Watching the 'big kitty' nuzzle its large head against Newt's chest, Wayne's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"Where did you get this Zouwu? I've never seen one before."
Newt smiled fondly and produced a cat teaser, which immediately captured the Zouwu's attention. Following Newt's guidance, it obediently allowed itself to be harnessed and stood before the carriage.
"I just brought this one home last month. It's the descendant of an old friend of mine."
"The one you met in Paris?" Wayne had heard Newt speak of his 'glorious days' before—how he and Tina had escaped the French Ministry of Magic during their confrontation with Grindelwald in Paris, thanks to a Zouwu.
Well, it was also an illegal entry.
"Exactly. This little one is too mischievous. When I visited my old friend recently, they asked me to take it in for a few years—to teach it some manners before sending it back once it's well-behaved."
Wayne enviously stroked the Zouwu's shimmering fur.
Thanks to his Magical Creature Affinity, the young Zouwu didn't resist. Instead, it shook its head contentedly.
"If you ever have such opportunities in the future, you must call me. I can help with the teaching, too."
Newt didn't dare respond to that. Who knew what kind of personality the creature would develop under Wayne's care?
He knew Wayne's approach to raising magical creatures all too well.
One word summed it up: free-range.
Apart from helping certain little ones control their weight, Wayne left them entirely to their own devices—doing whatever they pleased.
The Iron-eating Beast now spent its days strolling after meals, then basking in the sun without so much as rolling over for half a day.
The Niffler, which had given him headaches, was now so stuffed with gold coins it could barely walk.
With well-behaved creatures, it was fine—they were naturally disciplined, like those Unicorns.
But with the mischievous ones? Given Wayne's permissiveness, the Zouwu might tear the school apart, and Wayne would just clap and laugh from the sidelines.
"Let's get moving first. It's over a thousand miles to the dragon reserve," Newt dodged the topic, climbing into the carriage ahead of him.
Wayne pursed his lips and followed.
Like the carriage they'd taken to Beauxbatons, this one was enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm—a four-bedroom, two-living-room setup.
But Wayne and Newt didn't retire to the bedrooms. Instead, they stayed in the living area, sipping tea and chatting.
The Zouwu was fast. Even a two-thousand-kilometre journey would take no more than a morning.
Newt also revealed the main reason he'd brought Wayne along this time.
"You know I'm not very good with people..." Newt said awkwardly. "So I was hoping you could handle the staff for me. I'll just focus on the dragons."
Wayne's lips twitched. So he was being brought along as a mouthpiece.
As absurd as it sounded, this was genuinely a critical issue for Newt.
A socially anxious old man faced with a crowd of strangers? Forget working—not fleeing would count as a stellar performance.
In the end, the young man agreed.
By noon, the Zouwu had entered the Carpathian Mountains, where the reserve was nestled within the endless peaks.
Newt produced a compass, directing the Zouwu to continually adjust its course. Half an hour later, they arrived at a valley where the Zouwu descended in altitude.
Wayne peered downward and saw that several wizards had already noticed their arrival, standing on a wide open space awaiting them.
As the two disembarked from the carriage, a middle-aged man and a red-haired youth approached. Both were powerfully built with sun-darkened skin.
The middle-aged man bore scars on his face, while the red-haired youth had a fiery red mark along his arm.
"You must be Mr Scamander?" The middle-aged man forced a smile. "I'm Paul Sutter, head of the dragon reserve. This is Charlie Weasley."
Newt kept his head lowered, though his eyes darted frantically toward Wayne.
With no other choice, Wayne stepped forward. "Hello, I'm Wayne Lawrence. Mr Scamander has... particular social habits. Please don't take offence."
"You should have received notification from the British Ministry of Magic. This operation falls under Mr Scamander's and my jurisdiction."
Paul Sutter hesitated before nodding. "We did receive it, but I hadn't expected someone of your age—"
"That's not your concern," Wayne cut in without elaboration. "The Ministry wouldn't send me here to die."
"Don't worry, Sutter," the red-haired youth interjected cheerfully. "Mr Lawrence is a prodigy—not like me, but a young wizard hundreds of times more brilliant."
"He's been awarded two Second Class Merlin Medals. The Ministry wouldn't risk such valuable talent."
Sutter regarded Wayne with surprise, his apprehension visibly easing.
The red-haired youth extended his hand warmly. "Charlie Weasley—George and Fred's older brother. The family mentions you often. Finally meeting you in person."
