Chapter 13
Chapter 13
It was well into the afternoon, and the heat was, if possible, even worse.
Watts stopped at a street vendor to purchase frozen snowball treats for the three of them which they happily devoured as they waited for the trolley that would take them to High Park.
The park was mostly empty in the sweltering heat and punishing sun. The few determined souls that had made it there were sprawled on blankets in the shade, like wilted flowers.
“I imagine the beach must be very busy today,” said George, “I’ve never seen the park so empty on a sunny Saturday.”
“Understandable...With this heat, I imagine even the bees are taking an afternoon nap,” said Watts.
Newt chuckled and said, “This is most fortuitous for our purposes.”
George led them along one of the meandering paths past the children’s playgrounds to an area that was mostly trees and vegetation. He paused looking back at Newt and Watts.
“This is as good a spot as any,” said Newt, and casting a quick glance around, he took out his wand and waved it about him like he was shooing a cloud of flies.
They watched in awe as a shower of golden sparkling dust fell from Newt’s wand making patterns in the air and on the ground.
Evidently, this made some sort of sense to Newt, for he took off at a run into the vegetation, pausing from time to time to examine broken branches and misshapen bushes.
George and Watts exchanged a glance and followed Newt deeper into the park.
“Leslie’s been through here,” said Newt excitedly, “Must have been feeling peckish! There were bites missing from the underbrush back there…”
They lost sight of Newt up ahead as he ducked behind a tree. As they made to follow, George’s foot caught on a tree root and he fell to the ground hard. Watts stopped short and doubled back to help him to his feet.
“Are you alright, Constable?”
“Yes Sir, just a bit winded. And my pride’s a bit bruised,” he said with a bit of a laugh.
Watts smiled, “No need to be ashamed, Constable. The number of times I’ve bumped into, tripped on, or knocked over things... I’m the last person to judge. I’ve been told that in the Yiddish, the word to describe me is klutz .”
George brushed his uniform clean from the dirt and debris that clung to him. “I wonder where Mr. Scamander has gotten to,” he said finally.
Watts looked in the direction that Newt disappeared.
“A good question. Shall we look for him?”
They didn’t have to go much further. They quickly came upon a clearing. All they could see Newt who appeared to be engaging in some odd dance. He had his case open on the ground and was hopping up and down, waving his arms at something. Then he stopped dead, dropped to the floor, rolled over once, jumped to his feet, cocking his head to the side. He stomped on the ground with his right foot.
“What in the world?” asked George.
Watts and George exchanged a glance, and began to make their way over to Newt, whose attention was still fixed on something they could not see.
“Wait, stay back!” said Newt quickly, but it was too late. George had stepped on a fallen branch that snapped under his foot with a resounding crack. Newt winced.
A huffing snort from across the clearing made George and Watts turn abruptly.
George paused in his tracks,
“My word. He is one unfortunate-looking moose, Mr. Scamander,” he said in shock.
“That’s not a moose, Constable Crabtree...that’s Leslie, the leucrotta, an herbivorous creature. It looks a bit like a moose, but it’s larger...much, much larger. Its antlers are fiercely sharp. Interesting creatures. Their mouths are gigantic...so big in fact that their teeth don’t start until halfway down their throats! I had to stick myself halfway down to examine their teeth...it makes dental care an absolute nightmare...” Newt squinted carefully, “and I’m not too sure Leslie’s a he . At least not right now...they can switch sexes at will, you see...”
“Unfortunate-looking moose,” said the Leucrotta, sounding eerily like George. It blinked its dark eyes. George felt himself shudder.
“...and they can mimic human voices,” said Newt nervously. He quickly reached into his case for something.
The leucrotta was staring fixedly at George. Newt looked at him as well.
“Ah, good, you’ve already got a helmet,” he said, and instead turned to hand a sporting helmet to Watts. Watts raised his eyebrows.
“A helmet?” said George nervously, “Why would we need helmets, Mr. Scamander?”
Newt looked at him again, rather confused, “Well, human skulls are not as unbreakable as you might think. Especially when faced with a two-thousand-pound leucrotta - they’re usually not vicious - but during mating season...they can get a bit... aggressive.”
