Alex processed the conversation carefully. 'They called the old man 'Scamander'… That meant, was this really Newt Scamander? The same Newt Scamander who wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? His own textbook for Magical Creatures class?' Alex's mind raced. 'A living legend, right here… but why are the Silver Wands after him?'
Before Newt or Alex could continue their thoughts, Thestral spoke again. "Our reason for coming here is simple," the masked man stated. "We need your briefcase .'"
Newt's expression shifted slightly. "Ah. I should have guessed." He exhaled, as if realizing something. "Even after all these years, you're still clinging to that dream of transcontinental smuggling."
His voice hardened.
"Well, I'm afraid you're out of luck. My suitcase is no longer in my possession. I returned it to Dumbledore long ago. If you want it, you'll have to go to Hogwarts and take it from him."
The tip of Thestral's wand, still pressed against Rolf's neck, glowed faintly. The boy trembled, his small frame shaking not just from fear but from the strange sensation that rippled through the air around him. His wide, terrified eyes darted toward his grandfather, silently pleading for help.
Newt's grip on his wand tightened ever so slightly. The way these people spoke, their precise movements, it was clear they had come well-prepared. They had done their research, planned everything meticulously.
From his hiding spot in the distance, Alex narrowed his eyes. 'Despicable.' These Silver Wands weren't just criminals, they were cowards, preying on an old man's family to get what they wanted. Something had to be done.
Just as the tension in the air thickened, a sudden, sharp voice rang out behind Newt. "Newt! Rolf! What are you two doing outside again? Do you know what time it is? If you make me come out here one more time, !"
An old woman bustled out of the house, her voice full of exasperation. Her hair was mostly dark, save for a few strands of silver at her temples. Despite her age, her skin was well-kept, and she still moved with the energy of someone much younger. She wore a simple apron, as if she had just stepped away from the kitchen. But the moment she set foot outside, she froze.
Her sharp gaze took in the scene instantly, the masked figures, her grandson held at wandpoint, the unmistakable tension crackling in the air. Her expression darkened.
"You…" Her eyes narrowed as she gripped her wand. "Silver Wands." She turned to Newt, her tone sharp. "What the hell is going on? Why are these smugglers here? And why is our grandson in their hands?"
"Tina…" Newt sighed, the faintest trace of exasperation in his voice. He had raised his voice earlier on purpose, hoping to warn her, hoping she would discreetly alert someone for help. Instead, of course, she had come charging straight into the middle of things.
Thestral chuckled. "Ah, Mrs. Scamander. Since you're here, why don't we resolve this little matter sooner rather than later?" He gestured lazily with his wand. "Mr. Scamander, I suggest you make a decision quickly. I can't guarantee my hand won't slip." His accomplices, three masked figures, shifted into position, spreading out slowly. The way they moved made their intent obvious, they were preparing for violence.
Tina's lips thinned, her grip on her wand tightening. "Newt, how many times have I told you to keep an eye on Rolf? Look what's happened now!" she snapped.
Newt rolled his eyes, exhaling in frustration. 'Really? Now?' And yet, oddly enough, her presence seemed to take some of the weight off his shoulders. Still, he kept his gaze locked on the intruders. "They want the briefcase," he murmured.
Tina scoffed. "Ugh, these smugglers never change. I should have known." She shot the masked figures a look of pure disdain. Without another word, she moved her lips subtly, whispering an incantation under her breath. But the moment she did, her expression shifted, her brows furrowing, lips pressing into a thin line. Nothing happened.
"Don't bother," Thestral said smugly. "We came prepared. Recently, we got our hands on a few magical little trinkets, ones that block communication spells and prevent unwanted interruptions. You won't be summoning help. Nor will anyone be stumbling onto this scene by accident."
Tina glanced at Newt, shaking her head slightly. 'It didn't work.' Newt's thoughts churned. Rolf was still in their hands, cutting off external help wasn't an issue, they had to be cautious. But giving them the suitcase? That was not an option. To him, it was a portable sanctuary, a home for countless magical creatures. In their hands, it would be a weapon. He had to find a way out of this.
Then he noticed something. There was a shadow behind Thestral. For a brief second, something flickered in his peripheral vision. Someone was there. "Mr. Scamander," Thestral said, his voice carrying a forced patience, "I believe I've given you enough time." He yanked Rolf slightly forward, his wand pressing harder into the boy's throat. Rolf let out a muffled whimper, unable to speak but clearly in pain. "Let's stop playing games. I'll give you until the count of ten. If you don't want to watch your precious grandson die, I suggest you make the right choice."
"You disgusting coward!" Tina spat. "You people call yourselves duelists, wasn't your entire club supposed to be about 'honor'? If you have any spine at all, let him go and fight fair!" Tina's heart pounded as she watched the masked man press his wand deeper against Rolf's neck. His countdown was almost at its end. Despite her years of experience as an Auror, she couldn't stop the flicker of panic rising in her chest. She shot a glance at Newt. He always finds a way out of these situations. But her husband wasn't looking at Thestral or even at Rolf. Newt's gaze was fixed on something beyond them, as if he were calculating something the rest of them couldn't see.
Tina frowned slightly, then followed his line of sight, and suddenly, she saw it too "Three!" Thestral's voice grew irritated. The Scamanders' calm expressions unnerved him. If they were stalling for time, it wouldn't work. He had no problem making an example of the hostage if it came to that. "Two!"
"Wait!" Newt suddenly called out.
Thestral smirked, lowering his wand slightly. "Mr. Scamander, I was beginning to think you truly intended to let your grandson die. See how easy things can be when you cooperate?"
Newt ignored his smugness. "Let Rolf go first. I'll get you the briefcase ."