Chapter 6: Creatures of the Night

"A Nargacuga?" even saying it out loud the word remained foreign not only to the Hogwarts' Headmaster when neither Moody nor Kingsley showed signs of recognizing the name. The same could not be said about Scamander.

"A Nargacuga? That's not possible," was the man's immediate disbelieving reply, "Nargacuga have been extinct since Operation COMB."

"Comb?" another word Kingsley was unfamiliar with, "I don't-"

"I do. It stands for Culling of Magical Beasts," Dumbledore clarified the acronym, "Not long after the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy came into effect, COMB was motioned sometime afterwards. Magical beasts that were deemed too dangerous to contain, relocate, let live, or posed too great a threat to the Statute of Secrecy, or a combination of reasons, were ordered to be hunted down," the declaration had not been a popular one.

Many magical creatures had been rendered extinct and countless wizards lost their lives trying to accomplish their tasks. Dragons in essence had been the same but one of the main reasons why they hadn't been was due to their historical and magical significance throughout magical societies and mundane ones. Even then, directly or indirectly, the outcome still ended with certain species of dragons being rendered extinct because of how dangerous they were and their threat to the statute.

"And because of how aggressive and perilous they were to deal with, even compared to other XXXXX magical beasts, the Nargacuga were one of them. They were easily ranked among the very top of the list," Scamander added.

It didn't help that Nargacuga ingredients either made volatile or incredibly picky wands that went without owners and much like other high-ranking magical beasts, potions made from their parts were either too expensive, too dangerous, or too difficult except for those with a mastery in Potionscraft. Back in the days of steel and magic their parts were used to create enchanted weapons, armor, clothing, and other trinkets, and their corpse was sometimes used as a symbol. But such times had long since passed and were viewed as archaic except by the staunchest of families.

"I'm afraid your information is wrong, Mr.. Scamander. In Europe and North America, the Nargacuga was indeed culled to extinction as is documented. But the decree was made during a time when the Magical Ministries weren't exactly cohesive or on the best of terms with one another," which was understandable as its formation occurred shortly after the Wizard Council of Great Britain disbanded and formed the very first Magical Ministry.

Over time, the Magical Ministry of Britain became more and more powerful to the point that the other wizarding councils of Magical Europe were pretty much forced to disband and create their own ministries. At that time, the ICW was heavily biased and essentially ruled over by Magical Britain. A far cry for what it was today.

Magical Britain, much like their mundane counterpart at the time, were powerful, influential, and aggressive in their expansion. Unfortunately, while many territories they had control over would come to adopt and accept what Magical Britain offered, many of their actions and their views didn't sit well with other magical communities who resisted joining the ICW. This went doubly so for those who'd been around for just as long, some even longer, than Magical Britain.

In addition to the culling of many magical species, it also involved in the sacrifice of many historical areas that held a form of significance. Huge chunks of territory from all over had to be cut loose when wizards went into hiding full time. The decree had not been a popular one. The fact that the deeds had performed by foreign wizards laid to very strained relationships all around. By the end of it all, many weren't all that cooperative and either did the bare minimum or did a poor job out of spite.

"And, as I recall, not only was the Supreme Mugwump of the time later regarded as not being the most stellar of wizards to hold the seat, the title of Supreme Mugwump didn't exactly have much sway until almost two centuries later because his actions pretty much tainted the seat holder's reputation. Many of the existing Ministries didn't follow the decree and merely had their now 'extinct creatures' moved. In Asia, South America, and parts of Australia, while some are classified as vulnerable, Nargacuga are still around," Nicolas informed the surprised hundred years old wizard.

"How could you know all this?"

"My boy, when you've been around as long as I have–"

"Enough history already! What the hell is a Nargacuga?" Alastor didn't give a flying fart about the past.

"A simple explanation would be if you were to take a big cat, a panther in this case, and a wyvern and splice their best qualities together. Well, you get this nightmare of a monster. They're indigenous to areas heavily dense with trees, many of which have long since been marked as unplottable. When I was a younger man, I had the misfortune of crossing one during my travels. It was an encounter where I barely escaped with my life. A Nargacuga is swift, smart, and an apex predator whose entire body is a weapon capable of killing their victims with remarkable ease. Their wings have a bladed edge that's as keen as the finest blade from Japan. In a frenzied state, I've seen them almost fell trees wider than a fully grown Acromantula," Nicolas informed them, "But, we are fortunate."

"How?"

