A/N: Here comes a shocker: I don't own Fantastic Beasts, or any of the characters in it.

So, a few nights ago, me and my friend went to go see Fantastic Beasts. While I did have a few gripes about the movie, Newt, Jacob, and the beasts all captured my heart. Being one of the world's biggest animal lover, I found all the beasts extremely adorable, and loved all of Newt's interactions with them. So that night I decided to write some more about Newt and a beast.

First I couldn't decide on a beast, going from a unicorn to a trico (from The Last Guardian), then settled on a thunderbird, because Frank was great. I've never written a bird before, so I hope it seems authentic.

All things considered, it had, at least, started out as a good day. He had began by releasing the jabberknolls in one of those remote places called Canada. He smiled as he watched the tiny speckled birds, hopping and skittering over the freshly fallen snow, fluffing out their feathers to keep warm. Everything was so bright here, with the sun flashing overhead and the snow tossing its light into his eyes.

They would be safe here. They would be happy. Barely any humans dared to come this far north. A few muggle researchers of course, but the jabberknolls were smart. They knew how to hide from prying eyes.

Newt felt his smile fade a little as, one by one, they took off into the deep blue sky. He was going to miss those little creatures. But, as big as his trunk was, it wasn't big enough to hold them. They needed room to explore, to migrate, to be free.

But still. He would miss them.

Then he shook himself, shivering a little as he slapped his hands on his arms.

"Alright then," he muttered, grabbing the handle of his case. He was about to spin on his heel and disapperate, when he heard a low moan.

It was not the call of any human. It was the call of some animal, hurt or scared.

Carefully, Newt set his trunk down, planted his crunching feet and listened. For a second there was nothing to hear but the quiet rustle of wind as it caught specks of snow and twirled them into the air, as it slipped through the branches of the few pines scattered across the white tundra.

Wait. There it was again. A low, mournful call, followed by several high pitched shrieks. They were some bird's cry of pain.

Newt bit his lip and slipped his hand back around the smooth handle of his trunk, his feet turning towards the direction the sound had come from without him even telling them to.

Questions began to buzz around him like a swarm of bees. Just how badly was this creature hurt? What had hurt them?

Newt began to run, the trunk bouncing at his side, his boots sinking deep into the snow, his mind flicking over the medical supplies he kept in his store room.

How much time did he have?

Just then his foot caught on something that sent him sprawling into the snow, the trunk flying out of his hands. A second later several complaints burst from the trunk, and Newt took a moment to lift the lid and mutter apologies.

Then he turned his attention to what had tripped him. It was a metal chain, the end wrapped around a tree. The links were brown with rust, dirty and jagged. Newt's lip curled at the sight, and he kicked at the chain, but dared not break into the loud stream of curses he so desperately wanted to, for fear of scaring the beast. Bloody hunters.

A soft whine fell upon his ears and Newt jerked his head up. Then he saw her.

She was a thunderbird, smaller than Frank had been, but a magnificent creature nonetheless. She was swinging her head from side to side, yanking against the chain. When her bright gold eyes landed on Newt, she drew back her head and snapped her beak, her feathers quivering.

She was hurt.

Where they had tied the collar around her neck, where they had put the halter on her face, where the chains wrapped around her legs, the thunderbird had pulled and strained until the spots were rubbed almost raw. Bloodstains trickled down her white coat of feathers, dripped onto the snowy ground.

"You're a long way from home," Newt said, his voice barely more than a puff of air, low and steady.

Newt put down his trunk, his movements slow, his body betraying none of the hot fury that was rushing through his veins at whomever had done this. His hand reached down into his robes, closing around his wand.

The thunderbird let out a bellowing roar and gave a great sweep if her wings, jumping into the air as far as her chain would allow. Her talons slashed at the snow. Lighting sparked in the air above.

"Alright... all right," Newt said, tossing his wand to the side in one fluid motion. "It's gone."

Obviously, the creature had be tortured by wand work. For her, wands meant danger, pain.

She landed back on the ground with a thump, folding her wings back against her side.

"That's right. I'm not here to hurt you."

Newt took a step forward and the thunderbird took a step back, her long tail swishing from side to side. Newt spread his hands wide then lowered them, making soft gutteral sounds from the back of his throat, the sounds a mother would make to her chicks: quiet, reassuring.

