"Silver Spear? Why are you in Britain? I remember after the Saint Party was destroyed, weren't you all hiding in Germany, barely surviving? What now? You've come out again to engage in poaching and smuggling, these underhanded dealings?" Although his grandson was being held hostage, the old man remained calm, but his expression gradually shifted from benevolent to stern.
"Mr. Scamander, we are honored that you still remember the Club's old name. We apologize for meeting you in such a manner today; we have our unavoidable difficulties." The masked man holding Rolf held his wand upright in front of him, bowed respectfully, and spoke in a deep voice that was neither distinctly male nor female.
"Unavoidable difficulties? Don't tell me jokes. Don't think I don't know what kind of people you are. Originally a dueling club, your leaders eventually degenerated into associating with the Dark Arts. You appear as fair duelists on the surface, but secretly engage in all sorts of shady dealings."
"The truth of history is never absolute. In your eyes, the Club may be a pack of hyenas, but we are just individuals striving for our ideals. Everyone is trying to survive; there's no distinction between nobility and baseness." Facing Newt's sarcasm, the masked man showed no anger, merely stating his case in a flat tone.
"Heh, really? It seems you're quite proud. I only remember that decades ago, at least half of the tortured magical creatures I rescued came from your hands. If it weren't for the Saint Party appearing back then, you would have surely been completely eradicated." Newt snorted coldly, speaking neither humbly nor arrogantly.
"Then I should thank you for your mercy back then. Speaking of which, you intercepted many goods from us in those years, and we didn't say anything, did we? Perhaps today is a good opportunity to bury the hatchet." This masked man seemed to have no emotions at all, completely unaffected by Newt's barbed words.
"Holding my grandson hostage—is that what you call burying the hatchet?" Newt's expression grew colder. "Tell me, what is your purpose? You didn't come all the way here in the middle of the night just to reminisce, did you? Also, shouldn't you introduce yourselves when you visit me? Your Club members all have their own code names, right? I remember once rescuing a Thunderbird from a fellow named 'Nundu.' You don't look like a small-timer without a name."
"You jest. Thank you for your high regard. I am 'Thestral' of the Silver Spear Club. As the person in charge of today's operation, I must say, being your enemy is not our wish." The masked man let out a calm chuckle. "Originally, we just wanted to find an opportunity to 'borrow' something from your house after you rested. We didn't expect to still underestimate your strength. Even though we hid so well, you still noticed something amiss. We truly had no choice but to resort to this."
*Noticed by me?* Newt furtively glanced toward the distant birch tree with surprise. He hadn't sensed anyone hiding beneath his feet before; he had only vaguely felt something unusual in the distance based on his familiarity with every blade of grass in the valley, which was why he had urgently called Rolf back. Could it be that his actions had alerted them? But who was the person hiding in the distance? Were they accomplices? No, these guys clearly have such good infiltration methods; why would they bother hiding so far away?
At this moment, Alan, secretly hiding in the distance, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He had truly been discovered by the old man, but it appeared that the other party's attempt to guard against him had instead drawn out more hidden enemies. At the same time, Alan carefully savored the conversation. This old man was Newt Scamander, the author of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" and the writer of his Care of Magical Creatures textbook. This was a legendary figure. He hadn't expected him to live here, and he wondered why these Silver Spear people had traveled so far for him.
Before Newt and Alan could continue their conjectures, 'Thestral' spoke again. "The purpose of our intrusion today is actually very simple: it's the case you have." The masked man maintained a calm tone. "As long as you are willing to lend us that case, I will immediately release your grandson. I swear on the honor of the Club."
"I didn't expect that after so many years, you're still thinking about it." Newt, hearing the demand, had a look of sudden realization. "So that's it—you're still dreaming of intercontinental cross-border smuggling. But I'm sorry, I returned my briefcase to Dumbledore a long time ago. If you really want it, go find him at Hogwarts."
Hearing Newt's reply, 'Thestral' was clearly not satisfied. He chuckled and slowly placed his wand against Rolf's neck. "Let's be frank. As early as last year in Brazil, our people saw that the case was still in your hands. If you still insist on that excuse, then don't blame me for being impolite."
The tip of the wand held against Rolf's neck began to flicker with a faint light. Rolf was trembling from the tension, looking at his grandfather with fear in his eyes. Seeing this, Newt's right hand, gripping his wand, tightened. It seemed the other party was well-prepared, having investigated thoroughly beforehand.
Alan, watching this from afar, narrowed his eyes. These guys' actions were despicable beyond words. It seemed he had to do something. However, just at this moment, hurried footsteps came from behind Newt.
"Newt! Rolf! What are you two doing running outside again? Don't you know it's late? I'm telling you, don't make me angry!" An old woman grumbled as she rushed out of the door. Her skin was well-preserved; besides a few strands of white hair at her temples, her hair remained dark and shiny. She was wearing an apron. However, as she stepped out, she noticed the situation: a group of masked men holding her grandson hostage.
"You are... Silver Spears?" The old woman immediately drew her wand, pointing it firmly at the men. She turned her head to look at her husband. "What's going on? Why are these smugglers here? And how did Rolf end up in their hands?"