"Ha ha..."
After a brief silence, the pharmacist let out a short, dry laugh from his throat, full of undisguised scorn, "Crawford Leighton, did a troll step on your head? That bastard's name is forged from the flames of blood that burn across the entire Great Britain—for any poacher who steps into his designated territory, there's never a survivor."
"...When did I designate a territory?"
"?"
"Alas, since you've seen through it, why not join me in a good act? That way everyone would be happy—now, I have to dig it out from your mouth."
William suddenly sighed and took off his mask. The moment the pharmacist saw the face behind the mask, his mocking words caught in his throat, and he even stopped breathing abruptly. He stared with gray eyes, mouth agape, only to find that he couldn't make a sound.
The atmosphere inside the pharmacy froze in the instant William removed his mask.
The air seemed to turn into sticky tar, each heartbeat heavy as if pounding on a tattered drum.
The pharmacist's face, covered by greasy black hair, revealed only gray pupils, which suddenly enlarged due to shock and disbelief, filling the entire eye socket, almost bulging out.
He opened his mouth, his jaw weakly flapping like a dying fish thrown ashore, his throat only able to produce "wheeze wheeze" broken gasps.
That face—William Richard! How did he get in? How could he—
"Ugh..."
The airflow in the man's throat suddenly stopped, an invisible force directly choking his throat. His left hand, which he tried to raise, froze in mid-air, fingertips just two fingers away from an inconspicuous bump on the stone table.
"Phew... It's been a long time since I did this kind of work."
William twisted his slightly stiff neck, took off the somewhat oppressive leather armor he was wearing, and relaxed his shoulders, "Now, you recognize me—" He squatted on the stone table, disdainfully picked up the man's right hand, "Next, I ask and you answer, understand?" The blue light in William's pupils grew stronger.
Then, the pharmacist began to tremble violently. It wasn't struggling, but shaking from the depths of his soul—he could feel countless ice needles piercing into his consciousness, stirring continuously. This person definitely didn't just intend to ask with words—
"Uh...no...spare..."
A broken plea was finally squeezed out from the man's throat, with a trace of blood foam.
But to this, William simply smiled and shook his head, a gentle smile that seemed to the man no different from a demon crawling out of hell, "Then, the first question: how did your little Ashwinder survive?" He took the snake-shaped token from the man's waist, waving it in front of him to make him understand what he was asking.
"Wait, please spare—"
"Incorrect answer."
"Aaaaaaaah—"
Charlie instinctively turned his head away, covering his uneasy stomach—the situation really changed too quickly. Clearly, it was supposed to be a "sneak in" on the elevator, but now how was this scene related to "sneak in" at all?
"...Mr. Scamander?"
Charlie pondered for a while, turning his head to find Newt also taking off his hood. The old man had already walked to the wooden rack behind the stone table, staring at the magic potion materials on the wall in a daze.
And at this moment—
Bang!
The pharmacist, controlled by William, suddenly tensed his stiff hand. Somehow, he gathered a bit of strength, and a small spark exploded at his fingertip—hitting precisely the bump on the table, triggering a mechanism. The bump erupted with a blinding red light.
A sharp alarm sound, enough to tear ear drums, erupted simultaneously, its sound waves mixed with the red light from the magic circle spreading rapidly—
"Tsk—"
A hint of helplessness flashed in William's eyes—as he had just said, it had been a long time since he did this kind of work, and he underestimated the survival card of this seemingly timid pharmacist who clearly used some special means to crack his magic restriction. As for what means—
Watching the man on the ground, eyes filled with reddish-brown, roaring and struggling like a zombie, William pretty much guessed.
This guy drank the potion himself—the potion might have been hidden in his molar beforehand?
But now William had no way to explore the truth. Firstly, of course, he didn't want to reach into the man's mouth. Secondly, at the moment the alarm sounded, the door was opened from outside; dozens of armed figures appeared on the platform outside, forming formations, with charms pointed at William and the others inside—
"Your plan seems to have failed?"
Newt slowly packed the last bag of magic potion materials into his suitcase, fastening the buckle, then shrugged at William squatting on the ground, holding the pharmacist, "Do you have Plan B now?"
"Actually, I didn't have any just now—"
"Enemy attack—" The poachers roared angrily.
"But now I do."
"Roar—!!!"
The pitch-black fire dragon emerged from William's collar. Norbert roared and grew larger, rapidly occupying most of the porch. It opened its mouth, the blazing dragon breath condensing into a trembling white light orb in its throat.
The next moment, the blazing dragon flame burst forth—
The poachers, who had just been ready at the doorway, now hurriedly exclaimed and dodged, the scalding flames almost brushing past most fortunate ones, crashing heavily onto the lift behind, melting a large area of metal.
As for those less lucky, they've now been reconstructed to carbon.
"The plan was—"
William stood back up, throwing the pharmacist, now limp as a puddle of mud after being forcibly subjected to Legilimency (colloquially known as: Soul Search), onto the ground. "Peaceful infiltration seems hopeless, we can only play something a bit less peaceful—"
"What is it?"
Charlie "impatiently" asked—unable to stay calm, watching the poachers continue flashing from the platform edge, seemingly endless, Norbert and those dozen or so Magic Patterned Stone Statues alone couldn't completely protect them. Charlie, somewhat fearing, dodged a charm, trying to fight back.
"Open the floodgates—just kill everyone we see, then no one will know we've been here."
William grabbed his Magic Wand and jumped onto Norbert's back.
"...Isn't it everyone who sees us?"
"What's the difference?" William smirked, "Either way, no one knows we infiltrated."