When Newt Scamander stepped through the shimmering dimensional gate, he was met with an unexpected sight. Several people, along with their dogs, were entangled in thick, writhing tendrils of Devil's Snare, their muffled protests barely audible. The scene was surreal, made even more bizarre by the fact that Newt was still dressed in his pajamas.
Only moments ago, he had been lying comfortably in bed, prepared to read the evening edition of The Daily Prophet before drifting off to sleep. Now, he was standing in the middle of the woods, in the cold night air, facing a rather absurd predicament.
"So, what's going on?" he asked, his voice laced with both confusion and exasperation. "And why, pray tell, have you ventured outside the school again?"
Without waiting for an answer, Newt lazily waved his wand, transforming his pajamas into a thick, warm set of wizard robes. Meanwhile, Blake, the young wizard responsible for this unexpected summoning, gestured for Newt to sit by the crackling campfire.
As Newt settled in, Blake explained everything—the poachers, the illegal Colosseum, and the unfortunate victims now trapped in the Devil's Snare. When he finished, Newt let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Poachers again… and the Colosseum again," Newt muttered, shaking his head. He looked utterly exhausted.
Blake hesitated, feeling a twinge of guilt. Newt wasn't as young as he used to be. His body had endured decades of adventuring, caring for magical creatures, and battling those who sought to exploit them. It was only natural for him to be fatigued.
Fij—
"Mr. Scamander," Blake said, his brow furrowing. "Didn't you drink the life-extending potion I gave you?"
"Oh, I did," Newt replied with a small smile. "And I must say, the effects are quite remarkable."
Blake looked him over, unconvinced. "Then why do you look so drained? Professor Dumbledore drinks it as well, and he's as lively as ever."
Newt chuckled. "That's because Dumbledore doesn't spend his days tending to an island full of magical creatures. He merely enjoys the benefits of the potion without the constant exhaustion."
Blake pursed his lips, remembering the isolated island Dumbledore had found—a sanctuary for magical animals that couldn't yet be released into the wild. The responsibility of caring for these creatures fell entirely on Newt and his wife, Tina. It was an overwhelming task, even with magic. The potion might have extended Newt's lifespan, but it couldn't erase the toll of daily hard work.
"I was negligent," Blake admitted, feeling a pang of remorse.
"It's alright," Newt reassured him. "This is the life I chose, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Honestly, I should be thanking you. If it weren't for you, Tina would have forced me into retirement by now." He sighed. "She always says I should take it easy, enjoy the later years of my life… but I can't imagine a life without magical creatures."
Blake nodded, but his expression remained serious. "Still, you can't keep this up forever. You need to think about your own well-being—and Mrs. Scamander's too." He paused, considering a new thought. "By the way, are the Galleons we captured last time enough to sustain everything?"
"There's still quite a lot left," Newt admitted. "More than enough to cover expenses for a while."
Blake tilted his head. "And the magical creatures? Have you released all that could be released?"
"Yes," Newt confirmed. "Those that could safely return to their natural habitats have been released. The rest—either due to dangerous temperaments or environmental changes—remain on the island."
Blake frowned, deep in thought. "This isn't sustainable, Mr. Scamander. In the long run, you'll drain all your resources. Even with our captured funds, you're only delaying the inevitable. At some point, you might be forced to sell off magical animal materials just to afford food for the remaining creatures."
Newt regarded him with curiosity. "You've clearly thought of something. You always get that look when you have an idea. So, what's your solution?"
Blake grinned. "How about opening a magical zoo?"
Newt blinked. "A zoo? Like a Muggle zoo?"
"That's right!" Blake nodded eagerly. "Muggle zoos vary in quality, but the best ones do an excellent job. They protect endangered species while allowing the public to see them up close. It fosters awareness, encourages conservation, and—most importantly—generates revenue."
Newt listened intently as Blake continued.
"Imagine a magical zoo, modeled after the best Muggle facilities, but tailored for our world. We'd ensure the safety of both visitors and creatures, while also using ticket sales and other income to fund care for the animals."
Newt rubbed his chin. The idea was… intriguing.
"We could use it to educate people about magical creatures," Blake added. "The money spent wouldn't just be an expense—it'd be an investment. And the best part? You wouldn't have to do all the work alone. We could hire like-minded individuals to help care for the creatures."
A slow smile spread across Newt's face. The thought of being surrounded by magical creatures without having to travel constantly, and with extra hands to help… It was certainly appealing.
"Don't you want to be a relaxed, respectable zoo director?" Blake teased.
Newt laughed, but then hesitated. "But… many of these creatures are highly dangerous. The Ministry of Magic would never approve."
Blake shrugged. "Then let's talk to Professor Dumbledore. If anyone can convince the Ministry, it's him."
Newt still looked unsure. "And the dangerous creatures?"
Blake smirked. "I'll tame them."
Newt gaped at him. "You make it sound so simple."
Blake crossed his arms. "How can we know if it works if we don't try? If every great wizard feared failure, the world wouldn't be what it is today."
Newt exhaled slowly, nodding. "You're right. I'll discuss this with Dumbledore."
At that moment, his gaze drifted toward the trapped poachers, still entangled in the Devil's Snare, shivering in the cold.
"And what do we do with them?"
Blake's expression darkened. "These people have the blood of magical creatures—and innocent people—on their hands. They don't deserve mercy."
Newt gently placed a hand on Blake's wand, lowering it. "Let's take them to Azkaban."
Blake frowned but didn't argue. Newt wasn't naive—he knew these poachers were beyond redemption. He just didn't want Blake to be the one to stain his hands with their fate.
Blake sighed. "Fine. Azkaban it is. Though honestly, a lifetime in that place might be worse than death."
He raised his hand, ready to open a dimensional door.
"Should we go straight to Auror Moody, or should we see Dumbledore first?" he asked.
Newt gave him a knowing look. "Let's find Albus. If you show up at Moody's door unannounced, do you really think he'll let you explain before launching a dozen curses your way?"
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