The angry curses inside the magical space went on and on without end, loud enough to even draw the attention of Andros. He stared wide-eyed at Grindelwald, who was pointing toward the outside world and shouting furiously.
In Andros' mind, Grindelwald had always been the quintessential scholarly wizard — refined in manner, elegant in bearing, the sort of dark wizard who still carried an odd, magnetic charm.
But the Grindelwald before him today?
He reminded Andros of those village women in rural Greece who would get into shrieking matches over a single fish.
"Study space, block the sound."
Tom smiled as he shut out the noise for his own peace of mind, and continued strolling through the garden with Newt.
Of course, he didn't turn off his visual feed. Grindelwald hadn't left either, just glaring at Newt and hurling insults. He was so worked up he slipped into his mother tongue, much to Andros' astonishment — the man picked up quite a few colorful new words that day.
And this was only the tip of the iceberg. The part of the magical space on display was limited, after all. The real treasure trove — or perhaps terror trove — lay inside that very suitcase which had made countless Ministries of Magic across the globe pale at its mere mention.
Honestly speaking, in Britain, Voldemort's notoriety was beyond compare — even Grindelwald couldn't match him there.
But on the world stage? Voldemort was, at best, a newcomer with some reputation. Dumbledore had kept him firmly pinned within Britain, and Voldemort, in his obsession, refused to stir trouble abroad until Dumbledore was dead.
Newt, on the other hand…
Among British wizards, he was a source of pride — a national treasure whose name was spoken with warmth.
But in many other countries, Newt's global reputation had reached the absolute top tier — right alongside Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
When Tom had done his research, he'd even discovered something peculiar in the legal codes of many foreign Ministries of Magic — in "Clause 267," to be exact: "Mr. Newt Scamander is welcome to visit our country. However, if he is found in possession of his suitcase, he will be fined the maximum amount permitted by law and immediately expelled."
And as for locking him up in a wizard prison?
Forget it. Try saying that to the terrifying horde of magical creatures of unknown number and classification living inside that suitcase.
It was laughable, sure — but Tom understood why such absurd laws existed.
After all, who in their right mind would want a walking arsenal of mass destruction strolling into their country? Even if that person was the famously kind-hearted Newt Scamander.
And sometimes, in the course of protecting his creatures, Newt caused destruction on a scale most dark wizards could only dream of.
Right, New York?
Every bizarre law had an equally bizarre history behind it. Tom found himself curious about what these Ministries had gone through to pass such regulations.
He made a note to himself: when their relationship grew closer, he'd definitely ask Newt about it.
Unfortunately, after their garden tour, Newt led him straight into the villa — showing no intention of taking him into the suitcase.
They sat down in the living room, Tom eyeing the four- or five-meter gap between them with mild exasperation.
It had been the same while walking earlier — Newt had kept at least five meters between them at all times. Was his social anxiety worse with age?
"Tom, I'm sorry, I—"
"It's fine, Newt," Tom cut him off gently. "I understand. Dumbledore's told me quite a bit about you."
Newt gave him a grateful nod, then asked, "Why don't you tell me about the problem you're facing? If you've come to me, I'm guessing it has something to do with magical creatures."
"That's right, Newt."
Tom released a fraction of his draconic aura. Outside, a chorus of frightened squeaks and calls erupted from small creatures nearby. Newt, feeling it directly, stared at him in astonishment.
"A bloodline wizard… and one with a fire-dragon bloodline, no less."
"Exactly. Last Christmas, I killed a fire dragon," Tom said plainly. "The one that escaped from the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary."
"So it was you… huh?" Newt began, then stopped mid-sentence, staring at the boy in disbelief.
Did he hear himself just now?
That was a fire dragon! And last Christmas, this boy had only been at Hogwarts for one semester — and he went out to kill a fire dragon?
Were Hogwarts students this wild nowadays?
Tom gave a sheepish smile. "I've got some natural talent, and with good teachers, I've progressed a bit faster than most. That's understandable, right?"
"…Understandable," Newt replied numbly.
Tom continued, "If you think killing the dragon goes against your principles of protecting magical creatures, I won't trouble you with what I need help with next."
He was a straightforward person, and Newt, with his personality, preferred directness too. If Newt couldn't accept it, Tom would simply leave now and head to the Thunderbird Reserve — though he'd have to be careful to avoid the wizards there.
Newt shook his head. "That dragon had already escaped the reserve. In the outside world, it was a danger — being killed was its fate. That's very different from poachers invading a reserve and disrupting a stable ecosystem."
Then the old man chuckled, even cracking a rare joke. "I'm still human, after all — I'll stand with humanity. My dream is to find the perfect balance between humans and magical creatures."
"Good."
Tom relaxed at that. "Then you can probably guess that my fire-dragon bloodline is connected to the dragon I killed."
Newt nodded. Naturally, he had guessed.
"Actually, I have a unique ability. By overcoming certain challenges, I can improve my magical talents — all of them."
"Fire dragons are one. Unicorns too."
Newt's eyes widened in alarm and he waved his hands. "Tom, a wizard's magical gift is their deepest secret. You mustn't share it so casually. You've only just entered the wizarding world — you don't yet know how dangerous people can be."
"That applies to others," Tom replied with a casual wave. "But you, Newt — you're different. I haven't told even my Head of House or Dumbledore about this gift, but I'm telling you. One, because I trust you. And two, because I need your help."
Newt flushed with embarrassment at the blunt sincerity, yet he was also deeply moved. He nodded earnestly. "Tom, don't worry. I won't tell anyone your secret. Not even to magical creatures."
The comparison was a little funny — but coming from Newt, it somehow carried absolute weight.