Newt's wish to watch the show did not come to fruition.
When Tina discovered her beloved flowerbed in disarray, she initially wanted to be angry at the culprit.
However, when the Iron-eating Beast waddled over, looking at her with its small black eyes, she found it impossible to feel angry.
Then Newt was in trouble.
"How can you call yourself a magizoologist if you can't even control one Iron-eating Beast? Tell me, was it on purpose?"
Newt opened his mouth wide: "No, it's Wayne's new pet."
"You just said it's a new pet, and you're not helping to train it, just standing by to watch the fun?" Tina shot him a look, and Newt completely retreated.
Wayne and Rolf stood by, snickering.
...
After giving Newt a good talking-to, Tina felt much better and beckoned everyone to the table.
This was already Wayne's second consecutive year spending Christmas at the Scamander household. Compared to last year, this year was quieter without Queenie and Jacob.
The two had embarked on a journey around the world after Jacob regained his youth, and from time to time, Wayne would receive postcards from them. The last one was received a month ago; they had already travelled to Bhutan, a place that had nearly cost Jacob his life.
During the meal, Wayne shared a lot of information about Hogwarts with Rolf.
Whenever he spoke about something interesting, Rolf was a bit more talkative, and it was clear he was looking forward to starting school next year.
"Remember, the person you absolutely cannot offend at school is not the Headmaster."
Wayne confidently imparted his experience: "With Newt as your senior, even if you cause a huge mess, the Headmaster will protect you."
"But if you offend Professor McGonagall, not even Dumbledore can save you."
Rolf nodded vigorously: "I read in a book that first-year students can only bring toads, mice, or owls as pets, is that right?"
"What do you want to bring?" Wayne asked.
"Um..." Rolf lowered his head shyly: "A Bowtruckle and a Niffler."
"Of course, that's no problem." Wayne waved his hand grandly: "I brought a Phoenix, so it's definitely fine."
"As long as you're not bringing a Chimaera or an Acromantula, no one will mind."
"That's good." Rolf sighed in relief; he didn't want to leave those two pets at home, and Wayne's assurance gave him peace of mind.
Wayne shot a glance at Newt, who was engrossed in his food.
At first, Newt didn't understand, but when he noticed Wayne glance at the box in the corner, he suddenly realised and gently shook his head.
He hadn't intended to give Rolf the box this year; at least not until the fourth year, when Rolf would have enough strength and knowledge.
Not everyone could manage so many magical creatures in their first year like Wayne could.
If one lacked skill, the dangers posed by magical creatures could be quite high; even a Cornish Pixie, an XX class creature, could cause a lot of trouble.
At the very least, Newt would only hand over his suitcase once he was certain Rolf could ensure both his own safety and that he wouldn't harm others.
...
After dinner, they set off a few magical fireworks in the garden, and thus the festivities passed simply.
Upon waking the next morning, gifts piled nearly to the ceiling already surrounded the bed.
To allow owls easy access, Newt had temporarily disabled the manor's protective enchantments.
Yet he'd never anticipated the owls would keep coming without pause from dawn till now.
He'd gone out early to modify nearby Muggles' memories after many witnessed the peculiar spectacle.
Unaware of this, Wayne was gleefully unwrapping presents.
Last year, he'd seen his Christmas gifts long after the fact – the timing had been off, lacking that festive atmosphere. This year finally made up for it.
Most young wizards had sent sweets and desserts, or practical gifts like sticky notes and ink.
Then came the books – lots of them.
The literary offerings came chiefly from 'old friends' Wayne had met last term. Maintaining friendly ties with academic wizards now yielded dividends.
Many volumes weren't commercially available – private family collections or unpublished manuscripts with immense scholarly value but destined never to reach print.
Wayne carefully catalogued them for storage in his suitcase, to be later digitised into the Virtual Brain Machine.
Fleur's gift was a silver hand-warmer, exquisitely crafted to radiate comforting warmth throughout one's body when held.
Cho had knitted a jumper herself – the girl's needlework showed marked improvement from last year's attempt. The Lawrence family crest adorned the garment.
Hermione sent a self-made Undetectable Extension Charm pouch, seemingly demonstrating her recent magical progress.
Dumbledore's contribution remained woollen socks – that textbook Wayne sent him last year clearly hadn't been read. Thick and frayed at the seams, these offered no redeeming qualities.
