Hazel Kirton is a witch, a graduate of the American school of magic, Ilvermorny. She has a special talent that most witches and wizards can't claim- she can talk with any creature, magical or not. When Hazel moves to London, she meets a strange trav...
Newt looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something intelligent. I cautiously said, "But... those were fraudulent! Half of them weren't really magic at all!"
"But the ones that were are still here," Newt told me, marching off to the obscurial's enclosure. I hobbled after him, my side still aching.
Now, for those of you who may be thinking, suck it up, Hazel, it's just a bug bite, I will have you know that burrow beetle wounds feel like being shot, and then being shot in reverse. Bear with me.
"Wisely!" Newt called, me shadowing him. "Wisely, I know what you are!"
I had to sit down at this point- Newt looked pained, like he hadn't realized that I was hurting, but there was nothing he could do. Wisely's voice spoke in my mind.
You claim to know me, Newton Scamander?
"I do know you," Newt said, more confident than ever. "I know that you were slaughtered in Salem, and I know that this is your way of seeking revenge. I know that those whose magic is oppressed subconsciously call out to your kind. One of you possesses them, and you kill as many infidels as you can."
Wisely sounded impressed. It didn't take you long at all, the obscurial mused. However, I am powerless in my form, other than what I did to Miss Kirton here. My apologies, miss. We need hosts to do any damage to the filthy Mudbloods.
"But why? Why couldn't you die in peace?"
Oh, we could have, but we chose not to. We needed to ensure our legacy, to make certain that no more young witches and wizards would be killed for something they can't control.
"But that's absurd! We've got the Ministry, and MACUSA, to deal with all of that! Can't you just fade away, now that we don't need you anymore?"
We cannot fade, Newton Scamander, any more than a ghost can. And if we do not take hosts, we are sentenced to reincarnation- as a Mudblood. That is why we do what we do. To protect others. And ourselves.
Newt looked furious, but there was nothing he could do or say that would change the obscurial's mind. He went to leave, but I made a little noise from on the ground where I was struggling to rise. "Um, Newt?"
His gaze softened as his head turned towards me. "Sorry," he murmured, scooping me up bridal style. "Bloody purebloods," Newt scoffed as we headed back to the shed. "There's nothing in blood, do you hear me? Nothing!"
Newt set me down in the shed, so that I was sitting on the counter. "So what are we going to do?" I asked him.
Newt plucked Pickett from my collar and placed the bowtruckle onto his own. "We're going to go back to America, love."
- - -
Okay so this is the first fanfic I've actually felt pretty confident in, so don't forget to give me some love! Here's a pic of Newt I sketched earlier: I can't wait until I get my drawing tablet back. Anyway, bye, loves!
Xandra
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