J. Rowling - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Jacob looks a little better for having eaten. He and Queenie are getting on famously.

QUEENIE

The job ain’t that glamorous. I mean, I spend most days making coffee, unjinxing the john . . . Tina’s the career girl.

(she reads his mind)

Nah. We’re orphans. Ma and Pa died of dragon pox when we were kids. Aw . . .

(reading his mind)

You’re sweet. But we got each other!

JACOB

Could you stop reading my mind for a second? Don’t get me wrong—I love it.

Queenie giggles, delighted, captivated by Jacob.

JACOB

This meal—it’s insanely good! This is what I do—I’m a cook and this is, like, the greatest meal I have ever had in my life.

QUEENIE

(laughing)

Oh, you slay me! I ain’t never really talked to a No-Maj before.

JACOB

Really?

Queenie and Jacob gaze into each other’s eyes. Newt and Tina sit opposite each other, uncomfortably silent in the presence of such affectionate behavior.

QUEENIE

(to Tina)

I am not flirting!

TINA

(embarrassed)

I’m just saying—don’t go getting attached, he’s going to have to be Obliviated!

(to Jacob)

It’s nothing personal.

Jacob is suddenly very pale and sweaty again, although still trying to look good for Queenie.

QUEENIE

(to Jacob)

Oh, hey, you okay, honey?

Newt briskly gets up from the table and awkwardly stands behind his chair.

NEWT

Miss Goldstein, I think Mr. Kowalski could do with an early night. And besides, you and I will need to be up early tomorrow morning to find my Niffler, so—

QUEENIE

(to Tina)

What’s a Niffler?

Tina looks put out.

TINA

Don’t ask.

(moving toward a back room)

Okay, you guys can bunk in here.

The boys are tucked up in neatly made twin beds. Newt is resolutely turned away on his side, while Jacob is sitting up, trying to make sense of a wizarding book.

Tina, wearing patterned blue pajamas, tentatively knocks on the door, and enters carrying a tray of cocoa. The mugs are stirring themselves—Jacob is captivated again.

TINA

I thought you might like a hot drink?

Tina carefully hands Jacob his mug. Newt remains turned away, feigning sleep, so Tina, with some frustration, pointedly places his cup on the bedside table.

JACOB

Hey, Mr. Scamander—

(to Newt, trying to make him friendlier)

Look, cocoa!

Newt does not move.

TINA

(irritated)

The toilet’s down the hall to the right.

JACOB

Thanks . . .

As Tina shuts the door, Jacob gets a quick glimpse of Queenie in the other room, wearing a much less demure dressing gown.

JACOB

Very much . . .

The moment the door closes Newt jumps up, still wearing his overcoat, and places his case on the floor. To Jacob’s utter astonishment, Newt opens the case and walks down inside it, now completely out of sight.

Jacob lets out a small scream of alarm.

Newt’s hand appears from the case, beckoning him imperiously. Jacob stares, breathing heavily, trying to process the situation.

Newt’s hand, impatient, appears again.

NEWT (O.S.)

Come on.

Jacob rallies himself, gets out of bed, and steps down into Newt’s case. However, he gets stuck at his waistline and tries hard to squeeze himself through, the case bouncing up and down with his efforts.

JACOB

For the love of . . .

With a final frustrated jump, Jacob suddenly disappears through the case, which snaps shut after him.

Jacob crashes down the steps of the case, colliding with various objects, instruments, and bottles as he goes.

He finds himself inside a small wooden shed containing a camp bed, tropical gear, and various tools hung up on the walls. Wooden cupboards contain rope, nets, and collecting jars. A very old typewriter, a pile of manuscripts, and a medieval bestiary sit on a desk. Potted plants line a shelf. Rows of pills and tablets, syringes and vials form a medicine chest, and tacked up on the walls are notes, maps, drawings, and a few moving photographs of extraordinary creatures. A dried carcass hangs from a hook. Several sacks of feed are resting against the wall.

NEWT

(glances at Jacob)

Will you sit down.

Jacob drops onto a crate hand labeled: MOONCALF PELLETS.

JACOB

That’s good.

Newt moves forward to examine the bite on Jacob’s neck—one quick glance:

NEWT

Ah, that’s definitely the Murtlap. You must be particularly susceptible. See, you’re a Muggle. So our physiologies are subtly different.

Newt busies himself at his workstation, using plants and the contents of various bottles to create a poultice, which he rapidly applies to Jacob’s neck.

JACOB

Ow . . .

NEWT

Now stay still. Now that should stop the sweating.

(handing him some pills)

And one of those should sort the twitch.

Jacob looks suspiciously at the pills in his hand. Finally, deciding he has nothing to lose, he swallows them.

ANGLE ON NEWT, who has now removed his waistcoat, undone his bow tie, and lowered his braces. He picks up a meat cleaver and hacks chunks of meat off a large carcass before tossing them into a bucket.

NEWT

(handing him the bucket)

Take that.

Jacob looks disgusted. Newt doesn’t notice, his attention now focused on a spiny cocoon, which he slowly begins to squeeze. As he does so, the cocoon emits a luminous venom, which Newt collects into a glass vial.

NEWT

(to the cocoon)

Come on . . .

JACOB

What you got there?

NEWT

Well, this—the locals call “Swooping Evil”—not the friendliest of names. It’s quite an agile fellow.

As if to demonstrate, Newt flicks the cocoon, which unravels, dangling elegantly from his finger.

NEWT

I’ve been studying him. And I am pretty sure his venom could be quite useful if properly diluted. Just to remove bad memories, you know.

Quite suddenly Newt throws the Swooping Evil toward Jacob. The creature bursts out from its cocoon—a bat-like, spiky, colorful creature—and howls in Jacob’s face before Newt recalls it. Jacob recoils dramatically, but this was evidently Newt’s idea of a little joke . . .