No matter – this year Wayne reciprocated with more yarn and two fresh instruction manuals. The old wizard would eventually master knitting.
A pink-wrapped parcel revealed a ragdoll inside its box, accompanied by a postcard and a letter.
Astoria's gift came with instructions on the card: this was her favourite doll, which Wayne must safeguard for periodic inspections.
The envelope contained two spells from Mrs Greengrass.
Surprisingly, despite their unresolved disagreement about Astoria's last inquiry, she'd still sent the enchantments.
Both incantations were wholly unfamiliar.
The first, a Nightmare Curse, induced horrific dreams of unpredictable nature.
The second, a Dreamstalker Curse, allowed the caster's consciousness to invade another's mind and dreams as a malevolent presence.
Their combinatory potential suited Merlin's reputed half-incubus heritage perfectly – though whether he'd actually created them remained unknown.
Their difficulty was immediately apparent as ancient magic, recorded in confounding runic and archaic scripts.
Wayne stowed them away patiently – there'd be time for study later. The most important thing now was to continue unboxing the mystery gifts.
Penelope's moisture-proof stones, Cedric's gift of Classic Quidditch Matches Revisited, and Senior Grace's selfie...
Hmm?
Wayne fell silent as he stared at the photo in his hand.
In the picture, Senior Grace met his gaze, playfully winked, and blew him a kiss.
Giving one's own photo as a Christmas present... He'd thought only Lockhart was capable of such narcissism, never expecting Grace to be the same.
Still, after assessing her... assets, Wayne couldn't help but nod approvingly.
Impressive!
Speaking of Lockhart...
Wayne retrieved a calendar set from the corner, its cover bearing Lockhart's autograph.
He wondered how Tom was doing with Lockhart. Would he miss him?
...
Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore hummed a tune, in remarkably good spirits.
Last term, Hogwarts had enjoyed an unusually peaceful period without any major incidents.
There had been some minor friction between Lawrence and Marcus Flint, but it had been resolved amicably in the end.
Well, no lives were lost—that counted as amicable, surely.
The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor might not be particularly competent, but at least he wasn't dangerous. Even if Dumbledore eventually gathered enough evidence to send him to Azkaban...
That wouldn't be Hogwarts' fault. Lockhart had always been morally questionable.
With that in mind, finding a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor next summer should be easier.
But what pleased Dumbledore most was witnessing Harry's progress.
Though he hadn't attended either Duelling Club session in person, he was thoroughly informed about Harry's performances.
In the boy, Dumbledore saw echoes of James—both shared considerable talent in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Most importantly, Harry didn't lack courage in battle, a crucial quality when facing Voldemort.
After all, no matter how gifted one was, reaching Voldemort's level would be extraordinarily difficult.
Dumbledore had never expected Harry to confront Voldemort directly.
He only needed to stand bravely when the time came.
"Oh? Sorting Hat." Dumbledore looked surprised. "Mr Lawrence has sent you another Christmas gift."
The now bedazzled Sorting Hat perked up immediately.
"What is it?"
After unwrapping the package, Dumbledore's expression turned peculiar. "Assorted feathers. All colours of the rainbow."
"Stick them on!" The Sorting Hat grew even more excited. "That Lawrence lad's a real one—didn't forget his mate."
"There's no space left on you," Dumbledore said helplessly, worried that next year's first-years might demand transfers upon seeing the hat's appearance.
But at the Sorting Hat's insistence, the multicoloured feathers were soon embedded, making it resemble a rooster's tail dipped in paint.
"Well, Dumbledore? How do I look?"
"Absolutely splendid," Dumbledore lied. "Mr Lawrence is remarkably generous. These feathers are quite valuable."
"Course he is," the hat said dismissively. "I gave him a treasure."
"You possess treasures?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"You know about it too." The Sorting Hat straightened up. "It's Godric's old sword."
Dumbledore's expression froze, his eyes widening abruptly.
"What did you say? You gave Gryffindor's sword to him?"
The existence of Gryffindor's sword was no secret to successive Headmasters. Among the relics left by the four founders, this was the only one still remaining in the school, and thus was treated with utmost importance.
But since the Sorting Hat was responsible for guarding the sword, the Headmasters had been somewhat reassured. As long as the Sorting Hat did not yield, no one could obtain the treasure.
When it came to loyalty, the Sorting Hat was undoubtedly more steadfast than any of them.
Now even the portraits on the walls were startled awake...
