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valkyriepirate · 1 year

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Literally copy pasting this here 😭get ready for screaming!

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE A FIC WHERE READER IS A MAGIZOOLOGIST WORKING FOR MACUSA AND HER AND NEWT END UP INVESTIGATING THE SAME CREATURE AND HE GETS THERE AFTER HER SO WHEN THEY MEET ITS JUST LIKE THE SPIDER-MAN MEME

Thanks @ghostyv for this idea! I only hope I did it justice hehe 😅

Newt Scamander x Reader One Shot- Two of a Feather

Summary: You're in Sweden on a mission from MACUSA to track down a rare breed of dragon. However, you run into a certain Magizoologist in the forest, disturbing those plans.

Warnings: Mentions of creature violence, fluff

Word count: 3.4k words

#3- Two of a Feather

Dried twigs crunched underneath your feet as you crept deeper into the brush. The soil beneath was loose and soft; it had recently been disturbed. The late-spring snow had finally begun to melt, dripping from the trees like clinquant teardrops and soaking into the dirt below, making it all too easy for you to follow the dragon’s tracks.

You bent and touched your fingers to the outline of a clawed footprint. Tracing the length of the claws, you assumed it to be male. You scooped up a chunk of the mud and brought it to your nose. It was nearby, and from the size of the print, reasonably young.

You followed the path farther into the forest, picking your way along the rocky terrain. Sweden was stunning this time of year, with its cool winds, crystal skies, and vibrant growth that sprouted along the mountainsides like hope unveiled after an abiding winter. The air was sweet and earthy, flowing between the trees and gently caressing your skin with what felt like friendship. You were thankful that MACUSA had commissioned you to do research someplace so enchanting- truthfully, you were thankful that MACUSA had commissioned you to do something at all.

The tracks led up to a large stone jutting from the cliffside and abruptly disappeared. Adeptly, you heaved yourself onto the stone and got into a crouch, pushing past a few intruding brambles. Beyond was a small clearing.

Your keen gaze swept the landscape for any sign of the beast. The Swedish Short-Snout was traditionally silvery blue, and given that there was little snow left, there were scant places for it to camouflage. You quieted your breaths and kept impeccably still.

There. A rustling above caused your head to snap up. A blur of white layered the top of one of the branches. To anyone else, it would have appeared to be a remnant of snow that refused to melt. But you, an experienced Magizoologist of over two decades, could see it for what it truly was.

Carefully, you reached into the pocket of your olive-green coat and pulled out your coin purse and wand. The dragon was too high for a summoning spell to be effective, and its size was slightly too big to try traditional wrangling methods- you gauged it to be a foot or so longer than you were tall and twice as wide. You had to get closer.

You edged to the rim of the outcropping, fluffing your coin purse. The dragon seemed to be sleeping. Its scales glinted in the early morning light, changing from silver to blue as you moved. Its pronged tail was looped around the tree branch, lethargically swinging back and forth. A tiny blue flame puffed from its nostrils with every breath and evaporated into smoke. It was dangerously beautiful. Short-Snouts weren’t known to kill humans, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be aggressive if provoked.

You stuck your arm in your coin purse up to the elbow, rummaging around for your broom. The size of the purse should have been hardly able to accommodate your hand, but a certain capacious extremis spell allowed you to bend the laws of physics. Your fingers found purchase and you slid out your broom.

“Alright, friend, this ought to be quick,” you whispered jovially as you got ready to hop on your broom.

Snap. Your head whipped around at the sound. It came from somewhere to your right. You went still once again, the hairs on your arms raised.

You were not alone.

You waited a few heartbeats, remaining in a crouch. The dragon twitched. Then-

Movement. You glimpsed a splash of dark blue slip between the trees. From here you couldn’t make out the shape, but you knew that whatever it was, you couldn’t let it scare the dragon away. You scaled down the rock like a lithe squirrel, dropping soundlessly to the ground, and stepped into the clearing.

At the same time, a man emerged from the trees.

You were so surprised to see another human being out here in the wilderness that you let out a nearly imperceptible gasp. The man, whose eyes had been locked on the dragon, snapped to you.

You stared at each other in startled silence. From the look on his face, he clearly thought he’d been alone. Neither of you moved.

A twinge of recognition tickled the back of your mind. He furrowed his brow and pointed at you thoughtfully as if resemblance had struck him then too. Who else would be out here tracking a Swedish Short-Snout except...?