The thunderbird stared at him, her head cocked slightly. One foot lifted to scrape against the snow.

He kept eye contact, and slowly sank to his knees in the snow, dropping his hands. He made himself vulnerable before the beast, made himself anything but threatening, before this beautiful, fantastic beast.

The thunderbird didn't move. Newt bit his lip, his body tensing. She had every right to attack him right now. Every right.

"But you're not going to hurt me," Newt whispered, his words the only sound in the frozen silence. "Because you're better than that. You're better than those humans."

The thunderbird lowered her head, and a second later she had settled down in the snow before him. Her beak reached forward to nudge his face; her warm breath flooded over his cold face.

"Good girl, such a good girl," Newt breathed, fighting against the lump that rose up in his throat. He reached out to stroke the thunderbird's face, his touch as light a butterfly. Her feathers were as soft as new fallen snow.

For a minute he simply continued to brush his fingers over the beast's face. Over and over again he breathed out the words "Good girl" as snow drifted down from the heavens to rest on his cheeks and nose. He felt her relax under his gentle fingers, heard her long, contented sigh and a smile burst out on his face, a quiet laugh bubble up in his chest.

These were the moments he lived for, those movements when the bond was formed, when trust was gained. When the beast knew that not all humans were cruel, that the world was not completely dark.

With every fiber of his being he wanted to wrap his arms around her, to pick up his wand and blast those chains to bits, to heal her wounds and sooth away the hurt.

One thing at a time, he reminded himself. He couldn't afford to break that trust, weak and unsteady as it was, by moving too fast.

So instead his hand slid to the first buckle of the halter, sliding the stiff leather out of the metal. Ever so slowly he slipped the dirty thing off her beautiful face.

At that the thunderbird shook her head and leaped to her feet, letting out a great cry that shook the trees.

Newt felt his grin widen, then it dropped. Now... what about the rest of her chains? They lay thick and sturdy on her neck and around her legs, much too thick to pry off by hand.

"Alohamora," he muttered, but nothing happened, as expected. The thunderbird looked back at him steadily.

I trust you, her eyes seemed to say. You will not hurt me.

Newt reached up and gave her one last gentle pat. "You're going to be free in a moment," he said. "Just you see."

He was about to step towards his wand when the sky erupted with thunder, a blast of darkness swept over the land. Newt swept around to see the thunderbird clawing at the ground, her eyes wide.

Danger.

Newt threw himself towards his wand, but a figure stepped out of the swirling snow and snatched up the piece of wood that was so much more than a piece of wood.

"And what do you think you're doing with my thunderbird?" came a voice from behind him. Newt whipped around, his hand grabbing the handle of his trunk and pulling it close. Standing behind him was another man, thin and tall, a long black wand in his hands.

"The boss don't like it when you mess with the animals," the first man, the one who had stolen his wand, said. " 'Specially those he's got plans for." His hand slid down to his belt and yanked out a dagger.

Must be a squib, Newt thought. He took a stumbling step backwards, his gaze flicking between the two men.

The thunderbird screamed and threw herself away from the two men, straining against the chains that bound her.

"You there. Stop it!" the wizard shouted. He pointed his wand at her and a bolt of white fire flew out to strike her side. She shrieked and fell back to the snow, her sides heaving as fresh blood began to drip down her feathers.

The cold that had been building up in Newt's core suddenly burst into white hot fire. No more. He let out a yell and launched himself at the man, not caring that it was just about the stupidest thing he could have done.

The man laughed, he actually laughed as he pointed his wand at Newt. Then real, horrible pain collided with his body, slamming it down into the snow, where he couldn't breathe, where there was nothing to breathe.

"Oh, so you want to feel what it's like, don't you?" the man asked, his voice tinged with mirth.

Newt saw the bolt of fire coming, and threw his arms over his head, rolling out of the way. He felt the heat sear across his skin as the bolt hit the snow with a sizzle.

Then he was back on unsteady feet, coat whipping around his body as the wind howled in his ears.

"I won't let you hurt her. Not anymore."

