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[Hogwarts] Ch 124: Newton Artemis Fido Scamander
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 19:18:18 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
Tom continued telling his Disney stories, and whenever he reached a climactic moment, he'd leave the two sisters hanging. 'Well… if you want to know what happens next, stay tuned for the next chapter,' he'd say with a grin.
...
And just like that, three days flew by, and Amelia Bones finally returned with good news: the Ministry had agreed to buy the Anti-Disarm Bracelets at 100 Galleons each.
But there was a catch— Tom had to deliver 200 units by September. A hundred like he wanted at first just wasn't enough to cover Aurors, Hit Wizards, and high-ranking officials.
"Deal!"
Tom agreed without much fuss. He'd already mastered the process, and with enough materials on hand, he could make 20 to 30 in a single afternoon. He just needed to squeeze a bit more time into his daily routine.
But there was sad news... at least for the Greengrass sisters.
Tonight was Tom's last night at the Greengrass estate. Tomorrow, he'd be heading off to New York.
So after the last story (no cliffhangers), neither of the sisters could fall asleep. Daphne clung tightly to his arm, her face full of reluctance. Astoria sat quietly, clearly upset.
Tom didn't know how to comfort them. So instead, he just made himself fall asleep quickly.
---
The next morning
Tom tried to sneak out while the sisters were still sleeping… but luck wasn't on his side. No matter how quietly he moved, he still woke them up.
In the end, he had to stay a few more hours.
Finally, after lunch, the house-elf personally escorted Tom and the Greengrass family to the edge of the estate—since the castle was protected by enchantments that interfered with Portkey travel.
Daphne's eyes were filled with tears. Tom gave her a long hug and gently patted Astoria on the head before activating the Portkey.
This time, Lady Greengrass had prepared a hat as the Portkey. The moment Tom touched the brim, it felt like an invisible hook yanked him forward—hard—right from his belly button. Thankfully, his umbilical cord had been cut at birth, or it might've come flying out.
Then he was airborne, racing through the sky like a gust of wind—faster and faster. At first, his enhanced vision let him catch glimpses of the scenery zipping by, but the speed quickly became so intense that everything blurred into a blinding white light.
He had no idea how long he'd been flying. At some point, he even dozed off.
Suddenly, he felt weightless. Then—bam—his feet slammed into solid ground. Tom staggered but managed to stay upright. A voice called out nearby.
"10:06 a.m., international Portkey from Yorkshire, England... let's see... number 9288… wait, it's just a kid?"
The voice sounded genuinely surprised. Tom looked over and saw he'd landed on a small hill surrounded by mountains. Beside him was a tent, and a fat wizard was staring at him in confusion.
"No need to look around. I'm the only one using this Portkey. Here's my documentation."
Tom handed over the papers Lady Greengrass had given him.
The chubby wizard inspected them thoroughly before finally nodding in acceptance. As he returned the documents, he muttered, "Letting a kid travel overseas alone… British parents sure are something else."
"They just have faith in my abilities," Tom replied casually, not bothering to explain.
"Where am I, by the way?"
"Quebec."
Canada, huh?
Tom started doing the math on the Portkey's speed.
It was 10:06 AM in Quebec City. Accounting for the time difference, that meant it was 3:06 PM back in Yorkshire. He'd departed just after 1:00 PM.
That's over 5,000 kilometers… so the Portkey's speed must've been over 2,500 kilometers per hour—more than twice as fast as a plane.
Just then, the chubby wizard finished the registration and handed Tom his next Portkey—a plate like the kind you'd see in any kitchen.
"Alright, kid. Next stop—New York."
"Thanks."
Tom took the Portkey and asked the wizard to activate it for him—since underage witches and wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside school, it was the easiest option.
...
Fifteen minutes later
Tom landed at the designated New York Portkey drop zone. From there, staff escorted him to MACUSA to complete immigration paperwork.
The United States of America—home to the largest magical population in the world—had become increasingly bureaucratic and annoyingly overregulated.
You could only enter legally using their officially sanctioned Portkeys. That's why Tom had to do the annoying 'layover' in Canada first.
As he was leaving, the customs officer gave him a stern warning not to use magic while in the U.S.
Unlike at Hogwarts, students at Ilvermorny were required to surrender their wands during the holidays. Of course, that rule didn't apply to foreign visitors like Tom.
"Damn rules."
After stepping out of the Woolworth Building, Tom flagged down a cab and headed to the address Newt had given him.
When he arrived and pulled out the invitation Newt had included in his letter, a house suddenly appeared and squeezed itself between two neighboring brownstones.
Tom rang the bell and waited quietly.
He didn't have to wait long—about two minutes later, an elderly man with snowy white hair opened the door.
Even though he didn't look exactly like his movie counterpart—still kinda Eddie Redmayne— so Tom recognized him right away. This was unmistakably Newt Scamander.
He wore the same shy smile he'd had for decades, exuding a calm, gentle presence.
His face was lined with age, but his eyes still sparkled with sincerity and kindness. Yet, when he looked at Tom, those clear eyes subtly dodged his gaze, and his head tilted slightly to the side.
Whether in the past when he was unknown or now, a global celebrity, Newt Scamander had never been one to meet people's eyes directly.
"Pfft—!"
Tom couldn't help but laugh.
Newt looked even more flustered, like he didn't know what to do.
"Sorry, Mr. Scamander," Tom quickly apologized. "I just… saw your eyes and for some reason, thought of Mooncalves. So pure and honest-looking."
