The first thing you notice is the arguing.
“They can’t be here! We have to send them back before they wake up!”
“They’re hurt! It’s my fault Oliver got loose in the first place!”
“Uh… Guys? I think they’re waking up.”
You groan and open your eyes. You’re lying on a cot in a small, cluttered workroom and there are three people watching you with various mixtures of curiosity and concern.
The redhead speaks first, “Hello. Are you alright? I’m so sorry about Oliver here, he really didn’t mean any harm, he’s just a bit skittish” The man- Newt- gestures to what appears to be an ox with metallic gold fur [Re’em, Fantastic Beasts page 72]. It’s standing with its front end in the building and it’s back half outside and it looks about as ashamed as it’s possible for an ox to look. It lets out a low moaning sound that seems almost apologetic.
You’re not sure how to respond to that, or really any of this. You buy some time by trying to sit up and immediately regret it when the room starts spinning and your headache intensifies to the point that you think you might be sick.
“That would be the concussion. Here, drink this, it’ll help.” A glass vial is pressed into your hand. Its contents taste like mud, but the pain is starting to recede. There’s a sort of fuzzy memory in the back of your head, like a butterfly flitting away whenever you get close, and you’re sure that everything would make sense if you could just catch it. Since it seems unwilling to cooperate for the time being, you turn to your strange companions for an explanation: “Er, sorry, who are you? And how did I get here?”
“Oh! My name’s Newt. This is Jacob,” he gestures towards the heavyset man on his right, “And Tina.” He waves at the woman on his left. Distracted, you introduce yourself before questioning him further. “You’ve been unconscious for about an hour. Oliver got out and was spooked by a car- he’s never seen one before. He didn’t see you until he knocked you over. I really am terribly sorry about that.”
It’s at this point that you happen to glance in the right direction at just the right moment to see a small green twig pop out of his coat pocket. You yelp “What the heck is that?!”
Newt looks confused for a second, then glances down at his pocket. “What? Oh, this is Pickett. He’s a bowtruckle, perfectly harmless.”
Jacob gives you a sympathetic look. “Newt here’s an expert on magical creatures. When we first met I accidentally let a bunch of his creatures out and we spent a week chasing them down. You get used to it.” You search his face for any sign that he's pulling your leg, but he looks disturbingly serious.
"M-magic." You stammer, "You're joking."
As if to prove you wrong, a sloth-like creature seems to materialize out of thin air right beside Jacob. While you try to wrap your brain around that , Jacob greets the creature. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” To you, he says, “This is Dougal, Newt’s demiguise. They can turn invisible.”
You soon find that Jacob is right. By the time you can stand without feeling dizzy, Newt's creatures have gotten curious and come to introduce themselves.
In no time you’re surrounded: a sort of winged snake has wrapped itself around your shoulders, the ox-creature- Oliver, you remember- is resting its head on your lap, and a tiny, golden hummingbird-type creature has taken up residence in your hair. The demiguise, Dougal, has gone invisible, but you can still feel his warm, fuzzy weight on your left foot.
You’re slightly overwhelmed by all this, but in awe of all these beautiful creatures.