Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

"Hey, come here!" David called out, his voice urgent, as he spotted the white clay mink lying motionless on the forest floor.

The creature didn't move. Whether it was out of fear or injury, David couldn't tell. All he knew was that a towering troll was only steps away from crushing it.

David considered using a Summoning Charm to bring the mink to him, but quickly dismissed the idea. A standard Summoning Charm could harm living creatures, possibly tearing them apart mid-flight. While Newt Scamander's modified version of the spell allowed for the safe summoning of animals, it was slower—too slow to save the mink in time.

The other two minks, hiding nearby, screeched in panic but didn't dare to intervene.

David realized he had no choice. If the mink was going to survive, he had to act.

Tossing aside his Hogwarts robes, David prepared for action. The troll, now only three steps from the mink, loomed larger than ever. The two other minks squealed desperately, but David focused, gripping his wand tightly.

He pointed his wand forward and conjured a tall, magical horse. In an instant, the horse transformed into a magical troll that matched the size of its opponent.

"Get him!" David commanded.

The conjured troll lumbered forward and punched the real troll in the face, causing it to stumble back a step. Seizing the opportunity, David darted forward. The conjured troll grappled with the real one, holding it back for as long as possible.

As David closed the distance, the troll swung wildly at him. He narrowly dodged, rolling on the ground and snatching the frightened mink in one swift motion. The ground behind him exploded as the troll's massive hand slammed down, sending dirt and broken branches flying.

Breathing hard, David ran until he was out of the troll's reach. Leaning against a tree, he carefully examined the clay mink in his hands.

"No injuries, no broken bones… just scared stiff," he muttered, letting out a sigh of relief.

The other two minks approached him cautiously, squeaking in concern. David placed the rescued mink gently in front of them. They sniffed it thoroughly, ensuring it was unharmed. Once satisfied, one of them squeaked at David as if to thank him.

Smiling, David crouched down to pet the gray mink. Its fur was soft, like that of a cat. But the moment his hand touched it, the little creature's legs wobbled, and it almost collapsed. Its round eyes blinked in confusion, clearly unused to human touch.

At that moment, a new page appeared in the magical picture book in David's mind—a record of the clay mink.

Excited, David reached out to touch another mink, but it skittered away, still wary. He shrugged and stood up, turning his attention back to the two trolls.

Without David's control, the conjured troll looked almost comical. It simply pressed its hands on the real troll's shoulders, preventing it from moving forward. No matter how much the real troll punched or clawed at it, the magical troll didn't retaliate.

David noticed something peculiar—despite the troll's attacks, he felt no pain. Curious, he controlled his conjured troll to land a punch on the real one's open mouth. The real troll howled in pain and, in its rage, bit off the conjured troll's arm.

A sharp jolt of pain shot through David, forcing him to his knees. Thankfully, the sensation was brief, but it was enough to teach him a lesson: damage to his magical creature would affect him, too.

Deciding not to risk further injury, David dissolved the conjured troll with a wave of his wand. The two real trolls, now free from distraction, roared at each other, their chains preventing them from moving far.

David studied the scene. The trolls' chains and their placement in the forest suggested they were deliberately stationed here.

"Who put these trolls here?" he wondered aloud. "Was it for something like the Philosopher's Stone?"

His thoughts darkened. If the trolls were placed here intentionally, it was likely the work of Voldemort, meant to sow chaos and serve his plans.

Determined to investigate, David crouched and whispered a spell: "Footprints Flash."

A golden mist emerged from his wand, spreading across the forest floor. Glowing footprints of various creatures appeared—some large, some small—but among them were distinctly human footprints, far larger than David's own.

Placing his wand on the prints, David tried to identify their source, but the spell revealed nothing familiar. Whoever had been here wasn't a Hogwarts professor or staff member.

"Voldemort," David muttered grimly, gripping his wand tighter. The thought that the Dark Lord might still be nearby made his heart race.

Clearing away all traces of his presence, David beckoned to the minks and retreated to the safety of their cave.

"Can you help me find any strangers in the forest?" he asked the creatures.

The three minks squeaked among themselves, seemingly deliberating. Finally, they turned to him and nodded.

"Fool, fool!" they chirped in unison.

David raised an eyebrow. Their response left him with a sinking feeling, but for now, he had their help.