"Rolf should be here tomorrow," Newt mused. "We can all go together then. Besides, I think it's ti he got so practice handling dangerous situations."
"More practice?" Cohen raised an eyebrow. "Last ti we went after those bowtruckles, he was beating up robbers harder than I was."
"What? Robbers?" Newt's brow furrowed. "You ran into robbers? He never ntioned that—just said he made two new friends."
?
Did Rolf not tell his grandpa about the cat-flinging incident?
Cohen suddenly felt like he'd done sothing terribly wrong.
"When he gets back, I'm having a word with him," Newt said. "What happened to those robbers?"
"Probably still alive," Cohen said cautiously. "They got tossed in the river…"
If they didn't crack their heads falling in, or get chomped by river crocs, or lose their wands from the drop or the water…
Yeah, they were probably fine.
But judging by Newt's furrowed brow and hesitant expression, Cohen sensed Newt wasn't upset about "Rolf almost killing people" but sothing else entirely.
It wasn't until dinner, when Rolf returned reeking of sea salt, that Newt started digging into old accounts, and Cohen finally figured out what was bothering him.
"No wonder Fluffy kept trying to fling people into the air and drop them," Newt said sternly. "What did you promise after that kelpie threw out my back? What did you say?"
"Not to teach them dangerous tricks," Rolf said dryly.
"And?"
"Not to let them play with their food."
"That's a tough one," Cohen interjected, trying to help Rolf out—mostly because he, too, enjoyed toying with his food.
But it didn't help. Dentors didn't exactly "play" with their als.
"And what else?" Newt pressed.
"When dealing with robbers, use grown animals with experience handling bad guys," Rolf said.
"Wasn't that Zouwu fully grown?" Cohen raised an eyebrow.
"Only little Fluffy was willing to run around with ," Rolf said, scratching his head awkwardly at Cohen. "The two big ones just kept shoving into their nests."
"That's because you keep sticking the cat teaser in your back pocket," Newt said, pursing his lips.
The rest of dinner was spent with Rolf apologizing to Newt—first for leading the creatures astray, and second because, unbeknownst to Newt, the baby Zouwu had yanked him around and tossed him a few tis after that day. Newt had thought it was so undiscovered juvenile quirk of the species.
"Does the little basilisk's habit of chewing on stuff co from so juvenile serpent phase?" Cohen asked Old Serpent later that night, just before bed, turning to face the creature at the other end of the room.
"Every ti I ask Sisoko about it, he clams up—oh, wait, guess I don't need to ask anymore…"
Old Serpent was gnawing on the armrest of a chair, staring blankly at Cohen.
"What?" Old Serpent mumbled through a mouthful of chair, quickly yanking its head free.
"Go on, go on, I won't interrupt," Cohen said, diving under the covers.
Guess it wasn't a juvenile thing.
---
The next morning, Cohen was rudely awakened by Old Serpent nudging him.
"Old man, if you can't sleep, don't drag into it," Cohen groaned, pushing the serpent's horn away. "It's not even dawn…"
"Dawn? It's been light for ages!" Old Serpent whipped open the curtains with its tail, urging Cohen. "Co on, grandson, move it! Grab the little griffin, and let's go!"
"You could go on your own," Cohen muttered, rolling over to dodge the sunlight streaming through the window. "While you're at it, eat those silver key guys for ."
But his hopes of sleeping in were quickly crushed by Old Serpent and the griffin's relentless pestering.
"Scree!" The griffin anxiously tugged at Cohen's blanket.
"You guys—" Cohen threw off the covers, sitting up with a full dose of morning grumpiness. But seeing the griffin's eager squawking and the fish Old Serpent had thoughtfully left on his nightstand, he couldn't bring himself to scold them. "Ugh…"
Cohen dragged himself out of bed, got dressed, and freshened up, slowly shaking off his mood.
With Old Serpent coiled around the griffin for a cloaked ride, Cohen called for Newt and Rolf, announcing he was ready to head out.
"My grandpa says you've got a griffin and a Horned Serpent now!" Rolf said excitedly to Cohen.
"Trust , you don't want to raise them," Cohen said, yawning. "Especially that serpent. Keeps calling 'grandson' like it's my job."
"If it's not cursing you out, it's a good animal," Rolf said with awe. "Every ti I pass by those Runespoors Grandpa keeps, I swear a few of their heads are cussing out."
"They curse everyone, not just you," Newt said with a resigned sigh. "And you don't need to keep saying 'the ones Grandpa keeps'…"
"How do we track down those poachers?" Rolf asked Cohen and Newt. "Patras isn't exactly small…"
"With the griffin I brought," Cohen said, patting the air beside him.
"It's here?" Rolf's eyes lit up as he peered at the spot next to Cohen, where the griffin's outline faintly shimred in the sunlight. "Can I pet it?"
"Scree—" The griffin lightly nipped Rolf's outstretched hand.
"Whoa!" Rolf exclaid. "Grandpa, you gotta get one of these!"
"They'd eat every snake in my suitcase," Newt said. "Besides, griffins in Greece are doing just fine. No need to ss with their habitat."
"So why didn't the little griffin's dad eat you the first ti you t?" Cohen asked the invisible Old Serpent.
"How should I know?" Old Serpent replied, coiled on the griffin's back.
They didn't need Muggle or wizard transport to get to Patras. In an empty alley, they all climbed onto the griffin, with Old Serpent—draped around its neck—providing invisibility for the group.
It was a heavy burden for any normal serpent, but Old Serpent handled it with ease.
Neither Cohen, Newt, nor Rolf were particularly heavy, and the griffin flew without any signs of strain or stumbling.
Soon, they were soaring over Patras, a port city dotted with fishing boats bobbing on the sea. Old Serpent let out a hungry hiss at the sight.
The griffin, anwhile, was sniffing out the poachers' trail. It paused oddly for a mont before diving toward a secluded corner—
"Not that 'cute star sky crash' thing again, is it?" Rolf asked in a panic, recalling Cohen's last stunt.
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