Above, the dragon growled in its sleep. You stole another glance at the man across the clearing, and, ignoring the familiarity prodding you in the spine, took a step towards the tree with the dragon. No matter who this man was, he was likely here for the same reason as you, and you couldn’t let him get to the dragon first.

You padded across the clearing as lightly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man was doing the same.

You had almost reached the trunk of the tree when another snap echoed throughout the forest. The dragon was awake in a blink, unfurling wings the color of diamonds, soaring above the forest canopy in a searing streak of silver. With a cry, it unleashed a gust of blue flame upon the crowns of the trees, incinerating them to ashes within seconds. Hastily, you threw your arms in front of your face to shield against the heat. By the time you looked back up, the dragon was gone.

Biting down on your frustration, you whirled on the man, your braid whipping around your face. “Who are you?”

His eyes were wide and as green as the lake at the base of the mountain. He was dressed rather smartly in a cobalt blue trench coat, custard bowtie, and pressed slacks. In one hand he gripped a faded red suitcase.

“Newt Scamander, and you are?” he said, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

The name struck a chord in you. Of course. Straightening, you laughed and shook your head. “I should’ve assumed. No one else would be crazy enough to be out here except a fellow Magizoologist.” You held out your hand for him to shake. “(Y/N) (L/N). Pleased to meet you.”

“I figured,” he said shyly, not meeting your eyes. “You’re the only other known Magizoologist to ever make headlines.”

“Hardly,” you said. “Being criticized in the Daily Prophet for smelling of wild Diricawl isn’t exactly something worthy of note.”

The corner of his lips ticked up. “I’ve been accused of worse, I assure you.”

“Have you?” you said as you repocketed your broom. “I must admit I haven’t been following the news of Grindelwald.”

“It may be best that you don’t. Journalists can get carried away with certain topics.”

“Ah, I see. Still, it’s refreshing to finally meet the only other one of my kind. Your work on Fantastic Beasts was quite profound.”

Newt blushed. “You’ve read it?”

“Of course. Every aspiring Magizoologist should. Everyone should,” you amended. “The more people who know the importance of what we do, the better. Though I’m curious...” You took a step closer to him. “Why are you tracking the Swedish Short-Snout?”

“Research, mostly,” he replied. “I’m working to expand the section on dragons in my textbook for the next revision.”

“Oh? What do you expect to find?”

“Any fluctuation in behavior, danger level, or abilities, really.” He paused. “If I may ask, why are you tracking the Swedish Short-Snout?”

“MACUSA sent me for the same reason as you. Research. Except I was directed to bring the dragon back safely, which, evidently-” You waved your hand in the general direction the dragon had gone- “may take longer than I’d expected.”

“Oh. Yes. I’m quite sorry about that.” Newt’s cheeks grew redder, making his smattering of freckles stand out like little stars.

You grinned. “If you’d like, you can accompany me in tracking him down again.”

“I’d like that very much.” He briefly locked eyes with you through his mop of ruddy hair.

You walked back to the tree where the dragon had been. The entire top half was a charred stump sprinkling ashes into the wind. Pointing your wand at the snow-covered branch, you chanted, “Appare vestigium.” The ashes swirled and formed a tendril that drooped down into the clearing, swept past you and Newt, and slithered up the north side of the mountain, a conspiratorial phantasm showing you the way.

You squatted and dug your fingers into the earth, pulling up a gooey glob of dirt. Working your jaw, you spat on it and promptly kneaded it between your palms like a salve. Then you rolled up your sleeves and smeared your concoction over your neck, arms, and face- wherever your skin was exposed to the air. Newt watched you but didn’t seem concerned by your odd behavior.

“Hiding your scent,” he marveled. “Brilliant.”

“An important step in all the best captures. Don’t worry,” you said, wiggling your mud-caked fingers. “You’re next.”

“Oh- I, uh- I don’t know if that’ll be necessary,” he protested, but you were already hustling over. You grabbed him by the wrists and pushed up his coat sleeves, scrubbing the mixture over the bare skin of his forearms. He started at your touch but otherwise kept still as you scooped up more dirt and rubbed it into his jawline.

“There,” you patted his cheek, leaving behind a hand-shaped mud print. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Newt looked like he had a Billywig stuck in his throat. He nodded. Without a word, he trekked after you as you followed the line of smoke up the ravine.