The leucrotta took a step towards George. “Moose,” said Leslie, then stomped the ground and flopped open its gigantic jaw.
Newt smiled sympathetically. “Good sport, Constable. She knows you as Moose. Keep Leslie’s attention for as long as you can.”
George’s jaw dropped, his eyes round as saucers. “Me?”
“Me!” repeated Leslie.
“Just like that, Constable! You’re a natural! Incidentally, staring wide-eyed is the first step in the leucrotta’s mating dance.”
George blinked. Stepping forward, Newt plopped his case on the ground and opened it at his feet, careful not to break eye-contact with the leucrotta. The leucrotta closed its jaw and craned its neck to try to see around Newt to George. It took another step forward, pawing the ground. Then, it stopped and began tapping its four hoofed feet on the ground in quick succession.
“Yes, she’s presenting as female.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Well,” said Newt softly, “In this case, there isn’t really a good or bad, just different levels of aggression.”
“Aggression...And females are…”
“Well, males are more territorial in general, but during mating season females are significantly more...er...forward.”
Newt stepped backwards carefully, and stopped to stand next to George, placing a hand on George’s shoulder, he said, “Constable, this is very important, whatever happens, do not move from this spot , please.”
The leucrotta snorted angrily, and shouted “MOOSE!” Newt quickly took his hand from George’s shoulder, raising both towards the leucrotta in a universal symbol of surrender.
George tried very hard not to panic.
“Oh, she doesn’t like me touching you. She doesn’t like that at all…”
“Why me?"
“Well, you snapped the branch. She thinks you’re stronger than me. Perhaps she is attracted to men in uniform,” he smiled weakly to emphasize his attempt at a joke.
George did not appear to find it funny.
The leucrotta huffed again and took another step forward, swaying her head side to side.
“What if she comes charging at me?” asked George, his voice wavering.
“Well, that’s sort of the idea,” said Newt, and he smiled reassuringly.
George looked vaguely green.
“I suppose that’s what the helmet is for, Constable,” said Watts softly.
Newt stepped sideways away from George as the leucrotta took another step forward. She huffed again, her eyes dark and wide.
George swallowed hard.
“Detective?”
“Yes George?”
“If something happens to me…”
“Nothing will happen to you, Constable,” said Newt reassuringly, carefully but steadily creeping sideways to block the leucrotta’s left flank.
“Of course, but if something does…”
“Think positive, Constable,” said Newt, “...My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice.”
“A good philosophy,” said Watts with an approving nod, “What will you have me do, Mr. Scamander?”
“Er...stand on her on the right side...drive her towards Constable Crabtree should she veer off course. Should everything go according to plan, as she steps over my case, which she’ll have to do to get to Constable Crabtree, she’ll be sucked into the enclosure from whence she escaped.”
“And if everything does not go according to plan?” asked George nervously as the leucrotta took another step forward, her fur fluffing outwards, making her look twice as large.
Newt tapped his head sharply.
“Think positively, Sir?”
“Well, yes, do, but also, your helmet.”
George closed his eyes and quietly beseeched any god or gods listening to deliver him.
The leucrotta took another step forward, but went unnaturally still. She sniffed the air, then turned abruptly with a speed unnatural for her large hulking frame.
She had noticed Watts.
“Oh dear,” said Newt nervously.
The leucrotta roared and charged at Watts. He leapt out of the way, and took off at a sprint, the leucrotta took off after him. Newt ran as fast as his legs could take him after the leucrotta.
“Why did Leslie charge at Detective Watts?” shouted George helplessly.
“She must not have noticed him, his presence startled her, and now she’s rather irate-”
Newt leapt forward and grabbed at the leucrotta’s hindlegs. The creature kicked out like a donkey, and Newt dropped to the floor to avoid the razor-sharp hooves. The beast spun around again, to face Newt, swiping Watt with his massive antlers.
Watts hissed in pain but kept moving.
“Detective, leucrottas cannot turn their necks, so try to always try to stay behind Leslie.”
Watts stopped in his tracks, and backed away further. “That’s it, keep backing away.”
“What about you, Mr. Scamander?”
