First-Class Order of Merlin?
Tom opened his eyes, full of confusion and puzzlement.
He had thought this trial would involve tracking down some magical creature again, but the leap in difficulty was enormous—it had jumped straight to earning a First-Class Order of Merlin.
"How is it?" Newt asked quietly.
Tom forced a smile. "This one's going to be more troublesome… to complete the challenge, I have to earn a First-Class Order of Merlin."
The demand startled Newt.
A First-Class Order of Merlin—what did that even mean?
To put it plainly, in an entire century, the number of people who had earned a First-Class Order of Merlin could be counted on one hand. Even Newt, whose name was celebrated worldwide, had only been awarded a Second-Class medal—granted in recognition of his extraordinary contributions to the field of magical creatures.
Officially, the Order of Merlin was open to wizards worldwide, a so-called international honor. But in truth, it was more of a British magical community's self-congratulatory pastime. In fact, some awards Newt had received in America were far more prestigious.
Second-Class or Third-Class awards? Those were doable—Newt had a few old friends in the right places, and with some of his unpublished research results, he could probably give Tom a hand.
But First-Class…
"Tom…" Newt said with a wry smile. "If I remember correctly, you're on good terms with the Greengrass family. You even mentioned their children in your letters. Maybe you should ask them for advice."
"Mm. I'll talk to them once I'm back," Tom nodded.
The task sounded absurd, but the reward was tempting—Merlin's Random Magical Talent. At the very least, it would be the gift of an Immortal Legend, possibly the most valuable reward outside of the Twelve Trials.
Tom recalled that a member of the Black family had once managed to get a First-Class Order simply by donating a staggering amount of gold. Once back at school, he could ask Phineas Black for some… insider tips.
If the problem could be solved with money, then it would be perfect.
…
They spent another day in the sanctuary. Under the reluctant gaze of the thunderbirds, Tom had to put in quite an effort to finally tear himself away and follow Newt out of the Thunderbird Reserve.
Several baby thunderbirds even tried to follow Tom home—with the full consent of their parents—but after much hesitation, Tom decided not to take them.
Baby thunderbirds needed careful, proper raising. The damp, chilly weather of the Scottish Highlands was worlds apart from Arizona's dry, blazing heat. It would be better to leave them here for now. Once he had a stable situation, and had prepared his small world with a proper habitat for them, then he could… collect every single thunderbird from here.
As for whether the sanctuary would allow it? Well, if the thunderbirds decided to fly off on their own, what business was that of Tom Riddle's? If anyone had a problem, they could take it up with the other Riddle.
In Thunderbird Town, Newt lit the fireplace in his home. First, the two of them traveled via the Floo Network to a major hub in Los Angeles. From there, they transferred to a central Floo station in Nebraska, and finally returned to the headquarters of MACUSA in New York—before Apparating back home.
The house was far livelier now than when they had left—not only was Tina there, but Newt's son and his family had returned as well.
When they arrived, Tina and a middle-aged woman with a pleasantly standard look were busy in the kitchen. A tall, broad-shouldered man came forward, giving Newt a warm hug before turning a beaming smile on Tom.
"Hello, I'm Leon Scamander," the man said, offering his hand. Tom felt the calloused skin of a man used to hard work as they shook hands.
Compared to Newt's shyness, Leon had clearly inherited his mother's talkative nature. "I've read that article you sent my father about unicorn evolution—and I even saw the unicorn you're raising in your small world. Amazing! I never imagined a high-quality Patronus could actually help magical creatures."
"How are they doing?" Tom asked. "Before I left, I told them to exercise. Have they been slacking off?"
Leo chuckled at the memory. "Well… according to the logs I've seen, they're much healthier now. But they've also developed a habit of throwing little fits every day—scaring the youngsters in both the rainforest and the regular habitats."
Newt's face immediately changed, and he hurried off to check his small world, worried something might have gone wrong with his creatures.
That's when Tom noticed a small figure peeking from behind the dining room door—half a head visible, watching him timidly.
Leon followed Tom's gaze and called out, "Rolf! I was just looking for you. Come here—this is Tom, your senior at Hogwarts."
Obediently, the boy stepped forward. His face was sprinkled with freckles—pure Scamander style—and he spoke shyly.
"Hello, I'm Rolf. Rolf Scamander."
"I'm Tom Riddle." Tom didn't extend his hand; such formalities weren't for children. Instead, he smiled and nodded. "I can guarantee you'll be sorted into Hufflepuff. The students there are very friendly—it's one of my favorite Houses. Too bad I wasn't placed there myself."
Rolf's face lit up, the strangeness between them dissolving instantly.
"My grandfather says the same—he told me I'd be happy in Hufflepuff."
"Trust him. Hufflepuff is the most stress-free House of all," Tom said with conviction.
Gryffindor was noisy, Slytherin was calculating, and Ravenclaw was… well, let's just say its internal politics rivaled a certain kingdom's court intrigues. Only Hufflepuff kept to itself—content to stay near the kitchens and live peacefully.
"How was your trip to Arizona?" Leon asked as the three of them moved to the living room.
"Very rewarding. The thunderbirds were all friendly," Tom replied with a smile. "In Britain, you'd be hard-pressed to find such a vast area devoted entirely to a magical creature sanctuary. Just the Muggle-Repelling Charms alone would make the Ministry sweat."
"True. That's why magizoologists rarely make the trip there," Leon agreed. "But I've always been fascinated by the Forbidden Forest. I'd love to see what it's really like."
Leon had attended Ilvermorny, around the time Voldemort was rising to power. In terms of age, he would have been a contemporary of Mr. Weasley and James Potter.
The two men chatted more about thunderbirds, with Rolf gazing at Tom in pure admiration.
This older boy—only a year above him—was incredible. He could answer questions that even Rolf's father considered challenging.
Tom didn't ignore the little one either, sharing details about Hogwarts—the trick staircases, hidden passageways, and countless fascinating portraits and ghosts.
Even Leon seemed tempted, his desire to visit Hogwarts growing stronger by the minute.
Over dinner, Tina's smile never faded. It was rare for their family to gather so completely, and now they had Tom—her favorite junior—at the table as well. Elderly folk cherished such warm, bustling scenes.
Tom had planned to take his leave tomorrow, but seeing Tina so happy, he swallowed his words.
Forget it—he'd stay another two days as a rest. He had been exhausted recently, and with a whole month left of summer break, there was no need to push himself too hard.