After a dizzying spin, Lynn's feet finally touched solid ground.
In that instant, his stomach did a somersault, and a surge of acid rushed up from his gut to his throat.
He clamped his mouth shut, forcibly suppressing the nauseating sensation.
Then, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
He looked down at his clothes.
His robes were wrinkled, his collar had shifted to one side, and a few blades of grass clung to his sleeves.
He patted himself down, straightened his collar, and flicked the grass away.
William stood beside him with a pale face, leaning against a nearby tree and gasping for air.
Ollie stood next to William. He did not look well either, though he was in better condition than William.
His lips were purple, his brow was furrowed, and he radiated the misery of someone who wanted to vomit but could not.
"Welcome, welcome… Oh, Lynn, it really is you!"
A voice came from beside them, filled with obvious surprise.
Lynn paused in the middle of tidying his clothes.
He turned toward the person greeting him.
The man appeared to be in his twenties, with a sturdy build, broad shoulders, and thick arms—clearly someone accustomed to manual labor.
A few faint scars marked his face, most likely from dealing with Dragons.
The most striking thing about him was his hat.
It was styled like a Dragon.
The body of the hat was green, with two yellow eyes sewn onto it and a row of jagged "teeth" along the brim.
It was not exactly exquisite, but it was obviously handmade. The stitching was dense and sturdy.
The man beamed at Lynn, his expression carrying an indescribable eagerness.
Lynn was certain that he did not know him.
"And you are…?" Lynn asked hesitantly.
The man slapped his forehead.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself!"
He reached out and strode toward Lynn.
"I'm Charlie Weasley, Ginny's older brother."
The second son of the Weasley family.
The one studying Dragons in Romania.
Ron had mentioned before that his brother worked at a Dragon Sanctuary and rarely returned home.
"I've been looking for a chance to thank you for saving my sister," Charlie said solemnly as he reached out to shake Lynn's hand. "Please, you must allow me to host you properly."
His grip was powerful, leaving Lynn's hand slightly numb.
Lynn had never had much experience with such formal gratitude.
He was not especially good at dealing with such direct displays of emotion.
So, he simply smiled at Charlie in response.
Charlie did not mind.
He released Lynn's hand and turned to William and Ollie.
"And these two are…?"
"My classmates, William and Ollie." Lynn stepped aside so that Charlie could see them clearly.
"Pleasure to meet you!"
Charlie enthusiastically reached out, shaking hands with William and Ollie in turn.
"Any friend of Lynn's is a friend of mine. Come on, follow me. I'll show you around."
He led the way at a brisk pace, turning back to speak with Lynn as they walked.
"You've arrived just in time. The Dragons haven't started fighting for territory yet. Everyone is waiting over there."
He pointed into the distance.
Lynn followed his finger.
Far away was an open meadow where people stood in small groups.
They wore various traveling cloaks.
Some chatted with one another.
Some fiddled with instruments.
A few were gathered together, pointing toward the Dragons on the distant cliffs.
Charlie led Lynn and the others to a nearby clearing, where a large group had already gathered.
The clearing was well positioned, higher than the surrounding ground and offering a clear view of the cliffs where the Dragons nested.
Several picnic blankets had been spread across the ground, covered with food and drinks.
Lynn spotted several familiar faces among the crowd.
Professor Kettleburn—Hogwarts' former Care of Magical Creatures professor—was a gray-haired old man who appeared slightly unsteady on his feet.
He sat in a folding chair, squinting through a pair of binoculars at the distance.
Newt Scamander stood beside Kettleburn, wearing an old overcoat.
He held nothing in his hands and merely stood there, his calm gaze sweeping across the distant cliffs.
Edward Lema—Lynn had seen that name in textbooks, but this was the first time he had met the man in person.
He was an ordinary-looking middle-aged man with messy hair and thick-rimmed glasses, crouching on the ground and drawing something with a twig.
Edward Lema, the author of The Monster Book of Monsters.
To be honest, that book was highly practical, but the reading experience was terrible.
It tended to bite.
"Oh, Lynn, I didn't expect to see you here."
A voice came from the side.
Lynn turned and saw Newt walking toward him.
His gait was much lighter than during their previous meeting, and his expression was far more relaxed.
There was even a hint of a smile as he took the initiative to greet Lynn.
"Long time no see, Mr. Scamander." Lynn nodded. "You seem to be in good spirits."
Newt smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head.
"After all, a Dragon succession is not something you encounter every day." His voice carried irrepressible excitement. "The last time I saw a scene like this was many years ago.
"I was young then, here with a research team for a survey, and we happened to witness that Ukrainian Ironbelly take its position."
He paused, his gaze drifting toward the cliffs in the distance.