The Lucrotta roared and tilted his head forward, pointing his incredibly sharp and deadly-looking antlers in Newt’s general direction.
Newt smiled weakly.
“I have a plan, Detective...Constable, can you toss my case this way? Quickly please.”
George scrambled forward and flung the case towards Newt, just as the beast began to charge at lightning speed.
George looked positively horrified, Watts shouted, “MR. SCAMANDER!”
“ACCIO!” roared Newt.
Watts and George sprinted towards Newt. Neither were sure what they would do, but they had to do something .
The case shot towards Newt’s outstretched hands. He flung the case to the ground just as the creature was on top of him.
Time froze. Or perhaps just the leucrotta did? It appeared suspended in midair, its antlers mere millimeters from Newt’s body. Then like smoke before a vacuum chamber, the leucrotta was sucked into Newt’s case.
Newt fell forward slamming it shut, pinning the case with his torso before locking it carefully. He scrambled, checking the case against the ground with his knees, then conjured a leather strap to belt it shut for good measure. Then he sat on the case putting his face in his hand and laughed weakly.
It all happened so quickly.
Watts and George reached him and stopped short.
“Are you alright, Mr. Scamander?” asked George.
“Please, call me Newt.” He took a steadying breath, then said “There are some experiences you can’t share without becoming friendly, and taking on a rampaging hormonal leucrotta is certainly one of them.”
Watts chuckled, “Ah yes, that’s in The Bible, I believe.”
George smiled, “Yes, Corinthians wasn’t it?…Well then, Mr. Sca- I mean, Newt, call me George.”
Newt glanced up at them, a dazzling smile on his face, then froze. Then his smile melted.
He gasped, and scrambled to his feet, “Detective, you’re hurt! I’m so sorry!”
“It looks worse that it feels, I assure you,” said Watts.
“Let me be the judge of that,” said Newt. There was quite a bit of blood. He lifted Watts’s jacket gingerly, and grimaced.
“This needs to be looked to urgently,” said Newt.
“Do you think you can make it back to the trolley, Sir? We can head to the morgue and have Dr. Ogden look at it...” said George nervously.
Watts nodded bravely, but he was looking rather pale now that the adrenaline had worn off. Red rosettes of blood were rapidly spreading across his suit jacket.
“It’s too far. You’re losing quite a bit of blood. I have first aid supplies in my case...I could tend to it...
This isn’t the most sanitary place for medical treatment, but…”
“My boardinghouse is closer than the Station House, and far more comfortable than the park,” said Watts, his voice weak.
Newt looked about to argue, but faltered at Watts’s determined face.
“Can you do that apparition thing?” asked George.
“I need to know where I’m going,” said Newt nervously, “It has to be a place I’m familiar with or can visualize.”
“If you can get us to the alley by the jewellers where you brought us last time, I should be fine to walk...it’s only a few streets away from my boardinghouse.”
Newt nodded. He slipped one arm under Watts’s uninjured arm and held the other out for George to grab on to. With a sharp crack, they found themselves back in the deserted alley.
Watts did not look too well, but Newt begrudgingly allowed Watts to lead the way.
They’d made it about halfway up the alley before Watts stumbled, and Newt carefully caught him. He slipped his arm back under Watts's uninjured arm to support his weight. George looked on nervously.
Finally by sheer willpower, they arrived at Watts's boardinghouse.
Watts paused at the front door, and turned to George, “Run ahead to the Station House. Tell Detective Murdoch that we successfully captured another creature, and see if he has heard anything from the Goldsteins.”
“Are you sure, Sir? I’d rather stay to help if you need it.”
“I’m sure. I’m in good hands with Mr. Scamander, I wager no one else in Toronto would be better at treating a leucrotta injury.”
“Very well, Sir. If you insist.”
George looked at Newt desperately.
“He’ll be alright, George. I’ve treated worse.”
“Don’t worry, George...worrying means you suffer twice,” said Watts with a weak smile.
George nodded, and began to make his way to Station House Four thinking to himself Good Grief, there’s two of them.
* * * * * * *
Watts’s room was on the ground floor, at the very back of the boarding house. He fumbled with the key awkwardly, struggling to open his door with his left hand before passing the key to Newt and slumping against the wall for support.
