"Are we expecting more guests?"
The elderly lady, who had just stepped through the door, caught the sound of voices from the sitting room and came over, curious. Tom also caught sight of the strong, commanding woman who seemed to have Newt completely under her thumb — Tina Scamander.
Like Newt, Tina's hair was entirely silver, but her spirit was bright and sharp. Just from her posture and grace alone, it was obvious that in her youth she must have been a breathtaking beauty. Every movement carried an air of elegance.
"Hello, I'm Tom Riddle." Tom rose from his seat, offering a polite half-bow in greeting.
The old lady broke into a warm smile at once, stepping forward to clasp Tom's hand and giving it a gentle pat.
"I was just wondering who this handsome young fellow might be — so it's you."
"My fault," she continued, "I'd forgotten you were coming today. Otherwise, I would've postponed my report to the MACUSA Congress."
Tom, glancing sideways at Newt — who had also gotten to his feet — couldn't help but think, Seriously? You're the man of the house, yet the moment Tina walks in, you stand up like a suspect facing the chief inspector, or an underling greeting the boss.
In just the short moment since Tina appeared, Tom had already mapped out the hierarchy of this household. No matter how you arrange the order, Tina was undoubtedly at the top of the food chain.
His smile grew warmer, though his words carried a hint of mock complaint.
"You should've told me earlier. I came straight here after registering with the MACUSA Congress. If I'd known you were in, I'd have waited and come back with you. The traffic here in New York is even worse than London's."
Instead of taking offense, Tina laughed even more brightly.
"Too right! Neither of those cities is much good. If it weren't for work, I'd have long gone back to Devon for some peace and quiet."
"Actually, North Yorkshire isn't bad either," Tom offered. "The climate there's milder. These days, Devon's crawling with tourists — not exactly peaceful anymore."
How does one win over an elderly person who already has a good impression of you?
Step one: Don't be nervous.
Step two: Be outgoing, but not noisy — they enjoy the vigor of youth, not the racket of a brat.
Step three: Show a touch of maturity; prove you're still young, but not completely clueless.
You must distinguish between "playfully charming" and "obnoxiously bratty" — mix them up and you'll ruin everything.
Right now, Tom had nailed it. He naturally closed the distance between them, and at just the right moment hinted at his orphan status. Before long, Tina had taken his hand again, fussing over his daily life.
Watching from the side, Newt was stunned. When Tom spoke with him earlier, he hadn't felt like he was talking to a child at all — and now suddenly, Tom was acting like a kid again… almost like a grandson.
No — compared to Rolf, that taciturn gourd of a grandson, Tom was much more outgoing.
Suddenly, Tom pressed a hand to his stomach. "Why do I suddenly feel hungry?"
Tina, glancing at the clock, realized it was already six o'clock. She slapped her forehead.
"All my fault! Once I start chatting, I forget the time. Newt, why didn't you remind me?"
Newt: "???"
You two were talking so much I couldn't get a word in — what exactly was I supposed to remind you of?
"I… my bad." He thought it, but he wouldn't dare say it — even if you gave him three extra doses of courage. He forced a smile and took the blame.
"Wait just a moment, dear. Grandma will make you something to eat."
With that, Tina bustled into the kitchen, her wand sending pots, pans, and utensils into action.
Tom tilted his head at Newt. "What about the house-elf? Does Grandma Tina usually cook herself?"
Though she still looked energetic, she was nearly a hundred years old, still working, and cooking — that was a workload heavier than a cart horse's.
In a quiet voice, Newt explained, "We used to have a house-elf, but Leo and the others have it much tougher outside than we do here, so we sent Chick to help them."
Ah, that makes more sense.
Newt didn't seem — and certainly didn't have the gall — to exploit his wife.
Since Tom was hungry, Tina kept the meal simple: hamburger patties with a generous side of spaghetti. In just fifteen minutes, the three of them were sitting down to eat.
Tom was a carnivore through and through, so the patties suited him perfectly. Seeing him eat so happily made Tina happy too. Her son and grandson were away, but having Tom here wasn't bad at all — in fact, he was more talkative and had a better temperament than Rolf.
Over the meal, Newt reported to Tina about his upcoming trip to the Thunderbird Sanctuary — the way an employee might brief their superior.
Tina didn't object, but she did give him a reminder.
"That child has come such a long way, and it's already been tiring for him. Make sure you handle things properly for him — and don't stir up any more trouble, understand?"
"Thank you, Grandma Tina." Before Newt could even nod, Tom jumped in with a flattering reply.
"A true Slytherin," Tina said with a pointing finger and a smile, obviously pleased.
She'd met more people in her life than she could count — of course she could tell Tom was buttering her up. But noticing it didn't mean she disliked it; quite the opposite. It showed he was quick-witted. She'd married a wooden man, given birth to a wooden son, and that son had a gourd of a grandson — she adored clever youngsters like this.
The more she looked at Tom, the more she liked him, and she decided to share something from the heart.
"Tom."
"Mhm?" Tom, still chewing on a beef patty, looked up in curiosity.
"Since you're in Slytherin, you must be careful around Dumbledore. He's not exactly fond of your House."
"Tina," Newt quickly interrupted, "don't say things like that in front of the boy. Dumbledore's not that kind of person — he wouldn't harm a child."
"You're still defending him?" Tina's eyes narrowed dangerously, Newt practically tossing fuel onto the fire.
"Tell me what I said that's wrong! Isn't it true that Dumbledore's favorites are always the Weasleys, the Prewetts, and the Longbottoms — all Gryffindors? If he hadn't thought you were useful back then, would he have bothered keeping in touch with you so often?"
"But I wanted to do those things," Newt protested. "No one could force me to do something I didn't want to do."
"Exactly," Tina said with a cold smile. "That old fox's greatest talent is guidance. He loves students like you — the kind who'd thank him while counting the coins he just sold you for."
"Tom."
With Newt silenced, Tina turned back to Tom, who had just finished his meal.
"What I said is the truth. Newt's right about one thing — Dumbledore won't harm a student. When I say 'be careful,' I mean don't let yourself be overly influenced by him, to the point you become the sort of person he wants you to be."