Wayne shook his hand firmly. "Just Wayne is fine. I've seen your photo at The Burrow. You've filled out considerably since then."
Charlie gave a rueful smile. "Three years here will do that to you."
"By the way, last week was the Quidditch Match, wasn't it? Did you watch?"
"Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor. Pity about your loss."
Charlie clicked his tongue in resignation.
...
With Charlie's introduction breaking the ice, the group established enough rapport for proper communication.
Sutter and Charlie led them out of the valley to a residential area comprising a dozen detached houses inhabited by the reserve's dragon handlers.
Knowing Newt disliked formalities, Sutter dispensed with pleasantries and briefed them directly.
"It's dreadful. Currently, only three dragons are fully trained—they won't kill tournament participants and will hold back at critical moments. But we're still four short of the required seven."
"If we need a reserve dragon as contingency, that makes five more required."
"What breeds are the trained ones?" Newt asked, his social anxiety diminishing when discussing professional matters.
"Common Welsh Green, Swedish Short-Snout, and Chinese Fireball," Charlie answered.
Newt frowned slightly. "Chinese Fireball... Isn't that too dangerous? They're just students."
Although all dragons are classified as XXXXX-level dangerous creatures, the threat levels vary between different species.
Dragons like the Welsh Green and Swedish Short-Snout belong to smaller breeds, measuring between 18 to 22 feet in length, with relatively weaker aggression.
They're considered the 'moderate faction' among dragons.
The Chinese Fireball, however, is different. While not particularly large either – about 25 feet long – it's also called the Lion-Dragon due to its flames burning hotter than other dragons, coupled with exceptional flying speed and intelligence.
"No problem," Sutter assured firmly. "The tamed Chinese Fireball is highly intelligent. We've communicated with it, and it actually wants some fresh air. No need to worry."
"That's good then." Newt nodded. "So what are your taming targets?"
At this question, Sutter and Charlie looked somewhat awkward.
"Originally we'd selected two Swedish Short-Snouts and two Welsh Greens, but now... they're gone."
"Gone?" Newt looked baffled. "What do you mean, dead?"
"No," Charlie quickly explained. "There's just been some chaos. All the dragon keepers at the reserve are overwhelmed."
Newt seemed to realise something. "Is this related to the rumoured 'Dragon King'?"
Wayne noticed their expressions growing even stranger.
Sutter waved stiffly, clearly struggling to explain, but eventually admitted: "It's actually just dragons in mating season. The so-called 'Dragon King' is an exceptionally powerful female who, for some reason, has become extremely attractive to other dragons."
"Just these past few days, multiple conflicts have broken out at the reserve. Even previously obedient dragons have joined the mating frenzy, completely ignoring our commands."
"I see." Newt fully understood now, his brow furrowing.
Taming dragons would require solving their 'mating season' problem first.
This was rather troublesome.
Wayne, meanwhile, wasn't paying attention to their conversation. He'd only come as Newt's bodyguard and had no interest in this dragon dating show.
His current thoughts were occupied with how to coax the little Zouwu to his side.
Such an adorable big cat belonged in his case.
Fortunately, Newt hadn't brought his case this time, leaving plenty of room for manoeuvre.
Just then, hurried footsteps sounded outside before the door burst open. A fully armed wizard rushed in: "Sutter! Bad news – Stuart and Braga are attacking Luther! We need help now!"
Sutter and Charlie's faces paled. They hastily stood, offered quick apologies, and rushed out with the newcomer.
"We should go too – might be able to help." Newt motioned for Wayne to follow.
"Much appreciated, Mr Scamander," Charlie called back as he and Sutter mounted their flying broomsticks and shot skyward.
Wayne produced two brooms, handing one to Newt.
The Firebolt was still with Cedric, but he had a recently purchased Nimbus 2002 and last year's 2001 model.
Newt's flying skills weren't poor. As a Magizoologist who spent years living in the wild, flying broomsticks were both common transportation and life-saving tools, allowing him to catch up with the two ahead quickly.
Charlie explained the situation regarding the three dragons.
"Stewart is a Peruvian Vipertooth, Braga is a native Romanian Longhorn, and as for Luther, it's a Hungarian Horntail – one of the most powerful dragons in the reserve."
"Also for mating purposes?" Newt asked.
Charlie nodded.
The group sped along. The reserve covered a vast area, with nearby mountain ranges serving as the dragons' habitat.
