Crunch, crunch, crunch—

The horrifyingly sound of sharp, dagger-like teeth gnashing violently against each other filled the mountain air with a bone-chilling symphony of destruction and consumption.

Pale bone fragments, cracked and crushed into irregular shards by the tremendous pressure of those powerful jaws, mixed grotesquely with streams of blood that flowed from the dragon’s fearsome snout.

The fluid trickled in steady streams down the creature’s neck, following the natural outlines and ridges of its body before dripping steadily onto the pearl-like scales that covered its massive chest like natural armor. The nauseating, metallic stench of fresh blood permeated the air.

As more and more fresh, delicious prey continued to fill its belly, the intense bloodlust that had been seeping through those pupilless, pure white, spine-chilling eyes of this magnificent feast’s enjoyer gradually began to fade and diminish becoming calm and gentle.

The dragon’s wings, covered in white membrane, spanning an absolutely massive fifty feet from tip to tip. These enormous attachments, capable of generating the tremendous lift necessary to carry such a massive creature through the skies, slowly folded back against the dragon’s body.

The wings settled naturally against both sides of the creature’s spine, which was lined with an impressive row of slender white spikes that ran from the base of its skull all the way down to the tip of its powerful tail.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The mountain itself seemed to groan under the dragon’s immense weight and power as its massive claws embedded themselves deeply into the solid rock of the pyramid-shaped mountain peak.

Crushed rock and pulverized stone began falling like a heavy rain of debris, the fragments ranging in size from tiny pebbles to chunks as large as a human head. This rocky fall quickly began burying and concealing all traces of the recent slaughter that had taken place on the mountain’s slopes.

The Antipodean Opaleye, having finally reached the rocky peak that would serve as its resting place, stretched its neck toward the sky and released a series of long haunting calls. These vocalizations resembled the cry of a seagull, but were extremely deeper, more resonant, and more complex.

After completing this territorial announcement and expressing its contentment with the recent feast, the dragon slowly settled down into a comfortable resting position. It used its thick, muscular tail to form a protective circle around itself, creating a natural barrier that would help conserve body heat and provide security while it slept.

The dragon’s snout, still bearing traces of its recent meal, expelled several clusters of red flames that lit the surrounding area with warm, flickering light. These flame bursts served multiple purposes: clearing any remaining debris from its nasal passages, marking its territory with scent, and perhaps simply expressing its satisfaction with its current circumstances.

Finally, with all its needs met and its territory secured, the dragon drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Not far away from this impressive display of natural power and majesty, carefully hidden behind complex magical barriers that rendered them completely invisible to the dragon’s senses, a group of magical creature experts and researchers witnessed this entire scene with fascination and excitement.

They couldn’t help but applaud and celebrate with genuine joy and relief at what they had just observed.

The feeding had been successful, the dragon was healthy and content, and their research project was proceeding exactly as they had hoped when they first proposed this ambitious task to the magical authorities.

This Antipodean Opaleye had been imported the previous Christmas Eve, arriving amid great fanfare and bureaucratic complexity from the renowned Antipodean Dragon Nature Reserve. The transfer had required long negotiations and approvals from the Magical Congress of the United States of America, involving numerous departments, committees, and international magical cooperation agreements.

The dragon’s arrival in America had been significant for multiple important reasons. First and most obviously, it filled a gap in the continent’s magical ecosystem by providing the first wild dragon to reside on American soil in recorded magical history.

This represented a tremendous opportunity for magical naturalists and researchers who had previously been forced to travel to other continents to study these magnificent creatures in their natural habitats.

Second, the dragon’s presence provided vital research material for magical creature protection experts. Third, and perhaps most importantly from a public relations and educational standpoint, the general magical public could apply for special appointments to visit the dragon under carefully controlled conditions.

“Remember what I told you earlier,” came a tired voice from behind the celebrating researchers.

When the various magical creature experts had finally calmed their initial excitement and their respectful, admiring gazes all turned toward the elderly wizard standing behind them, they were surprised to notice that the object of their admiration showed no trace of joy or pride in the successful feeding they had just witnessed.

Looking at the now-peacefully snoring Antipodean Opaleye with an expression of slight reluctance and what might have been regret, Newton “Newt” Scamander released a long, weary sigh.

Then, he turned his attention toward the thick, lush forest beside the mountain clearing. This forest area was dense with climbing vines, tangled shrubs, and the kind of vegetation that provided perfect habitat for numerous species of smaller magical creatures who preferred to remain hidden from human observation.

“Hoppy! Milo! Mauler!” Newt called out, his old voice carrying clearly through the green forest canopy.