"Well, for one, while capable of flight, their biological adaption impedes them from doing so for very long periods, an hour or two, three at most. They prefer to glide, pounce, and using their wings to hunt down prey. The other is that the tracks are telling. This one is young. Likely preadolescent, I believe. Adults wouldn't flee unless heavily injured or unless they encountered a powerful predator; they pretty much fight to the death. Even forcing a young one to run away means you must have caused quite the impression, Mr. Shacklebolt," the man praised.

"Preadolescent," Moody muttered and looked back at the large print, "How much bigger can these things get?" the senior Auror asked in an attempt to understand how much of a danger they were potentially facing.

"That would depend," Scamander said and quickly explained his thoughts, "Each continent had different variations so their size could be a little below fifty feet long while others nearly reached ninety."

"His assessment is correct," Nicolas informed, "However, the one I fought long ago was a monster compared to the rest of its kind. It was easily a couple meters north of a hundred feet."

Newton's eyes lit up, "North of a hundred! Why, that's roughly twelve feet more than the largest recorded Ironbelly in captivity, yes?"

Nicolas confirmed it with a nod. Wild dragons reached much greater sizes and had been extremely dangerous as a result. Certain dragon species in captivity were put down once they reached a certain age and size, "While they don't have the same lifespan, Nargacuga are long lived creatures still and only get deadlier as they age. And like dragonkind they share a similar growth trait. If left unchecked, they can easily grow up to an enormous size and become very magically resistant. Even though a Nargucuga lacks a dragon's flames their speed along with their aggressive and tenacious nature coupled with their ability to adapt makes them very, very dangerous creatures. Despite your unrivalled exploits with previously believed to be untameable magical creatures, I wouldn't try your luck with this one, Mr.. Scamander. Best you leave it alone unless you wish to leave a widow behind."

Dumbledore chuckled at the remark, "Clearly you've never had the privilege of teaching him, for you'd know that Newt is not a great follower of orders," especially when it came to magical creatures.

"It's his skin, not mine. I've said my piece," was all Nicolas said. They were all grown men, not children; they'd have to own up to their actions, "Don't cry to me if it turns out to be a subspecies."

"Subspecies?" Dumbledore queried.

"Oh, for the love of... This night couldn't be any better, could it?" with how badly the Aurors were performing and the stress this night was bringing, Alastor wondered why he hadn't retired long ago, was madder than he was, or succumbed to alcohol poisoning. Damn magic medical care.

"Aye. The Nargacuga were documented to have had, or have in this case, several subspecies. Some had poisons that were potent enough to bring down a fully grown White Ogre from the Himalayas," Kingsley nearly paled at that, "while others could manipulate the wind to become unbelievably sharp, and others could blend into their environment and … Oh, shite!"

"Newt? What's wrong?" Dumbledore knew his former student well enough to know he'd never curse. Which meant this next bit of information would not serve them well.

"And were recorded as being capable of erasing their presence entirely. It could be standing right in front of you and no detection spell would recognize it being there," Nicolas also finished with a curse.

"It can become invisible?"

"Worse. Invisible creatures, like a Demiguise or a Hidebehind, while extremely difficult to track, can still be found," with a lot of luck and know-how was left unsaid, "This is a creature that can become invisible and no manner of tracking or revealing spell will help you find its exact location."

"So, you're saying, this thing, a wizard killer class creature, could actually still be around and we wouldn't even know it?" Mad-Eye was true to his name as his eye magically searched for the hidden danger at different angles at remarkable speeds. But his magical ocular device spotted nothing.

"I'm saying that right now, and there's a good chance of it, that we've been led into a trap. We're the ones being hunted," Nicolas said, wand out and ready, "And unless you want dead men on your hands, I suggest you get them out of there. Now!"

"Lads! Pull back! Move your asses! Oh, for – Wands out you blithering halfwits!"

"Unbelievable. What's a monster like that doing here of all places?" Shacklebolt asked, his eyes scanning everything in sight much to Moody's approval.

"Oh, I can think of countless reasons," Scamander remarked and spoke from experience garnered from his youthful wayward travels, "It can range anywhere from an exotic pet, someone letting it loose for kicks, illegal experimentation or breeding to create a niche market, or worse."

"Or, this could all be a distraction,"were the unsaid thoughts of three of the group's wizards.

(In the Dungeon)

The Foglets screeched in utter defiance but that mattered little when over a ton of muscle crushed them into oblivion and then some while others were bitten in half by a sharp beak like mouth filled with rows of dangerous arrow head teeth. Others weren't so lucky and died slowly and painfully. What scales didn't dig into their small bodies had enough force to break their bones. Quick and skilled hunters though they were, the Nargacuga was much faster and deadlier.