Something slashed past his side and landed with a small shush into the snow front of him. For a second he stood there, not knowing what happened. Then came the white-hot agony began to crawl across his entire torso, burning him inside and out. Someone screamed, a long terrible sound that split the air.

Then he fell to his knees once again, his gaze dropping to the dripping, bloody dagger lying in front of him. He couldn't see. He couldn't think.

He needed his wand.

His cheek was pressing against the cold snow, and that was all he could feel. Cold was seeping into his entire body, his blood was seeping out of his side. He had to stop... had to stop the bleeding. His hand reached up, the movement weak and unsteady. Then it was pressed against the wound and he could feel the warm blood spilling over his fingers.

From far off came high pitched cries from the thunderbird, cries that tore at Newt's heart. He pressed his palms into the snow, but they slid out from under him, and his face slammed back into the snow. He screamed at his body to move, but it refused to listed. He needed to help her, wanted to help her.

But he was broken.

Slowly he curled up into himself, his breathing fast and shallow, wishing, hoping against all hope this was just a dream.

A foot pushed him onto his back, a dirty, unshaven face peered into his.

"I know you," the squib said. "You're that magizoololgist everyone keeps talking about. The man who likes creatures more than his own kind."

He grabbed Newt's arm and dragged him upright. Newt stumbled; his feet refused to hold him up.

"What makes 'em so special anyway? They're brutes, all of them."

"That's... a bit... ironic, coming... from you," Newt managed to spit out.

"You little guttersnipe." The man's face twisted into a snarl. He let go of Newt's arm and slammed his the butt of his knife into the wizard's face, sending him sprawling into the snow. A tiny whimper of pain escaped Newt's mouth as his head began to throb, his body shaking uncontrollably. Cold. It was so cold.

Then came the man's yell. "They're crazy! Dangerous, stupid beasts."

Each word was accentuated each word with a kick to Newt's ribs, to the slash in his side.

Make it stop.

"Which is why we have taken it upon ourselves to lock them away where they can't hurt anyone. Where we can learn their silly weaknesses." This time it was the wizard who spoke, his voice smooth and even, but with a bit of laughter creeping around the edges. "And I'm very sorry to have to kill the of-so-famous Newt Scamander himself, but, well, I just can't have you interfering, now can I?"

Newt lifted weary eyelids to look at the man, before his gaze dropped back to the ground. A small stick of wood lay on the ground not too far from his reach. It looked like it had fallen out of the squib's pocket.

It was important... why was it important? He... he couldn't remember. White fog clouded his brain, pressing out all other thoughts.

"Well... would you look at this?" the wizard said. Smooth as water he reached down and scooped up a light brown case with one of the metal flaps sticking up. His fingers began to stroke over the leather as he said, "A real magical maneagery. I think this will do nicely for the collection."

His creatures. They were going to take away his creatures.

"No..." he cried, his voice little more than a choking whisper. "No, please... please..."

The man looked down him with a cold smile, the smile a cruel grandfather might give.

The thunderbird whimpered.

And Newt lunged forward. His hand closed around the stick, and fire rushed into his body. With a roar he staggered to his feet. Spell after curse he threw at the men, wanting to make them pay, wanting to make them hurt like they had hurt the thunderbird. He couldn't hear anything over the roaring that filled his ears, could not see anything above the blasts of fire and light.

Then the thunderbird let out a shriek, and Newt looked up from his wand to see her staring at him, the feathers on her side smoking. The men were gone.

His breath whooshed out of his body as the pain swooped back in, enough to make him stagger.

He had hurt her. He had done the thing he'd sworn he'd never do.

"I'm..."

He lifted a trembling hand and the chains flew away. She shrieked again and scrambled backwards. Then she swept her wings and rose into the air, her bloodied wings carrying her farther and farther away.

"I'm... so sorry."

Bile rose up in his throat, temporarily overwhelming the pain that shot through him at every gasping breath.

"N-no, please, no... oh no... I'm... s-sor..."

He tried to take a step forward, but his body crumpled underneath him and hit the ground with a thud. Pain swallowed him as he lay there, trembling, in the cold. He cried out, one last desperate plea as tears spilled out of his eyes.

"Some-someone, h-help... p-ple-"

Darkness.

A/N: To be continued...

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