At the foot of the mountain.
Lucien, Newt, and Stanley sat around the campfire.
"The egg-laying went smoothly. Now we just wait for them to hatch," Newt said.
"Stanley, this is the Thunderbird's vulnerable period. The female's in rough shape, and the male won't leave the nest. Poachers will definitely try something. Could you and the reserve manager tighten security a bit more?"
Stanley nodded solemnly. "Got it. We do this every year."
"That said, we solved the Thunderbird's birthing issue so fast this time—thanks to Lucien," Stanley added, turning to the boy with open admiration in his eyes.
"Your ability to communicate with magical creatures is unreal. If you hadn't calmed and talked to that female Thunderbird, we'd still be stuck."
Lucien flicked his wand, making the flames leap higher. "Glad I could help."
Stanley grinned. "And your potion skills aren't half bad either—saved us a ton of steps. Your Potions professor at Hogwarts is still Severus Snape, right?"
"Yup. Professor Snape."
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"No wonder. I met him a few times. Youngest Potions Master ever—serious, brilliant guy. Great teacher, high standards. I bet he's tough on you all, huh?"
Lucien flashed back to Potions class: Snape spraying venomous sarcasm, reducing first-years to tears…
"Professor Snape takes teaching seriously," Lucien said carefully. "He's strict about procedure."
Strict, sure—but he actually teaches real stuff.
That's a good teacher.
I wonder how Professor Stanley runs his classes at Ilvermorny. How does he correct mistakes?
Ilvermorny sounds cool. Would love to visit someday.
"Rustle—"
Leaves shook.
A small black-and-white bird shot out of the bushes on thick legs, sprinting straight for the base of a huge boulder.
"Cheep cheep~"
It pecked furiously at the rock, got nothing, and let out two frustrated chirps.
Only then did it notice the people. Its gaze locked on Lucien, head tilting.
"Cheep?"
The bird hopped right over, bouncing up to Lucien and chirping again.
"Didn't catch dinner tonight?" Lucien asked, smiling as he understood. He pulled a bag of dried insects from his pocket—rations for Bowtruckles and Snidgets—and offered a pinch.
The bird gulped it down without hesitation.
Stanley chuckled. "Lucien, your animal affinity is off the charts."
"That's a Greater Roadrunner," he explained. "Fast runners, eat spiders, frogs, mice. They almost never approach humans."
"Looks like this little guy was hunting and came up empty—until you fed him."
Lucien listened, fascinated by the trivia, while feeding the bird. His eyes drifted to the boulder. Black spirals slowly turned in his irises.
Spider?
…
Behind the boulder.
A black widow spider with a strange red-lip pattern on its abdomen crawled out of a crevice.
It rubbed its front legs. In a blink, the spider twisted and grew—silently transforming into a stunning woman with black hair and red lips.
Sherry patted her chest and silently cursed that damn bird.
She'd been perfectly hidden—then a bird nearly pecked her to death.
If a bird actually ate me, I'd go down as the funniest Animagus death in history.
Sherry ran the team's plan through her head.
Six months of planning. Forty wizards—huge for these days. After the wizarding wars, gathering that many adults was rare.
Poachers were hardened killers, not your average wizard.
And this time, they might not even need a big fight—because she was the key.
Unregistered Animagus. Tiny, unnoticed spider form. Born assassin.
Most of their successes came from her sneaking in and striking first—one-shot kills.
Newt Scamander was tough, and that suitcase full of creatures was a nightmare. But those beasts had to be released first.
Sherry was fast. One spell, Newt dead.
Worst case, she'd cripple him, stop the case from opening, and the team would swarm.
One more job, then retirement. Hawaii. Beach. Alastair. Cocktails.
She shook off the daydream, drew her wand, and took a slow breath.
She pictured Newt's position, gathered magic, peaked her focus.
Stepping out from behind the boulder, wand thrust forward—
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light streaked toward Newt's back.
Half the plan complete if it hits—
But the curse hadn't traveled half a meter before a crimson beam snapped onto it like jaws.
Magic exploded in her face, sparks crackling.
"Wha—"
Sherry instinctively poured more power in, trying to force the Killing Curse through.
Half a syllable out, the red spell swallowed hers and slammed into her chest.
Unstoppable force. Wand torn from her hand.
Blue lightning followed instantly.
