One afternoon during the holidays, glaring sunlight cut through the gaps in the curtains, landing right on the eyelids of the young man sleeping soundly in bed.
Lynn frowned and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow.
But the light chased him relentlessly, as if determined to drag him out of his dreams.
He resisted for a while before finally giving in and opening his eyes.
His eyelids felt heavy, his brain even heavier. His whole head felt stuffed with paste, unable to form a single coherent thought.
The moment Lynn's eyes opened, it felt like someone had set off a flashbang right in front of him.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What was I even supposed to be doing?
He stared at the ceiling a long while; blank, stark white, as empty as his own mind at that moment.
Lynn shook his head; this holiday was turning him into a literal couch potato.
Every day was just eat, drink, sleep, use the bathroom, plus a bit of fishing.
Sleep till he woke naturally, breakfast already waiting. Sit by the lake all morning, catch or no catch. Back for lunch, a nap, then back to the lake in the afternoon. Home for dinner, some reading, bed.
Day after day, the same loop.
Living like this, forget his brain—he was nearly forgetting how to even hold a wand properly.
Lynn lay there, staring at the ceiling, seriously pondering the ultimate philosophical question of humanity: what to eat for lunch.
Grilled fish? No, sick of fish lately. Braised pork? Dodo made it well, but three days straight was enough. Maybe... eat out? Hot pot? Stir-fry? Or just a simple burger—
Ring ring ring ring ring—
The Magic Phone blared, yanking him out of his culinary daydream.
Lynn scratched at hair slept into a bird's nest, grabbed the phone off the nightstand, and squinted at the caller ID.
Edgar.
He answered, and before he could get a word out, a voice cracked with excitement burst from the other end.
"Lynn! Guess where I am right now!"
Lynn yawned, sinking back into the pillow.
"How am I supposed to guess? Tell me or I'm hanging up."
"Hey, hey, hey! Don't hang up!" Edgar's voice climbed. "Look, just look and you'll know!"
He flipped the camera outward as he spoke.
The screen shook a few times before steadying. Lynn squinted for a second, then—
Good grief.
The Statue of Liberty.
The massive copper-green statue stood dead center on the screen, torch raised against a backdrop of blue sky dotted with a few lazy clouds.
Tourists swarmed everywhere—some snapping photos, some craning their necks up at the top of the statue, a few kids chasing each other around.
"Sneak off on another taxpayer-funded vacation?" Lynn's tone carried a hint of teasing.
"Don't say it like that!" Edgar's voice sounded genuinely wounded. "I really didn't come here on vacation this time."
Lynn raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"I'm here to study!" Edgar's tone turned solemn. "Learning from advanced foreign Ministry of Magic practices, so I can go back to Britain and serve the wizarding world better."
Lynn couldn't help but laugh at that.
"Learning how to be a corrupt commissioner and embezzle Ministry funds?"
"Careful, or I'm telling William Smith." Edgar shot back instantly.
"William's not that petty." Lynn rolled over, settling into a more comfortable position.
The two chatted idly through the screen.
Edgar mentioned visiting the American Ministry of Magic yesterday, saying their building put Britain's to shame, complete with dedicated coffee machines.
He also mentioned wandering the streets today; American wizards dressed far flashier than British ones, some even sporting star-spangled robes that were a genuine eyesore.
Lynn listened, occasionally tossing in a word.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, Edgar's voice jumped several octaves.
"Oh right! I think I saw Mr. Scamander here in the States."
Lynn paused.
"Which Scamander?"
"Which else?" Edgar's tone carried a hint of disbelief. "The one who wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!"
"I even watched him searching all over the streets," Edgar went on, clearly baffled. "Checking trash cans, poking through bushes, even lying flat to look down into the sewers. Lots of people watching, and he just didn't care."
Lynn: ???
Newt Scamander, digging through trash cans? Peering into sewers?
However he pictured it, something about that felt deeply wrong.
Just as he wondered what Scamander could possibly be searching the streets for—
the Magic Phone buzzed again.
Lynn looked down and saw an unexpected name pop up.
Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Edgar, hold on a sec, taking a call."
He switched over and answered.
"Headmaster," he said, cutting straight to it with eager excitement, "found Lord Voldemort's location? I'm on my way."
A second of silence on the other end.
Then a soft sigh.
"Child," Dumbledore's voice carried a hint of weary resignation, "must you always default to violence?"
Lynn: "..."
He didn't think that was violence at all. Just stating facts.
"Oh," he said. "Then tell me what's actually on your mind."
Dumbledore paused again. The faint rustle of paper and Fawkes's low chirping came through the phone.
"It's like this—"
He paused.
Lynn waited.
"An old friend of mine has run into some trouble in the United States."
Dumbledore's voice carried an unusual hesitation.
"Newt Scamander. You two should have met."
Lynn remembered what Edgar had just described. Trash cans, sewers, searching all over the streets.
"What happened to him?"
"In that suitcase of his, he keeps some... rather special creatures," Dumbledore said, choosing his words with care. "One of the younglings slipped away when he wasn't watching."
Lynn went quiet.
Newt Scamander's suitcase. Anything inside that got loose would be front-page material for The Daily Prophet.
"He needs help finding it now," Dumbledore continued. "The little one is quite special—ordinary tracking charms won't work on it. I need someone sharp, well-versed in magical creatures, and—"
He paused.
"And someone who won't get lost themselves while searching."
Lynn suspected that last part was aimed directly at him.
"So you thought of me."
"Yes." Dumbledore sounded a touch sheepish. "I know it's sudden. But Fawkes hasn't been well lately, can't manage long flights. And there's business here I can't step away from—"
He didn't finish, but Lynn understood.
Dumbledore couldn't go himself.
"So you're sending me instead."
"If you're unwilling—"
"I'll go."
Lynn answered clean and decisive. Bored anyway.
A second of silence on the line.
Then Dumbledore's voice came back, tinged with relief.
"Thank you, child." He paused. "One more thing."
Lynn waited.
Dumbledore's voice carried a smile now. "Help Newt find that little creature, and no matter what mistake you make down the road, the Black Lake will never be off-limits for your fishing again."
Lynn's eyes lit up instantly.
That deal beat any Order of Merlin, hands down.
"Deal," he said.
A soft chuckle came from the other end.
"I'll send the exact location. Stay safe, child."
---
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