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[Hogwarts] Ch 125: The Straightforward Confession Game
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 19:19:01 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
The space was filled with furious cursing that just wouldn't stop. Even Andros, who had been peacefully observing, was startled into silence, staring wide-eyed at Grindelwald, who was aggressively shouting at the outside world like he'd lost it.
In Andros' mind, Grindelwald had always been a proper, polished wizard—the classic type. Refined, elegant, and even though he was a Dark Wizard, he still had this undeniable charm about him.
But right now?
Right now, Grindelwald reminded him of a brawling fishwife from some Greek village marketplace, yelling over the last sardine.
"Space Space—mute."
Tom smiled to himself as the noise vanished from his ears, finally enjoying some peace and quiet while he continued strolling through the garden with Newt.
Of course, he didn't turn off the "video feed"—he kept watching the Grindelwald show unfold.
Grindelwald just kept yelling at Newt, getting so worked up he even started swearing in different languages. Andros was stunned. He was picking up all kinds of new vocabulary today.
And this? This was just the tip of the iceberg. Grindelwald swore he'd be visiting the U.S. soon. He was still alive, after all—the same man who gave magical governments around the world nightmares.
Honestly, only in Britain, Voldemort's name alone sent people running. Even Grindelwald didn't quite measure up in that territory.
But when it came to global fame?
Well… Voldemort never got the chance. Thanks to Dumbledore keeping him boxed in Britain and Voldemort's obsession with killing Dumbledore before doing anything else, the guy never really went international.
Newt, though?
British wizards worshipped him—he was their national treasure. But outside of Britain?
Newt's reputation was still fucking legendary.
He was in the same league as Dumbledore and Grindelwald on the world stage.
When Tom was researching him, he even found that in the legal documents of various Ministries of Magic—like Article 153—there was often a clause that read something like:
{Mr. Newt Scamander is always welcome to visit our country without any official waiting. However, should he be found in possession of his suitcase, he will be fined the maximum amount possible and immediately deported.}
As for throwing him into one of their wizarding prisons?
Yeah, no thanks. Go try talking sense into a suitcase full of magical creatures—creatures with unknown classifications, unknown quantities, and an absurd amount of destructive power.
As ridiculous as it sounded, Tom could understand why those countries would create such bizarre laws.
I mean, who would want a walking magical WMD casually strolling through their territory?
Even if it was Newt Scamander.
Especially when Newt's idea of 'protecting magical creatures' sometimes caused more destruction than most Dark wizards could even dream of.
Just ask New York.
Behind every weird and outrageous law, there's usually an equally outrageous story. Tom was dying to know what exactly those magical governments had gone through that led them to write laws like that.
Someday, when he and Newt were closer, he'd definitely ask.
Unfortunately, right after they finished touring the garden, Newt led him back to the cottage. It looked like he had no intention of showing Tom the inside of the suitcase yet.
They sat down in the living room. Tom couldn't help but glance at the rather large distance—four or five meters—that Newt had left between them.
Same thing when they'd been walking earlier too—Newt always made sure to keep at least five meters between them. Was this social anxiety thing getting worse with age?
"Tom, I'm sorry, I—"
"No worries, Newt. I get it. Prof Dumbledore told me a lot about you," Tom said, cutting him off before he could apologize.
Newt gave him a grateful nod, then asked, "So, tell me what problem you're having. I'm guessing it has something to do with magical creatures?"
"That's right." Tom released a hint of his dragon aura, and from outside, they heard a sudden chorus of startled animal cries. Even Newt looked shocked.
"You're a bloodline wizard… and not just any kind, a dragon-bloodline?"
"Yep. Over Christmas, I killed a fire dragon," Tom said honestly. "It was the one that escaped from the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary."
"It was you—wait, what?!" Newt started to respond calmly, but then his brain caught up with his ears, and he stared at Tom in disbelief.
Did he even hear what he just said?
