Chapter 14
Harry and Newt were at the bench, heads bent together as they watched the potion on the bench with rapt attention.
So far, there had been no adverse effects, but they both knew it would be another minute until it was sure.
Harry felt the twinge in his chest and lifted a hand to rub at it, unconscious of the motion, all his attention still on the potion.
It was still clear, a good sign, but even the slightest hint of colour meant failure.
The twinge came again, stronger this time, and Harry huffed, shifting in discomfort. It was the sound that caught Newt’s attention, and he turned even as Harry stumbled back, a cry on his lips. It had Newt in motion, wand in hand and spells weaving through the air, guided both by wand and twirling fingers.
Harry’s eyes went blind, pain forcing him down, but even through the pain he could see the magnificence that was his mentor.
Newt stills, one of his spells murmuring back to him, and he realized just what was going on. It had a fury so bright burning through him it left him nearly breathless.
He crouched down to join Harry, flicking his wand over the boy and glad when Harry sighed in relief. The rage came back, flushing his cheeks with the emotion.
He’d come to care for this boy, deeply and dearly, and nobody threatened those he cared about.
He stands, grabbing his coat and swirling it around his shoulders and sliding his arms into the sleeves. It’s his favoured blue, rich and vibrant, and his smile is uncharacteristically sharp as he straightens it on his frame.
Newt hadn’t survived so long by being as docile as people believed him to be. Just because he wasn’t good at social interaction didn’t make him any less of a force to be reckoned with. There was a reason he’d survived so long after all.
He stooped down, pulling Harry to his feet. The boy clutches at him, pale and sweaty, but his eyes clear as they fix on Newt’s. It was clear he was recovering, though Newt knew it wouldn’t last long if the cause was left unchecked.
“Newt, what’s going on?”
Newt braced his hands on Harry’s shoulders, staring into bright green eyes.
“You’ve been entered into a magical contract, Harry. It hurt you because subconsciously you resisted it. You should be feeling better already.”
Harry shook his head, denying the man’s words, and Newt gripped him tighter in his worry.
“It - it keeps coming in waves.” There was fear lurking in his gaze. “What is it?”
“I imagine it’s the Tournament.”
Harry blanched, obviously confused.
“But - but how?”
At this, Newt winced.
“Unfortunately it may be my fault. In helping you enrol in a new school, it may have made it easier to enter you. If you’d been entered under a false school, the contract would’ve held no value, and even if you’d been chosen, you would’ve been under no obligation to compete; magic wouldn’t have held you accountable. However, as you are a member of another school, and this wouldn’t have been difficult to discover, if you were entered for that school, it would create a binding magical contract.”
The pallor of Harry’s cheeks goes an almost ghastly white.
“Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
Newt’s hands squeezed in sympathy.
“I intend to find out.” He stood to his full height, and Harry saw it now - the danger that hung around Newt as comfortably as the coat. It was Harry who had the urge to avert his gaze now - prey caught in the gaze of a predator.
The smile was a ghost on Newt’s lips before he grasped Harry’s shoulder.
“Come. We’ll figure this out together.”
Harry tried to grip him tight in return, but his hands shook, and he felt like he would throw up from the pain. He hears Newt sigh, and the last thing he remembers before everything goes black is Newt’s hand passing over his forehead.
With care, Newt lifted Harry into his case, setting him on the cot. It took all of his willpower not to immediately rush the ministry and demand answers, but he knew Natasha would need to know what happened.
He left his case, closing it carefully, then gripped the handle tightly.
With barely a crack of apparition, he was gone.
He didn't notice that the potion stood, finished, and still crystal clear, on the bench.
>>>
It wasn’t the sound alerted them, but the brute force of magical energy, and James only beat Natasha to the door because of where he’d been standing.
As a group, they stepped outside, and saw Newt approaching the house.
Newt’s coat flapped around him, snapped in an invisible wind, and just by looking at his face, they could tell the power came from him.
There was a bark and then Padfoot bound towards them, having sensed the same thing the rest of them did.
“Where’s Harry?” Natasha’s voice was tight with worry, and fear, but Newt stepped forward to grip her hand.
“He’s safe. He’s asleep in the case. But he’s in danger.”
It was James who looked at Newt and felt the sudden click. He looked at Natasha, her hair vibrant and arresting, and then at Newt, who’s coat, though blue, gave him the same feeling.
In that instant, James knew there was a reason the magizoologist wore a bright blue coat. It was the same reason poisonous animals were brightly coloured. In that moment, he knew, unequivocally, that Newt was the most dangerous of them all.
Natasha made a sound of distress, low in her throat, drawing James attention from the man, but it did nothing to shake the realization.
“You already know.” Newt’s voice was as tightly coiled as a whip, and when they all nodded, he bared his teeth in a smile. There was a flash of something there - something more than what wizards had - something powerful and other - and if it weren’t for the fact that they all knew Newt posed them no danger, they would’ve been afraid.
“What can we do?” James asked, wetting his lips when Newt looked to him, but not looking away. Newt’s expression softened only enough to lose that sense of otherness, but it was still sharp and dangerous.
“Seems to me it’s time to storm a castle.”