Case Stories | Fantastic Beasts Oneshots

Pickett (Newt)

Before Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

The morning sun did nothing to the snow that had fallen the previous day. It was as white as ever, as thick as ever, and it glistened in the light rays like glitter. Newt would have slept longer, but even the in-house heater wasn't enough to keep him warm. He woke up shivering under the covers.

"Merlin's beard," he said to particularly no one as he lay in bed, motionless, "The weather's cold today."

A sudden surge of energy rushed through his veins, resulting in the sudden action of the throwing of the blanket off him. The freezing air hit his skin like icicles, seeming to penetrate through his clothes, causing his body to stiffen for a brief second.

After stoning for a whole minute, Newt walked over to the chair opposite the bed to grab his coat. Putting it on, he reached for his wand on the bedside table. He did a complicated wand movement, casting a hot-air charm which blasted right at his face. Exhaling in relief, he ruffled his hair after the charm had ended, taking a look at himself in the bedroom mirror. It was frosted over, but he could see the messy hair in his reflection.

Perfect.

Newt went about his morning routine, doing everything hurriedly so that he could spend more time attending to his creatures. The cold subsided the moment he stepped into his case, but he was rather fond of the coziness of his coat. With the piece of clothing still on, the magizoologist began preparing everything he needed to feed his creatures.

He approached the different enclosures with a smile growing on his face. He loved how relatively easy it was to care for them, and how they cooperated with him. Maybe it was because of experience, or the strong bond he's forged with his creatures over time.

Throwing a lump of meat to the two growing Graphorns, the last of their kind, Newt headed over to the Bowtruckle tree with a bucket of lice in his hands. The tree was still, perhaps the Bowtruckles were still asleep.

"Fellows," Newt called out, "I've got breakfast."

Immediately, there was movement. Five, palm-sized, stick-like creatures emerged from the branches of the tree, all eagerly climbing towards the branch Newt was at. The wizard sprinkled the lice on a platform built into the tree, and the tiny creatures crowded over, shoving one another to get their share of the meal.

"Now Poppy, I've got plenty, you don't have to fight with Marlow for it. Titus, Finn, there's more here, and Tom, stop taking so much," Newt observed as the bowtruckles fought over their food. At the same time, he did a headcount. Someone was missing.

"Where's Pickett?"

Five pairs of solid black eyes stared back at him. They blinked at the same time, before breaking contact.

"Don't ignore me," The Hufflepuff said as he picked up a particularly big piece of lice, "Where's your brother?"

The five bowtruckles followed the lice between his fingers, reaching and even jumping out to grab hold of it. Newt withdrew his hand and chided, "Whoever tells me where Pickett is, will get this piece."

None of them seemed to understand what he was saying, or simply ignored his instructions. All except Tom, who left the group to another branch. Newt followed the creature, and his eyes finally set on the missing bowtruckle that had been camouflaging in the leaves this whole time. Handing the lice to Tom, Newt said, "Thank you, Tom."

The bowtruckle, which Newt deemed as the smarter yet greedier one, joined his family once again with the big lice. Newt ignored the loud chirping of the bowtruckles snatching Tom's lice, focusing his attention on Pickett.

Pickett was asleep, but his green complexity seemed to have lightened. He was completely still, sending a wave of concern through Newt. The magizoologist scooped up the bowtruckle with his hands, only to realise he was as cold as ice.

"Pickett?" Newt nudged the frozen creature in his hand, "Pickett? Can you hear me?"

He couldn't tell if the slight movement of his limb was by the bowtruckle himself or by the shifting of his own hands. Nonetheless, Newt summoned an empty bucket quickly, hastily casting the water and water-heating charm. The beating of his heart increased as the adrenaline pumped through his vein caused him to act less carefully. In his hurry, he accidentally scalded his hand, but it was nothing he couldn't fix with a spell later on.
More worried about the bowtruckle, Newt ignored the stinging pain on his damaged skin as he lowered half of Pickett into the bucket. He didn't know when his vision started to blur, but he couldn't care less.

"Pickett," he muttered with a shaky voice. He started to ramble, "Pickett, please be alright. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in this state. If I had known, I would have increased the temperature in here, I should have checked on you last night but I thought you had fallen asleep, Pickett-"

The soft, weak chirp stopped Newt from talking. A smile grew on his face to see the bowtruckle alive, although weak.

"Pickett!"

He was tired, Newt knew that. The cold must have slowed down his body functions.

Relieved to see the bowtruckle alive and, well, not well, but alive, Newt removed him from the bucket of hot water. Newt tried to tuck him into the breast pocket of his coat, but Pickett resisted weakly. With his limbs spread out, he clearly showed no intention of being stuffed inside.

"Pickett, it's warmer there," Newt reassured, "You'll need some body heat."

The bowtruckle cast a sceptical look.

"You'll be able to get some rest, the others won't bother you, and it's dark inside, good for sleeping."

Reconsidering the thought, Pickett eventually agreed to hide in the pocket.

With the bowtruckle situation settled, Newt quickly wiped away the tear in his eyes, not knowing when they formed. He moved the bucket of water to his shed. Taking one last look around his workshop, he climbed up and out of the case.

That was the end of his morning routine.