That was a fire dragon! And you'd only been at Hogwarts for one semester?! What are they feeding kids at that school these days?
Tom gave a sheepish smile. "I've got some talent, and some good mentors, so my progress has been… faster than average. It makes sense, right?"
"…I guess that makes sense." Newt nodded, looking like he was still processing.
Tom continued, "If you think killing a dragon violates your beliefs about protecting magical creatures, I won't bother you with what comes next."
He was a direct guy. And with someone like Newt, it was better to be upfront.
If Newt couldn't accept it, Tom would just leave. He'd head to the Thunderbird Reserve himself. He'd just have to be careful around the wizards there.
But Newt shook his head. "That dragon had already escaped the sanctuary. Once it's out in the wild, it becomes a threat. Killing it isn't the same as hunting creatures inside a protected area or disrupting a stable ecosystem."
He gave Tom a rare smile and even cracked a small joke: "I am human, after all. My dream is to find a perfect balance between humans and magical creatures."
"Glad to hear it."
Tom finally relaxed. "You've probably already guessed it, but my dragon blood came from that fire dragon."
Newt nodded. Of course, he had.
"The truth is, I have a gift," Tom said. "A talent that lets me improve my magical abilities—across the board—through trials."
"Fire dragons count. So do unicorns."
At that, Newt looked visibly alarmed and waved his hands. He spoke seriously, "Tom, a wizard's magical talent is their deepest secret. You must be careful who you tell. You've just stepped into the magical world—you don't know how dangerous people can be."
"That's true—for other people." Tom smiled. "But not with you, Newt. You're different."
"I haven't even told our Head of House or Dumbledore about this ability. You're the only one. That's how much I trust you. And also… I need your help."
Newt blushed from the straightforward honesty, touched by the boy's trust. He nodded earnestly. "You have my word, Tom. I won't tell anyone. Not even the magical creatures."
The phrasing was a little funny, but coming from Newt, it actually meant something.
---
Meanwhile, in the study space, Grindelwald couldn't help but cringe.
Tom had Newt completely wrapped around his finger.
Back in the day, Dumbledore had also trusted Scamander completely. That's why Newt had gone above and beyond to help him… which usually meant getting roped into all kinds of trouble.
"Seriously? You idiot Scamander, can't you see this kid is totally playing you?"
Grindelwald was practically laughing in disbelief.
He had assumed Tom was like him—methodical, dominant, strategic. But now? He realized Tom was more like Dumbledore.
Just as sneaky.
---
"Newt, I came to America this time to find a Thunderbird," Tom said, clueless that Grindelwald was mentally roasting him.
"A Thunderbird..." Newt's expression turned conflicted. He immediately assumed Tom wanted to kill one.
But Thunderbirds weren't like dragons. As long as you didn't mess with them, they didn't harm humans. Dragons, on the other hand, would raze entire villages just to blow off steam. Every year, dragon-rearing countries had to pour in tons of resources just to clean up the mess.
Newt looked like he was about to flat-out say no. Tom picked up on it and quickly clarified, "I don't want to kill or harm the Thunderbird. I just need to beat it in a race."
"Oh…" The old man let out a long sigh of relief, his face softening.
But then, when Tom explained that he wanted to race a Thunderbird in terms of pure speed, Newt looked torn again—this time out of concern for Tom.
He knew how fast Thunderbirds could fly. Even the fastest broomstick in the world couldn't keep up with them at full speed.
Then Tom suggested something that made Newt's eye twitch.
"My thinking is... sure, I can't outrun a grown one. But what about a baby? Surely I can outrun a baby."
"If you could help me find a newly hatched Thunderbird—or maybe one that can just barely fly from old age— I'd be happy to race that instead."
Newt was stunned speechless. Even Grindelwald and Andros twitched at the corners of their mouths.
"Sorry, Dumbledore. I take it back. This kid's not like you or me. He's in a league of his own."
