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The Trials of Travel (Newt Scamander, FBAWTFT) - Part 1/2


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Every since I saw Fantastic Beasts, I've wanted to write a Newt fic. He's just so darn whump-able and charmingly awkward. The talented Salamander beat me to it for the first fic on here with a fairly similar premise to the one I was planning, so hopefully this isn't too similar to hers! :D If it is, blame it on the fact that we wrote together for a long time and therefore share some bit of writing brain!

This is set about a year after the film upon Newt's return to NYC...


The enormous steamship cut through the ocean with surprising speed and grace, but in the cabins below the deck, the rise and fall of the waves could still be felt as an ever-present rhythm. Newt had grown accustomed to the constant rocking after a few days at sea and thanks to some potions he'd packed, he was free of seasickness. What he'd neglected to pack were any other types of potions and the crowded ship seemed to be a teeming hotbed of colds and flu.


He'd been onboard for twelve days and if sailing continued smoothy, they'd arrive in New York sometime in the next 36 hours. So, of course it was cruel twist of fate that Newt woke up in his tiny cabin bunk to a clogged nose and rattling chest. By early evening, he was a coughing and shivering mess of a wizard.


The ship, while comfortable, was not a luxury liner and all meals were received in a massive dining hall at the centre of the boat. An achy throat and stuffy head necessitated a hot meal, so Newt gathered his blue overcoat on and shuffled down the halls of the ship with his arms hugged around his middle to keep from shivering in the draughty corridors.


The dining hall was a chattering mass of humanity filling nearly every table. With a tray bearing soup and a cup of tea, Newt searched for a place to sit. As he scanned the crowd through bleary, sleep-hungry eyes, he felt a fierce tickle prick at his sinuses. He wrinkled the bridge of his freckle-spattered nose and gave his nostrils a good wiggle, but still the itch persisted. With a hitching breath, he struggled to keep his tray steady as he pitched forward with a throaty, half-stifled sneeze.




The cup of tea sloshed about a little, spilling a small puddle onto the tray, but his soup was spared any mishaps. With a sniffle, he continued his search and spied an empty spot at the end of a long table.


“Err..may I sit here?” he stammered to a woman seated nearby when he reached the chair. She looked at him and then the vacant spot and replied with something that he suspected was German. But then she nodded and smiled, gesturing to the empty seat.


He sat down with a relieved sigh and took a sip of his tea. It was almost too hot but the scalding liquid felt good on his parched and aching throat. Instantly, the heat was at work on his stuffy nose, sending a thin dribble of liquid running down over his upper lip. He sniffled as quietly as possible and surreptitiously wiped his nose with the grey plaid handkerchief he'd tucked into his coat pocket. Nose settled, at least for the moment, he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and lifted his spoon to try the soup.


It too was hot and soothing, opening up his previously-clogged left nostril for a momentary bit of relief. He sniffled again, pawing at his nose with his coat sleeve, trying to calm a growing itch.


Taking another spoonful of soup, he continued to eat but still the itch increased with urgency. He coughed softly in irritation as he fought off the tickle but soon it became too overwhelming. With a clatter, he dropped his spoon against the soup bowl and reached for his handkerchief, grabbing it just in time to shield his nose.



He stifled the sneeze as best he could as his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. The woman next to him shifted her chair a little to move further away.


“Pardon me,” he murmured, wiping his nose as he looked down shyly, feeling himself growing hot around the collar. I should have stayed in my cabin, he thought, feeling suddenly more ill and uncomfortable than he'd previously thought.


Gathering up his tray, he hurried to the exit and left his plate and cup at the counter on his way out before heading back to the solitary sanctuary of his cabin.


Inside, he climbed into the tiny bed with his coat still on and curled up, hugging his arms to himself for warmth. His limbs and head felt heavy with fatigue as his body tried to fight off the illness. Head propped up with a pillow, he closed his eyes and tried to rest. As he did so, a small noise sounded from his chest and he opened his eyes, squinting in the dim light. Pickett the Bowtruckle looked up at him expectantly.


“Hullo, little friend. I'm afraid I'm a bit unwell.”


Pickett squeaked in reply and climbed up Newt's shoulder to nuzzle against him.


“I'm sure I'm a bit warm there,” Newt said as Pickett settled in the crook of his neck. “I should check on the others but I'm afraid all I feel like doing is going to sleep.”


Pickett cooed in response and Newt smiled.


“Yes, they'll be okay until morning, you're right.”


He closed his eyes again, falling fast asleep.




When he woke, it was to a fit of coughs. Chest crackling and bubbling with congestion, Newt sat up and bent over the side of the bed, barking miserably. A startled Pickett hung onto his coat for dear life as Newt's chest heaved and strained to clear the congestion.


He regained his breath after a few moments and the coughs stopped. Breathing with slow and wheezy gasps, he stayed bent over, trying to stop the spinning in his head. Under his nose, a shiny stream of snot was pooled at his lip and the edges of his nostrils were beginning to glow red with irritation.


With the handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed around his nostrils and gave his nose a few productive blows.


“Merlin,” he groaned, voice raspy and muddled with congestion. Pickett chirped a noise of sympathy from Newt's chest pocket.


“Good morning,” he croaked to the Bowtruckle. “I suppose we should go see the others, don't you think?”


Pickett squeaked in agreement.


From under the cot, Newt pulled out his case and released the clasps, letting it flip open. After the incident in New York during his previous visit, he'd been forced to leave his more volatile creatures in the care of another Magizoologist in Wales. It was with great reluctance that he'd handed them over to his colleague and inside his case he'd installed a viewing crystal with a connection to the centre in Cardiff where the creatures were boarding so that he might check in on them at his pleasure.