Most of Newt's awkwardness melted away. The moment magical creatures were mentioned, his social anxiety visibly eased.
"Mooncalves, huh? Their eyes are indeed quite lovely," Newt mused. "Though this is the first time someone's ever compared mine to a magical creature's. Thank you, Mr. Riddle, that's… very kind."
Tom smiled politely. "Please, just call me Tom. And thank you for inviting me to New York, Mr. Scamander."
The old man was someone Tom genuinely respected—in fact, he was the most respectable person he'd ever met.
Unless you were his enemy, you never had to worry about Newt Scamander doing anything to hurt you. And if he made a promise, you could trust him to keep it.
Even Dumbledore didn't have that kind of reputation.
Dumbledore was famous for manipulating even the people closest to him. He might treat you like a friend—but you were still one of his pawns. Still, he won't harm you.
"Alright then, Tom," Newt said gently. "I'm honored you accepted my invitation. Come on in, dear boy."
Tom nodded and stepped through the large iron gate. Newt led him along a winding garden path.
The moment they entered, the air felt fresher. From outside, the garden seemed small—just a short walk from the gate to the house—but once inside, it stretched out farther than expected, lined with flowers and greenery.
Above the blossoms, tiny wings buzzed. A group of fairies was flying busily around, carrying little wooden buckets to collect nectar from the flowers. Without hesitation, Tom reached out and snatched one of the struggling buckets from a fairy. It transformed into a cup in his hand, and he casually drank the nectar in one gulp.
The fairy looked at him, absolutely fuming. She'd spent ages gathering that nectar!
"No need to thank me," Tom said, handing the empty bucket back. "I just saved you a bit of heavy lifting."
Fairy-collected nectar was naturally purified—totally clean, and actually good for your health if you drank it regularly. Tom figured it might even be part of the reason why Newt was still so active in his nineties.
Newt chuckled softly but didn't comment on Tom's behavior.
And Tom didn't bother hiding his real personality in front of Newt. People like him—gentle, sincere, and pure—could often sense intentions instinctively. Trying to fake it would only insult his intelligence.
To Newt, good and evil weren't black and white—unless you were a poacher. But lies and insincerity? Those would get you shut out faster than anything else.
As the fairy flitted away, Newt glanced after her and said softly, "That little group… I rescued them in Alaska. Their home had been taken over by Muggles and turned into a factory. I was hoping to find them a proper sanctuary, but they seemed to like my garden—so they settled here."
He looked mildly troubled as he said it.
"Then maybe this is the best place for them," Tom replied with a grin.
Newt loved magical creatures—but not in the same way Tom did.
Tom liked collecting the ones he was fond of, housing them in safe and comfortable environments like a personal zoo. His enchanted card case currently held unicorns, Puffskeins, Augureys, Mooncalves, Bowtruckles—and that was just the start.
But Newt's approach was different. He focused on maintaining the balance of magical ecosystems. He nurtured wounded creatures back to health and then returned them to their natural habitats whenever possible.
Of course, not all creatures wanted to go back. Some, traumatized or too attached to comfort, refused to leave. And Newt, soft-hearted as he was, couldn't bring himself to force them out.
Ironically, the more creatures he released… the more ended up staying.
As they continued down the path, a few shy Mooncalves popped out of the sycamore thicket nearby. They looked like they wanted to approach Newt, but as soon as they noticed Tom, they quickly backed away—peeking at him from behind the trees with eyes as big as saucers.
"Mooncalves are pretty timid—don't take it personally," Newt said.
"I know," Tom replied. "There's a whole herd of them in the Forbidden Forest. Besides Hagrid, no one really gets close to them."
They kept walking, pausing now and then. But Newt, sharp as ever, started noticing something odd.
It wasn't just the shy creatures who were avoiding Tom. Even the more outgoing ones—like Tree Frogs, Crup puppies, and Nifflers—were staying far away.
That wasn't normal.
Newt glanced sideways at Tom, took a subtle sniff of the air… and his eyes widened.
"Is that… dragon scent?!"
Tom blinked. "You can smell that? Are you sure you're not a magical creature yourself?"
He was genuinely surprised. His dragon aura was sealed so tightly that only highly instinctual creatures could detect it—and barely at that. But Newt? He just sniffed it out like it was nothing?
"I assure you, I'm not a magical creature," Newt said quickly, waving his hands. "I'm just very sensitive to animal scents. Still, even if you'd been around dragons recently… there's no reason for the scent to linger this strongly."
"Ah… well, that ties into the reason I came to see you," Tom admitted. "I'll explain everything shortly."
"No rush. I'll help however I can."
Newt agreed without hesitation. He didn't even ask what Tom wanted.
It never crossed his mind that Tom might be here with some shady, dark request—because Newt simply didn't think that way. Especially not about a young person who was accepted by unicorns.
"Oh! Right!"
Tom suddenly smacked his forehead. He knew he'd forgotten something.
[Six credits deducted. Study space: activated.]
He checked the system and saw that Grindelwald was still meditating in the Room. Without hesitation, Tom used admin privileges to yank him out.
Grindelwald, still lost in thought, suddenly found his surroundings spinning and shifted into real space. Dazed and confused, he looked up—only to see the kind old man standing beside Tom, smiling shyly.
Even after all these years… Grindelwald instantly recognized him.
"Scamander… you damn son of a bitch, mf—!"
.
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