Newt Scamander was frantically scuttling after his niffler who currently was fascinated by all the shiny items in the alley. He spotted from the corner of his eye, his black-furred niffler slipping into the door crack of a corner shop. Newt entered the shop carefully, hoping the niffler hasn't caused any trouble. Instead, the small black bundle of fur was hunching on the floor, shaking and trembling.
"Hey, hey, what's the matter?" Newt bent down and picked the scared little fellow up and tucked him in his right pocket, where he had left a shiny candy wrapper just for him. He could feel the niffler happily squirming around with the wrapper in his pocket. Just as he looked around to get a sense of where he was, a low voice spoke from behind the tall desk.
"What are you here for" The voice demanded.
"Sorry sir, not to disturb but where am I, exactly?" Newt tried to ask politely and still observing the shop. Dark and gloomy, it was filled with unknown objects, most of them shaped like skulls. Some objects looked like cages, though they were all covered with a thick velvet cloak. The shop itself had an unpleasant stench, like animal urine that hasn't been cleaned.
"Ha!" the owner of the low and intriguing voice was a goblin's, as he revealed himself, stepping in front of the desk that hid his identity. "I can't believe you! You don't know where this is, but you came here? Unbelievable..." the goblin snorted. He looked as if he hasn't seen light for the past few years. His skin ghastly white and wrinkly, and his small, black button eyes made Newt uncomfortable.
"Uh- sorry I was chasing something down Diagon alley, and I've ended up here," Newt explained his situation to the goblin, attempting again to have a grasp of where he was.
"This, my innocent fella... is Knockturn alley. Specializing in Dark Arts and Mysterious Beasts" the short goblin finally answered Newt's question as he limped towards the cages covered with a cloak. The cane he held in his hand made the dust fly into the air every time he placed it on the ground. With his wrinkly old hands, the goblin pulled off the velvet cloak to reveal several different sizes of cages all covered in rust. Inside were rare creatures Newt have been longing to study about.
"It's... It's.." Newt stuttered as he looked at all the various creatures. The goblin smiled, pleased at his reaction.
"Now all these fellows over here, they are truly a beauty." the goblin spoke as he gestured towards the rather larger cages that hung in mid-air. There were gnomes, dragon eggs, and baby acromantulas but they all looked ill from Newt's point of view, a professional magical creatures caretaker. The gnomes all lay on their cold cage floor, the mischievousness gone in them. The dragon eggs seemed to have lost their special glow and looked rather dull. The baby acromantulas' health condition was to the point where their thin legs could not support their body. Newt sighed in frustration. This was why he needed to write his manual about the magical creatures and how to take care of them. He needed to educate his fellow wizards of how they mean much more than entertainment or to be held captive in cages. As he looked down and lightly shook his head, he spotted a tiny cardboard box. Inside, was abnormally small bowtruckle that was whining and squirming inside his box. The goblin followed Newt's vision to discover he was looking down at the bowtrucke.
"That one," he spat out. "He's useless. I brought him all the way from the Scandinavian forest. The breed there is supposed to be more clever and fierce. The seller said he picked locks fine. But Ha!" the goblin snorted again. "He's just a skinny limp bowtruckle that can't even pick locks. Want him? I'm giving it out free y' know." the goblin offered as he picked up the small cardboard box and handed it to Newt.
"Yes... yes, I would like him very much" Newt's words fell out as a whisper, he could not speak properly with the shock that had hit him. Poor fellow, he mustn't have eaten for weeks by now. Newt stopped his urge to argue with the goblin and kept the thought to himself. Newt carefully grabbed the small box with the weary bowtruckle inside. The bowtruckle inside was shaking, trembling in fear.
"What's wrong with him?" Newt questioned, concerned about the trembling little bowtruckle.
"He's just scared, leave him alone and he'll be fine." the goblin said carelessly as he limped back to his chair behind the desk. Newt didn't say anything and left the shop, afraid he would soon burst into an emotional argument of how magical creatures needed proper care.
"Hey, hey little pal" Newt comforted the small bowtruckle, hushing him with his soft voice. The bowtruckle finally looked at him, with a face filled with fear. He started speaking in bowtruckle and even though Newt wasn't fluent, he could make out the words 'no' and 'pick'.
"You don't want to pick locks?" Newt carefully asked the little bowtruckle as it seemed to have some traumatic back story. The little green fellow just nodded it's head and whimpered a bit.
"Why don't worry a bit, I definitely won't make you pick locks." Newt comforted the bowtruckle as he placed him carefully on his hand. "Now, tell me your name," Newt asked as he looked at the bowtruckle with his sweet gaze. The bowtruckle squirmed in his hand for a bit then finally answered back.
"No name," it said, blushing a bit in shame.
"Why that's perfectly fine. We can make a name for you. Shall we?" Newt usually thought for a moment, as he was very thoughtful with his creatures' names. But this one came quite quickly into his mind. Pickett. It meant the words 'no' and 'pick' in bowtruckle. Newt wanted to give him a name reflected his past into bright future.
"How about Pickett?" Newt carefully suggested, and the bowtruckle seemed to love it. Newt smiled, heart warmed at Pickett's adorable face. He picked him up and tucked him in the front pocket of his coat. As Newt turned around the corner and exited Knockturn alley, he once again was reminded why he wanted to write about magical creatures and educate his fellow wizards about them.