But it wasn't just the necrophages that Harry had to contend with, "Bloody flying rats!" and the transformed boy wasn't referring to pigeons.

"Kill! Kill!"

Amazed as he initially was to understand the bats, it became annoying very quickly when all they screamed was 'Kill!' and 'Intruder!'. Harry had tried communicating with the bats some time ago but quickly gave up when he realized they either didn't understand him or cared.

The only upside was that the bats were weaker than the Foglets but their smaller forms and ability to fly made landing a blow a tad trickier. Not impossible, but difficult enough for a boy still getting used to his new form.

"Kill! Kill!"

Harry merely growled when a couple of bats landed on his face. Their attempts at harming him didn't even register, if anything it was more like a slight stinging sensation comparable to a mosquito bite.

"At least they saved me the trouble," Harry thought and with barely any effort, he smacked the small creatures off his face with his large paw and crushed them into paste. Those nearby were not deterred by this and swooped down on him and this time Harry soon let off a loud whine/roar as his felt his head begin to hurt and a headache began to form before he ran off.

Just as quickly did the headache cease as though it wasn't there in the first place. Small and fragile as they were, the bats had a sound-based skill that his form was weak against. It didn't take much health, but it felt nasty and left Harry in a foul mood.

And thanks to being in an animal form he was much more prone to anger, "Little blighters!"

Looking back, Harry saw the bats quickly approaching him, a distorted wave was visible from their mouths. Crouching and digging his claws into the dirt, Harry propelled himself off the ground with his powerful legs as quickly as possible and jumped high into the air. Snatching one bat with his maw and getting the other two with his wing-blade. The magical hybrid shook his head before he clamped down hard. Blood soaked his mouth and on instinct Harry swallowed.

"Ah, not again!" the magical creature's eyes were wide in disbelief as he realized when just happened.

|Congratulations!|

|A special skill has been created through a special act!|

|By ripping into your foes with fangs and eating their remains your [?] has gained the [Primal Feasting Skill]!|

Primal Feasting. Lv Max. Skill Modifier: [N/A]| Mastering Speed [N/A]
A skill that when activated will regenerate a portion of your total health and even mana if performed on a magical creature. While this ability can be used on anyone, it's best if performed on creatures. The amount of times this skill can be used is depending on the size of the creature feasted upon. Upon reaching the maximum amount you will become affected by the [Well-Fed] status effectand be forced to wait a certain amount of time before it can be used again, which is dependent on the actions you perform. MP Cost: None| STA Cost: None

Special Note: Performing the skill on humanoid beings, undead, and highly toxic or poisonous creatures will have negative consequences unless you are immune. The amount you are capable of consuming is dependent on your size and species.

* HP amount restored by 3% if used on a [Small] size Creature, 5% on a [Medium] size creature, 10% on a [Large] size creature, and 15% on a creature categorized as [Huge], every two seconds for ten seconds.

* MP amount restored by 1% if used on a [Small] size Creature, 3% on a [Medium] size creature, 7% on a [Large] size creature, and 11% on a creature categorized as [Huge] or above every two seconds for ten seconds.

* Current form doesn't allow this skill to be used on creatures categorized above [Huge]

"Well, that's convenient," Harry, thought. Absentmindedly licking his lips from the fresh kill and savoring in the taste, making Harry recoil slightly upon realizing what he was doing. "Okay, weird… Then again, I am a predator," Harry made a note that despite how strange it was to be eating raw meat, despite how good it tasted, so long as he didn't think about eating humans he could live with it. At least now he hoped he found a way to deal with his Malnourished problem.

"Wait? Does this affect my human form, too?" Harry was no expert on what it meant to be a wizard-transformed creature, or whatever he was, but if something affected this form did that mean it would transfer to his human form, too? "Hmm, let's see what the Status Window has to show-"

"Intruder!" Harry's thoughts on the matter were cut short as another flock of bats made their way towards him. Harry though merely relished the thought of bringing them down and charged them with a roar that pierced the night. The suddenness of it making a few of the creatures freeze in place and many more fell down to the ground.

|Congratulations!|

|A special skill has been created through a special act!|

|By releasing a deep and prolonged cry that sends fear into the minds and hearts of others your Tiger Form has gained the Primal Roar Skill!|

Primal Roar Skill Lv 1: Next Lv 0%/100%. Lv Max. Skill Modifier: CHA [C]| Mastering Speed [C]. A skill that releases a terrifying bellow that causes fear in the hearts of others. When heard by others it has the chance to stun them in place due to how explosive the sound is or cause them to become paralyzed with fear. As a result, the chances of landing a critical hit become greater depending on the status effect. The effectiveness of the roar is dependent on the level of the user and those nearby. STA Usage: 65