Though called a reserve, its primary purpose wasn't protecting dragons but rather driving away Muggles who wandered in while preventing the dragons from roaming freely and causing havoc elsewhere.
Usually, dragon keepers wouldn't interfere in conflicts between dragons – it was thankless work that might even draw aggression from both sides.
But the current situation was entirely different. Left unchecked, casualties were highly likely.
That's why Charlie and his team were overwhelmed, even needing to call Newt for assistance.
Ten minutes later, Wayne's group arrived at the scene. In a valley not far away, three enormous figures circled in the air, their deafening roars shaking the atmosphere.
Accompanying these bellows were jets of flame stretching dozens of feet long.
The most conspicuous was a dragon over fifty feet in length, its wings and tail covered in sharp spikes, its skin exceptionally rough. Its flames reached much farther than the other two dragons'.
Despite being outnumbered, it actually held the upper hand.
This was the most dangerous of all dragons – the Hungarian Horntail. Enormous in size, resilient in combat, with the most vicious temperament and extremely territorial.
Around the battling dragons, over a dozen broomstick-riding wizards darted about.
They intermittently cast spells to prevent flames from spreading to the forest or fired magical bursts at the dragons to divert attention, though none dared get too close.
But such harassment meant little to dragons whose scale-covered bodies boasted maximum magical resistance – it barely qualified as an itch.
Textbooks made it sound simple: a single dragon could be subdued by a dozen well-trained wizards.
The prerequisite, however, was perfect coordination among those wizards and the dragon not being in a frenzied state.
Currently, all three dragons were fighting in earnest, with copious amounts of Dragon blood spilling, further enraging them.
Sending these dozen wizards in would merely provide two extra courses for dessert.
"Our goal is protecting the loser – prevent the victor from delivering a killing blow, then administer treatment," Sutter explained their mission before joining Charlie in the harassment squad.
"Wayne, be extremely careful of the Peruvian Vipertooth's deadly venom," Newt cautioned gravely. "That's their most fearsome weapon. See how even the Hungarian Horntail avoids getting bitten?"
"I know." Wayne nodded. "This place really has every kind of dragon, doesn't it?"
"It is continental Europe's largest dragon habitat after all." Newt landed and began preparing various herbal concoctions from bottles and jars.
"Don't just stand there either. I'll make the dragon healing potions – you handle the ones for wizards."
Newt wasn't in a hurry to join the dragon keepers in harassing the dragons. In this situation, one more or one less person wouldn't make much difference. What he needed to prepare was the aftermath work.
"No need, I've got everything on me." Wayne smiled, pulling out several potion bottles. "All prepared in advance by my maid."
Newt cast an envious glance at the potions in the young man's hand.
Suddenly, having a thoughtful maid didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.
However, ordinary maids aren't as versatile as Gardevoir, who excels in both alchemy and potion-making.
...
The battle lasted from the afternoon until dusk. Newt's potion hadn't been needed yet, though Wayne's burn salve had already treated two injured parties.
Both were unlucky souls whose inadequate flying skills got them grazed by stray dragon flames.
Wayne suddenly understood why all these dragon keepers were burly with sun-darkened skin. Charlie had only been here two and a half years, yet had transformed from a dashing head boy into this tanned, hardened version.
With daily exposure to wind and sun, proper skincare was impossible.
He'd wanted to intervene, but Newt stopped him.
The situation remained under control for now. Rash interference would only seem condescending.
Yet the turning point soon arrived.
At dusk, the setting sun's glare made everyone squint. The keepers donned sunglasses, but their vision remained severely impaired.
After hours of intense focus, human error was inevitable.
Charlie squinted as he absentmindedly fired a spell.
By sheer coincidence, the Hungarian Horntail turned to evade the Vipertooth's flames just then - the spell struck its eye.
A dragon's scales cover its entire body except the eyes, their most vulnerable spot.
The enraged Horntail shrieked, abandoning its duel with the other dragons to charge at Charlie, spewing scorching flames.
"Charlie, run!" Sutter shouted.
Charlie snapped to attention, wheeling his broom away. But the initial proximity and the Horntail's frenzied state meant the gap kept narrowing dangerously.
Newt paled. "We must help!"
He scrambled to mount his broom, but Wayne stopped him.
"I'll handle this."
Under Newt's puzzled gaze, Wayne took a deep breath, crooked his finger, and bellowed:
"You... come at me!"