Into the Newtcase

Three

When my eyes opened again, I was back in the shed near the entrance of Newt's suitcase. Newt was nowhere to be seen, but as I tried to sit up, Pickett appeared on my chest. Newt said not to let you move, the bowtruckle informed me. He went outside, to bring you back to his home. We're all to stay in here until he comes back in.

Thanks, Pickett, I said, gently easing myself back down. To tell you the truth, I don't really feel like getting up. I feel as though I've been stabbed.

That's 'cause you have, Pickett said in an offhand sort of way. The way Wisely impaled you... it's like nothing I've ever seen before, and I've been with Newt all my life.

Did I bleed? I wondered. Looking at my chest, the answer was made clear. There weren't even holes in my blouse. Pickett sat on my stomach. No, but you screamed. It didn't... it wasn't a normal scream. It was like someone was ripping your voice out of you and then stuffing it back in.

Thanks for the image, Pickett.

Any time.

I closed my eyes and lifted a hand to my head, fiddling with the long dishwater blonde strands that had come out of my bun. The hand on my head was soon clapped to my eyes as a series of visions burned across my line of sight. There was fire, lots of fire. Blood. Water. The sound of tortured yells- was that my scream? Then ink black, and I opened my eyes again, shaking and sweating. Pickett was right up against my face, looking concernedly at me. I noticed that a few more creatures had gathered. The niffler, who told me he liked to be called Mandus, had two paws on my forearm and concerned eyes. An occamy had somehow slithered onto the table and into a teapot, and its little blue head was poking out of the spout.

Mandus was the first of the creatures to speak. Are you okay, Hazel? He asked in a squeaky, uncertain voice. I nodded shakily. I- I think so-

The words were barely spoke when I let out another scream. The left side of my stomach was suddenly in excruciating pain. I looked in a haze at the area in pain- all I could see was the end of a green beetle burrowing into my flesh. Crimson blood oozed slowly from the ladybug-sized hole. I gritted my teeth and groaned as I felt the bug burrowing in my muscles.

A burrowing beetle, Pickett said in sympathy. They'll burrow and eat in anything, but the thing they prefer most is the flesh from their native land-

America, I guessed with another moan of pain. Pickett affirmed. Newt probably didn't even think about it- I can't do anything about it. We're not able to do anything until Newt gets back. Don't worry- it shouldn't damage anything.

Shouldn't?

Giving up on trying to be stoic, I allowed to tears to flow from my eyes, accompanying the one man ensemble of screams that was coming from me. My greenish hazel eyes grew bloodshot, and my cheeks became red and streaked with tears.

Finally, finally, the hatch of the suitcase opened, and through a haze of pain I saw the hem of a blue coat descend into the shed. Newt's face was horrorstruck when he rushed over to the table I was laying on. His hands hovered uncertainly over my side, at the stained hole in my shirt. Still crying, I managed to say, "T-t-the bu-burrowing beetle, it h-h-hu-hurts, do so-something, plea-please!"

Newt's eyes were still frantic, but his motions were set. He raced over to his rack of herbs and began shuffling through the jars. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Grabbing a pair of sewing scissors, he cut a circle out from my shirt, exposing a round patch of my pale stomach, and placed a slice of dried fruit next to the entry wound. I cried out as the bug inside me turned around, heading for the sweet aroma on the outside.

"If there's one thing they like more than American flesh, it's dried papaya," Newt said, more to himself than to me. "Hazel, I'm so sorry."

"S'okay," I said. The blood from the hole began to gush with more fervor, hurting more too, so I clenched my gut. That just made it worse.

"Ah ah ah, I know it's hard, but you need to relax, you need to be loose, you need to relax! Deep breaths, Hazel, deep breaths."

A new sensation began in the tubular wound. It was cooling at first, like sweetmint, but it quickly became hot, burning angrily at my inner muscle. I let out another scream. "It burns now!" I yelled at Newt. "Why is it burning?"

"That'd be the venom," Newt mumbled.

"Venom? The hell kind of beetle targets Americans and has venom?"

"This one. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

After infinity, a pair of tiny, emerald green antenna poked out of my side, followed by a body of the same hue. Without hesitation, Newt scooped the bug into his palm and deposited it into a bottle.

"Why did you do that to me?" I yelled, too tired to try and speak to the beetle mentally. Newt's slightly triumphant face fell. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I just- I had to-"

"Not you! The bug!"

"Oh."

I'm sorry, the beetle said, flicking a speck of my abdomen off of its antenna. It's just, Newt brought me back to America, and he didn't even let me eat a little bit before bringing me back to England.

"That's because it hurts, dammit!"

My apologies, the burrowing beetle said calmly. I'll not bother you again.

"The hell you won't," I grumbled as Newt carried the beetle away. When he returned, he was carrying a needle and thread.

"We could do this magically, but with these beetles, it's easier to do it by hand. Will you be all right?"

"I came to London, found a man with a suitcase of pets, got stabbed by a non corporeal obscurial named Wisely, and I've been eaten alive. I'm never going to be all right again, Newt Scamander. However, I will cope."

Newt gave a nervous smile, then took a rag off of the counter and handed it to me after giving it a quick wave of his wand. "Bite down on this. This is going to hurt a bit more than the beetle."

I obeyed, allowing my jaws to clench over the cloth. The needle pierced my skin, followed by the black thread, slowly stitching my skin back together. I tightened my jaw, looking straight at Newt's face and ignoring the fact that his hands were currently tying me back together.

A few tense minutes passed, and Newt stepped back from the table and sighed. "That's you done, love."

"Love?" I asked as I stumbled off of the table. Newt quickly jumped forward and caught me. I grinned woozily, wobbling slightly. "That's a little forward, isn't it, Mister Scamander?"

Newt smiled at the ground while he steadied me, his trademark jittery eyes looking anywhere but at me. "Thing is, Miss Kirton, I'm a Hufflepuff. We love everyone."