Soon, the rustling sounds of small creatures moving rapidly through dense vegetation came from various parts of the damp forest floor. Without warning, three streaks of different-colored light shot out from the scrubs.

Before the staff members and experts of the New York Magical Creatures Nature Reserve could even begin to react to this sudden burst of activity, three Kneazles had somehow managed to take their predetermined positions around Newt.

“Oh no, Hoppy!” Newt quickly inserted two fingers into Hoppy’s mouth, fumbling around and struggling to extract a plump, newborn-looking Motrax mouse.

The baby was terrified, curled up trembling in Newt’s palm, trying to dig itself a hole to hide in, constantly scratching at Newt’s palm with its two small white milk teeth protruding from its lips.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, little one,” Newt held the newborn Motrax mouse by its tail and handed it to one of the staff members.

Newt held the newborn Motrax mouse by its tail and handed it to one of the nearby staff members.

“Please return this little one to its mother immediately and give the family my sincere apologies for this unfortunate incident,”

Newt then pulled the indignant Hoppy who was angrily batting at his head with its paws, clearly expressing displeasure at having been robbed of what the Kneazle obviously considered a perfectly legitimate and well-deserved meal.

“Calm down, Hoppy, that wasn’t your food.”

“Meow!” came Hoppy’s immediate and obviously indignant response.

“You believe you need compensation for your lost meal?” Newt asked, his mustache twitching helplessly.

“Alright then, how about a nice bowl of ferret meat as a substitute?” He offered, hoping to resolve the matter quickly.

“Meow!!” came Hoppy’s response, but this voice was even more insistent and demanding than the first.

“Two bowls of ferret meat?”

Newt’s brow furrowed, but then Milly and Mauler also began making a fuss on his shoulders. To quickly settle the matter, Newt had to surrender.

“Oh, alright, deal. Two bowls each though I must say this is a complete robbery. Come on, we need to hurry back. Tina says it’s very impolite to leave guests at home.”

The so-called “home” that Newt referenced was actually a wooden cottage that had been constructed at the natural boundary between the lush forest and the open grassland areas within the Magical Creatures Nature Reserve.

This facility had been built by the Magical Congress of the United States of America within the Central Park.

Actually, Bryan wasn’t the only distinguished wizard currently receiving what might be considered unfair treatment from the American magical authorities. Newt Scamander was also subject to certain restrictions and limitations on his movements and activities.

Since Newt had claimed that his current visit was driven by concern for those dangerous, high-risk magical creatures that had recently gone missing from various secure facilities, the Department of Magical Security had made the decision to provide him with accommodations in the nature reserve rather than allowing him complete freedom of movement throughout the city.

Unlike Bryan, however, this particular arrangement actually suited Newt perfectly.

Under the vast, open sky, several lazy white clouds drifted slowly and peacefully with the gentle wind currents.

On the green, gently rolling grassland that stretched out in all directions from the cottage, two purple-gray adult Hippogriffs were taking a leisurely stroll.

Bryan sat comfortably beside a large stone water trough that had been specifically designed and placed to serve the hydration needs of the various magical creatures that inhabited this section of the reserve.

He was currently teasing a fluffy Puffskein. This adorable, spherical creature was covered in soft, cream-colored fur that made it look like a living powder puff, and under normal circumstances, Puffskeins were known for their gentle, docile natures and their tendency to purr when content.

However, this particular Puffskein clearly had no desire to be the object of a wizard’s playful attention.

It frantically flapped its small, flightless wings, constantly using its innate teleportation ability to disappear from its original location, hoping to get away from this mischievous wizard.

However, there was clearly something interfering with the creature’s normally reliable sense of direction and spatial awareness. Despite its best efforts and repeated attempts at escape, the Puffskein’s muddled head seemed unable to navigate successfully, and it kept teleporting in circles, never managing to escape the range of those purple eyes

No matter where it appeared, no matter how frantically it attempted to flee, the Puffskein found itself consistently reappearing directly in front of Bryan, and each time it appeared, it was immediately greeted by those long-fingered, gentle hands reaching out to stroke its soft.

Chirp, chirp, chirp! Updates are released by novel·fiɾe·net

Tears of ‘despair’ began welling up in the Puffskein’s small, gray-brown eyes. The little thing seemed to be experiencing something very much like an existential crisis, as if it genuinely felt that its end was rapidly approaching.

“Please don’t continue doing that, Bryan,” Newt said with obvious concern and disapproval as he hurried out of the dense rainforest that bordered the grassland area.

Watching Bryan Watson, who appeared to be having tremendous fun at the expense of the clearly distressed magical creature, Newt felt his tightly pressed lips twitching several times.