"Racing a newborn bird... Who even says stuff like that?"
Tom didn't care how it sounded—as long as it didn't slow down his mission progress, he'd be perfectly happy racing an egg if he had to.
The reason he came to Newt in the first place was because Newt had once rescued a Thunderbird and helped establish the Arizona Sanctuary. He had real credibility with them.
Thunderbirds were just like dragons in one way—they fiercely protected their young and their eggs. If Tom tried to sneak in to challenge one, he'd have an entire flock chasing him down.
Whether it's the human world or the world of magical creatures, connections and reputation matter.
Newt found it all a bit shameless, but he had to admit—it was a smart plan. And more importantly, it didn't harm the Thunderbird in any way.
So, he agreed without much fuss.
"Tom, when I visited Arizona last year, a few Thunderbirds had just hatched. Judging by their growth rate, they should be about right for your plan."
"Let's do this—give me two days to make preparations, and we'll head out. That work for you?"
"I'm ready anytime," Tom replied with a smile. "Thanks for helping me."
Newt waved it off. "It's nothing. I usually visit around this time every summer anyway—to check on that 'child' of mine."
Tom tilted his head, curious. "You mean the Thunderbird you rescued all those years ago?"
Unlike the grudge between Newt and Grindelwald, this wasn't a secret. Plenty of books mentioned how Newt Scamander had rescued a Thunderbird from poachers and helped prevent a major magical crisis alongside it.
Don't ask how that crisis started, though. No one really explains that part.
Newt nodded with a warm smile. "That's the one. It's been so many years... I've gotten old, but it's just entering middle age."
Thunderbirds had incredibly long lifespans. Living 150 to 200 years was average.
"Spending time with Thunderbirds and earning their trust will be very helpful for you," Newt added. "We'll use these two days to go over how to interact with them properly."
"Sounds good to me."
They chatted for a while longer, and Tom learned quite a bit about Newt's life these days.
Newt's son had followed in his footsteps and become a Magizoologist too—constantly traveling the world. He also had a grandson, Rolf Scamander. After the summer, Rolf would be starting his first year at Hogwarts.
No need to guess—he was definitely a Hufflepuff.
Tom also mentioned that he planned to visit Nicolas Flamel in August. Hearing the name brought a wave of nostalgia over Newt.
Ever since their time in Paris, Newt and Flamel had built a strong friendship, one that lasted to this day.
Unfortunately, the French Ministry of Magic had banned Newt from ever re-entering the country. The last time he'd seen Flamel in person was thirty years ago, at Flamel's home in Devon.
Then Voldemort showed up, and to avoid trouble, Flamel quietly moved back to Paris, and from then on, the two only exchanged letters.
Tom raised an eyebrow. "With all your experience, sneaking into France to visit an old friend shouldn't be that hard for you, should it?"
After all, before coming to New York, Newt had already been blacklisted by dozens of countries. But here he was—still alive and kicking. So why was he suddenly so cautious now?
Newt chuckled awkwardly. "The International Confederation of Wizards has someone watching me constantly. I can't really take risks anymore…"
Tom's expression turned serious. He focused, scanning the area carefully. "Mr. Newt, I didn't sense anyone watching your house on my way here."
Had the MACUSA hired someone even he couldn't detect?
Anyone capable of hiding from him had to be terrifying. Not even Snape could pull that off.
All this just to keep tabs on Newt? Isn't that a bit much?
Newt looked even more embarrassed now. He rubbed his hands nervously and mumbled, "It's Tina… she's still working for MACUSA. She's the one assigned to keep an eye on me."
Tom: "...."
"Well… Mrs. Tina sure is… energetic for her age."
Tom gave a dry laugh and quickly changed the subject. "So, uh—any tips on looking after unicorns?"
— — —
Half an hour later, the person assigned to keep an eye on Newt—Tina Scamander (née Goldstein) herself—finally came home.
.
.
.
