Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

The next day, when David woke up, the sun was already high in the sky, its rays streaming through the window and heating up the room considerably. He sat up in bed, his throat parched, and hurried to the table to pour himself a glass of water.

As he set the cup down, his eyes caught sight of a stack of white papers filled with dense text. Curiosity piqued, he picked up the papers and began to read. As his eyes scanned the words, his brow furrowed in concern.

The documents detailed the history of the man from yesterday—Tucker Terry, an outstanding graduate of Durmstrang. He had been captivated by Grindelwald's ideology during his school years, quickly adopting it as his own life's mission. In the past, he had even attempted to break Grindelwald out of prison, but his efforts had ended in failure.

Despite being in his twenties, Tucker had already left a trail of destruction, with wizards and Muggles alike perishing at his hands. The count of his victims had long since reached double digits. His reasons for joining the R organization were twofold: one, to make extra money, and two, to make even more money. But within his secondary plan lay something even more sinister—if the opportunity arose, he intended to eliminate everyone else and take all the gold for himself.

"This guy is a perfect candidate for Azkaban," David muttered under his breath. With a sigh, he folded the papers and stepped out of the room.

In the living room, Newt, John, and Charlie were seated, their faces expectant as they turned to look at him.

"Grandpa, why didn't you wake me up?" David asked, puzzled.

Newt coughed and turned his head away, his expression slightly guilty. "I thought you were too tired. I wanted to let you sleep a little longer..."

David raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. He held up the stack of papers. "Where did these come from?"

"Queenie was here," Newt admitted softly.

David narrowed his eyes. "Ah, so that's why you didn't wake me up. You were afraid my aunt would read my mind and learn about the plan, weren't you?"

Newt cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, the outcome is the same, isn't it?" He cast a quick glance at John for support.

John caught on immediately and changed the subject. "David, have you read everything on the papers?"

"Yes," David replied. "Where is that man now?"

"When Queenie left, she handed him over to the U.S. Ministry of Magic. He should be in prison by now," Newt answered, a relieved smile on his face.

John's expression turned serious. "Are you sure you can impersonate him? The information on these documents can be verified. If the members of the R organization check and find any inconsistencies in your behavior, they will suspect you."

David sighed. "I'll practice over the next few days. I still remember his expressions from yesterday."

But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be easy. He had always been an upstanding, well-behaved wizard. Becoming someone as ruthless as Tucker Terry would be a challenge.

"You should consider learning Legilimency or directly accessing his memories," Newt suggested. "It will make imitation much easier."

David nodded. "Alright."

Charlie, who had been listening intently, looked between David and Newt, his thoughts racing. Are young wizards really this powerful nowadays? And in second year, no less? He thought back to David's mastery of transfiguration and slowly resigned himself to the reality of it.

David, unaware of Charlie's internal turmoil, continued, "I'll stay next door for the next few days, just to be safe."

"Wait," Newt interjected. "There's something else you should know. The scales we found the other day are useless. They mask the scent of long-horned water snakes, meaning if we can't get any updates from you, it'll be difficult for us to provide support."

David pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. "Grandpa, do you still have the two-way mirror I gave you last time?"

Newt's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes! If you use the mirror to communicate with us, we'll be able to track you down."

"Exactly." David grabbed some food from the table. "Alright, I'll head over now."

Newt handed him a key and a small bag. "This is the key to the room opposite yours, and these are the man's belongings. Take them. Also, make sure you remove anything from your bag that might expose your identity."

"I already packed yesterday," David assured them. With a smile, he waved. "See you all soon."

He quickly left, crossing the hall to the neighboring room. The single suite was almost identical to their own, though slightly smaller. As he examined the space, he noticed something odd—there were no signs of life. No stray hairs, no scattered items, no personal touches. Tucker had been incredibly cautious.

This guy is meticulous… David smirked. The challenge of imitating him had just increased, but at least the R organization wasn't familiar with him yet.

Over the next few days, David maintained Tucker's appearance, practicing his mannerisms based on the notes. Slowly, he adopted the man's expressions and gestures, even perfecting the cruel glint in his eyes. Tucker's face made it easier—just squinting slightly and pursing his lips created an air of menace.

By the fifth day, David was ready. Dressed in Tucker's clothes, a black hat pulled low over his face, he left the inn and followed the railway signs to Charles Street.

He walked slowly, scanning the house numbers until he found 115. It was a medieval white-painted house, surrounded by a black iron fence about half a meter high. Inside, a neatly maintained garden stretched out, with a pebble-lined pathway leading to the entrance. In contrast, the street outside was worn and uneven, full of history and age.

As he approached, David noticed four or five wizards loitering nearby. Some were engaged in conversation, while others seemed to be waiting for something. One by one, their gazes flickered toward him, observing him carefully.

David kept his composure, noting their appearances without reacting. As he reached the fence, an old woman inside the garden looked up from where she was trimming a bonsai with a pair of enchanted shears. Her cloudy eyes squinted at him, and her lips moved slightly.

"Sir, may I help you?" she asked, her voice rough but firm.

David adjusted the brim of his hat to obscure more of his face. "Someone sent me a letter, asking me to come here."

The old woman nodded. "Ah, you must be Mr. Hals's guest. Come in. He's in the study on the second floor—the second room on your right after going up the stairs."

She raised her wrinkled hand, and with a quiet click, the gate swung open.

David's eyes narrowed slightly. Wandless magic? This old woman was more than she appeared.

Keeping his guard up, he pushed open the iron gate and stepped inside, his mind alert and cautious as he walked toward the house.