"You want me to help find that Horned Serpent?" Newt asked.
The words serpent, escaped, and ancient all pointed straight to Cohen's Horned Serpent.
But Newt didn't say it outright. He figured it was best to respect the serpent's own wishes.
If it wanted to stay here, that'd be fine. But if it preferred sticking close to Cohen, its "family," then it was probably better not to tell Frik about its whereabouts.
"Of all the people I've met, you're the only one who can track down magical creatures without scaring them off," Frik said. "Maybe you could even explain to it that we mean no harm. I mean, come on, the temple's been making offerings for years—"
"I thought this place was dedicated to those Greek mythology gods," Cohen said, curious. "It's for animals?"
"We firmly believe wizarding bloodlines come from magical creatures, just like humans evolved from apes," Frik explained. "See that hole in the ceiling over there?"
Cohen followed Frik's gesture. A jagged hole, looking like it had been forcefully smashed open, marred the northern temple's ceiling. At first, Cohen thought it was some kind of open-air architectural quirk.
But he vaguely recalled a story about that hole—something about Poseidon making it.
"I see it…"
"In Muggle legends, Poseidon stabbed that hole with his trident," Frik said confidently. "But in reality, it was made by the horn of that ancient Horned Serpent—"
"…" Cohen shot a sideways glance at the invisible Horned Serpent.
["Grandson—what'd he say to you?"]
After the white-bearded human rambled to Cohen and they both looked up at the ceiling hole, the old Horned Serpent noticed Cohen's odd glance and quickly hissed, ["Don't believe human nonsense! I didn't make that hole—it wasn't me!"]
["We'll talk later,"] Cohen whispered back to the serpent.
"Besides the serpent, got any leads on those poachers?" Newt asked. "Where are they from? Any recent activity?"
"That's a job for the Aurors. I wouldn't drag you into that—your wife would have my head," Frik said, his eyebrows twitching as he shook his head. "Those guys are ruthless. Let the young, able-bodied folks handle them. One Cruciatus Curse and we'd be half-paralyzed…"
"I'm young. Why don't you tell me?" Cohen offered.
"You don't even look of age yet," Frik said, frowning, then turned to Newt. "Newt, don't put this kid in danger. As long as you don't mess with those poachers, you can still enjoy a nice holiday… and maybe help me track down that serpent. That's not the only reason I invited you here, though…"
Frik, clearly uneasy, repeated three times to Newt not to take Cohen to the western Greek city of Patras, even if the serpent's trail led there.
If it came to that, he'd contact the Greek Ministry's Aurors immediately.
With that said, Cohen didn't need to press further—the poachers were in Patras.
Then Frik shared another piece of news with Newt and Cohen.
"On August 1st, I'll be hosting my last ceremony. You both should come," Frik invited.
"I'll prepare some sweets for the kids," he added with a warm smile, glancing at Cohen.
"Your last one?" Newt asked, frowning. "I thought you'd spend the rest of your life here. You're five years younger than me…"
Frik gave a bitter smile, his eyes drooping despite the curve of his lips. Cohen had never seen someone pull off that novel-like expression so perfectly.
"You're changing careers—"
"You're dying?" Cohen blurted out.
"What'd I do to you?" Frik said, the somber mood shattered by Cohen's outburst. He slumped, exasperated. "I'm planning to live a few more decades, kid. My grandson in England's got a little boy now, and he's insisting I move there to see him often…"
"Lame…" Cohen muttered, disappointed. He'd been ready to show off his advanced life-prolonging techniques.
If he could keep this old guy alive for a year with "voluntarily" donated unicorn blood, Cohen could use that time to whip up a new Philosopher's Stone.
But without a pressing reason, Cohen had zero motivation to start the "make a Philosopher's Stone" plan.
"No need to sound that disappointed," Newt said, his wrinkles twitching.
He couldn't imagine the kind of hellish jokes Dumbledore had to endure managing this kid at school.
You could call a dark magical creature "evil," but you couldn't call this upbeat dark creature "immoral."
It was like "kindness" and "immorality" couldn't coexist, creating an odd dissonance.
"I thought you were a nice kid…" Frik sighed.
"And I thought you were a cheerful old guy," Cohen said, equally regretful.
"You're lecturing me now?" Frik huffed, puffing out his beard. "Do you know who I am?"
"I'm the great-grandson of that serpent you're talking about," Cohen said. "Was gonna have it come say goodbye, but looks like that's not happening—"
"Is this some British humor?" Frik looked at Newt, but then something spine-chilling happened.
Newt, though reluctant to admit it, nodded. The serpent really was related to Cohen that way.
"Huh?" Frik glanced between Newt and Cohen, half-expecting an "April Fool's!" even though it was July. "No way—a good joke's gotta have some basis in reality. He doesn't look anything like a snake—"
["Drop the invisibility and say hi to your old friend,"] Cohen hissed to the serpent.
["No way!"] the old Horned Serpent said firmly. ["If he sees me, he'll try to catch me. He's been like that since he was a kid—always clinging to me. Grandson, you haven't been bribed, have you?"]
["What kind of bribe could sway me?"] Cohen said, exasperated. ["Relax, I've checked him out. He's harmless. Those offerings? They were meant for you to eat all along."]
["What?"] The serpent stared at Cohen with its slitted pupils, incredulous. ["You're saying those fish were for me?"]