving a trail of urine and the sound of muffled sobs behind him.
"I'm so sorry, I should have known something like this might happen," Professor Harding said regretfully.
Dumbledore sighed as he waved his wand at the mess on the floor, "It's not your fault," he said, "I appreciate your trying to help." With that, he walked swiftly out the door to track down Newt.
He made his way straight towards the nearest boys' bathroom, and found the door locked. A quick scan with his wand told him it had been clumsily done with a very basic spell, the sort a first-year would know. "Alohamora," Dumbledore murmured, and the latch clicked open. He opened the door and slipped inside, locking it behind him again.
The largest of the three stalls had its door closed, and muffled sobs could be heard from within.
"Newt?" Dumbledore asked tentatively, "is that you?"
"Please just go away!" came the bitter reply.
"Newt I'm sorry," Dumbledore said sadly, "I never meant for this to happen. I know you're embarrassed, but it's really not the end of the world. Please come out and let me help you."
"I don't want your help!" Newt snapped, "I just want to be left alone!"
Dumbledore sighed and stepped towards the closed stall door. He waved his wand over it and the door swung open, revealing a very dejected Newt.
The boy sat hunched on the toilet, his face touching his knees as he buried it in his arms. From within the confines of his cocoon, Dumbledore could hear him crying.
Hearing his professor come in, Newt sprang to life. He jumped to his feet and brandished his wand, "I said get out!" he screamed, lunging for Dumbledore.
Dumbledore spread his arms wide to catch Newt as he ran for him. He gripped both of the boy's slender wrists in his hands and wrestled them into submission before dragging Newt bodily into a tight hug.
The fight all but drained away from Newt as he felt himself crushed in Dumbledore's embrace. He sank slowly to the floor and released his grip on his wand. Dumbledore followed him down, not releasing his grip.
Newt flung both arms around his professor and clutched at the back of his robes like his life depended on not letting go. He sucked in a shuddering breath and wailed like a banshee.
"Shhhh," Dumbledore murmured, pressing Newt's head into his shoulder and stroking his hair. "Shhhh, it's all right, just breathe."
Newt cried hard for a long time, gasping for breath like he was suffocating. Finally the tears slowed and he turned his head to rest his ear on Dumbledore's very damp shoulder.
"Better?" Dumbledore asked quietly after a moment.
Newt nodded silently, reaching up and wiping tears and snot onto the sleeve of his robe. "My head hurts," he murmured softly.
"I'm not surprised," Dumbledore said. "Stand up and I'll clean you up, then we can go to the hospital wing for some water and a lie down."
Newt didn't move from his position on the floor. "Will you stay with me?" he asked quietly.
Dumbledore smiled gently, "Of course," he whispered.
Slowly Newt stood up and allowed his trousers to be dried off. He watched Dumbledore turn to go, then suddenly reached out and grasped his hand.
Dumbledore paused for a moment, but said nothing as he returned the gesture and the two of them made their way to the locked bathroom door.
They arrived in the hospital wing and found Madam Reiki bustling about folding linens. She looked up when she saw them. "Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked.
Dumbledore looked down at Newt, who was still clutching his hand tightly. "Mr. Scamander here is feeling a bit under the weather, he just needs some pain reliever for a headache and a place to rest quietly for the night," he said.
Madam Reiki's gaze softened as it landed on Newt. "Of course dear," she said, reaching into a nearby drawer and pulling out some pyjamas. "Just pull the curtain around a bed and get changed, and I'll see you to rights."
Newt accepted the pyjamas gratefully. "Thank you," he murmured, taking them to the closest bed and drawing the white curtains closed.
When he was dressed and in bed, Madam Reiki approached holding a vial of dark red liquid. "Just drink this and it'll clear that headache right up," she said.
Newt took the vial and downed it in a single swallow, shuddering with disgust as it slid down his throat.
"Good lad," Madam Reiki said, "now settle in and try to get some sleep. She pulled back the blankets and Newt lay down obediently.
Dumbledore sat down in the wooden chair that stood at the end of the bed, and Madam Reiki raised an eyebrow at him. "He asked if I'd stay until he fell asleep," Dumbledore explained with a small smile.
"Well all right then," Madam Reiki acquiesced, "but no keeping my patient awake now, you hear?" she smiled slightly and turned to move away.
Dumbledore glanced at Newt, whose eyes were already closed as his breathing fell slow and even. "I won't," he murmured almost inaudibly. He rose from the chair and stood over the bed, pulling the blankets up over Newt's shoulders to his chin. "Good night Newt," he whispered, laying a hand on the boy's head, "sleep well."