A touch of nostalgia appeared in his eyes.
"That fight lasted two full days and nights. That Ukrainian Ironbelly lost most of its scales and had a wing torn open, but it still won."
As Lynn listened, an image formed in his mind.
A twenty-meter-long Dragon, covered in blood, standing atop the highest cliff and roaring its victory to the heavens.
It was indeed a powerful image.
As they spoke, Newt suddenly sighed.
The sigh was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet meadow.
Lynn was taken aback, unable to understand why he seemed downcast.
Newt shook his head.
"I would be even happier if I could find that Obscurial again."
Lynn's words caught in his throat.
He remembered telling Dumbledore that the Obscurial had been destroyed by him.
Technically, it was not a lie.
Ellis, who had been possessed by the Obscurial, was indeed dead.
And the Obscurial was indeed locked inside a Goblin Metal bottle.
But… well, he could not keep pretending.
He had essentially kept the Obscurial for himself.
Seeing Lynn's shifting expression, Newt thought that Lynn was blaming himself for destroying the Obscurial.
His tone softened.
"Lynn, you do not need to blame yourself." He patted Lynn's shoulder. "Ultimately, the root of the matter was me. If not for my negligence, that Obscurial would not have escaped from the case, nor would it have caused so much trouble."
Lynn: "…"
Am I blaming myself? I'm just feeling guilty.
But he would not say that.
So, he merely nodded and changed the subject.
"Mr. Scamander, who do you think will win today?"
Newt's attention was successfully diverted.
He turned back toward the cliffs inhabited by the Dragons, his brow furrowing slightly as he seriously considered the question.
"Hard to say." He shook his head. "That Ukrainian Ironbelly may be old, but it has experience. It has lived in this area for many years and knows every Dragon's weaknesses.
"The others may be young and strong, but they fall far short in experience."
He paused before adding, "However, you never can tell with these things. There are too many variables in a Dragon fight.
"Wind direction, terrain, stamina, even mood—they can all affect the outcome."
Lynn nodded thoughtfully.
"So," William interjected while pushing up his glasses, "the result of this 'election' is completely unpredictable?"
Newt glanced at him and smiled.
"Mr. Smith, that is the charm of magical creatures." He said, "You never know what they will do next."
After parting with Mr. Scamander, Charlie took Lynn and the others for a walk nearby, introducing them to the conditions of the Dragon Sanctuary.
They walked along a dirt path, flanked by low shrubs and sparse trees.
The distant cliffs loomed closer, and the dark caves in the rock faces became more visible.
"Closest to us are the Welsh Green Dragons." Charlie pointed to a cliff on the right. "Seven in total. They all live over there.
"Welsh Greens have a fairly mild temperament for Dragons. They generally do not attack people unprovoked.
"But if you get too close, they will not be polite either."
He then pointed toward the left.
"Over there are the Swedish Short-Snouts. They are much fiercer than the Welsh Greens.
"Their fire-breathing range is especially long, reaching up to fifty meters. That area is a restricted zone, so visitors cannot wander in casually."
William pushed up his glasses.
"Don't we count as visitors?"
Charlie chuckled.
"You're with me. You are not ordinary visitors."
Lynn glanced at Charlie, thinking:
Is everyone in the Weasley family this bold?
To be honest, before coming to the Dragon Sanctuary, Lynn had expected the atmosphere to be extremely tense.
In his imagination, it should have been a place filled with fire and roars.
Dragons chasing one another through the sky.
Brawling on the ground.
Confronting one another on cliffs.
Dragon Keepers darting through the air on broomsticks, tranquilizer guns and sedatives in hand, ready to intervene at any moment.
Instead, after arriving, he found it absurdly quiet.
There were no burning flames.
No successive roars.
And certainly no intense scenes like the ones he had imagined.
While there were Dragons in the sky, there were only one or two.
They circled slowly in the distance, their wingbeats infrequent.
They looked more like they were taking a stroll than preparing for a fight.
Everyone nearby was gathered in groups of three or five, chatting leisurely.
It looked like a reunion of old friends.
The scene was so harmonious that Lynn felt he had not come to watch a Dragon fight at all.
He had come to attend a school reunion.
Charlie did not explain much.
He merely patted Lynn's shoulder with a knowing, experienced look.
"Let's just say you came at a good time," he said. "If you had come last night, you would not be thinking this."
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"What happened last night?"
Charlie's expression became subtle.
He patted Lynn's shoulder again.
"You'll find out in a bit."
He checked his watch, then looked up toward the highest cliff in the distance.
"Almost time," he said. "Feeding time is coming up."
Lynn: "…"
You should not have gone to Gryffindor. You should have gone to Hufflepuff.
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