· Success rate to cause [Dazed] status effect [31% + (CHA *1)] +/- [Caster Level – Victim Level] + [Victim's CHA *1]

· Success rate to cause [Stunned] status effect [1% + (CHA *1)] +/- [Caster Level – Victim Level] + [Victim's CHA *1]

· Success rate to cause [Unconscious] status effect [-31% + (CHA *1)] +/- [Caster Level – Victim Level] + [Victim's CHA *1]

· Success rate to cause [Scared] status effect [11% + (CHA *1)] +/- [Caster Level – Victim Level] + [Victim's CHA *1]

· Success rate to cause [Frightened] status effect [-21% + (CHA *1)] +/- [Caster Level – Victim Level] + [Victim's CHA *1]

· Skill effectiveness is reduced by 5% per level on higher-level foes, and increases by 5% per level on lower-level foes.

· Roar effectiveness towards [Scared] related debuffs is increased by 1% per level of [Intimidation Skill]

Harry gave the equivalent of a tiger's grin as he saw the pop-up before he continued on with his plan. Two of the frozen in place bats were shredded into tiny bits of meat before they knew what happened. Harry's momentum didn't stop as he reached the ground and took off into the dark woods too swiftly for the bats to follow. Behind them, more bats and Foglets, larger ones at that, came into view while Harry stayed absolutely still and hidden in the darkness of the underbrush. The creatures not knowing that they were now the ones being hunted, and met a quick and satisfying doom when he exploded from his hiding place. And for a person such as Harry who was used to being the prey, it felt amazing to be the predator. To be on top of the food chain for once.

As the last of the Foglets fell to his fearsome tail spin, with the tree it crashed into shuddering like a poorly clothed human on a cold winter day, for the first time since his transformation did Harry feel light headed. Light headed and drained.

"What's happening to me?" Harry wondered and felt his vision spin and waver. Moving became difficult and his breathing was laboured. Poison was his first thought. But the description on the Foglets and bats had made no mention of such a thing. But then again, that didn't mean they weren't capable of it still. However, a quick check on his Status Window proved the theory to be false.

|Warning! Warning!|

|Accidental Bout of Magic No Longer in Effect!|

|You are currently suffering from the debuff [Exhaustion: Minor]!|

|Further action can potentially result in negative consequences to your health!|

"Of all the rotten luck," and would that he could, Harry would have cursed his displeasure had he the energy. Try as he might, Harry didn't make it one step before he felt himself shuddering and then felt his head crash against the ground. Smoke and vapour rose from his form and what appeared next was not the form of a small child but a long-eared member of the Leporidae family.

Commonly known as a rabbit or hare.

But this was no small defenceless creature that wolves, coyotes and other large creatures that usually feasted on, or one that others would think to make an easy meal out of. If there had been a time where such a thing was possible it would have been years ago. Instead, what stirred on the dungeon floor was a very large specimen more akin in size to a Great Dane but with a more solid build.

"Ughh," with how badly his head throbbed, Harry desperately wished for an Advil at the moment. Bringing his paw up to his head on reflex, Harry realized that he had somehow gained very large ears.

"Ughh. Not again," and just when he was getting used to the other form. At least his claws... paws... whatever, were semi-prehensible. They weren't like a human's, or a monkey's or something related to it, but they could still be used to grab something.

"So, I have rabbit ears and prehensile claws and big cat-like forelimbs," Harry liked to think he knew a lot of mythical creatures but was honestly coming up blank. Harry concluded that whatever he was likely fell outside the popular trope.

Taking a step forward, Harry felt fatigue wash over him and from the tingling sensation he felt his limbs were starting to go numb. Calling up his status screen, Harry cursed his luck when he realized his fatigue levels were currently in the red zone, "Perfect. Just perfect."

Harry had honestly hoped that turning into a smaller form would have done something about that. But luck sucked right now. He was stuck in a dungeon, dead tired and people with magic were chasing after him. Fortunately, they couldn't chase after him or potentially interrogate him for what happened.

And he wasn't sorry for what he did to Ripper or Vernon. Even though the Dursleys were related to him through Petunia, they were no way in any shape or form his family. This latest incident being the final nail on the coffin. No way was he going back.

"So tired," Harry could barely keep his eyes open but couldn't afford to fall asleep where he'd be easy pickings for those fog monsters.

