At the French border, in a forest very famous in modern war history, three people dressed completely differently from ordinary people were walking slowly through the woods.
Although due to the passage of time, there were no longer any traces of war visible around them. Vegetation grew vigorously, sunlight scattered on the ground, presenting a scene full of vitality.
But in the eyes of wizards, the gloom here had not completely dissipated.
Holding a map in his hand, Evans raised his head and looked around.
The wails of the dead faintly echoed in his ears, and pale white shadows occasionally flashed before his eyes. These souls had long lost their forms due to the passage of time, but their consciousness still lingered on this land, refusing to disperse.
After all, nearly a hundred thousand people had died here in the span of a month, and their spilled blood could have stained half the forest red if spread evenly.
Such heavy resentment couldn't completely dissipate in less than fifty years.
"Even the water here is filled with the deadly aura of war. It's stuffy and uncomfortable." Wrinkling her pretty nose, Sothea looked around, her pale blue eyes showing some discomfort.
"Should I go find a Muggle shop and buy you a couple bottles of mineral water?"
"That's not what I meant!"
Watching the two young people banter, Newt smiled and shook his head.
But... war, indeed.
Looking at the forest around them, where the traces of war had long been erased by time, leaving only the wails of souls, Newt's thoughts gradually drifted away.
Back then, Muggles had experienced an extremely brutal war here.
But at the same time, the wizarding world was also engaged in that battle that determined the world's fate.
He often wondered if it had been Grindelwald rather than Dumbledore who had won that duel back then, would the world's structure have changed?
For instance, if Grindelwald had achieved victory back then, wizards might have already become absolute enemies with Muggles. Although that society of wizards ruling over Muggles might not have actually formed, the process of making it happen would have been enough to wash the entire Muggle world in blood.
Shaking his head, Newt pulled his thoughts back to the present.
That was all over forty years ago. That battle had long ended, and even most of the souls in this forest had dissipated, leaving only some residual thoughts.
And even these residual thoughts would eventually be completely eroded by time.
No one could defeat time. Even that Nicolas Flamel had only temporarily escaped Death's scythe.
"This isn't really the Franco-German border, is it?"
Looking at the map he had casually bought earlier, Evans's expression was somewhat strange.
There was such a big Belgium right next to them. How had his senior mistaken this place for the Franco-German border?
"Eh? This isn't the Franco-German border?" Newt was stunned, breaking free from his memories with a very surprised expression. "I remember when I came to this area before; this was the Franco-German border!"
"...When was that?"
"About forty years ago, why?"
"...Senior, you have quite a talent for dark humor."
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
Not wanting to dwell on this topic any longer, Evans examined the map and compared it to their current surroundings. He couldn't make sense of it, though. Wizarding maps were much more suited to his needs.
Silently tucking the map into his pocket, Evans said, "In a forest this huge, how are we going to find that Cait Sith?"
Looking around, Newt shook his head. "We can only rely on luck. If a Cait Sith doesn't want to be seen by you, you won't be able to find such a creature."
Although he said this, Newt's expression didn't change much. He was someone who could squat for two months just to see a rare magical creature being born.
"Can we ask someone?" Sothea asked curiously.
"Ask someone?" Newt pondered for a moment. "There don't seem to be any wizarding communities nearby."
"It doesn't have to be a wizard we ask." Evans raised his head, looking toward a middle-aged man jogging in the forest not far away. "Muggles who exercise in the forest every day like that are very good subjects to question."
"Question, Muggles?" Newt's expression became somewhat nervous. Although he had a very good Muggle friend, talking to strangers wasn't his forte to begin with, let alone talking to a strange Muggle.
Jacob had once said that when talking to strange Muggles, you could discuss their views on leaders or their dissatisfaction with current policies. Many Muggles were very interested in such things.
But who was the leader of French Muggles in this era? Was it still that De-something-or-other?
Just as Newt was struggling with this, he saw that Evans beside him had already naturally removed the Muggle-Repelling Charm from himself, used a Disillusionment Charm to change into Muggle sportswear, and caught up with the middle-aged Muggle who was jogging ahead.
Wearing an ordinary shirt and bathed in sunlight, the middle-aged man was enjoying the pleasure that afternoon exercise brought.
Every day he would run for an hour in this forest. Previously it was always at night, but night jogging in this forest always seemed to involve encountering strange things. Because of this, he had recently moved his running time to noon.
And indeed, once he made this change, the strange occurrences immediately stopped.
It seemed the legend that sunlight could dispel ghosts wasn't entirely nonsense.
Just as he was thinking this, he suddenly heard somewhat imperfect but very fluent French from beside him.
"Uncle, I'm a student here for tourism. Have you heard any legends related to cats in this forest?"
"Cats?" Hearing this, the middle-aged man frowned, his steps slowing slightly as he turned to look at the young man who had appeared beside him at some point and was jogging alongside him.
"What legends about cats could there be here? If you want to find legends related to the Nazis, I could tell you some. This forest saw quite a few deaths back then."
"Huh? I heard from a friend a few days ago that there were cats that stand on two feet here?" The young man's expression seemed very surprised, but his words made the middle-aged man lose interest in the conversation.
He had seen many young people who came to this forest for supernatural reasons, but he hadn't expected it to reach such ridiculous levels now.
"What cats standing on two feet? Never heard of such a thing." The middle-aged man waved his hand somewhat impatiently. "Tourism here is usually because of that battle. If you want to find cats, I suggest you go to some pet shops in town."
"Don't give up, uncle. Think again. Have there been any strange incidents, like a large group of cats appearing out of nowhere?"
"...A group of cats suddenly appearing?"
Hearing this description, the jogging man seemed to suddenly remember something. He slowed his pace, thought for a moment, and his eyes took on some resentment.
"Now that you mention it, I actually remember something!"
Having said this, he stopped running altogether, found a random tree stump to sit on, and began recounting the disgusting strange incident that had happened a few weeks ago.
Not far away, Newt with Muggle-Repelling Charms on him: "?"
It was that simple?