Newt opened the door and helped Watts into the room. Watts flopped down on one of the two hard back chairs at the small scrubbed-top table in the room. He was breathing hard.
Newt carefully put the case down on the table, flipped a small switch, and then opened it to reveal an assortment of tools, bandages, and bottles. He quickly took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before pouring disinfectant on his hands and wiping them on a clean cloth. He glanced up at Detective Watts.
Watts had removed his jacket, and was gingerly unbuttoning his shirt, and sliding off his braces. The blood had soaked much of the white cotton along his right arm, shoulder, and part of his chest.
Guilt clawed at Newt’s chest like a particularly irate jarvery.
“I’m so very sorry, Detective,” he said softly, “I never meant for you to be hurt.”
“I’m not! Sorry that is...Think nothing of it,” said Watts decisively.
Newt bit his lower lip as he fussed with his potion bottles and gathered a piece of gauze from his medi-kit.
“I’m more accustomed to dealing with injured creatures than I am humans, but the theories and treatments are largely the same…” he said to break the tension.
Watts grinned weakly, showing no sign of his typical awkwardness. “I trust you.”
Newt looked up at him sideways, his eyes cautious under his fringe. He took in Watts's face - pale, but open and peaceful, sitting in his undershirt in his home. There was something so incredibly intimate about it, that Newt almost blushed. Some of the nervousness must have touched Watts, because he looked down quickly.
Watts swallowed hard. “Would you prefer…” his voice went dry. “Would you rather…” he cleared his throat, “Would it be easier if I removed my undershirt?”
This time Newt did blush. “Er...Let me take a look.,.”
The wounds and the cuts along his right shoulder and arm looked deep and painful, and were still bleeding profusely. Newt shifted Watts's neckline to glance at the skin on Watts's chest. He almost sighed in relief-those wounds were far more shallow.
“I think it should be okay.”
Newt poured some of the purple Wound-Cleaning Potion onto a piece of gauze. He hesitated.
“This is an antiseptic potion, it’ll sting a bit...” he said softly. Watts nodded, his eyes now slightly amused as he looked into Newt’s with determination. Newt carefully pulled his chair closer to Watts, their knees touching. He gingerly brushed the longest cuts with the potion. Smoke curled up from the wound. Watts sharply took a breath through clenched teeth. Newt immediately paused, “Are you okay, Detective?”
Watts was wincing, but he nodded.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, “And please, call me Llewellyn.”
Newt smiled shyly, “Corinthians, right.”
He gingerly tugged down the neckline of Llewellyn’s undershirt to reach the more superficial wounds on his chest. He quickly disinfected them, trying to focus on his task and not Llewellyn’s warm brown eyes, or the adorable furrow in his brow...Newt closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Where were these thoughts coming from? Sweet Merlin.
Taking a dropper full of the potion, he began to flush out the deepest wounds. Llewellyn cried out.
“I’m so sorry,” said Newt with such sincerity that Watts felt rather guilty, “I know it’s horrible, but it’s incredibly important that we get these wounds clean. I promise I’m almost done.” Using a clean piece of gauze, Newt dried the blood and potion from Llewellyn’s arm. He then took a jar of salve from his medi-kit.
He began applying it liberally to Llewellyn’s wounds, and carefully bandaged as he went.
“This is a concoction of my own creation - it’s a dittany based healing salve. It should fully heal your skin in a few hours.”
The salve was cool and soothing, and Llewellyn felt the ache subside to a faint tingling under Newt’s sure touch.
He watched in awe as the wounds scabbed over before his eyes, looking days old in only a few seconds.
Newt resolutely did not meet Lewellyn's eyes as he dressed the cuts on his chest. He could feel the heat rising in his face, and his normally graceful hands fumbled clumsily with the gauze.
Newt affixed the last bandage in place, and moved to pack his medical supplies, his right hand still clutching a mess of bloody gauze, but Llewellyn stopped him, his hand on Newt’s knee.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Newt forced himself to make eye-contact. There was an unrecognisable emotion in Llewellyn's eyes, and Newt was utterly captivated.