“How...often does MACUSA send you to study creatures?” he inquired after a few minutes of silence, apparently having regained his voice.

You pursed your lips. “Not often, unfortunately. Maybe once or twice a year. Most of the time I’m more of a ‘pest control’ expert to them than anything. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve been called in to manage a Chizpurfle infestation in someone’s wand closet.”

He laughed quietly. “Yes, it seems it’s hard for many wizards to take Magizoology seriously.”

“You and I can change that, can we not?” You hoisted yourself up and over another stone. “When I was a little girl, I thought I was the only one who cared about beasts, who saw them as something more than an inconvenience or tool. Then I grew up and I heard about a boy from England who had a whole suitcase full of them.”

You could sense him nearly stop in his tracks. “O-oh. So you-”

“Yes, Mr. Scamander,” you said, shooting him a sly grin over your shoulder, “I know that’s no regular briefcase.”

“Yes. I mean, no, I suppose it’s not.”

Unable to contain your curiosity, you asked, “Is it true that you keep a Nundu?”

He was quiet for a few beats. “Nundu are scrupulously hard to catch, and even more so to contain.”

“So you do?”

“Among other creatures.”

A thrum of excitement rushed through your veins. You’d heard rumors of the kinds of beasts Newt Scamander kept in his suitcase, of course, but the prospect of being so close to ones you’d only ever read about piqued your interest. You wondered if he would give you a look inside if you asked.

“In fact, that’s why I think it would be best if the Short-Snout came with me.”

It was your turn to halt. The trail of ashes was thinning, disappearing over the crest of the next hill. It seemed the dragon hadn’t flown far. You turned and studied your fellow Magizoologist- the only other known one on the planet. “You want to take the Short-Snout with you?”

He tilted on his feet again, denying to meet your gaze. “Yes.”

You fought down the competitive burn rising in your throat. You had deducted as much- after all, he likely wouldn’t have come to Sweden just to admire the dragon- but that, unfortunately, was something you couldn’t afford.

You sighed. “I understand, but I don’t exaggerate when I say my career relies on this capture. I’m sorry. I must take it.”

“To bring back to MACUSA,” Newt clarified.

“Yes. I was assured they don’t intend to keep him. He’s to be released once the research is fulfilled.”

“You are to release him?”

“I believe that was implied.”

Newt shook his head. “They won’t.”

“Excuse me?”

He stepped closer to you. “(Y/N), if MACUSA gets that dragon in their possession, they won’t release him.”

You raised a brow. “And you know this how?”

“Swedish Short-Snouts are known to have protective skin with magical properties. They are incredibly rare and greatly desired. I don’t think MACUSA commissioned you to do research.”

An uneasy feeling took root in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

“If the dragon falls into the wrong hands, its scales can be harvested in the production of magical gloves and shields. MACUSA won’t let it go. Grindelwald’s appearance in New York must have riled them. Chances are, they’ll take it away and have it killed the moment you return.”

Realization seeped into your bones. Your knees buckled and you grasped the rocky mountain face for support. “The other captures.”

Newt gave you a concerned look. “What?”

“The other captures. Augureys, Gringwarts, Malaclaws. The Chinese Fireball. I never saw them again.” How many animals had you caught for MACUSA in the name of research? How many had been slaughtered? “They’ve been lying to me. They told me they were expanding the Department for Beast Regulation. I didn’t think...”

You swallowed and looked back at Newt. “But wait. That doesn’t explain why you want to take the dragon. Why not do your research and let it be?”

He clutched his suitcase so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Because I... I have the mate.”

You gaped at him. “You have the mate?”

He nodded. “A female. About the same age. I found her near the border of Finland a few weeks ago.”

You shook your head. This changed everything. Swedish Short-Snouts were considered a dying breed and were so rare that many wizards went a lifetime without seeing one in person. Only trained specialists like you and Newt had the ability to properly track one down. But if he was telling the truth and he really did have the mate, that could ensure survival for the species.

“Show me,” you said.

He hesitated. Then, as if collecting his decorum, he knelt, laid his suitcase on the ground, and popped open the locks. He held out his hand to you like he was asking you to dance. “Come with me.”

You slid your fingers into his and trailed behind him as he descended into the depths of his suitcase. Naturally you knew he had hexed it with a capacious extremis spell the same way you’d done to your coin purse, but the reality of entering a place that shouldn’t exist boggled your mind nonetheless. You felt like you were walking through a portal to another world.