Pain and numbness hit together.
Sherry blacked out.
At the same moment, dozens of crack-crack-crack Apparition pops erupted around them.
A furious roar: "SHERRY!"
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The instant the poachers appeared, a dozen flipped their wands and stabbed the ground.
"Earthsplit Divide!"
Lucien reacted fastest. Arcs of electricity still danced on his wand as new magic surged.
"Eight Directions Pierce!"
Dozens of glowing spears formed and shot outward.
The poachers hadn't expected an instant counter. They scrambled, throwing up shields.
Hardened criminals—fast. Protego charms flashed; some covered allies.
A few unlucky ones took spears but twisted away from vitals. Still fighting.
Newt had sensed trouble the moment Lucien struck. He'd already unlatched the case.
Seeing the poachers, he flipped it open without hesitation.
A few creatures bounded out—but not enough to shield all three yet.
The poachers' spell took effect.
Cracks split the ground, isolating Lucien, Newt, and Stanley.
Black barriers rose from the fissures.
Newt's eyes narrowed. "A barrier?"
He scanned the dozen casters. The gentle man's gaze hardened with anger.
Wand tap—arcane runes struck the case.
Five Graphorns, one Chimaera, one Erumpent burst out…
Newt ignored the poachers, aiming at the black wall to break it.
He trusted his creatures to handle the enemy. His worry was Lucien.
Just a second-year, gifted or not—facing ruthless killers with no real combat experience?
Newt prayed the creatures he'd released earlier would protect the boy until he shattered the barrier.
…
On the other side.
Lucien stood inside a coil of Occamy that had flown from the case first. Now tree-trunk thick, it hissed warily at the surrounding wizards.
Lucien patted the snake. It hissed softly.
Translation: "Don't be scared."
Lucien smiled. "Move aside—I don't want to hurt you."
For some reason, the Occamy obeyed, arching to let him step out.
In that moment, Lucien spotted a brown-haired man beside the boulder, casting healing spells on the blackened woman.
Yes—blackened. She matched her hair now.
Lucien's Mage Sight had caught a flash of magical circuits inside the spider behind the rock.
The Roadrunner must've startled her into revealing magic.
Thanks, little guy. I know Animagus patterns better now.
Sure enough—spider became witch.
Lucien glanced at the boulder, then casually tapped nearby rocks and trees with his wand.
Transfiguration light flared.
Aiden, among the poachers, felt his stomach drop.
He'd had a bad feeling all day.
Seeing Sherry fail—blasted like that—confirmed it.
Aiden wasn't the strongest, but his danger sense was uncanny. Always dodged doom.
Part of him wanted to bolt. But after seeing Sherry? No chance.
Not just because they were committed.
There was… Alastair.
"KID!"
Alastair roared, standing, eyes bulging at Lucien.
Next second, icy killing intent snapped him alert.
A dozen blood-red blades shot at his chest and face.
Instinct—wand up. "Protego!"
Ding-ding-ding—
The metallic song chilled Alastair's blood.
The kid's that decisive?
Other poachers dropped jokes, eyes sharp on Lucien.
Because they were under attack too.
"Grab him! Must be Newt's grandson—hostage and Newt folds!"
Alastair's order rallied morale and sounded smart.
A kid with Newt Scamander? Valuable. Take him alive, Newt surrenders.
Disarming spells, binding curses, slowing charms flew—non-lethal, colorful chaos.
Dust kicked up.
"BANG!"
A gunshot cracked. Poachers froze.
Some American wizards liked Muggle guns—poachers especially kept sidearms.
"WHO FIRED? I SAID ALIVE!"
"ROAR!"
Dragon roar shook the air.
Dragon fire blasted the dust away, revealing the boy.
One Hungarian Horntail. One Horned Serpent. One Matagot. One Acromantula.
Every creature a certified killer.
Poachers' alarms screamed.
How do you take a kid alive with those guarding him?
Sharp-eyed ones spotted the revolver in the boy's hand.
He fired the gun?!
"SOREN!"
Aiden yelled—his nearest teammate lay in blood, both legs severed, passed out from pain.
Lucien eyed his transfigured creatures.
Creature Transfiguration's smoother. Faster. More at once.
He pulled a black-and-gold flask, uncorked it.
"Norbert, come stretch your wings."