"Thor, hurry it up."
Anders Mickelsen looked absolutely exasperated. At a time like this, there was zero room for hesitation or second-guessing.
Rock stayed quiet, simply scanning their surroundings. The familiar silver-gray nebulas were already swirling in his irises.
Prodded by the urgency, Thor Eriksson gritted his teeth and gave a stiff nod. "Please, follow me."
The group made their way to the mouth of a massive natural cave. The two wizards standing guard at the entrance immediately stepped back when they saw Thor approaching.
Thor didn't say a word. He drew his wand, flicked it at the heavy layers of protective wards sealing the cave, and led Newt and Rock inside.
After passing through several magical archways, each buzzing with a different style of defensive magic, they finally stepped into the heart of the cavern.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Rock felt the air drop. It was heavy, thick, and suffocating.
It wasn't the smell—it was a magical stagnation. Through his enhanced sight, the natural flow of magic in the room looked choked, tangled up in sickly, viscous threads.
A single beam of light dropped straight down from the ceiling, illuminating a massive spherical cage in the center of the room. It was bound in thick mithril chains and pulsed with ancient runic barriers.
Roar—
Sensing the intrusion, a dragon's roar echoed from inside the cage. But it sounded hollow, completely stripped of its usual terrifying, soul-shaking power.
Anders stepped forward and swept his wand through the air, turning the opaque spherical cage transparent.
Standing beside Thor, Newt and Rock finally got their first clear look at Olaf.
Rock recognized it immediately. It was definitely a Norwegian Ridgeback. Even though it looked a bit different from Norberta back in Newt's suitcase, the core traits were unmistakable.
It was also massively larger than Norberta.
But something was deeply, fundamentally wrong with this one. A healthy Norwegian Ridgeback was pure, unadulterated rage wrapped in scales.
Even though Norberta was still a juvenile, she was already an absolute terror inside Newt's magical menagerie.
Aside from a few of the more lethal beasts she knew better than to mess with, she spent most of her time screaming and spitting fire whenever Rock went to see her.
But the creature in front of them did none of that. That single roar seemed to have drained the last of its strength. It lay curled in the dead center of the cage, its massive head drooping so low it nearly brushed the floor, its dark wings clamped tightly against its sides.
If someone told you it was just an incredibly lifelike dragon statue, you'd probably believe them.
Newt stepped up, pressing himself as close to the magical barrier as he could, his eyes locked on the Ridgeback.
The longer he looked, the darker his expression became. Rock stood right beside him, his gaze drilling straight into the dragon's eyes.
Olaf's eyes were only half-open. Instead of the razor-sharp slits of a predator, its pupils were blown wide and unfocused, looking like two pieces of dusty amber. They blindly reflected the cold, sickly glow of the cavern's bioluminescent moss.
Rock frowned. His unique vision was picking up something deeply disturbing. Olaf's natural magical core was incredibly faint. Instead, it was suffocated by a chaotic, jagged web of foreign magical threads.
It was almost as if... the dragon wasn't even there.
But how was that possible? The physical body was right in front of them. Even if its scales had lost their glossy jet-black sheen, covered instead in a dull, ashen gray, it was still physically present.
"I need the full magical diagnostic reports you ran on him," Newt said, his voice hard.
He finally pulled his gaze away from the beast and turned to Thor and Anders.
"He... isn't in there."
Rock shot his grandfather a startled look.
Even Thor, who had just been about to order someone to fetch the files, froze. "Excuse me? He's right in front of us—"
Newt didn't bother explaining. He raised his wand, sending a ripple of golden light through the transparent barrier. The magic washed directly over the trapped dragon.
Anders's jaw practically hit the floor. The Norwegian team had spent immense effort building that containment sphere, and Newt had bypassed it like it was a cheap child's toy.
As the golden light settled over Olaf's scales, tendrils of eerie, pitch-black mist began to seep from his body.
"His body is here," Newt said softly, tapping a finger against his own temple. "But his consciousness, his pure draconic instinct... it's been entirely stripped away. If there's anything left of him in there, it's barely clinging on."
A parasite?
The thought flashed unbidden into Rock's mind. The way his grandfather described it sounded exactly like what had happened to Quirrell.
But it wasn't the same. The magical lines Rock was seeing right now looked nothing like the dark, twisted threads of Voldemort's possession.
"Grandpa, I don't think his mind was stripped," Rock's voice echoed quietly in the cavern. "I think it was dragged somewhere else."
Every adult in the room whipped their head around to stare at him.
Newt blinked in surprise, then quickly shifted to shield Rock slightly from the others' intense gazes. He crouched down to eye level. "Why do you say that, little Rock?"
"His core essence is still in there, Grandpa, it's just incredibly faint. But right now, his body is being pumped full of something else—something chaotic," Rock explained calmly. "He's being hollowed out and filled with ancient energy. Fragments of a foreign will. It just hasn't fully taken root yet."
"Like a vessel being forcibly hijacked, right?" Newt gave a grim chuckle and affectionately ruffled Rock's hair.
"Exactly. And these magical traces don't look like anything I've studied at school. They're much older." Rock gave a firm nod.
"Mr. Scamander, what exactly does that mean?" Anders hurried over, his desperate gaze now fixed on both Newt and Rock.
Newt ignored the question entirely. "That dragon scale you showed me earlier. Could I see it again?"
Anders didn't hesitate. He hastily pulled out the warded silver box and opened it for Newt and Rock.
Newt pointed to the jagged edge of the scale. Hidden beneath the dark, blood-red magical residue was an incredibly faint, microscopic symbol.
He pulled a small, brass Sneakoscope from his coat, tapping it to project an enlarged view of the marking, and gestured for Anders to look.
Thor quickly elbowed his way in, squinting at the projection.
"I noticed it the moment you handed it to me," Newt murmured. "The magic binding this scale isn't modern runic theory. It's a much older, darker variant."
"And the literal translation of that symbol..." Newt's voice dropped to a whisper. "Is Blood Sacrifice. And Return."
Anders, who had just opened his mouth to ask another question, froze. His pupils shrank to pinpricks of pure terror. "I know what this is—"
Newt blinked, genuinely taken aback by the man's sudden, violent reaction.
Anders practically scrambled backward, turning and sprinting toward the cave exit like a man possessed. "Thor!" he screamed over his shoulder. "Get Mr. Scamander to the briefing room! Now! I'll be right there!"