["It's so nice. I often see those two—father and son—so close like that…"] the old Horned Serpent said enviously. ["My kids are all grown up…"]
["I told you to learn some foreign languages, but you wouldn't listen…"] Cohen said, facepalming.
"What's… this?" Rolf asked, staring in disbelief at the Griffin disciplining its cub. He turned to Newt. "Grandpa, can Griffins talk?"
"Never seen it before, but I'm seeing it now," Newt replied, his eyes gleaming with even more curiosity than Rolf's.
The intense gazes of the old man and young boy made the old Griffin flinch mid-discipline, its paw freezing above its cub's head.
"You're not those poachers, right?" the old Griffin asked them.
The three didn't smell like bad guys.
Newt and Rolf spent more time with magical creatures than people, and Cohen—well, he was practically a human-raised… Chimaera.
"We're here to take them down," Cohen said. "I'm the reinforcement your kid called in."
"You look like a cub yourself…" the old Griffin said uncertainly, then glanced at the Horned Serpent. "What's this old snake to you?"
["This is my grandson!"] the Horned Serpent declared, eyes blazing. ["Do you have a grandkid like this?"]
"Oh, now you understand, huh?" Cohen said, pushing down the serpent's raised head.
The Griffin kept eyeing Cohen.
"Fine. The Chimaera it raised is my ancestor, blood-wise. That's the deal," Cohen explained.
"Familiar vibe, but I've never seen a creature like you," the old Griffin said, inching closer, its orange eyes locked onto Cohen's.
"No life insurance policies accepted," Cohen quipped.
"…" Newt was starting to get used to staying silent around Cohen's antics.
"…" The old Griffin didn't quite catch that, but its planned gesture of gratitude—a bow—faltered. Something about this kid's words felt… off.
"I don't think that's what it meant," Rolf whispered to Cohen, shielding his mouth.
"With Greek mythology's vibe, I can't help but suspect their level of weirdness," Cohen whispered back, also shielding his mouth.
"Screech!" the young Griffin squeaked at its parent.
"'Hybrid'—who taught you that word?!" the old Griffin barked, glaring at its cub, ready to physically correct some dangerous ideas.
"You taught your creatures that?" Rolf asked Cohen, shocked. "Don't let my grandpa hear—he hates people who mess with creature experiments…"
"Obviously not me," Cohen said, pursing his lips. "I'm the result of one of those experiments. The word 'hybrid' probably came from my owl."
That owl, Count, swore it'd keep its distance, but it still spouted a bunch of forbidden words around the Griffin, huh?
What a filthy, unrepentant owl…
"So it's still your fault—" Rolf started.
Cohen wagged a finger. "I'm like this because of that owl. From the moment I brought it home, its mouth has never been clean. The Basilisks, the dragon—all my creatures have been influenced by it."
"So you're saying one talking owl single-handedly corrupted you and almost every creature in your suitcase?" Rolf said, incredulous.
"Magic owl. Pretty wild, right?" Cohen replied.
"What about those booze-loving unicorns?" Rolf asked.
"Nah, the unicorns aren't the owl's fault. Their love for drinking's clearly a natural flaw," Cohen said, shaking his head.
---
After the old Griffin successfully "re-educated" its cub's wrongheaded ideas through physical means, it returned to Cohen and performed a bow, much like a Hippogriff's.
"Does that mean I can ride you?" Cohen asked, eager to try.
"It means I'm thanking you for looking after my kid and bringing him to help me," the old Griffin said solemnly. "But… riding's fine too, I guess…"
Was that… bashfulness in its tone?
"Sorry, bad joke," Cohen said, his mouth twitching. "Act normal, please."
"Is this your hideout?" Newt steered the conversation back on track. "Can you tell us about the poachers—what they're doing, where they are? We can help deal with them."
Communicating with words made working with magical creatures so much easier—no need for cat teasers or treats, no risk of miscommunication.
"This is a secret chamber left by an old wizard, a friend of that Horned Serpent's Chimaera kid," the old Griffin said. "That wizard died long ago. The dangerous wizards can't find this place, so I brought the cubs here to escape."
It called out toward the shadows.
Several creatures of different species emerged slowly—strange-looking cat- and dog-like animals, their breeds unclear. But one thing Cohen was sure of: none of them were Griffins.
"The poachers caught a lot of us, and many didn't make it," the old Griffin said, its expression heavy with sorrow. "I could only save the ones still alive and bring them here. I know where the poachers are."
"If you speak Greek and English, why not go straight to the Greek Ministry and report it?" Cohen asked. "They'd probably send help faster."
Considering the temple was fine with permanently housing a "useless" Horned Serpent, the Greek Ministry wouldn't likely refuse to hunt down poachers…
Which meant there was only one reason the old Griffin would rather hide here with its friend's kids than seek out wizards.
"Those wizards aren't safe either," the old Griffin said. "I saw some of the same people at the temple."
"But they're still claiming they haven't caught the poachers…" Newt said, frowning. "There's a mole in the Greek Ministry."
"I'm good at sniffing out moles," Cohen said. "I'll just stroll past them and see what's up."
"But if they've got people inside the Ministry, won't it be hard to root them out?" Rolf said nervously. "Officials are the worst to deal with…"
"Easy," Cohen said, turning to the old Griffin. "Mind if I borrow your reputation as a highly dangerous creature for a bit? I want to do something only a really dangerous creature would do."
"Like what?" Newt asked, already sensing Cohen's plan.
"Like, say, a super dangerous Griffin teaming up with a Horned Serpent to ruthlessly ambush Ministry officials," Cohen said.
Noticing Newt's worried expression, Cohen added, "Of course, since I'm in my '14+' mode, they'll only end up with stuff like… mysteriously bitten-off legs."