Adam suppressed the swirling doubts in his heart and followed Newt out of the suitcase.
Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting diamond-shaped patterns on the wooden floor. At the dining table, Tina and Shirley sat across from each other.
Shirley cradled a bowl of pudding, her eyelashes fluttering with every word, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Tina, propped up on one elbow, gazed at her with a warm, indulgent smile.
Ever since Tina learned that Shirley had also grown up in an orphanage, she'd devoted much of her free time to the young witch.
The most obvious sign of this was a few weeks ago when Newt, while cleaning out a Bowtruckle nest, accidentally punctured a fertilizer sack with a pitchfork, letting out a muffled thud. He couldn't help but chuckle—because, at last, he no longer had to accompany Tina to London every week to watch operas.
Shirley, meanwhile, loved joining Tina in the kitchen, tying on an oversized apron with a lopsided bow trailing behind her. She'd help Tina bake desserts, and the two would chatter endlessly.
Perhaps, in Tina, Shirley found the kind of warm, nurturing care from an elder she'd never known before.
Everyone seemed happy—except Adam, whose face rarely broke into a smile.
"Little Adam, you're finally out!" Tina's voice carried a cheerful lilt as she tapped the porcelain plate in front of her. "Come try Shirley's fruit pudding. The strawberry jam was made fresh this morning, and there's even rose petals whipped into the cream."
Adam had just eaten lunch not long ago, but he noticed Shirley sneaking a glance at him.
Steeling himself, he picked up a spoon and, with a blank expression, polished off three mug-sized servings of pudding.
By the end, he slumped into the wooden chair, rubbing his slightly bloated stomach, which had been on high alert for feedings lately. He glanced at Tina, who was beaming with an aunt-like grin.
"Grandma Tina, aren't you coming with us to Diagon Alley?"
"No, I've still got those seeds I bought last time to plant…"
Tina's expression suddenly turned a bit exasperated, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the table as if she wanted to say more but held back.
"And one more thing, little Adam—I hope you'll stop tinkering with the alchemical items around the house."
"Because I really don't need a fire-breathing pruning shear or a juicer that automatically tosses balls to Amy the cat…"
Her gaze drifted to the fireplace mantle, where a lopsided quill sat—one of Adam's creations, an enchanted quill that now automatically dusted surfaces.
Adam nodded sheepishly, promising to behave next time.
Relieved, Tina pulled a small pouch embroidered with a Niffler pattern from her apron pocket and placed it gently on the table.
"This is your second paycheck as a magical creature assistant," she said, sliding the pouch toward Adam. "Twenty Galleons a month, but there's fifty in here. The extra…"
She winked at him. "That's a bonus for helping Newt kick some of his bad habits."
Adam opened his mouth to protest, but Tina's face suddenly turned stern, the wrinkles on her cheeks deepening with mock severity.
It was the same look he'd seen last week when he and Shirley had secretly built an underground maze for the Niffler.
He took the pouch with a sheepish grin, and Tina's expression softened.
She reached out, pinching his cheek gently, her eyes shimmering with fond memories.
"Listen, little Adam," she said, her voice soft but warm. "What we elders want most is to see you kids grow up safe and happy. Some things aren't for you young ones to worry about."
Just then, the wooden staircase creaked, and Newt appeared in the living room, wearing his worn leather jacket. The lock on his suitcase glinted faintly, and a furry paw poked out from the gap in the lid, clutching a suspicious, shiny button.
"Time to go, kids," Newt said. "We need to hurry if we want to catch those dealers from Greece before they leave."
Adam grabbed his black cloak from the back of the chair. As he turned, he saw Newt standing by the fireplace, tapping his wand to ignite the logs with emerald-green flames.
Newt grabbed a handful of shimmering Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire, muttering, "Diagon Alley." Shirley trailed close behind Adam, her lips curling into a small smile.
"Stay safe!" Tina's voice carried over the sulfurous scent of the Floo Powder. "And don't let Newt linger too long at that magical creature shop. Last time, he nearly bought out all their hatching incubators."
Adam didn't close his eyes. Instead, he watched as his body was pulled through a wide, magical conduit, a fleeting weightlessness washing over him before his feet hit solid ground again.
The sensation was a bit like crossing the boundary between life and death, yet not quite the same. There were countless subtle details that felt both familiar and foreign.
"Move aside, kid."
A voice came from behind, and Shirley quickly tugged Adam out of the way of the fireplace.
Adam looked up to see a man in a billowing black robe, its hem dragging along the ground, moving with the grace of a giant bat in flight. He instantly recognized the unmistakable figure.
"Snape…"
Hearing Adam's soft murmur, Snape stopped in his tracks and turned, fixing him with a piercing stare.
