Chapter Text
(A watercolour of Credence)
Newt returned to the subway where Credence perished the day before he was due to return to England. He didn't really know why he decided to go back to the place where the young man died, he barely knew the boy. But something about Credence just resonated with the Hufflepuff, and Newt only thought it proper to say goodbye to all of his friends in New York, Credence included.
Newt decided to go back during the small hours of the morning so he wouldn't be bothered by crowds of commuting muggles. The lights are still on inside the underground tunnels but there isn't a soul, or train, in sight.
He stood there at the edge of the tracks feeling the warm stale air wash over him, staring at nothing when he felt it. The tiniest flicker of magic at the edge of his consciousness. Newt narrowed his eyes and concentrated on it.
At first he assumed it was just residual magic lingering after the fight with Grindelwald. But the more he focused, the more Newt came to recognise it.
The delicate brush of magic against his consciousness undoubtedly belonged to Credence. Newt could recognise it anywhere. He had been exposed to so much of the Obscurial’s magic Newt thought he'd probably never quite be able to forget its unique power.
The most bizarre thing was that it wasn't just an imprint of the fight that raged here a few days ago, but it was conscious and living. Newt felt Credence's magic react to his own, ebbing and flowing like a tide. The more he looked the more surprised he became. Credence's magic was everywhere.
It had just been scattered completely. It was separated into a bizarre form of magical confetti, and it was flung all over the train platform.
A spark of excitement ignited in Newt’s chest. If his magic was alive that meant Credence had to be too. The only problem was, where the hell was he?
Newt frowned and glanced around the train platform. He spotted a bench and went over to it and sat down, crossing his legs and pensively settling his chin into the cradle of his linked hands.
As he sat there thinking up a storm, something quite bizarre started to happen.
Newt didn't notice it at first, but the flecks of Credence's magic started to coalesce and encircle themselves around Newt. As they gathered and grew more noticeable Newt realised what was happening and gave a surprised gasp.
“Fantastic!” He whispered excitedly to himself and leapt to his feet.
“Credence I know your there. Don't worry, I’m going to try my best to help you get yourself back together!” Newt said eagerly.
The wizard slid his wand into his hand and held it out in front of himself.
Newt didn't start to cast a spell but used his wand as a focusing point, and channeled as much magic as he could through it like a siphon.
Newt grinned as he felt his magic slowly getting absorbed into what he could only guess was Credence's weakened form.
Newt’s eyes widened as he watched what started to happen in front of him.
Just beyond of the tip of his wand a speck of light started glowing. It was minuscule at first and pure white. However, the more Newt channeled his magic the bigger and brighter it grew.
It started gradually but the radiance pouring it's way out of the speck started to rapidly grow. It brightened so remarkably Newt had to cover his eyes to protect himself from its brilliance.
Newt felt his wand arm start to tremble with the strain he was putting onto himself by pouring out so much of his magic all at once. But he couldn't stop now, not when this could possibly save Credence. The poor boy deserved so much more than he was given. And if Newt could give him a second chance, then he was damned sure going to try.
Nevertheless, Newt’s head started to swim as he swayed on the spot, he felt his knees begin to shake and his heart started beating faster than the wings of a snitch. Newt was never a magically weak wizard but he wasn't among the strongest either. So the sheer amount of magical exhaustion he was undergoing proved too much for him.
He was unconscious before he hit the subway floor.
…
Credence was lost. He wondered if this was purgatory… or even hell.
He was in the train station where he died, but it wasn't normal. He wasn't physical, he felt like a speck of dust floating in the air. He was at the whims of his environment, being buffeted around by the gusts of wind that whistled their way through the subway.
It was like looking at the world through a pane of frosted glass. Everything was misty and indistinct. People just looked like blurry shadows, and they took no notice of him at all.
Perhaps he was a ghost?
Whatever he was, it was maddening. Credence had no concept of time like this. Sometimes it seemed to slip past sluggishly and the pressure of his surroundings felt dense and constricting. Other times it whipped past so fast he felt like the breath had been ripped from his lungs. Not that he actually had any lungs to speak of.
He had no idea how long he'd been in limbo when he saw him enter the subway.
The station was completely empty when one faint shadow of a human slipped inside. This one, however, had a faint golden aura radiating off of it.
This was the first interesting thing to happen to Credence since he'd be stuck here so he immediately took notice.
The longer he had lingered in the subway the more Credence had learnt to influence his own location, and he tried his very best to float his way over to the shining person.
When he got there a blanket of peacefulness and tranquility surrounded him, this feeling was familiar. However, Credence couldn't place exactly where he'd experienced it before. Yet whatever it was, it was nice, and also the first thing of significance Credence had felt in a long while.
As he lingered around the ghostly human shape it started to do something other than just stand there. Credence watched as it paced a bit and then sat down for a while. Then it suddenly stood up and held out its shadowy indistinct arm and Credence could have sworn he heard it say his name. He hadn't been able to hear anything from any of the other figures that crossed the platform. But there was obviously something special about this one.
