"...Where did this group of people come from?"
Lupin crouched down and asked hoarsely, his face covered in greyish wolf fur beginning to recede, and his amber-yellow pupils standing erect in his eyes. He paused, glancing around at the wizards spilling out from various nooks and crannies, shouting like nesting dolls, "Why don't you take a look behind you?"
Seeing the situation change, William seemed to have no intention of acting directly, and Lupin had already twisted his bracelet to exit his werewolf state.
When he finished saying the sentence completely, Lupin had returned to the state everyone was most familiar with, though his complexion looked paler than before.
It's like an Ultraman transformation device; turning into a werewolf has a cost. After transforming, there's nearly two and a half hours of weakness and sensory degradation. But that doesn't really affect anything; after all, in my weakened state ≠ I can't transform. Just twist the bracelet and transform again, and the Debuff gets locked in place, with no state stacking.
Lupin reverted to human form because his werewolf state was too high, and now he wanted to speak quietly with William crouching behind the bushes, even lying on the ground—unseemly.
It feels like lying on the ground to eliminate.
After transforming back to human, Lupin used magic to create a set of clothes for himself and squinted, staring at the truck not far away for a long time.
"Good question, I don't know either."
William casually took a second telescope from Kabuda's pocket and handed it to Lupin.
Lupin blinked, then raised the telescope to look through it, and with the equipment's enhancement, he finally saw clearly the heads cautiously peeking out from the truck compartment door—three yellow, one black, two of them having bright green eyes.
"...Are those cheetahs?"
Lupin paused, retrieving knowledge from years past in his mind.
"Yes, I wondered how it took half a month from California to find a pair of horned serpents. Tsk, I initially thought the American Aurors were too formidable..."
William smacked his lips, scanning the area atop Iron Cage Mountain through the telescope, "Now it seems I overestimated them. Well, a poacher camp is an international setting where elite monsters seem to spawn everywhere in such camps, so how could they be afraid of a few Aurors?"
Since setting foot on the Atlantic continent, William had wiped out about twenty poacher camps with these two 'rookies,' entirely different from sweeping the Scottish Highlands a hundred years ago. Many of these camps are purely just camps, without any North American-specific creatures, not even seeing a few dogs—
But there's plenty of Animagus-transformed hunting dogs, a discovery that left the clueless Sirius somewhat doubting himself for a while.
Now it feels right; apparently, these poachers haven't hidden their claws but seem to have changed their operating mode. These magical creatures are gathered together, along with rows of green trucks and assembly-line-like transport operations, 'armed' guards...
Honestly, if everyone didn't still have wands, William might have suspected he had walked into a spy movie set.
This is simply...too America.
No wonder it's a country barely 200 years old; even the wizards are so...fashionable, but perhaps it's just these black wizards. It's said the Magic Congress and America's native Muggles have a terrible relationship. Although Voldemort-like extreme racists haven't appeared here, it's not far off.
For these reasons, the American Aurors look no different from those in the British Ministry of Magic.
However, William's focus isn't on these two antagonistic groups, nor is Sirius, who appears to have no immediate danger, worth much attention. His gaze rests on the heaps of iron cages piled like a mountain—
"A big haul, a big haul~"
Looking at the creatures locked up, William muttered softly.
Coincidentally, Newt hadn't replied to his letter for some 'not-for-public' reasons lately. Now...hehe, he doesn't believe Uncle Newt would let so many poor creatures go...
Hehe, Mr. Scamander, you wouldn't want to see these adorable creatures run over by Muggle trucks due to homelessness, right?
...
...
"You tell me! Where the hell did this group come from?!"
Audric Greaves almost roared, shouting at his deputy—raising his hand to point at the black wizards in the distance, "Stab—" The next moment, a red charm swept past the man's finger. Startled, he quickly retracted his hand, but his grey eyes still stared fiercely at his assistant.
[You damn ask me, who the hell do I ask?]
The deputy's mental eye roll almost reached the sky, but on the surface, maintained a somewhat forced sadness, "I, I don't know either. Intelligence said they left only a few to guard the site in order to capture the mysterious figure clearing out poacher settlements—"
"And these people? How the hell do you explain this?"
