Silence spread between the two of them.
Newt stood there, glancing at the trunk every so often, clearly still worried over those escaped "little ones."
Lynn stood beside him, sensing that if he didn't speak up soon, Newt might just wander off to keep hunting magical creatures.
"Mr. Scamander," Lynn said, "have you eaten?"
Newt paused mid-motion.
He looked up, seeming to genuinely mull it over. After a few seconds, he lowered his head, a bit sheepish. "...I forgot."
Made sense, really; once this old gentleman started chasing after magical creatures, he could lose track of himself, let alone a meal.
Lynn pulled out his Magic Phone and messaged Edgar: "Book me a restaurant."
A few seconds later, Edgar replied: "Ordering around a future star of the Department of International Magical Cooperation to run errands, are we?"
Even through the screen, Lynn could picture his punchable expression perfectly.
Lynn: "Just say so if you can't manage it."
The reply came instantly: "Le Coq Rico. My parents go there whenever they're in the States. French-Italian fusion, nice atmosphere."
Lynn pocketed his phone and turned to Newt. "Mr. Scamander, why don't we eat first? You'll need your strength."
Newt hesitated, glancing down at the trunk by his feet.
Lynn braced for a refusal and was ready to push further, but Newt just nodded, murmured a soft "Okay," bent down to pick up the trunk, and followed Lynn's lead.
Say what you will, he really was a Hufflepuff at heart. Dropout or not, that particular Hufflepuff virtue had stuck.
...
Le Coq Rico.
The name rang a bell; he thought he'd spotted it on the way here, on the east side of Central Park.
By the time Lynn and Scamander reached the entrance, Edgar was already waiting.
He wore a crisp, well-tailored new suit, a small United States Ministry of Magic visitor badge pinned to his chest.
Leaning against a pillar out front, playing with his Magic Phone. Spotting Lynn and Newt, he pocketed the phone at once, breaking into a bright smile.
"That fast?" Lynn was a bit surprised. "Weren't you at the Statue of Liberty? How'd you beat us here?"
Edgar grinned cheekily, fishing a key out of his pocket.
An old key, its copper dulled with age, a line of tiny engraved lettering on the handle. Lynn squinted a long moment before making it out—"Le Coq Rico · Private."
"My parents set up this Portkey just for me, for convenient dining," Edgar said, tossing the key in his hand with a hint of pride.
Lynn was quiet a beat.
He thought back to the passport, the trip to the Ministry, the permit activation—half a day of hassle just to get to America.
Meanwhile, this budding second-generation official had his own dedicated Portkey just for meals.
"Come on, come on," Edgar pushed the door open, waving them in. "Booked us a private room."
The three followed the waiter through the lobby and down a corridor floored in dark wood.
Impressionist paintings lined both walls; lighting warm and dim, the air scented with butter and spice.
Their private room sat at the very end. Not large, but quiet, a window looking out over Central Park.
Once seated, Edgar grabbed the menu, flipped through a few pages, and started rattling off dishes—duck confit, ratatouille, lobster bisque, crème brûlée—all in one breath, clearly not his first visit.
Newt took the menu, glanced it over, and ordered just a vegetable soup. Lynn picked a few things at random and handed the menu back to the waiter.
Waiting for the food, Edgar was clearly bursting to talk. He glanced between Newt and Lynn before finally speaking up.
"Mr. Scamander," he leaned in, lowering his voice, "how many more magical creatures are out there loose?"
Newt thought it over, fingers tapping lightly on the table, lips moving slightly as if counting silently.
"About... seven or eight."
Lynn took a deep breath.
He thought about the few in his own trunk and already felt that was plenty.
Seven or eight, all escaped from that trunk. He didn't even want to imagine what was still left inside it.
"If they're all babies," Lynn murmured, "shouldn't be too bad."
His voice came out soft, but the old gentleman's hearing was evidently sharper than average.
Newt shook his head. "Not all of them."
Before Lynn could follow up, Newt had already started reciting an inventory on his own.
His voice wasn't loud, but every name landed on the table like a small bomb.
"Nundu."
Lynn's eyelid twitched.
An XXXXX-classified magical creature—the kind that could wipe out a whole village with one breath of toxic vapor.
A baby one? Still deadly enough.
"Occamy."
XXXX-classified, capable of growing or shrinking to match any space. Finding one was practically a needle-in-a-haystack situation.
"Runespoor."
Another XXXX-class, three-headed—one for planning, one venomous, one that just daydreams. Also faster than a rabbit.
"Erumpent—"
Newt kept going.