Backtracking a bit to where he had taken care of many of the dungeon's residents, Harry began searching for a suitable spot where he could rest. Only a few minutes passed before the young boy found a decent sized hole at the base of a tree on a small hill. After checking to see nothing was there, Harry expanded the hollow place by removing arms full of dirt, a remarkably easy task thanks in part to his strong forelimbs. After completing the task to a satisfactory level, Harry started collecting rocks, sticks, and other foliage and then proceeded to use them to hide and block off the entrance.

Harry counted his fortune that his current residence wasn't muddy or bug-filled. It smelled earthy for certain, but while the entrance was wetter, the hole was decently dry and he wasn't cold. But he was tired and Harry felt his vision darken and didn't fight it - not that he could, really - and sleep conquered him.

(The Next Day)

"I've never seen him like this before. You?" Shacklebolt asked the two wizards.

"Only once. When he learned the Potters had been discovered and betrayed by that scum Black," Moody told him.

"A few times. The worst being when Voldemort finally made his move against the Magical UK and showed his true colors," the day that resulted in countless deaths of both magicals and mundane, some of which had come from inside the Hogwarts Express itself. Many of whom were no more than children in their first or second years.

It had been a day that many would love to forget. Mad-Eye was certain that was the day he starting carrying around his flask and didn't care who saw him taking a swig. Just thinking about it had him taking a swig to block the memory.

"Gotta ask, Flamel. Where were you during the last war?" Moody eyed him, "Man like you, centuries of experience and mentoring Albus of all people. What were you doing?"

Shacklebolt had to admit he was curious as well. Shacklebolt heard of how retired though he was at the time, Newton Scamander had done his share in the last war. While some of the older generation claimed the First Wizarding War hadn't been as bad or as grand as the Wizard World War Grindelwald had caused, many terrors and horrors happened nonetheless during that civil war.

"Not all fights are done on the front. Let's just say I was doing my part elsewhere, the war could have gotten a lot worse if I hadn't," was the man's reply.

"And yet we were losing all the same," Alastor eyed the man suspiciously.

"Carefully think your next words, Mad-Eye," the air grew a bit colder the moment the words escaped his lips, and the man's face grew sharper, "Friend of Albus or not, I won't hesitate to put you in your place."

"That bad then, was it?" Nicolas blinked and then realized the man had him falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Not bad.

"You have no idea," Nicolas said.

"They call me mad because I can think of hundreds of possible bad or worst-case scenarios before lunch. I have an inkling," the Auror rebuked.

"Fair enough. But thinking and witnessing are two separate facets, aren't they?" on that Alastor could not disagree and neither men could continue the conversation when the Hogwarts' Headmaster came into view.

"Gentlemen," the wizened man's tone was a mixture of weary and worry.

"Any luck?" Shacklebolt only received a headshake from his former headmaster.

"No, and worst yet, the wards have fallen. Only two reasons could have resulted in such an outcome: neither a pleasant thought," though one was certainly better than the other.

"Either the boy is dead, or whatever transpired was the last straw and he stopped seeing it as his home," Nicolas surmised, having seen the home and felt the failing wards, "You're right. Neither one is a pleasant thought."

"So, they put him through hell, or close enough," Moody had a frown on his face. The man had dealt with enough cases centred on child abuse and neglect before to last him several lifetimes, "If word somehow gets out about this, and we all know it will, muggle-wizard relations are going to take a nosedive."

"For all the wrong reasons," Nicolas never really understood the logic behind it all, but then again logic didn't always matter to European wizards, the UK especially, "Was anything else found?"

Albus merely shook his head, his spirit and the famous twinkle he was known for both somewhere far off at the moment, "Where's Newt?"

"Scamander left shortly after you did. Gone off somewhere and said he was going to search the area for anything we might have missed," Nicolas informed him, but Albus merely nodded. When the group hadn't been attacked by the Nargacuga as they thought it would, and when nothing happened hours later the group realized dawn was pretty much peeking out from the horizon. By then much of what needed to be done by the Ministry's divisions had been accomplished and much of their task force was gone except for the sparse few. What the younger wizard hoped to find Nicolas didn't know. Knowledgeable as he was, his area expertise was in potions and alchemy instead of magical creatures.

Speak of the Devil, "Lads! Found something!"

"Harry?" Dumbledore hoped but was quickly disappointed.

"I'm afraid not, Headmaster," younger wizard gave him an apologetic look.

"You said you found something, Scamander?" Mad Eye asked.

"I did. Take a look," taking out a piece of cloth, the magizoologist revealed a tuff of black, short fine hair.

