Cohen had been planning to duck into his suitcase to avoid the cramped airplane, but Newt stopped him. Flight attendants occasionally checked on passengers, and Newt wasn't great at handling inspections.
"I just wanna open the window and fly out…" Cohen grumbled, slouched in his seat. Being on a plane felt like being trapped in a tiny box—reminding him of when he was stuck in a bottle.
When the plane finally landed in Athens, Cohen couldn't wait to drag Newt off. Free from the "bottle," the dizzy feeling faded fast.
The airport in Greece was surprisingly laid-back. Cohen felt like he barely got checked before they let him through.
But when he reached the Acropolis, he realized it wasn't just the airport—Greece itself had a relaxed vibe.
"So many tourists?" Cohen asked Newt, unable to understand the Greek chatter around him. "Why does it feel like nobody here works?"
"Most are locals, actually," Newt said. "They're… pretty chill here. But it's also peak tourist season, so there are more visitors than usual."
It was Cohen's first time in Greece, but Newt was an old hand. He led Cohen through the city with ease, stopping at a small, unassuming inn. From the outside, it didn't look entirely legit—graffiti covered the walls, probably the work of some street kids.
The innkeeper, an elderly man named Ajax, was dozing in a chair.
"Ajax?" Newt called out.
"Aμv—Newt!" Ajax jolted awake, his eyes darting to Newt's empty hands, checking if he'd brought that blasted suitcase. He visibly relaxed when he saw nothing—until Cohen stepped out from behind Newt, his unmistakable suitcase stabbing Ajax's eyes like a needle. The old man's face fell.
"I'm just bringing a friend's kid to travel, don't worry," Newt said with a sigh. "He's one of Dumbledore's students."
"Oh, a student!" Ajax exhaled, relieved. "Thought it was that grandson of yours sneaking back with Polyjuice Potion. He was here a few days ago." He seemed to convince himself the suitcase was just normal luggage.
"Rolf's room hasn't been checked out, right?" Newt asked. "He might come back in a few days—"
"Again?!" Ajax's eyes widened. "He's already let that three-headed snake loose twice in three days—always in the middle of the night! If this keeps up, not even the Greek Minister for Magic could save him…"
"Middle of the night? Not a big deal," Newt said, unconcerned.
Ajax pursed his lips and tossed Newt two keys. "Second floor, second and third rooms on the left."
"Ajax is an old Greek friend," Newt explained to Cohen as they climbed the stairs. "He got fed up with the wizarding world's secrecy, so he opened this inn to retire. But what he mentioned isn't a huge issue. Runespoor snakes aren't very aggressive—toward humans, at least. They're pretty hostile to their own right head, though. A Runespoor has three heads: the left one makes decisions, the middle one dreams, and the right one criticizes. I've raised a few before. Dumbledore said you're a Parselmouth—maybe you could listen in on what they chat about? I can only guess from their behavior."
"Sounds like a messy snake relationship," Cohen said. "Can't imagine arguing with myself and biting off one of my own heads…"
"Just put a hood on the right head, and the other two calm down. It's not hard," Newt said, unlocking the second room on the left. "Though it makes the right head a bit depressed—"
"That's just from a lack of 'glue,'" Cohen interjected. "I recommend a few brands of cups. Works every time my snake gets depressed."
"?" Newt froze, staring at Cohen in shock.
No wonder Dumbledore had warned him that "Cohen's a bit different from other kids." Was this one of those differences?
"Do snakes really use that stuff?" Newt asked, skeptical. "Anyway, you take this room. I'll be next door. Call me if anything comes up."
But Newt didn't leave. Instead, he followed Cohen into the room, clearly eager to talk more—probably not just about magical creatures.
"Is your suitcase still the one made with Occamy feathers?" Newt asked, pulling Cohen to sit at a small round table. "Dumbledore said you've taken in all the magical creatures related to you by blood…"
"I can show you," Cohen said. "Rolf let me check out your suitcase once. Plus, you didn't even charge me for the Occamy."
"I just want poached magical creatures to live freely," Newt said. "You're a kind kid, and you deserve that kind of support."
Newt's curiosity was insatiable, and Cohen felt like he was the one being led into the suitcase, not the other way around.
"The Basilisks in my suitcase wear 'glasses' for safety, so no worries about getting killed bym their stare," Cohen said. "But an extra precaution wouldn't hurt. I don't want Rolf hunting me down over an accident…"
Newt happily accepted the protective glasses Cohen offered. He'd never seen a Basilisk before—wizards created them, and they were so dangerous that any found in the wild were hunted to extinction.
Inside the suitcase, Newt's attention was immediately captured by the scene: Basilisks lounging in front of a castle, Horned Serpents, a dozing Chimaera on the grass, a mother-daughter dragon duo out foraging, and a Griffin staring hungrily at fish in the lake, waiting for them to jump into its mouth.
They all coexisted harmoniously. Newt was increasingly convinced Cohen was a good kid. Animals were far more sensitive than people, and their instincts were harder to tame. Getting a snake-eating Griffin to live peacefully with a bunch of snakes was already incredible—let alone with those seemingly harmless dragons…