Lynn's expression darkened further with every name. Nundu, Occamy, Runespoor, Erumpent... not one of them rated below XXXX by the Ministry, each harder to catch than the last.
"There might be a couple more I'm not sure of... I'll need to check the trunk to see who's missing."
At this point, Newt seemed to feel he should offer some reassurance. "Shouldn't take too long, though. They've all got fixed ranges and habits. Once we spot the pattern—"
"Oh, right, and an Obscurial."
Lynn seriously questioned whether his ears were working correctly.
An Obscurial? Weren't those supposed to have gone extinct ages ago? The books said so, the professors said so, even Dumbledore himself had mentioned Obscurials vanishing from the wizarding world at the start of the last century.
And weren't they supposed to be unable to survive without a host? How had Mr. Scamander gotten his hands on one?
Edgar sat nearby, a bite of duck leg frozen halfway to his mouth on a fork, jaw hanging open in a perfect "O."
He clearly knew what an Obscurial was—at the very least, knew it outranked everything else mentioned combined, in terms of sheer horror.
The private room went quiet for a few seconds.
Just as Lynn opened his mouth to ask something—a rumbling sound rose up from the ground.
Distant at first, growing louder, closer.
Lynn and Newt looked up at the same instant, exchanging a glance.
The next second, terrified screams erupted outside from pedestrians.
"Where'd this rhino come from?!"
"Help!"
"Call the police! Call the police!"
"Fire! Open fire!"
Without a word, Lynn dropped his utensils and bolted outside. Newt followed close behind, moving with a speed that didn't match his apparent age at all.
Edgar froze a second, grabbed an unfinished piece of bread off the table, and chased after them.
The three burst out of the restaurant, and the sight in front of them made all three pairs of pupils contract sharply.
The street had descended into total chaos.
Cars sat crooked along the curb, some crashed into each other, others up on the sidewalk. Trash cans lay overturned, garbage strewn everywhere. Lampposts leaned dangerously to one side, wires dangling, sparking.
And right in the middle of the street, a massive Erumpent charged around wildly.
Not a baby, this one—a fully grown adult.
Its hide sat thick and grey, armor-like. That signature horn gleamed with metallic sheen under the sun; one look told you getting gored by it wouldn't end well at all.
Right now, it was using that horn to ram a taxi sideways into a nearby lamppost.
The post snapped, hitting the ground with a piercing metallic clang.
Nearby Muggles—No-Majs, as they're called in the States—held guns, bullets pinging uselessly off the creature's hide.
The rounds sparked against its thick skin, doing about as much as an itch would.
The Erumpent shook its head, clearly irritated by these pesky little things. It pawed the ground twice with a hind leg, gearing up to charge the crowd.
Lynn and Newt's eyelids jumped in unison.
"I'll handle the Erumpent," Newt said, already sprinting forward. "You take the Muggles!"
His speed was startling; in the blink of an eye, he'd reached the center of the street, wand already in hand, tip glowing softly.
Lynn wasn't slow either.
He moved almost simultaneously with Newt.
His own wand slid from his sleeve, spinning once in his palm, tip aimed straight at the densest cluster of the crowd—several men firing bursts at the Erumpent.
"Confringo!"
A massive blast tore across the street, rattling car windows all down the road.
Loud enough to swallow the gunfire whole. Loud enough to catch even the distant screamers' voices in their throats.
Loud enough that even the Erumpent paused to look over.
Everyone turned toward the sound at once.
Dozens of eyes snapped to Lynn.
Now.
Lynn's wand was already pointed at the crowd, its tip glowing a soft, silvery-white.
"Look this way," his voice wasn't loud, yet it reached every single ear clearly. "Everyone, look this way."
Light rippled outward from the wand's tip.
The crowd froze in place, eyes fixed on Lynn's wand as though it were the single most fascinating thing they'd ever seen.
The gunmen lowered their weapons, passersby stopped mid-stride, and a homeless man behind a trash can poked his head out, gaze glazed over.
The entire street fell silent.
"That's a rhino," Lynn said calmly. "One that escaped the zoo."
Someone in the crowd nodded.
"A rhino," they repeated, voice airy. "Yeah, a rhino."
"You were just passing through, saw a rhino, thought that was unusual, watched for a bit, then went about your day."
More people started nodding.
Someone rubbed their eyes and yawned, like waking from a dream. Someone else glanced down at the gun in their hand, tucked it away, confused—what was I even doing with this?
But Lynn knew hypnosis alone wouldn't cut it. Sooner or later they'd snap out of it and spot the giant beast that had no business being on the streets of New York.
He flicked his wand once more.
A wide-range Muggle-Repelling Charm settled over the entire block.
---
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