“If a Puffskein experiences significant fear or panic,” Newt continued with a patient tone, “it can completely lose its natural sense of direction while attempting to use its teleportation abilities for escape.

I’ve personally seen cases where a Puffskein, panicking while trying to escape from a predator or other perceived threat, has become so disoriented that it accidentally burrows directly into ground or appears inside solid objects, resulting in fatal injury and death.”

Chirp chirp!

The captured Puffskein, as if understanding that help had finally arrived, let out a heart-rending cry that seemed to embody all of its fear, frustration, and desperate hope for rescue from this bewildering situation.

“Oh, you believe it was afraid?” Bryan asked with apparently genuine surprise. He flicked the Puffskein’s tiny beak gently with one finger and said, “I thought we were having fun together, weren’t we, little one?”

Bryan’s smile remained warm and apparently genuine as he opened his palm completely and withdrew whatever magical influence had been subtly blocking the creature’s natural teleportation abilities and spatial awareness.

The moment the magical interference was removed, the Puffskein fled in panic.

Dusting off his hands, Bryan stood up from his position at the edge of the stone trough and walked toward Newt with that same warm smile.

“How did everything go, Newt? Were you able to resolve the trouble?”

Newt sighed deeply in his mind, his mind wrestling with conflicting thoughts and impressions about the complex young man standing before him.

He genuinely didn’t understand why Hoppy would consistently consider Bryan Watson to be a friendly, kind wizard. From Newt’s own limited interactions and observations, Bryan Watson’s attitude toward magical creatures was like that of ordinary wizards—no, perhaps even worse.

“I have to say,” Newt began, deliberately blocking Hoppy, who was still demanding the promised ferret meat and making insistent noises around his feet, his voice carrying clear tones of displeasure,

“The magical creature experts and staff members here at this facility are perhaps the most incompetent and poorly trained group of individuals I’ve ever encountered.

They actually insist on feeding dead goats to the Antipodean Opaleye, and when I question this obviously inappropriate dietary choice, they tell me with complete confidence that this is specifically designed to tame that wild dragon and make it more manageable for research purposes.

If any of these supposed experts had bothered to read my book seriously and carefully, they wouldn’t be making such dangerous mistakes.

Furthermore, they absolutely refuse to let me get anywhere near the dragon, claiming that this restriction is for my own protection and safety. Since they’ve already managed to lose several extremely dangerous Class 5X magical creatures through what can only be described as gross negligence and incompetence, they claim they simply cannot afford to have anything go wrong with this Opaleye under their care.

Yet despite their supposed concern for the dragon’s wellbeing, these same experts have been starving that poor creature until it reached a state of savage hunger that made it dangerous to everyone around it.”

The two men walked into the house together. Newt was urged by the three Nifflers to fulfill his promise, while Bryan went to the stove, lifted the kettle, and replaced the two cold cups of tea on the wooden table.

“Oh, sorry about that!” Bryan exclaimed with apparent embarrassment and concern.

Before Newt could return from fulfilling his obligations to the demanding Kneazles, Bryan had quickly thrown a small Bowtruckle that he had accidentally stepped on and knocked unconscious clean out the open window of the cottage.

Bryan frowned as he observed a large swarm of Billywig insects that were hovering near the ceiling of the cottage. These buzzing little magical creatures, while not particularly dangerous in small numbers, could become quite annoying when present in such quantities.

Fortunately for both Bryan’s comfort and the Billywigs’ continued survival, Newt’s timely return from the kitchen prevented any further incidents that might have required additional damage control or explanations.

“Do you need to rest for a while, Newt?” Bryan asked with concern and consideration, his eyes noticing the subtle signs of fatigue that were becoming visible on his face.

“Oh, no, thank you for asking, but I’m quite alright,” Newt replied with a shake of his head.

“Let’s continue our earlier conversation instead. As I mentioned to you before, Graves has made the decision to detain that Nundu.

He’s locked the poor creature in a heavily guarded prison facility that was specifically designed and intended for the most dangerous magical criminals. I simply cannot imagine how utterly terrified and confused that creature must be in such an environment.

But Graves won’t let me care for it, even when I offered to live in the prison myself.

Given the apparent futility of direct negotiation with the American magical authorities, I can only seek assistance from prominent wizards and respected voices in the international magical community who might be able to exert pressure on Graves and convince him to reconsider his unjust and inhumane treatment of the Nundu.

I’ve already written letters to Albus and to several other distinguished wizards whom I know personally and who work in various aspects of international magical creature protection. I’m asking them to use whatever influence and diplomatic pressure they can bring on the situation.

Bryan, may I humbly invite you to write such a letter as well?”

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