Easing himself down into the case, Newt felt himself strengthened a little by the familiar environment. Still, it was difficult to ignore the ache in his limbs or the fact that breathing through both his nose and mouth was hampered by overwhelming congestion.


Clearing his throat with a hearty cough, he moved to the counter where he worked with herbs and the various serums and potions derived from his magical creatures. A bit of red bryony leaf with the venom of a Quintaped and mashed juniper berries would make a hot tonic to clear his head a little. He went to work with mortar and pestle, mashing the berries and leaves together to form a fragrant paste. The pungent smell pricked at his nose and he wriggled it, snorting and sniffling against the irritant.


His breath hitched suddenly and he reached for his handkerchief but didn't have time to retrieve it. Instead, he sneezed openly and freely.




His nose flooded with mess and he dug in his pocket once more, able to retrieve the grey plaid cloth just in time to catch the second, more productive sneeze.


Ehh-nhhGHSHHHH! And another tumbled out immediately after.... NhhGHTT!


Groaning, he blew his nose and reached for his wand to do a quick cleaning spell on the handkerchief, but his sinuses were not yet finished. Again, they prickled with irritation and he felt tears spring to corners of his eyes as if every part of his face were leaking with cold.




He snapped forward again, sneezing with a throaty, wet-sounding explosion. A few barking coughs followed as his body tried in vain to find a clear breathing passage. Utterly spent, he collapsed boneless into a nearby chair and blew his nose one last time. From his pocket, Pickett chirped soothingly.


“Thank you, my friend,” he rasped, patting the spot on his chest where the Bowtruckle was hidden away. “I'll be okay. Though I think I might have to let the magic take over some of the feeding and care today.”


Though he vastly preferred to look in on his creatures himself, the magical case was capable of dispensing proper amounts of food and water for each carefully regulated habitat in the absence of Newt.


Gathering his strength one last time, Newt stood up and went back to work on the tonic, moving as quickly as possible in the hope of avoiding another sneezing fit. He put the paste of berries and leaves into a mug and added a vial of Quintaped. With a tap of his wand, he set a kettle boiling and added the hot water to the mixture. A few stirs of his wand later and the mug was filled with a green, almost iridescent liquid that sent a fragrant steam wafting through the room.


“Let's not take any chances,” Newt said to himself, casting a stabilizing spell on the mug that would prevent it from spilling if he happened to be caught up with a sneeze or cough. Cup in hand, he climbed back up the ladder and out into his cabin.


The morning light reflecting from the ocean cast a sparkling light through the small porthole window as Newt set his mug down and climbed back into bed. The sun's rays were hitting the water in such a way that the glare bounced through the glass and across Newt's vision, sending his nose prickling with a ferocity equal to that caused by the juniper and bryony scent. He pinched the bridge of his nose with slender fingers and gave it a small rub, but as he suspected, there was no fending off the itch. Turning, he buried his nose in the soft fold of his pillow and sneezed with a tired, throaty sneeze.




He surfaced with a thick sniffle, observing the damp spot on his pillowcase where he'd bumped his nose. Too spent to do anything much than wipe his nose with the sleeve of his coat, he let himself sink deeper into the cot and closed his eyes, coughing miserably all the while.


He needed to sleep. In less than a day, they'd be docked in New York City and Tina would be waiting for him to deliver his recently published book. And he'd be due for an inspection at the MACUSA headquarters first and foremost for the approval of the few creatures he'd brought along. Neither of the meetings were places that he wished to be burdened by a severe cold. Frankly, he was already uncomfortable with most people and the added layer of fighting off sneezes and coughs in public always made him cringe.


With a flick of his wand, he conjured curtains over the porthole to block out the sunshine and tucked his arms around his middle. Wrapped in the warmth of his coat and the cot's scratchy wool blanket, he tried to rest some more.  

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I absolutely adore this! I saw the movie last week and loved it, Newt is so adorable and your story makes me wanna roll him up in a blanket and get him tea. 

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This is so precious!!! You write Newt so well!!! I can't wait to see a second part!!!  :)


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1 hour ago, Dusty15 said:

By early evening, he was a coughing and shivering mess of a wizard.

This line. I can't find the right word to describe it so... :heart: ?

The whole story is amazing. The way you describe the illness and the way you write Newt and THE WAY YOU WRITE. Poor Newt :heart:

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I love this. You write you beautifully. I saw the film last week and I'm seeing it again tonight (obsessive fan? me?), and I think I'll be seeing the character slightly differently now! Thank you for this wonderfully written fic - looking forward to the next part.

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On 12/4/2016 at 7:00 AM, Dusty15 said:

Every since I saw Fantastic Beasts, I've wanted to write a Newt fic. He's just so darn whump-able and charmingly awkward. The talented Salamander beat me to it for the first fic on here with a fairly similar premise to the one I was planning, so hopefully this isn't too similar to hers! :D If it is, blame it on the fact that we wrote together for a long time and therefore share some bit of writing brain!

Hahaaa yes we share so many tastes. I literally don't care if it's the same as mine because I just need more Newt and more of your writing <3

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  • 1 year later...

Aww this was totally adorable. I know this was ages ago and you've probably forgotten it by now but I just loved it so much I had to let you know. I love how sweet Pickett is with his chirping and how Newt feels so self-conscious and poorly in the dining area. Poor love. Travelling all the time must take its toll on him. He never seems to settle anywhere for long. And I liked the detail about him leaving some of the creatures behind because I think Piquery might pitch a fit if she found out he'd brought all of them back again. 

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