Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

"Be careful."

As soon as they landed, Lauren pulled David behind her. The surroundings were littered with broken branches, and deep claw marks ran along the thick tree trunks. Fresh bloodstains and tufts of coarse hair were scattered among the foliage, evidence of a recent battle.

Following the trail of destruction, David spotted several werewolf corpses lying motionless on the ground. Their skin was still warm—they hadn't been dead for long.

"They won't be caught by the werewolves, will they?" Lauren asked, scanning the devastated clearing.

David felt a growing unease. Raising his wand to his lips, he whispered, "Appareo."

A golden mist billowed from the tip, quickly spreading across the clearing. It swirled and condensed into small, dense orbs. Two of them wavered, gradually shaping into the spectral figures of Jason and Anna, surrounded by werewolves. They appeared weary, barely holding their own. Then, in a sudden flash of blinding light, they vanished—whether captured or having escaped remained unclear.

Lauren watched David's spellwork with admiration. "I believe you're Newt's grandson now."

David shot her a sideways glance. "So you didn't believe me before? Was all that information even true?"

Lauren smirked. "One has to be cautious when wandering about. But everything I told you was true. I just... omitted a few details. When Newt and the others left, they mentioned uncovering the reason behind the werewolves' sudden mass movements. They planned to verify it with Dumbledore."

"But you don't know where they went?"

"No, they left in a hurry. The only thing I know for certain is that they're still in France."

David crouched, inspecting the ground, his fingers brushing over the damp earth. Something caught his attention—a torn piece of fabric. He picked it up and examined its texture. It matched Jason's robes.

"If I'm lucky, this should help me track them," David said, shaking the cloth.

Lauren nodded, licking her pale lips. "Good. Now, about my needs…"

David narrowed his eyes. "You need to drink blood? Human blood?"

"Of course. What else would we drink?" Lauren scoffed, then, noticing his unease, waved her hand dismissively. "Relax, we gave up biting people ages ago."

"Then how do you get human blood?"

Lauren sighed. "Just take me to the city, and you'll see. Let's grab a taxi."

Back in the city, Lauren flagged down a taxi with ease. She slid into the backseat and gestured for David to follow.

"Take us to the nearest blood bank," she instructed.

David, puzzled, leaned toward her and whispered, "Do you have Muggle money?"

Lauren gave him an incredulous look. "No."

"Then… how are we paying the driver?"

Lauren shrugged. "Why should we? It's an honor for him to drive us."

David sighed. "We should at least give him something. We can't just… take advantage of him."

"Fine, fine," Lauren relented, rolling her eyes. "I'll handle it."

The blood bank soon came into view, and the driver stopped the car. Without turning his head, he said in an oddly reverent tone, "My Lord Earl, the blood bank is here."

"Good. Wait here a moment," Lauren replied nonchalantly.

A tiny bat darted from the tip of her wand and disappeared into the blood bank's entrance.

David raised an eyebrow. "You're an earl?"

"Inherited title, nothing special," Lauren replied dismissively.

Moments later, a young man in a white uniform approached the taxi, bowing deeply. "My Lord, it has been too long."

Lauren acknowledged him with a nod and gestured toward the driver. "I took his car here. Pay him."

The young man blinked, hesitating. "Earl, surely such a lowly individual should consider it an honor to serve you—"

"Just pay him," Lauren interrupted. "No need for unnecessary trouble."

"Yes, my Lord." The young man pulled out a few banknotes and handed them to the driver.

The driver took the money mechanically, his expression dazed and vacant. His eyes were unfocused, staring straight ahead. David leaned in and whispered, "Did you hypnotize him?"

"A little," Lauren admitted. "Saves us some hassle. Now let's go inside."

David hesitated but followed her in. As they stepped into the blood bank, everyone they passed—doctors, nurses, and clerks—bowed respectfully to Lauren. David watched in fascination.

"We own several blood banks," Lauren explained. "We fund them, and in return, Muggles hand over the blood without issue. No need for conflict, no trouble from the Ministry of Magic."

David nodded, impressed by the arrangement. They continued through the halls until they entered an ornately decorated room with luxurious furnishings.

Lauren seated herself at a long table and turned to the young man who had escorted them. "Bring me some fresh blood. And prepare something for him to eat."

"Yes, my Lord. Please wait a moment."

Once the young man had left, Lauren leaned back and stretched. "Once I recover, we'll search for your friends."

David studied an elaborate oil painting on the wall. It depicted a strikingly handsome vampire with wild eyes and a blood-stained mouth. A powerful werewolf lay dead at his feet, blood dripping from his claws.

"That's my grandfather," Lauren said casually, noticing David's interest. "Prince Dracula. This painting captures the moment he killed the werewolf leader. I had someone paint it later. The old man's sleeping now, or I'd introduce you."

David exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. "Your family history is... intense."

Lauren smirked. "You have no idea."