#beastmasterr

What was he thinking?

Stupid boy...wicked boy!

So much destruction, all his fault, the thought alone made Credence’s heart race in his chest, the darkness ever threatening to take over again. So much destruction, and then so many people, excruciating pain beyond anything he’d ever felt before. When he’d become himself again, he’d found himself in the ruins of the church. He’d panicked. He couldn’t stay here, not anymore. So he’d grabbed what things he could find (Ma’s stash of coins- theft was a sin but it didn’t matter because he was going to Hell anyway, an old coat that had always been too big, the papers that might hold some key to who he was) and he’d run.

He had no idea how he’d managed to get onto the boat without being noticed, but he had. No idea where it was heading, or where he was running to, as long as it was away. Away from the New Salem Preservation Society, away from Mr Graves, away from Credence Barebone. 

Credence pieced himself together through a slow and probably painful process that made him weaker, feeling ill, and more exhausted. Before he could have it burst out or return to himself at will, never had he dealt with the Obscurus blown apart..

What he had not expected either was waking up somewhere warm, and dry. He had been sure he had reformed himself and was soaked wet and freezing from the icy rain that had been from the Thunderbird unknowingly to him. He didn’t remember being here, in this strange place that was warm. The sounds around made him a little unsettled given he’d only heard any kind of these sounds from the zoo or something, if that.

@beastmasterr​

Rattling chains were not meant to sound within forests, especially not deep within the brush or against the firmly rooted trees who have known nothing but the morning songs of birds and chattering of woodland creatures for all these years. This morning’s rude interruption was at the fault of a fey, or rather a dog should it be based by appearance alone, and a rather panicked one at that. Iron was the one thing that could limit the magic of a fey, and the blue satin collar which sat snuggly around her neck hid a ring of iron, binding her to one form until the hex with prevented its removal was broken.

Growling at the short length of rusted chain with dangled noisily from her neck, Sasha halted herself in a small patch of tall grass and crouched down so not to been seen. As minutes of silence ticked away, she hesitantly stood and sniffed the air until she was was certain she wasn’t followed, turning her attention back to the makeshift leash. While the chain was rusted, the metal itself remained strong and unbreakable by dog’s teeth. A snapped twig brought her focus back to her surroundings, blue eyes falling upon a wizard and freezing her with fear.

Why were others not as outraged as she was? Hermione felt like she had discovered one of life’s greatest secrets but nobody realised just how fundamentally enlightening that revelation was. And the more research she did into the topic, the worse it got.

House-elves were not only not allowed to carry wands, or make use of the very few free commodities Wizarding Britain provided, like flu networks, but they were not even paid for their labour! Not even in Hogwarts.

Hermione understood, on a subconcious level, that if you grew up with the notion that this was completely normal, you will hardly find any reason to change it but she did not grow up with it, she felt like an outsider who saw more clearly than everyone else and yet nobody listened to her. 

Queenie clutched the small ad in her hand as she made her way into the bar. This was the farthest she’d ever been away from home, and her sister. But she was intrigued by the offer. Her sister had chosen to return home after their grandmother’s funeral, but she’d seen the ad, and decided to wait. 

@beastmasterr​​ 

English Setter

This bulb that the snail was approaching, was much smaller than that one had been. Still, the young Gryffindor felt nerves bubbling in his stomach as the snail unknowingly found its way to the top of the pot, and careened over the edge, likely seeking out a snack in the flower’s green leaves. The response was almost immediate. The round purple bouncer arched back dramatically, ready to heave down upon the snail’s shell and stop their pursuit in it’s tracks. Without hesitation, Rockland stuck his hand out, and felt a firm whack come down upon it. Didn’t feel great, but it probably would’ve been a lot worse off for the snail, whom the boy gently unstuck from the edge of the pot and placed back on the table top. He was sat at the end of the table where the cluster of students had started to taper off, largely grouped closer to the front of the class. 

it’s hard, it really is—to not allow the smile that grew on her lips and the bit of laugh that escaped her right after; childlike, unrehearsed, an anomaly that surprised even herself and which she tried to hide behind a gloved hand and eyes quickly turned to the sky, slightly shaking her head before turning to him with a faint of that momentary joy; so many years since the last time she has seen him, so little that has really changed in the picture right in front of her. 

❝ i believe it used to happen all the time, mind you, and even despite the seeming scarcity of any fire-producing creature roaming the schoolyards, if i may recall. ❞ a knowing look was aimed in his direction before taking a few steps to the side, eyes diverted on the space surrounding them, though her mind… her uneasy heart, the part of herself that remained guilty after all this time rushed to use that break to find peace—strength, something to go back to herself now that she finally has a chance to speak with him, to know about the life he has had while the both of them walked on different paths. quick—before he notices.

❝ wait— ❞ oh, there it is—a question worth abandoning all her anxious thoughts for. ❝ fostering, you said? i thought—you were traveling, weren’t you? where would you even keep a—? ❞ but she needs no more than a second to realize that she knows the answer before the question abandons her mouth. not the whole truth, of course, but just enough to be sure that newton scamander, her childhood companion, was somehow crossing borders with more than just a few changes of clothes with him.