"Child, I don't recall ever meeting you. Where did you hear my name?"
The moment their eyes met, Adam's constantly active Occlumency ward blocked a subtle probe of magic. His own magic instinctively crushed it, surging back toward its source, his wand trembling faintly in his sleeve.
Snape's expression grew heavy as he countered Adam's magic, murmuring under his breath.
"A natural Legilimens… no, wait. This is wandless, silent Occlumency and Legilimency…"
"Professor Dumbledore taught me," Adam said politely, though inwardly he thought, This old bat doesn't hold back, sneaking an attack on a kid who hasn't even started at Hogwarts. "He mentioned there's a Potions Master at Hogwarts. Is there a problem, Professor Snape?"
"I've never seen you at Hogwarts," Snape said, his gaze still sharp, trying to glean something from Adam's expression.
"That's probably because I don't start for a few more days. I'm really looking forward to your Potions class, though," Adam replied, meeting Snape's eyes without flinching. "Oh, and I've been studying magical creatures with Professor Newt lately, so I haven't seen Dumbledore. Could you pass along my greetings?"
Snape opened his mouth to respond but noticed Newt's hand resting on the button of his suitcase. The corner of his eye twitched.
"A pleasure to see you, Mr. Scamander," Snape said, forcing a strained smile. "I keep a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in my office…"
He turned to leave but paused, glancing back at Adam. "I don't believe I caught your name, child."
"Shirley Morgan," Adam said cheekily, only to get a light punch on the arm from the real Shirley, who turned away, her face flushing red.
Snape observed their interaction, his eyes lingering on Shirley's auburn hair. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if time had rewound and he was seeing another girl from his past.
He took a deep breath and said to Adam, "I hope you've actually read what's in those books."
Without another word, he strode off into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. To Adam, it felt like Snape was fleeing, escaping memories he couldn't bear to let go of.
"He's kind of like a dog, isn't he?" Adam muttered under his breath.
"Shouldn't it be a bat?" Shirley asked, puzzled.
"You're right. An unwashed bat. I'm going to buy some shampoo—Potter brand, naturally."
Ever one for petty revenge, Adam acted fast. Within minutes, he'd bought the shampoo and sent it off via owl post.
After this little detour, the trio made their way to a shop in Knockturn Alley that sold ordinary animals—though calling it a "shop" was generous. It was little more than a wall with a sign and a rickety fence. Even the Greek dealer they were meeting sat on an open-air chair.
This corner of Knockturn Alley was its most remote, with only a few scattered Dark magic shops nearby. Some had human fingernails hanging at their entrances, others displayed shrunken heads, and one even had a dried, severed arm dangling as a sign.
Newt explained that these were the true markers of Dark magic shops. Each item signaled the type of illicit goods sold inside. Asking for something unrelated to the shop's specialty would instantly mark you as an outsider—and you'd be fleeced mercilessly.
Even fellow Dark wizards had to stay sharp here. A hint of fear could attract the attention of unsavory types lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.
Newt knew this shadowy side of the wizarding world well. Years ago, during his global travels, he'd been denied entry by multiple Ministries of Magic, his passport stamped with bans. He'd had to resort to black markets, dealing with illegal Portkey traders, which often exposed him to these grim realities.
But once people saw the magical creatures in his suitcase, they tended to become much friendlier.
This was likely why the trio had faced no trouble on their way here.
As Newt haggled with the Greek dealer—who was pretending not to understand English—a sudden, thunderous boom echoed in the distance.
The cobblestone street trembled under their feet, and a few Knuts slipped from someone's hand, clinking as they bounced across the empty square.
All eyes turned toward the sound.
Under a gray-blue sky, thick smoke coiled upward like a massive serpent, accompanied by the faint screech of twisting metal buried in the dust.
Gringotts had been robbed.
Within minutes, whispers spread through the crowd faster than an owl delivering the Daily Prophet. A masked, black-robed wizard had infiltrated Gringotts, somehow bypassing the multilayered magical protections on a vault. They'd even subdued the Norwegian Ridgeback guarding the lower vaults before vanishing with their accomplices.
Gasps and curses filled the air as a dusty breeze swept scraps of paper across the ground, swirling at people's feet. Wizards with vaults in Gringotts' lower levels scrambled, some frantically checking for their keys, others already rehearsing their demands for goblin compensation.
Adam, however, was utterly baffled—not because he was plotting how to claim compensation without a vault, but because Shirley had pulled him into a corner, her warm hands gripping his as she whispered complaints about him not telling her in advance.
He stared at the dissipating smoke in the distance, the air faintly tinged with the sulfurous, scorched scent of dragon fire.
Wait a second… I haven't even done anything yet.
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