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Bang! Bang! Bang!
Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Zzzzt!
On the stage, the Thunderbird Earl Lightning and the Dragon Venom Lord, temporarily freed from the forced "script," were plunged into intense agitation.
They slammed violently against their metal perches and reinforced cage bars, desperately trying to break free.
At the same time, the red lights on the metal collars around their necks—engraved with lightning-bolt and fang patterns—began flashing at a frantic, unprecedented rate.
Clearly, some preset control mechanism had been triggered, attempting to forcibly suppress their unrest.
"Tsk…" Lynn frowned and stepped closer.
"Stupefy!" ×2
The two titled magical creatures collapsed unconscious.
The rapidly flashing red lights on their collars immediately dimmed, returning to a passive standby state.
"That's much quieter."
Lynn put away his wand and leaned in, examining the collars. Their metal surfaces were etched with extremely complex runic arrays.
"Let's see…"
He extended his wand, carefully touching the locking mechanism of one collar, and murmured:
"Diffindo."
A sharp cutting flash flickered—
—and the lock snapped open.
Lynn removed the collar, then did the same with the other. He weighed the heavy metal rings in his hands, his eyes narrowing slightly as he began to analyze them.
"Whoa…"
A moment later, one eyebrow lifted.
"That's really dark. The core is actually a variant of the Imperius Curse?"
He paused, then continued, voice low with interest:
"No… more than that. It's blended with emotional suppression, pain inducement, and magical inhibition…"
A faint smirk appeared.
"Genius. The one who designed this is an absolute 'genius.'"
Now he understood why the two creatures had appeared so docile during the performance.
The collars didn't just force obedience—they continuously influenced the mind, dampening resistance while amplifying compliance with commands.
Lynn gave a quiet, cold snort and pocketed both collars without hesitation.
"The tool is vile… but useful."
"I'll take them back, study them, refine them."
A faint glint passed through his eyes.
"After all… persuasion sometimes requires the right methods."
The situation resolved and the reward secured, Lynn nodded in satisfaction.
He didn't linger.
With a soft pop, his figure vanished—Apparating away from the ruined stage.
About half an hour later, a series of rapid whooshing sounds cut through the night sky.
A large group of Wizards—wearing Norwegian Ministry of Magic uniforms and Auror robes—arrived on broomsticks.
They had clearly been alerted by fleeing audience members or nearby magical disturbances…
—but their response had been far slower than ideal.
At the front, a tall, thin man carrying a worn suitcase landed first.
He broke into a near sprint toward the center of the stage.
His eyes locked instantly onto the massive, unconscious Thunderbird lying amid the wreckage—
—and filled with concern.
Newt Scamander set down his case and knelt beside the creature, carefully examining its condition while quickly surveying the battlefield.
The stage was utterly devastated.
Scorch marks, ruptured ground, and blast damage covered every inch. The air was thick with acrid, mingled odors.
Not far away, from within a magically reinforced stone basin, came heavy breathing and dull impacts—
—a Dragon.
Two more unconscious creatures remained confined within their broken enclosures.
Further out…
Scattered across the ground lay charred, barely human-shaped remains—the unmistakable aftermath of a brutal magical conflict.
"Merlin's beard…"
Newt's voice was soft.
When the Norwegian Ministry had contacted him, he had only been told of suspected poaching and a large-scale magical creature incident.
He had not expected this.
A Ministry official approached, face grim.
"Mr. Scamander, we'll entrust these injured creatures to you. Their conditions are unstable. Our personnel must prioritize securing the perimeter, preventing Muggle exposure, and identifying the…"
He glanced toward the remains, frowning.
"…members of the Valentine Troupe."
"Site cleanup and evidence collection will take time."
Newt nodded, already at work.
He began treating the Thunderbird—cleaning wounds, applying specialized ointments.
But as he continued, his expression gradually darkened.
"This… how is this possible?"
Many of the injuries—especially those caused by spells—weren't just physical.
They were laced with lingering curse effects.
Burns and lacerations were threaded with something insidious.
Newt tried several counter-curses and purification spells—
—but the results were minimal.
"That's… a truly nasty piece of work."
He exhaled slowly.
For now, he could only suppress the effects—not remove them entirely.
And the Dragon…
Still trapped, injured, and unstable.
Newt hesitated briefly, then made a decision.
"…I'll move them into the case first."
"I can study the curse properly there—and treat them safely."
He began preparing for the transfer.
The next morning—
Lynn lounged comfortably on a deck chair on the balcony of a first-class cabin aboard a wizarding ferry.
The sea stretched endlessly before him as he leisurely enjoyed breakfast.
Fresh juice in hand, he flipped open the latest editions of The Daily Prophet (International Travel Edition) and The Norwegian Ministry of Magic Times.
A bold headline immediately caught his eye:
"Norwegian Ministry of Magic Destroys Major Poaching Ring 'Valentine Troupe'"
Subtitle:Magical Creatures Expert Newt Scamander Assists in Rescue Efforts
The article was long and detailed.
According to the report:
After a prolonged covert investigation, the Norwegian Ministry of Magic uncovered that the famous touring group Valentine Troupe was in fact a front for illegal poaching.
The organization had long engaged in the capture and trafficking of rare magical creatures using cruel methods.
The previous night, acting on confirmed intelligence, Aurors carried out a "precise strike" off the coast of Bergen. After an "intense confrontation," all members of the group were successfully apprehended.
Several rare creatures—including a Thunderbird and a Peruvian Vipertooth—were rescued. All were severely injured and had been entrusted to Newt Scamander for treatment, with plans for eventual release.
Due to the remote location and swift response, no Muggle exposure occurred.
The Ministry strongly condemned such crimes and reaffirmed its commitment to protecting magical biodiversity.
Lynn nearly spat out his juice.
"Pfft—'apprehended all members'?"
He wiped his mouth, shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.
"What, did they carefully gather up the ashes too?"
"Or has Azkaban started offering soul detention services?"
He shook his head, amused.
"But Newt Scamander showing up… that I didn't expect."
His expression grew a touch more thoughtful.
He briefly considered the lingering curses he had left behind.
"Hopefully… he won't have too much trouble."
Flipping to another page, a smaller article caught his attention:
"Sources Claim: Scamander's Aid Delayed by Security Procedures"
According to an anonymous insider from the Department of Magical Transportation, Newt's emergency response had been significantly delayed.
His suitcase underwent an extremely thorough inspection at an international Floo Network hub—
Every compartment.
Every habitat.
Repeated scans.
The process took nearly an hour.
He was even asked to temporarily remove certain harmless creatures for visual confirmation.
The Ministry defended the procedure as standard safety protocol for international magical transport.
"Hmm…"
Lynn stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"That one's… harder to judge."