He swallowed, as he felt his heart skip a beat. One, two, three second passed. Neither looked away.
“Your eyes are like a salamander’s,” Newt blurted before he could stop himself. Llewellyn blinked, his eyebrows furrowed in a slightly puzzled expression. He didn’t quite know what to make of that revelation, but his heart swelled at Newt’s awkward frankness. It was adorable.
“Really?” he said.
Newt blushed scarlet, but he still didn’t look away, “I, I, think they have the most fascinating eyes - like - like- like fire floating in a black pool.”
Llewellyn felt the blush slowly creep across his own cheeks. He looked carefully into Newt’s pale sea blue eyes. He realized few people ever got to look into their crystal depths, as Newt spent most of his time around humans avoiding eye contact and attempting to disappear. “Yours are quite fascinating as well...like crisp, clean water, Mr. Scamander.”
Newt blushed, if possible, ever redder. “Please, call me Newt.”
Llewellyn smiled.
“Newt.”
“Llewellyn.”
He leaned forward, and Newt closed the distance between them. Their lips met.
Newt’s brain screeched to a halt before exploding with the realization that he was kissingDetective Watts. Llewellyn, he mentally corrected himself. Then he was lost again in total bliss.
Finally he remembered with regret that he needed oxygen to survive, and they broke apart, taking a breath with a gasp.
Newt felt outside of his own body, as he ran the fingertips of his left hand on his own lips. Llewellyn had yet to remove his hand from Newt’s knee - now it gripped him with a bit more force.
Newt’s heart was fluttering madly, like the wings of a billywig.
Newt extended his left hand to touch Llewellyn’s dark curls, before slowly slipping it down to come to rest on his cheek, cupping his face. He reveled in the warmth of his skin against his fingertips, the gentle weight of Llewellyn’s face as he leaned into Newt’s hand. He closed his eyes, turning his head slightly to kiss Newt’s palm, relishing in the touch.
He met Newt’s eyes nervously, before shooting him a shy smile, which Newt returned, carefully caressing Llewellyn’s lower lip and chin with his thumb.
They leaned in again to steal another kiss but were rudely interrupted by a sharp knock on Llewellyn's door. Newt abruptly stood and moved away, looking down at the floor. Llewellyn also looked down, willing his blush to fade, internally cursing the poor timing of the visitor. When he finally trusted himself to speak, he called out “Come in,” his voice surprisingly steady.
The door opened to reveal George, Murdoch and Dr. Ogden. She was carrying a bag of first-aid supplies. “Ah, Detective, Mr. Scamander, I see someone’s beat me to it,” she said with a smile.
Llewellyn looked to Newt, who had his back to them all as he put away his supplies.
“Mr. Scamander is a man of many talents,” replied Llewellyn to Newt’s back…and a bloody brilliant kisser, he added in his mind. He almost blushed again.
“Detective Watts is too kind,” replied Newt, “It was the least I could do, considering it was entirely my fault that he got injured.” He finally turned to look at them, his sleeves still rolled up. Then he glanced back down at his hands as he handed a small glass bottle to Llewellyn. It contained a liquid the color of rich red wine.
“Drink that straight down. I’m afraid it’ll taste rather dreadful, but it’s a blood replenishing potion. It will help to…”
“Replenish my blood?” asked Llewellyn with a small smirk. Was he bloody flirting? Newt almost blushed again.
“Blood replenish potion? That sounds incredibly useful! How does that work?” asked Dr. Ogden.
Newt didn’t trust himself to make eye contact. He spoke to Dr. Ogden’s right shoulder.
“It’s a concoction of honeywater, pulverized valerian root, nettle leaves, rose petals, dittany leaves, fairy wings, and silverweed extract. It stimulates the production of blood cells in the bone marrow until the body reaches normal blood levels. It’s great in a pinch after an injury with lots of bleeding. Any time you would need to give a blood transfusion, but it's much easier to store than an assortment of blood. You also don’t have to worry about different blood types, and it works on any warm-blooded species with a closed vascular system, obviously open vascular systems are different, as are cold-blooded cre...creatures.” He was rambling. He stopped talking abruptly. He glanced at Llewellyn from under his fringe, and saw that he was smiling warmly at him, his salamander eyes alight with amusement.