Audric's face turned even darker. He had already tried Apparition, but—this group of Black Wizards was clearly prepared, clearly with no intention of letting them leave. This group of lunatics seemed intent on keeping America's most elite Aurors here—
[I explain you are too naive, counting money while being sold out, it wouldn't be unjust if you died!]
The deputy nearly couldn't hold back from ridiculing—he of course saw through Audric's thoughts. But alas, the deputy understood well that tonight among these Aurors, except for the newly appointed head of magical security from the Magic Congress and his family members, the rest could barely "escape death" once.
Yes, barely—such as losing an arm, losing a leg, or losing a few fake teeth... things like that.
Licking his newly grafted porcelain tooth, the deputy sighed, "Chief, we need to find a way to escape—"
"No shit, do I need you to remind me?!"
Audric rubbed his forehead, forcing his chaotic thoughts back on track. He stared at the muddy earth beneath his feet, momentarily dumbfounded.
How could things have come to this?
As the second son of the Graves Clan, Audric Greaves had smoothly joined the Magic Congress after graduating from Ilvermorny. Then, with family influence and some twists of fate, he had easily secured the position of head of magical security, a role almost inherited by their family within five or six months of graduation.
New officials have three fires, but Audric's first two were barely lit before they almost went out, leading to his young leadership being mocked in the department.
Thus, a fire smoldered in Audric's heart.
Thus, he set his sights on things he shouldn't have.
The rampant poaching in America was even more outrageous compared to a hundred years ago when Scottish poachers camped near the Forbidden Forest. And by the end of the 20th century, it's evident the forces backing such brazen activity must be powerful—
Of course, a hundred years ago those who almost set camp in Hogwarts Castle indeed had capital backing them...
Unfortunately, they encountered a "madman" with a full collection obsession at the time.
Poachers were slapped individually, capital received two slaps!
Now, of course, leading the attack on the Aurors was the poacher leader—Fern McCoy. Surely, he didn't expect that the madman who made countless of his colleagues "die in line of duty" a hundred years ago was now less than a hundred meters behind him in the grass.
Drooling over the little creatures in the cages (and not because of hunger!).
"...Keep aiming carefully, besides not letting the young Graves run, don't kill too many of the others."
Fern's orders quickly spread among the poachers, and so the original ragtag and disorderly charms in the sky became much more coordinated, seeing the Aurors being double-teamed and steadily suppressed, Fern nodded proudly.
Though his men were a motley crew, Fern still considered himself idealistic, so seeing them trained effectively to confront Aurors, despite the numerical advantage, pleased him as Aurors from the Congress weren't many, were they?
All in all, pleased with his training results, Fern felt quite good.
Now, just need to randomly get rid of a third of them, then capture the young Graves. He's a fat sheep that can fetch a good price—evidently, Graves's deputy's "inside info" wasn't accurate, and he might soon pay the price for his present complacency.
Looking at his arm rendered completely lifeless by a curse, the deputy, who had already started sneaking away from Audric Greaves, shook with pupil shock—
Even without feeling pain, though he still screamed miserably, drawing Audric's attention, but he didn't come over because despite lacking experience, as a top student from Ilvermorny, he saw quite a bit in less than ten brief minutes—
For example, how the poachers' charms almost all avoided his direction.
His background was his protection—being the second young master of the Graves family, Audric was well aware that everything he had came from his family, so he never harbored notions of untainted purity.
In fact, if it hadn't been for his swift actions almost qualifying as a "blitz," someone would've informed him the next day that these poachers weren't to be touched.
Now, despite mediocre personal strength, Audric's political instincts were sharp enough to sense something was amiss.
Given this, Audric decisively chose to have his confidants gather around him—this surely was a chance for survival. Audric just thought this, when suddenly a series of chaotic noises disrupted everyone's movements, then they uniformly turned their heads to look toward not far beside them—
"Boom-oom-oom—"
Deep thunder rumbled, a bright yellow figure appeared in the dark clouds, and beneath it was a surging beast tide.