"Mind explaining the significance?"

"This came from the Nargacucga's scales, and if I'm right then," here he took out another scale from the dangerous creature, "it should happen right about–" the small group watched, fascinated by the act, as the scale shimmered and then fell apart into a clump of hair similar to the ones previously shown.

"What does this mean?" Albus asked.

"It means that while we're still dealing with a magical creature, we aren't dealing with a Nargacuga like I thought we were," Nicolas informed the group, "However, it's still a XXXXX magical creature."

"Oh, for the love of– What the hell are we fucking dealing with!"

"A Púca," both Scamander and Nicolas answered.

"Truly?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with youthful delight; his spirit lifted by the news, "Incredible. Púca haven't been seen in the United Kingdoms in well over two centuries. I had thought they were declared extinct?"

"They were, but they aren't. Nearly two centuries of infrequent sightings had the British Ministry of Magic declare them as such in the United Kingdom," Scamander informed, "But their overall population is so low that they might as well be."

"So, what are we dealing with now? And, for the love of Merlin, no more surprises," despite his preaching of constant vigilance and being more than capable of preparing for them, Moody downright hated most surprises. A testament to this being the year 1994, where friends and colleagues held a surprise party for the Auror; it hadn't ended well.

"A Púca. A shapeshifter," Newton said, "Classified as a beast because of how they look but their level of intelligence is like that of centaurs and merfolks. Technically, the Púca are a magical hybrid but the British Ministry of Magic dubbed them as beasts nonetheless. Ancient humans believed they were forest spirits, but more accurately they were forests guardians alongside nymphs and dryads, only less zealous and brutal. They live in woods near tall fields or farms or barrows. Their base form is that of an extremely tall white or black hare with very dexterous paws that have a nasty set of wicked claws sharp enough to bleed a Graphorn. Or, so the stories say. Essentially what many would deem a were-rabbit or were-hare," there was no such thing but it painted a picture still.

"How tall are we talking?"

"At the haunches, the average male Púca is two or three inches shy of six feet," the man's words served to put those nearby at ease. It was still tall but nowhere near as big as the Nargacuga. But they should have known better that it wouldn't last.

"However, unless they are travelling great distances or relaxing or resting, Púca generally spend most of their time on their hind legs. So, their true height would be two or four inches north of nine feet. The females being much smaller, being one or two feet smaller than the males on average, but are much swifter by comparison."

The wizards ignored, once again, the colorful string of curses that left Mad Eye's mouth.

"Alright, fine. We know what it is," hopefully was left unsaid, the man didn't want a third outcome to occur, "But why is it doing this?"

"Púcas are pranksters and mischievous by nature but they aren't evil or dark creatures," Albus revealed his own knowledge on the matter, "Generally, they are benevolent so long as no harm is done to their territory and they are given the occasional offerings. They've been known to help others and a happy Púca will protect a farmer's field. However, despite their benevolence, a Púca will defend itself and if it feels very threatened it will either shapeshift into something else to escape or something much more dangerous to fight back if the former is out of the question. Despite their hare-like appearance, they are omnivorous and have tiger-like incisors that can measure more than three inches. Aside from their shapeshifting capabilities, Púca are a species that can go invisible," the news wasn't welcomed.

"Please tell me you're taking the piss?"

"You're out of luck, Alastor. But, unlike Nargacuga, a Púca's ability to erase their presence is only doable whenever they are near or within the confines of a forest or a pastured field. A person either has to be immensely gifted or skilled or possess an incredible sense in order to find a Púca under these conditions," the informed his friend.

"Or you burn its field," Alastor quipped a bit nastily.

"You could. But then you'd have a very miffed shapeshifter to deal with," Dumbledore continued, "At any rate, a Púca will only show itself once it's out in the open or if it wants to."

"How does that work?" Kingsley was curious.

"Púca are said to be of fey descent or origin. Their magic and capabilities therefore fall outside ordinary wizard laws and are subject to different sets of rules," Nicolas explained.

The explanation caused Albus' demeanor to quickly shift back into one many would link to that of worry, something that unsettled the others that noticed, "Nicolas, you don't think we'll experience another Unseelie Court Incident, do you?"

"I don't think so. But gods, I hope not," the untold amount of chaos brought by such an incident had only been matched by another equally turbulent event.

Confused, Kingsley asked, "Unseelie Court Incident?"

"You're better off not knowing, lad. Trust me," Moody informed the younger Auror, "Get on with it before we get off topic."