“She’s rather temperamental, as you’ll see. It took her days to allow me to approach her, and even so, she doesn’t like me to be close for long,” Newt explained as you reached the landing.

You were about to respond until you blinked and were suddenly fully aware of your surroundings. You felt your eyes go wide. You stood at the entrance to a series of the greatest habitation facilities you had ever seen. In one corner was a habitat enriched with lush foliage and teeming with blue-bellied Occamies. In another, a marvelous Zouwu pawed at an uprooted tree, rolling on its back in a steep terrain. A path began at the entrance and led to the far side of the suitcase, where you glimpsed a shimmering body of water. Kelpies breached the surface and neighed, greeting their caretaker. Dozens of smaller creatures buzzed and flitted about, some inconspicuously perched in occluded nooks, others boldly squawking or screeching on wooden limbs. You spun in wonder, wanting to take everything in at once, words utterly availing you.

“You...made all of this?” you asked.

“Most of it is borrowed material from their native habitats. I began rehabilitating them when I was quite young,” Newt said, narrowly avoiding the question.

You smiled inwardly at his humility. “Mr. Scamander, you are even more magical than the stories say.”

“I am sure that is untrue.”

He led you to a dimly lit habitat set in a rocky plain. The air in this area was significantly colder than the rest of his clandestine world; your breaths turned white as you exhaled and your nose tingled with frost. The habitat was ringed with sharp icicles like the teeth of a dragon, which was a fitting considering the actual dragon curled up in its center.

Like the male, she was silvery blue and had a rigid tail. Her eyes were half-lidded, but as soon as Newt approached her head whipped up. You estimated that she was slightly larger than the male, which was customary for most dragons, and had blunter fangs.

“Hello girly, Mum’s here, Mum’s here,” Newt soothed as he reached out and placed a hand on her muzzle. The dragon purred and leaned into his touch. Then her icy gaze shifted to you.

Instantly her demeanor changed. She sprung to her feet, hackles raised and teeth bared. Her wings flared and pressed against her back, her tail inauspiciously swaying from side to side.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, girly, it’s okay,” Newt mediated. “She’s a friend.”

The dragon didn’t seem to think so. Her pupils dilated and her claws visibly lengthened. You were undeterred by her aggression- after all, you’d dealt with countless feisty beasts in the field. To her, you were a threat who could take away Newt, her current source of food and shelter.

To show you didn’t intend to fight, you sat on your knees, tucked your chin to your chest, and held out your hand palm-up. The smell of dirt emanating from your skin should have masked your human odor well enough.

The dragon stared at you. Then, after a few moments, her growling ceased. You stayed still, waiting for her to come to you. You dared not look up, but after a few controlled breaths, you felt smooth scales on your fingertips. The dragon lingered only shortly before she retreated farther into the habitat.

“Magnificent,” mumbled Newt. “She must be becoming more accustomed to humans.”

“A both good and bad thing,” you said, brushing yourself off. “On one hand, she won’t eat us, but on the other, there are far too many humans out there who will hurt her when given the chance.”

Newt looked at you, a question in his kind eyes.

You sighed and nodded. “You’re right. You should take the dragon. When there’s so few of them left, two of the same should be together. To ensure the species has descendants,” you added, suddenly embarrassed at what the implication of your words could mean.

Newt caught your drift. He looked down, his ears turning pink. “I-if you don’t wish to return to MACUSA empty-handed, it would be a tremendous help to have another Magizoologist around.”

You furrowed your brow. “Truly? You’re offering to let me stay?”

“Only as long as you’d want to. If you’re in no rush, that is. I wouldn’t want to hold you back from returning to America.”

You felt a smile creep up your face. “Mr. Scamander, that would be lovely, but I really couldn’t intrude.”

“You’re the only other Magizoologist known to mankind. It would be a privilege.”

You imagined working alongside him, learning about and caring for his beasts, traveling to exotic places in search of magical creatures. How could it have been mere coincidence that you ran into each other in the forest today? That he was there to warn you about what would happen if you took the dragon? If you stayed, it couldn’t be forever. MACUSA would track you down eventually. But in the meantime, making new discoveries alongside Newt Scamander and protecting the beasts that called this world home sounded splendid.

“Newt?”

“Yes?”

“We have a dragon to catch.”

Masterlist

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x reader one shot #newt scamander #reader insert #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #swedish short snout

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