"Sorting Hat, have you gone mad? That's Gryffindor's treasure! Why would you casually hand it over to some young wizard?" A Gryffindor Head of House criticised angrily.
"Quite right!" Phineas found himself in rare agreement with the others. "That Lawrence boy is a Muggle-born! Even if you were going to give it to someone, it should have gone to our Slytherins!"
"To hell with you!" The bearded Hufflepuff Headmaster delivered a flying kick that sent Phineas right out of his frame.
"When did this happen?" Dumbledore ignored the commotion, fixing his gaze intently on the Sorting Hat.
"When you lent me to him last time."
Dumbledore massaged his temples wearily. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
The Sorting Hat answered with perfect justification: "You never asked!"
Lending out a hat and losing a sword in the process – and he'd only just found out now.
At this moment, words failed to express Dumbledore's exhaustion.
"Sorting Hat, I know you're on good terms with Mr Lawrence, but this is Gryffindor's treasure. Handing it to a Hufflepuff..."
"Dumbledore, how narrow-minded of you." The Sorting Hat swayed from side to side. "You're not as perceptive as Lawrence."
"In the eyes of the great four founders, the four houses were merely for administrative convenience. They didn't hold deep-seated prejudices."
"As long as one gains recognition, even a Slytherin can pull Gryffindor's sword from the hat."
"Exactly!" Phineas, currently being pummelled by past Hufflepuff Headmasters, thrust out an arm. "Treasures belong to the virtuous – but why Lawrence? I object!"
"Because he made sense." The Sorting Hat still saw nothing wrong with its actions.
"He told me that on his first day, McGonagall said to treat the school like his own home."
"If he's Hogwarts' master, then taking items left by elders in his own home is perfectly reasonable."
"Riverly." Dumbledore nodded. "Exceedingly riverly."
He adjusted his spectacles, thoroughly defeated by this flawless circular logic.
He must remind McGonagall after term starts to mind her phrasing with new students – some young wizards truly lacked boundaries...
"Eh? Dumbledore, where are you going?"
"To visit Mr Lawrence."
Fawkes appeared in the office.
As fiery light flooded the room, Dumbledore vanished.
"Jealous my gift was more valuable than his, perhaps?" The Sorting Hat muttered before retreating into its own world.
...
Dumbledore only located the Scamander estate in Dorset that afternoon.
After checking Wayne's residence and Hermione's home, he'd learned Wayne was spending Christmas with Newt.
"Dumbledore? What brings you here?"
Newt stared in astonishment at the suddenly appearing elder.
"Happy Christmas, Newt." Dumbledore smiled wryly. "I'm here to see Mr Lawrence."
Newt's heart lurched, tension coiling through him.
This felt eerily like a Headmaster visiting during holidays to settle a child's misdeeds.
"Wayne's... uh... playing with my creatures in the back garden. Shall we?"
Though panicked, Newt couldn't turn Dumbledore away, so he steeled himself and led the way.
Passing through the villa, they encountered Tina descending the stairs.
"Tina, long time no see." Dumbledore smiled.
"Hmm. Dumbledore." Tina's response was markedly cooler than his warmth.
Their relationship had never been strong, and his sudden appearance displeased her.
She looked to Newt for an explanation.
"He's here for Wayne," Newt whispered.
"Wayne?" Tina's expression shifted, her mood now as dreadful as Newt's – their thoughts perfectly aligned.
What trouble had the boy caused at school?
"I'll join you." Tina fell into step, immediately defending Wayne. "Albus, he's just a boy. Mistakes happen."
"I believe you've misunderstood." Dumbledore shook his head gently. "Mr Lawrence is perfectly fine. No misdeeds. I merely wish to inspect something for security purposes."
The Scamanders exchanged sceptical glances, unconvinced by this explanation. Soon, they crossed a stretch of grassland and entered a newly cultivated bamboo grove.
Inside, Wayne lay comfortably atop a giant panda's belly, enjoying the dappled sunlight filtering through the bamboo leaves. Hearing the trio's footsteps, Wayne opened his eyes with a look of surprise.
"Professor, what brings you here?"
Dumbledore quickened his pace to reach the rising teenager, looking down at him.
"I heard from the Sorting Hat that you took Gryffindor's sword?"
Wayne looked even more astonished. "You only just found out? It's been over a month."
Dumbledore: "..."
Newt and his wife: "..."