"One thing non-magicals got right is that Púca generally shapeshift into ordinary creatures: wolves, foxes, dogs, cats, bears, horses, ravens, goats, even bulls. Each creature either being the same size as their ordinary counterparts or hilariously disproportioned. They're usually never that much bigger than twice their base form," but even then, what detailed informed that remained about Púca were long gone or incredibly rare.

"Don't forget its ability to shapeshift into a damn wyvern monster! Just bloody lucky it didn't turn into a dragon... It can't do that, can it?" Dumbledore knew Moody to know the man was already preparing for the worst-case scenario.

"Fortunately for us, no. While a Púca can shapeshift into a dragon, it wouldn't be as big nor be able to perform the same feats such as breathing fire. It might be able to fly but that would work against it as it requires a lot of energy, more so since it would not be able to maintain such an enormous form even for short periods of time. They can, however, closely imitate the ability of certain species if they are similar to their own. We're just unfortunate that it chose a Nargacuga of all things," Albus said with a smile.

"What about the scales it flung at me?" Shacklebolt asked.

"A unique form of shedding, but an action that likely proved very taxing nonetheless. Púca can shed a certain amount of fur that can temporarily be shaped into whatever it is they desire. Most commonly it was used to create another version of themselves that was used as a distraction," the immortal alchemist said.

"So, for all we know, while we've been chasing this bloody headache and sitting here with our thumbs up our asses, the damn thing in all likelihood gave us the slip from the very beginning. And all of this was a waste of time!" Mad Eye boomed.

"Possibly," Newton didn't beat around the bush, "But, then again, maybe not. Púca are fast but any information on their exact speed and endurance is only based on speculation. All that's ever been said about them is a passage in an old poem: Púca, Púca, Púca, taller than a man. Púca, Púca, Púca, fiercely defends the land. Púca, Púca, Púca, looking down from trees, Púca, Púca, Púca, who will it trick this eve? Púca, Púca, Púca, faster than you think, Púca, Púca, Púca, Ihuarraquax could only blink," Newton recited.

"Catchy, but doesn't bloody well do us much good now does it," Mad Eye informed the group.

"Unless you're an ancient wizard familiar with old legends and tales and songs as I am," Nicolas laughed, "The word many should pay attention to is Ihuarraquax. Only once does the word ever appear; it was a name held by a unicorn. So, by that logic–"

"By that logic we're dealing with a creature that can not only shapeshift, is damn tall, but despite its size also moves fast enough that a unicorn has little time to do anything," and unicorns had incredible reaction times despite their build, and were incredibly fast.

Werewolves were documented to be capable of running at an average of 40-46 miles per hour with the more powerful, such as alphas, reaching a little over 50. The average documented unicorn speed, however, was 60-70 miles per hour, in a forest. Out in the open they could outpace even the fastest recorded cheetah speeds and could maintain that speed almost ten times longer before being forced to slow down. Depending on how the poem was interpreted, that meant that there existed a creature much faster than the swiftest mundane land animal. Only a few terrestrial magical beasts were ever documented to possess such an incredible trait, many of which were extinct or endangered.

"I would take it with a grain of salt. It is a very old nursery rhyme after all. All we can say for certain is that Púca may be just as fast as a unicorn, or at least fast enough to catch it off guard," even then that wasn't an easy feat. While they couldn't see into the future like a demiguise to avoid danger, unicorns had very keen senses and possessed an incredible form of awareness seldom few had.

"Okay, so say it is here and not somewhere else where we have little hope of catching it. How do we catch it?" Moody asked.

"Well, Púca are very magically resilient and tricky to deal with but they aren't invincible. Their muscles and bones are denser than humans but they have weaker skulls so a series of concentrated and well-placed stunners to the head from multiple wizards should daze it long enough for someone to cast a confundus charm. It would have to be very powerful, too. Their fey lineage, like I said, makes them very magically resistant. Unfortunately, even without knowing their exact speed, we should assume they have very swift and excellent reflexes. Even for Albus and I, landing a hit on it will likely be tricky," the last sentence had Alastor narrow his eyes.

"Is there another way of subduing it?" Shacklebolt queried.

"There is. Restrain or trap it long enough in a temporal ward and its speed should be brought down just enough for us to capture it," unfortunately, wards capable of doing that required the use of a specialist such as a Wardmaster, a Timelord or an Unspeakable who delved in that obscure branch of magic. All rare individuals. Even with him being around for as long he was the wizard was lacking in that department.

"Afterwards, you then shackle them with dimeritium or cold iron cuffs," Nicolas ignored the aghast looks directed at him from his fellow wizards. All except Mad Eye, of course, the man looked at him approvingly.