Before Credence quite understood what was happening it started to expel pure undiluted magic into the subway. Credence didn't know it was magic per say, all he knew was that this thing was jettisoning out an immense amount of power and that it was electric and irresistible. Credence felt his abstract form start to soak it up like a sponge. The power thrummed through his untethered consciousness, and gave him an anchor on which to focus himself. Whatever this person was doing, it was making him stronger.
Credence greedily drank up the energy; he couldn't bare to stay in this blank void of existence any longer. He knew he probably deserved it. He'd had nothing but his own thoughts occupy him for god knows how long. And Credence had been constantly reliving the nightmare that had been his life for the past few days again and again. He had killed people, and no matter how much they deserved it he had taken a life that wasn't his to give. He was a monster and he was weak to grasp at this chance of freedom, but he took it anyway.
There was a sudden surge of power and Credence felt himself expand like a dying star. It was incredible and agonizing. His mind whited out at the sensation of being physically remade, and he came to consciousness panting on the cold but gloriously solid station floor.
He was flat on his back staring up at the dirty ceiling, gasping oxygen like he'd just been rescued from drowning. It took him a minuet to gather himself mentally, but he managed to shakily sit up. The first thing he saw was the awfully familiar blue coat and ginger curls of the kind wizard who tried to save his life.
He was crumpled on the ground like a puppet with his strings cut. He was splayed out on his back like he had fallen, and his wand was limply cradled in his now slack fingers.
Credence quickly scrambled onto his hands and knees panicking that the wizard had given his own life to save his. He grasped onto the shoulders of the unconscious man and desperately shook them.
“No, no, no!” Cried Credence as he choked on a constricting sob.
He slid one of his hands up to the wizard’s freckled face and gently patted his cheek.
“Please…” Whimpered Credence.
He couldn't be dead. Credence didn't deserve a sacrifice like this, he wasn't worth this mans life.
As Credence's vision started to blur with unshed tears the pale green eyes below him fluttered open.
Credence gasped and scrabbled away from the man on the floor.
“Oh my,” said the wizard without moving, “That really took it out of me.”
Credence could see that he was smiling broadly.
The wizard stiffly sat up and he ran a hand through his own hair. He blinked a few times and grinned crookedly at Credence.
Credence quickly adverted his gaze and stared at his own hands, he was at a loss for what to do or say. This man, wizard, had just resurrected him.
“Are you alright?” Asked the ginger man.
He didn't sound angry, if anything he sounded rather proud of himself.
Credence peeked at him from underneath his dark eyelashes. The wizard was still smiling, but a bit more calmly now.
Credence nodded in reply and gently cleared his throat, “Yes sir,”
Now he was thinking about it he felt physically fine albeit extremely tired, “What… what did you do?” He quickly asked before he lost his nerve.
The wizard chuckled and shakily got to his feet, dusting off his coat as he went. He extended a hand towards Credence in offering.
Credence gingerly took it and noted how firm the wizard’s calloused grip was. And he was hefted to his feet with surprising strength.
“To answer your question, I'm not one hundred percent sure actually. I just sort of went with it,” Said the wizard straight forwardly.
Credence wrapped his arms around himself protectively, trying to give himself what little comfort he could. Now he was used to being whole again, worry was starting to bite at the heels of his thoughts.
What was he going to do? His mother was dead, because he killed her, and Credence had nowhere to go. Not to mention the entire magical population thought he was dead and would most likely want to kill him the moment they realised he was still alive.
His next inhale was shaky and stuck in his throat. The wizard clearly noticed something was wrong because he had stopped smiling, his expression sinking into a concerned frown.
“Credence… are you okay?” He said gently, extending a hand slowly but not making contact.
Credence could only shake his head and gasp for air.
“Shh, it's okay, you're safe. No one is going to hurt you. I promise,” consoled the wizard. His tone low and steady.
Credence looked up at him, he had one hand extended, palm upwards in invitation.
Not really knowing what he should do, frightened that he would displease the wizard, Credence accepted and limply placed his hand over the top of the wizard’s.
The other man gently grasped Credence's softer more delicate hand, grounding him.
“Credence, it's going to be alright, I'm going to protect you. I'm not going to turn you in, this has all been out of your control. I can help.”
The tether of the wizard’s hand kept Credence focused on the present and not the dark future his mind was quickly conjuring up. He slowly registered the words being spoken to him. It's going to be alright, protect, I can help.
His breathing started to even out, and Credence felt less and less like he would pass out at any minuet.
“W-what's going to happen to me?” Stuttered Credence.
The wizard gave Credence's hand a reassuring squeeze, “I'm going back to England tomorrow, and you can't stay here. I think the obvious choice would be for you to come with me. What do you think?”
The eager smile was back on the ginger man’s face. It was only a facial expression, but it warmed up Credence's from the inside out.
He'd been betrayed by wizards before. Like his mother had said they'd all been dangerous, evil and manipulative so far. A shadowy memory of Graves flickered through his mind.
But looking up at this other wizard, Credence couldn't think of anyone more unlike Graves if he tried.
“That sounds good, sir” mumbled Credence.
It wasn't like he had any better options anyway.
“Excellent, oh and enough of the sirs, call me Newt!”