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Day 1: Home
For most of his life the church in which he lived with Ma and Modesty and Chastity had been the only place he had known. He had slept there, ate there, received his punishments there, but — he had never considered it home.
It was the only place he could go to if he didn't want to sleep under the bridge and starve. But it was also the center of his pain; the stairs where his Ma beat him with his belt, the stove where Ma had burned his hands, the little dent in the wall from his skull — well. There was certainly never anything homelike in the church for Credence.
He had thought it would stay that way forever. Even when he had reached his legal age, he had never even thought about — about moving out. Where would he go? He had learned nothing but handing out leaflets and wasn't even very good in that if his Ma had anything to say about it. So it was the same as always: the bridge or the church.
But then -
Credence had to smile. Also something new: he didn't think he had ever smiled before.
He still wasn't sure where his home was, exactly, even if he was sure he had one now. Mr. Scamander never stayed in one place for a long time; they were traveling more in one month than Credence had thought possible in a lifetime.
Where animals and beasts needed his help Mr. Scamander would go; whether it was a rumor of a smuggle ring, an endangered species that was discovered or one of his beasts that was well enough again to be released into the wilderness. Mr. Scamander was always on the move, always had a new amazing destination to go to.
He seemed to consider England as his home country and he had an apartment there to which they always returned, but Credence had never been there for more than two weeks at a time.
While traveling they lived on ships and in trains and Mr. Scamander always booked a hotel or hostel for them if they stayed somewhere overnight.
But, really, the one constant that there was in living with Mr. Scamander was his suitcase. And inside his suitcase was a whole world, after all, and Mr. Scamander had even created a new room in his cabin just for Credence.
So his home: a suitcase?
Crazy!, as Mr. Kowalski would surely say.
But well, it was a special suitcase and not just because it was bigger on the inside or held over 100 magical beasts inside, even if this part was pretty amazing too.
No, the suitcase was something special because it was everything the church hadn't been: a safe space without pain or bad memories; a space where he didn't have to be afraid. He had friends here: the Niffler who always chirped happily when Credence past him and slipped him a new coin, the Bowtuckles who liked to climb all over him to make Pickett jealous, the Demiguse who liked to hug him, the Mooncalves who always screamed with joy when Credence brought them their food and then crowded around his legs, so he couldn't leave -
And even Mr. Scamander himself, who was always kind to Credence and always smiled at him; who Credence knew would never, ever hit him, no matter what he did. Mr. Scamander who took him in when he had nowhere to go after the incident in the subway and who had fought for him in the magical ministry with Mrs Goldsteins help, so that Credence may live without being hunted down by them -
“What do think about the Netherlands?”, asks Mr. Scamander from his place on the kitchen table, a letter in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.
Credence looks up from where he's preparing the food for the Tebos.
“What's there?”, he asks and still takes a single precious second to marvel at the ease he feels around Mr. Scamander to just ask these things.
“It's rumored that there are a few wizards who are making illegal potions with Lobalug poison. I wouldn't think them to be very cautions of the poor creatures limits.”, Mr. Scamander frowns, troubled as he always is when thinking about a creature in the hands of unkind humans.
“What is a Lubalug, Mr. Scamander?”, Credence asked, ever curious about all the different magical beasts. He is pretty sure that there isn't one in the suitcase right now.
“Newt”, Mr. Scamander corrects him as he always does. But there are somethings from Mary-Lou that Credence hasn't forgot and absolute politeness towards his betters is one of them. “They live in the North Sea, you see, and when they feel threatened they release a highly potent poison. It's pretty high sought after in some more — let's say: shady parts of magical businesses.”
“The Netherlands than”, Credence says and Mr. Scamander smiles brightly.
“I'll ready everything for the trip”, he says and he's gone before Credence can blink.
Tomorrow his home will be in the Netherlands then; it is always wherever Mr. Scamander will take them next on his adventures and Credence is pretty happy with that.