It's truly the Niffler he had his eye on.
Watching Kabuda rubbing the Animagus poacher furiously under its bottom, William grinned. Ancient Magic indeed, able to shrink an Acromantula as easily as it magnifies a Niffler.
And as a master at digging, the Niffler's front claws are incredibly sharp, allowing Kabuda to easily suppress the black bear that was twice its size.
"Feeling better now?"
William gently asked while stroking the Fire Dragon beneath him. From the start, he sensed the agitated mood of the startled Fire Dragon, which is why he didn't act personally but let the dragon move around. Without a Master Ball as an overpowered tool, winning this Fire Dragon over certainly required coaxing. Which book mentioned this...?
Oh, "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them".
"Roar—"
The Fire Dragon shook its head up and down, a puff of black smoke escaping from its throat.
"Wanna come with me?"
"Roar!"
Receiving an affirmative response, William nodded in satisfaction. Meanwhile, Kabuda, engaged in a fight with the black bear, seized the moment, opened the pocket on its belly, and stuffed the Animagus into it whole.
"Accio." (Fly)
The Niffler, intending to squash the remaining foes by sitting on them, floated upwards, its form shrinking in the air, and when it landed back on William's shoulder, it had returned to its original size.
"Squeak squeak~"
Having finally experienced a real battle and won its spoils by itself, the Niffler contentedly patted its belly, which had been in constant motion since earlier, and the patting calmed it down.
Seeing their leader captured, the poachers seemingly lost the courage to confront William and the Fire Dragon. After a few stray Charms towards the dragon, the first deserter emerged, and soon... total collapse.
But the deserters didn't run very far; purple light appeared beneath their feet as they floated mid-air, and the next moment, scorching flames swept the ground.
...
"...Dammit," John Proudfoot and the accompanying Aurors halted, watching the charred corpses burned to a crisp in an instant. They instinctively exchanged glances, "Shackle, check if there are any survivors..." he said to Kingsley behind him.
Is there really any point to check?
Although Kingsley thought this, he stepped forward and took a quick look—excellent, one touch and it crumbled.
Looking at the human dust on his fingertip, Kingsley returned to the Auror team expressionless, then rubbed his fingers on John's shoulder, "Should we pursue?" he raised his gaze to the empty night sky, asking routinely.
Pursue for what...
John suppressed his crazily twitching mouth and shook his head, "That person just used Disillusionment Charm, relieving some of our workload... Anyway, let's check on Tonks' side; no reaction from the circus yet..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but the Aurors behind him understood his meaning.
Their initial Disillusionment spells were intended to prevent those werewolves from escaping justice, but now it seems... if there are circus visitors dead below, if a significant figure happens to be among the dead... tonight, they violated the Statute of Secrecy, let a Black Wizard escape, and failed to leave a single witness alive...
If so, the Wizengamot members might have to work overtime.
And he, as the team leader...
"Proudfoot... sir, I... uh, why is everyone staring at me?" Tonks hesitated, stopping in her tracks. She instinctively looked up, "Wait, there's nothing... Hey? Where did that dragon go?"
"What's the situation down there?"
"Uh, oh, basically..."
"Basically everyone's dead?" John felt a jolt through his heart, instinctively looking at his colleagues behind him, starting to calculate the odds of killing this entire group and successfully fleeing the United Kingdom.
"Oh no, no, basically everyone's fine, most have regained consciousness."
John breathed a sigh of relief, his grip on the Magic Wand slightly loosened, "...Regained consciousness?"
"Yeah, it's Mandrake; most tourists were knocked out, and those not affected didn't dare come forward—the commotion just now was too big, and with the Fire Dragon flying over, most gathered on the lower level. We've found a staff member aware of the situation; Williamson is questioning him."
"Take me there."
...
At the bottom layer of the circus.
Wrapped in a blanket, the man was recalling the scenes from moments earlier, "… then the big top disappeared, probably startling the Fire Dragon somewhat. That boy rode the dragon and flew up, as for what happened up there... sorry, I didn't see." Lupin swallowed, accepting the cup of water handed over by an Auror.
"Boy?" Williamson's pen paused momentarily on the page he was recording.
"Yes, a young man, looks about seventeen, quite young," Lupin nodded, putting down the now-empty cup, "black hair, brown eyes... quite handsome..." He squinted, carefully recalling William's features.
"How handsome?" Tonks leaned in.
"Shut up, Tonks." John frowned, he fixed his gaze on Lupin's eyes, "Are you sure?"
"...Certainly." Lupin nodded, then biting the edge of the cup, he casually inquired, "What did he do?"
"That's none of your concern, sir." John shook his head; as an Auror, he couldn't be easily deceived into spilling information. Seeing that Lupin couldn't provide any more useful information, he turned to look, "...Shackle hasn't returned yet?"
"I'm here."
Among the crowd, a black hand emerged, the man in robes parted the crowd, giving way as a suited middle-aged man holding a cup stepped forward.
"John Proudfoot, British Ministry of Magic Auror Office."
John offered his hand to the man.
"Toby Drake, owner here."
The middle-aged man nodded, adjusting the gold-rimmed glasses on his face.
"I know, so I wanted to ask Mr. Drake about your unauthorized Fire Dragon keeping…"
John nodded, getting straight to the point.
"What Fire Dragon?"
Drake frowned, genuine confusion in his eyes.
"…No point in resisting, Mr. Drake." John smiled, shaking his head, leaning in close to Drake, "There's plenty of evidence here, including witnesses, just using their testimonies—" he urgently needed a scapegoat, so he couldn't relent easily.
"Certainly, Mr. Proudfoot, but I truly don't know what Fire Dragon you're referring to—"
Drake raised his head, pointing behind his opponent, "I think that owl might be here for you?"
Hearing this, John stiffly turned to see a round-faced, brown Scots owl behind him. He took a deep breath.
"Who is it?"
"My guess, possibly the Minister?"
"..."
"It seems a bit impatient waiting." Drake chuckled, twisting open his cup and taking a sip.