He played with Usagi while Newt sat off to the side, scribbling and sketching on a notepad. The unicorn that had held Newt's full attention earlier now seemed to have vanished entirely from his mind.
It wasn't until ten o'clock, when Tom was getting ready for bed, that Newt reluctantly took his leave.
The very first thing Newt did upon returning home was to modify the entrance to his personal pocket world.
The next day, Tom finally got his wish—he stepped into that magical trunk countless people had only dreamed about.
Newt had fixed the trunk's entrance. He would only shift it back when necessary. Lifting the trapdoor, Tom and Newt stood on what was clearly a newly installed automatic lift, descending into a cramped little wooden shed cluttered with tools.
Then the old man pushed open a cracked wooden door—and a vast, vibrant world exploded into view.
It was as if Tom had stepped out of a shack on the African savanna into a breathtaking paradise. The sheer contrast stole his breath away. He stood frozen for several seconds, just drinking in the sight.
Grasslands, mountains, lakes, canyons—every type of terrain and ecosystem imaginable stretched before him. Compared to Newt's world, the cardholder space Tom had built wasn't even worthy of being called a "small world." It was a pitiful shoebox in comparison.
"How… how is this even possible?" Tom couldn't help but ask. "My magic isn't weak, but even if I pushed my limits, I could never make something like this."
"Truth be told, my Extension Charm isn't that much stronger than yours, Tom." Newt smiled quietly. "When I saw your space yesterday, I was already impressed. Honestly, fitting such a large, intact piece of space into a container? I couldn't imagine a first-year student managing that."
"An intact piece?" Tom's sharp mind latched onto the key phrase.
"That's right—an intact piece." Newt nodded, pointing toward a distant curtain-like partition and letting his finger linger in certain places. "Haven't you noticed? My space here is all stitched together."
"That's even harder!" Tom protested. "It's easy to keep one space stable, but so many spaces crammed together? One slip and they'll collide—everything would spill out!"
"That's why we divide them," Newt explained freely, not holding back his hard-earned experience. "Don't think of the trunk as one whole. Break it into sections, then join them together. Using special materials and spells, you can turn the inside into small, separate chunks. Cast the Extension Charm on each, and you'll get what you want."
Tom cast an Eagle-Eye Charm on himself, letting him see farther and clearer.
Sure enough, beyond the areas partitioned by the curtain, there were countless faint borders. When a creature crossed them, its form would blur and distort for a split second before returning to normal.
"Let's keep the unicorns here for now," Newt told the boy. "They need more space to move, and I'll run a few checks to make sure they're in perfect health."
Tom nodded and went upstairs to fetch his cardholder.
Before entering, Newt had him leave the cardholder and a few large warehouse-sized storage bags outside. Nesting one expanded space inside another could be dangerous—only small extension pouches were considered safe.
Once inside, the three unicorns bolted off joyfully into the distance. Usagi, however, had already shot into the air, letting out occasional dragon roars that sent whole flocks of magical creatures scattering in alarm.
Leaving them be, Newt and Tom mounted broomsticks and flew toward one of the curtains. Passing through it, they emerged into a lush rainforest where the air turned warmer—and far more humid.
This was part of Newt's daily routine: visiting each habitat to check on its "residents." If he encountered an injured or endangered creature, he didn't always rush to help—he would first watch, seeing if it could recover on its own.
Like now—a kneazle with an injured leg limped nearby. Newt merely observed for a moment, then, seeing it could manage, moved on with Tom.
"You see, we have to let magical creatures retain a degree of wildness and survival instinct," Newt explained during the flight. "I can't protect them for their entire lives. Even their descendants must inherit that wildness. Long-term coddling erodes instincts and causes them to degenerate."
Tom asked, "And if two different species fight? If one might even kill the other—would you intervene?"
The old man was silent for a long moment before shaking his head slowly. "Usually… no."
"That's the law of nature. I can't disrupt the balance of the food chain. A moment's compassion could bring disaster later."
"Like the Murtlap," he continued. "They prey on jarveys and impish little devils. All are magical creatures—how could I take sides?"
"That must be hard," Tom said with a crooked grin.
If it were him, he'd certainly have his own biases and help the ones he liked best. But Newt… Newt put himself in a higher place, maintaining balance with something close to a god's-eye perspective.
Newt simply smiled at Tom's words and didn't reply.
During their patrol, Newt also taught Tom how to build a world of his own. Many of the theories blew Tom's mind, and his "learning points" shot up like a rocket.
Newt was humble, but his Extension Charm was undeniably powerful—far beyond Tom's current level. Yet what truly stunned Tom was his spatial stitching technique, a skill that had reached an unprecedented level in magical history.
It might sound disrespectful to the immortal legends, but even among the "Kings of the Century"—Andros the Invincible, Grindelwald, Dumbledore, Voldemort—none could match Newt in this particular art.
By the time they reached the final habitat—a snowy landscape—Newt fed a snowman some cold remedy. That marked the end of the day's patrol.
The two returned to watch Newt examine the unicorns.
The creatures still refused to let any male but Tom approach. Newt was familiar with this quirk, so his "examination" involved having them complete a series of tests instead.
The two larger unicorns shared one set of challenges, while the little one had its own.
Tom, controlling various floating tools, zipped them through the air. The tasks were completed quickly.
Newt demonstrated first—his obstacle course looked almost like military special forces training. Seeing a ninety-year-old man move with such agility left Tom wide-eyed.
Once the demonstration was done, it was the unicorns' turn.
They leapt hurdles, dashed at full speed, blasted targets with magic, and thrust their horns through small barrel holes.
All three completed their round of testing, but Newt's expression grew steadily more serious. Tom felt a knot of worry in his chest.
"Mr. Newt… they're not sick, are they?"
"No major problems…" Newt shook his head slightly, and Tom exhaled in relief—until the old man continued:
"But there are quite a few minor issues. To put it simply—they're too lazy. Physically, they're in excellent condition, far stronger than most of their kind, but their activity level is far too low. They're only using a fraction of their potential. Keep this up, and they might develop illnesses—like… excessive obesity."
Tom: "…"