"Dimeritium? You can't be serious, sir," Shacklebolt only received an eye roll from the man.

In Europe any wizard worth their salt knew of the history behind those accursed metals. Used by wizard hunters, the ones that actual lent credit to their profession, dimeritium and cold iron were known to negate and weaken magical beings to the point of helplessness. But it wasn't just that. Aside from both metals possessing the ability to take away what made them unique, prolonged exposure had very unpleasant side effects on magicals.

The worse side effects recorded were magicals permanently losing control over their magic and even losing access to their magic all together. Most believed that the health issues and the permanent markings that scarred their bodies they could potentially face paled by comparison. As a result, and due to the history behind them, cold iron and dimeritium had become illegal to use in the Magical UK.

"Much as I liked to, we've been banned from using them and any knowledge on how to fabricate them have been under lock and key for centuries," even when the effects of the Global Wizarding War began to spill into the UK and when the First Wizarding War took place, temporary removal of the ban had been denied in favor of using the Unforgivables instead, "So, we're out of luck."

"Indeed, we are. Ordinary magical dampening shackles won't work on them either as their high resilience will prevent the enchantments from working," Nicolas revealed how the dampening effects of cold iron and dimeritium were naturally occurring and therefore not subject to the same flaw.

"But you know how to make them, don't you," Moody pointed out.

"I do," Nicolas didn't deny the sharp wizard, "Don't forget, I'm French, and I've been around for centuries before the ban was put into place. While using them is illegal in France, when your problems began to leak over into our country seeking support from sympathizers, and after the French Minister's grandson was killed, the ban was temporarily lifted."

"Guess that explains why some came back pretty much broken and looking worse than shite," the state of those wizards had greatly unsettled all but the most hardened war veteran. The relationship with Magical France and the Magical UK hadn't always been the best but the way those wizards were returned to them, even if they were war criminals or accessories, hadn't done anything to improve them.

"After Grindelwald, France had enough when it came to dealing with dark lords, their followers and the troubles that accompanied them," Nicolas explained and honestly could care less for the state of those wizards.

"But anyway, I must warn you that Púca are very protective of those they take a shine to. And, as I said, it is of fey descent and subject to different sets of rules and whims than our own. They live in burrows like rabbits but ones that are practically impossible to find. The most popular theory is that these burrows or warrens exist on an entirely different plane. If Harry is inside one then we are facing another serious problem," that tidbit of knowledge had been the cause to left Albus spirit. It was better than the alternatives that had crossed his mind.

"For the love of... So, even if we catch the damn thing, we still need to find what dirt filled mud hole he's been left in?" Moody asked.

"Actually, Púca burrows and warrens are said to be clean and would be more comparable to Hobbit-holes," Nicolas said with an amused tone. Nowhere as nice or furnished but easy enough for a person who liked to live off the grid.

Not understanding the reference, Alastor asked, "A what hole?"

"Never mind," Nicolas wasn't about to explain what a halfling was or the Lord of the Rings, "My point is that the boy is likely alright, but currently on a plane that's adjacent to our own."

"Alright, don't rightfully understand it all, mind you. So, how do we get to it?" the man seriously doubted this creature was going to lead them to its home even if it was captured. Once more the veteran Auror got an answer he didn't care for.

"You don't. Getting out is one thing. A Púca's warren allows you to get out, but once that's done the only way back in is if it takes you there. Until then, you have to wait until it comes out. And like a normal rabbit warren there can be multiple entrances and egresses," Scamander said.

"So, now, it's just a matter of waiting," Shacklebolt concluded and received confirmation from Nicolas.

"Waiting's all we can do at this point is all I can say," Nicolas informed the group.

"Not exactly a win, but not a loss either. For now, at least," Mad Eye wasn't happy but had faced even worst outcomes. All the men in the group had, "Wards will have to be put up. Sentries we can trust posted. What's to be done about all this then?"

"I have an idea that might prove beneficial, Alastor," judging by the look in his eye, Nicolas believed his old student was about to conduct his own brand of mischief.

Here we go folks! Next chapter, Harry enters the wizarding world. And four or so chapters later, Hogwarts! Next chapter will be out next week. If I get 60 reviews, I'll post Thursday. Already already 80% done.

For those who want a better understanding of a Puca, or Pooka, and what they look like, look up E. Aster Bunnymund from Rise of the Guardians. Or better yet, google search 'dark pooka bunnymund height' for a better visual. I won't lie, it did play a minor influence when choosing Harry's animagus form, but mainly because it plays a role in one of the themes in this story and what I have planned.