He glanced down at his hands, nervously. Realizing that his right hand still had traces of the salve and Llewellyn’s blood on it, he swallowed sharply. “Could you point me in the direction of the lavatory, Detective? I’d like to wash up,” he indicated his hands.
“Of course,” replied Llewellyn, “If you go out into the hall, it’s on your right, all the way at the end.”
Newt nodded and made his way out avoiding eye contact with anyone.
“Blood replenishing potions! Incredible - think of all the lives we could save!” said Julia excitedly.
Llewellyn stared after Newt. “His healing salve was...impressive.”
He lifted the bandage from his wrist, as Murdoch, Dr. Ogden and George gathered closer to see the wound, which continued to heal under their very eyes, the scab and scar fading to look a week old.
“How extraordinary!” exclaimed Julia. Llewellyn smiled.
“Those seem to be quite a few injuries, Detective. I’m glad the creature has been subdued,” said Murdoch.
“Not as glad as I am, Sir,” replied George quickly. “It was a humongous, vicious, terrifying beast, the leucrotta.”
Newt reappeared through the door, hands clean, his fringe plastered slightly to his brow - he had washed his face as well.
He took a look at Llewellyn, who was still holding the vial wistfully, and said, “You should drink that straight away, Detective. You lost quite a bit of blood.”
Llewellyn nodded, then struggled to uncork the potion vial.
“Allow me, Sir,” said George quickly, opening the bottle for him.
“Thank you, George,” he said, then looked carefully at the vial, sniffing it cautiously. It smelled rather like nettle water. He glanced up at Newt, and met his sea blue eyes.
Llewellyn smiled crookedly. With a sudden inspiration, he raised the vial to toast Newt, and said, “Corinthians.”
Then downed it in a quick gulp.
Newt watched him carefully, a faint smile on his lips. It grew broader as Llewellyn pulled a face and spluttered.
“I did warn you.”
“That was far worse than I imagined.”
“Were you expecting fruit juice?”
“Wine, actually. It tasted like...burning rubbish.”
“It’s not that bad...Skelegrow is much worse. I had to take a dose of it in my 5th year after a terrible Quidditch accident - er, that’s a magical sport - I took a bludger to the back, fell off my broom, and had to regrow part of my spine and two crushed ribs....”
He trailed off at their bewildered expressions, realising he was rambling again.
“Regrow-” began Murdoch, but Newt interrupted him, addressing Llewellyn: “Your color is looking better already.”
Newt was right. The sickly pale tinge was rapidly being replaced with a healthy glow. He collected the empty vial from Llewellyn's hands, his heart skipping a beat as their fingers brushed.
Llewellyn blushed.
“He’s looking a little flushed Mr. Scamander - could the potion have given him too much blood?” asked Murdoch worriedly.
Newt hurriedly backed away and put the vial away in his case. He tried not to blush himself as he quickly responded, “No, no - it’s a - it’s a-er-common side-effect. He should be back to normal in no time.”
Newt fumbled with the latch on his case.
“We received word from Auror Goldstein - they were able to find your...'billywigs.' We are to meet her informant this evening in…” he choked on his words. “The Magic District!” said Dr. Ogden excitedly. “Miss Goldstein is to meet us at the entrance soon!”
“Perhaps you should stay back, Watts?” said Murdoch with concern in his voice.
“Not at all! I feel right as rain thanks to Mr. Scamander. Besides, I wouldn’t miss visiting the Magical District of Toronto for all the world!”
“Do we have a moment? I would like to make sure the leucrotta is properly settled before -”
“Yes!” interrupted George quickly, “Please make sure that thing won’t escape again.”
Newt smiled wryly at George, “For your sake, George, I will make sure of it.” He checked his pocket watch. “Their mating season is over though...'season' is really a bit of a misnomer, it only lasts about 24 hours...you’d find Leslie rather docile right now.”
“With all due respect, Newt, you have a very different threshold for docile than the average person.”
Newt chuckled, “I suppose you’re right.”
* * * * * * *