Newt Scamander and the Werewolf Pup

Tell Me About the Yonkers

He whispered, "Alright, love, I need to be moving you into the case, my love."

She blinked up at him.

"Gentle now," he whispered, and he waved his wand at the case to expand the opening. Satisfied they'd fit through, he stuck the wand between his teeth, and he slid his arms beneath her, one arm under her legs, the other bracing her back. Newt Scamander was stronger than he looked like he ought to be. In his pocket, the wolf pup continued chewing on the glove, even as he lifted Tina up from the ground. He pulled her into him and felt the weight of her against his chest. He closed his eyes and carried her to the briefcase and stepped carefully down the ladder and into the laboratory.

Quirinus Quirrell turned to look as Newt came in the case and he hurried over, clearing off the laboratory table, instinctively knowing that's where Newt was headed with Tina. "What happened to her?" Quirinus asked, looking her over with wide eyes.

"Werewolf... scratches, I don't believe she's been bitten, can't - can't tell just yet..." Newt answered, having put Tina down and taken his wand from his mouth. He hurried to get the stitching kit from the shelf where he'd pulled it down before going out to collect her. He waved his wand at the lid of the case, closing it, locking it from the inside so that no one could join them. It was the safest he could make them all until he could leave the case again to move it. He shivered at the thought of all of the werewolves surrounding the case - probably even at that very moment. The shield charm would not last forever.

But he'd gotten them all into the case, at least.

Thirty-seven children, Ned Viegler, Bradley Baker, and Tina.

All in the case.

He turned to Tina and Quirinus hovered, nervous, looking over Newt's shoulder, "Can I help?" he boy asked.

Newt said, "Get me out a - a, uh, a needle and the thread from that kit."

Quirinus turned to do as he'd been told.

Newt turned to Tina, his eyes gentle, voice a bit quavery from nervousness. "Teeny, love, t-tell me about - about the Yonkers again."

"Yankees," she whispered, correcting him.

He breathed in relief to hear her voice. "Yes, yes the Yankees. Tell me about, uh, the - the Yankees."

"You h-hate baseball, Newt..." she whispered.

"Yes, yes - it's not like quidditch."

"Not at all."

Quirinus was back with the needle and thread and he thrust them into Newt's hands, "Here, sir," he said and Newt took them and started unspooling the thread carefully.

"I just don't, uh, understand how it works. There's loads of chasers, loads."

"T-they're field... players..."

He was lacing the needle with the thread, biting his tongue. "But there's a beater."

"Batter."

"And they wear funny clothes."

"Uni..forms.."

"Tell me about - about your dad and the Yankees, love." Newt bent forward, breathing on the needle to warm it, his hands shaking.

Tina shivered against the table she was laying on. "Newt I'm so - so cold."

"I'm sorry Teeny, I'm so sorry." He turned to Quirinus. "In the cupboard back there, find a bottle with - with red potion. Deep, deep red. Blood red."

Quirinus turned to the cupboard, fumbling about through the contents. There were loads of potions ingredients, loads of potions, all in tiny bottles with no labels, only stoppers. He brushed through the bottles hurriedly, with a good deal of clinking glass.