Fantastic Beasts: An Extended-Epilogue

13: Norwegian Nightmares

NEWT
    Romania was a very interesting place, and Newt hated to leave. But he had to, because he had already sent his book to a publisher in England and they already had a hundred copies printed. He had paid them for four hundred copies, and they were still printing, but he had made a promise. There was a trip to America to be made, now that it was published.
    On his last night in Romania, however, he was readying things for travel in his case. Newt had made a few friends whilst in Romania, and he told them that they were welcome in his case whenever they wanted. One such friend, Gerold, stuck his head into the case from above, and spat frantically,
"We need your help, Newt! One of the dragons got out of its cage! Get dressed and get out here!"
     Newt threw his jacket and shoes on, and grabbed his wand before heading up. Before he went up, though, he made a hasty descision. He didn't know if it would work, but he needed to at least try. Newt built up happy thoughts as he spoke.
"Dear Tina, I'm about to fight a dragon. I think I can make it, but I'm not the most avid dueler. If I die tonight, know that I wish you the best. I still have your drawing. Love, Newt Scamander. Expecto patronum!" The silvery figure of a horse erupted from his wand and flew from the case. All he could do was hope that it worked.
    The state of things outside the case was hectic. Three wizards on brooms tried to hex the dragon from above where it flew, but they all deflected on its armor. It roared and snorted. Newt aimed a stunning curse at it but missed, and ended up hitting a flying wizard instead.
"Arresto momentum!" Newt shouted frantically. The wizard stopped abruptly before he reached the ground. Newt grabbed the wizard's broom and flew up, toward the dragon's head.
"Newt, no! That's suicide!" Gerold yelled from the ground. Newt ignored him and flew higher,  right into the beast's field of vision.
"Oi! Hiawatha!" He screamed at the dragon. She turned a malevolent eye upon him. "C'mon girl, let's settle down!" In response, the dragon shrieked and chased him. He zigzagged toward the ground, leading her down to the waiting wands of the dragon experts.
    Newt was doing pretty well, in his opinion, until he turned around and saw fire streaking toward him when he was about twenty feet off the ground. He swerved to the right, but not nearly fast enough. Though he had avoided the worst of it, (which would be burned to a crisp) a tongue of flame had whipped across his left arm and back, burning him from the left hip to the right shoulder. He yelled in agony; the pain was too much to keep going. The broom was too burned to keep flying, anyhow, so they fell the fifteen feet to the unforgiving ground. The last thing Newt could remember was hitting the hard gravel with a thud, feeling the searing pain across his back, and darkness.
    Finally, Newt opened his eyes. His arm was wrapped in bandages, and by the feel of it, so was his back. He tried to sit up, but a pair of hands pushed him back against the pillows.
"May I please get up?" He asked whoever it was as they came into focus. "I'm a bit behind schedule."
"I'm afraid that your schedule is the last thing on our list of priorities, Mr. Scamander," a nurse said curtly in a thick Romanian accent. Newt leaned back and bit his tongue. This was not his plan. His plan was to leave Romania that day, get his books from the publisher, sell some to Flourish and Blott's, and buy a ticket to America with the money.
"What day is it, miss?" Newt asked the nurse.
"You were only asleep for the night. It's the twelveth of March," she answered distractedly.
"Is the dragon all right?" He asked her suddenly.
"What?" She turned to him from her chart. "Oh, yes the dragon is all right. You may leave after lunch, if you wish it."
"Oh," Newt sighed with relief. "That's good, thank you."
"Hm?" She turned around again."Oh, you're welcome."
    Newt dressed gingerly and made the bed with magic. While he did this, he realized just how many bruises he had. It was amazing how many colors a bruise could be. A long cut streaked his right cheek. The burn on his arm and back were still wrapped in bandages with yellowish green ointment on them. As he was getting ready to leave in his case, Gerold told him that his right arm had been broken when he fell, even though he couldn't tell now.
"I feel bad for the Muggles that put their broken bones in those bulky casts," Newt said, trying to detect any sign that his arm had been broken.
"Yeah, it takes months, I hear," Gerold said furtively.
"Indeed," Newt said distractedly, sqeezing venom from the swooping evil. "I appreciate your help with the dragons, but I'll have to be leaving soon."
"Yeah, I heard that," Gerold said with a sad smile. "You've been a pretty good friend, Newt. You have a real safe trip back to Britain."
"Thank you," Newt smiled dryly. "I hope everything works out here, as well."
"It always does," Gerold said simply as he climbed out. "We make it work out, 'round here." And he was gone.
     The flight back home was a lot more pleasant than Newt thought it would be. The cool air streamed through the bandages and soothed his burns. After he landed and trimmed the old man's lawn, he went inside and laid down, his head pounding.
    The next morning, after taking his books from the publisher, Newt took the first three copies out. The rest in the box he delivered to Flourish and Blott's in person.
    Next thing on the agenda was buying a ship ticket, so Newt Apparated to Southampton and bought a ticket to the next voyage of the RMS Olympic, which left in two days. It didn't take Newt long to get ready.