An old man in a woolen coat stood just outside, clutching a worn brown leather suitcase.
A group of Aurors stood tensely at the entrance to the Ministry of Magic, their eyes darting nervously between the old man… and that curious suitcase.
"Nifflers are gentle magical creatures with a natural fondness for anything shiny. They spend most of their lives chasing after such treasures," the old man explained.
"Some have used their knack for sniffing out valuables to hunt for treasure. Goblins, too, have employed Nifflers to locate underground gold mines."
"Their most famous feat is probably uncovering the legendary Pharaoh's Tomb—Tutankhamun's, hidden in the Thebes region of ancient Egypt."
"It was a Niffler, raised by British archaeologist Howard Carter, that first led to the discovery of that tomb."
"This little one's still young—its fur hasn't even fully shed yet. It must've slipped out of my case when I wasn't looking."
The old man gently tickled the Niffler's belly, coaxing it to drop the candy it had swiped from Adam.
"Didn't realize the little guy was that impressive…" Adam said, eyeing the palm-sized Niffler thoughtfully.
"Of course, every magical creature has its own unique talents. I've studied them for decades and still feel like a Hogwarts first-year. There are so many undiscovered creatures out there," the old man said, his eyes sparkling with endless curiosity and wonder.
Adam handed the squirming Niffler back to him, blinking up with a curious gaze.
"Sorry, lad, I didn't mean to…" The old man fumbled, his words halting as he avoided eye contact, clearly flustered.
"This is Newt Scamander, the renowned Magizoologist. His book, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, is still a bestseller across the wizarding world. Though, he's not much for small talk," Dumbledore interjected.
"I called him in to help track down the magical creatures that escaped into London—the ones you set loose at the smugglers' camp last night."
Dumbledore's words brought a wave of relief to Newt, who hadn't noticed the tiny Niffler stealthily climbing down his coat.
Adam glanced at the elderly man, clearly struggling with social anxiety, then at the Niffler, now being teased by Amy the cat's playful paw.
This duo didn't exactly inspire confidence.
Dumbledore seemed to sense Adam's doubts. The twinkle behind his half-moon glasses flickered, as if lost in a memory.
"If you're worried about those creatures, rest assured. Newt traveled across five continents in his youth, visiting over a hundred countries. He's encountered far more magical creatures than I could ever hope to know."
"And when it comes to tracking them down in a city, I'd wager no one's more qualified."
Newt's face flushed, but he didn't argue, only muttering that it was "an accident."
"Now, I think we should leave before Newt's enchanted suitcase makes those sleep-deprived Aurors any more nervous," Dumbledore added.
Adam followed Dumbledore's gaze to the group of heavily armed Aurors, who were watching their every move. His mouth twitched.
This wasn't just nerves—it was as if they thought the suitcase held a nuclear bomb.
At least last night, when they'd rounded up dark wizards, Adam hadn't seen the Aurors stuffing their robes with thick dragonhide armor or wearing noise-canceling ear protectors.
"Wait… Professor Dumbledore, we might have a small problem," Newt stammered just as the phoenix prepared to take flight.
…
Outside London, in an abandoned village.
The trio stood on scorched, blackened earth, the air thick with the smell of sulfur. The ground was pockmarked with craters, as if carved out by some violent force.
Adam spotted familiar faces among the Aurors, whose expressions shifted dramatically when they saw him, their gazes heavy with unease.
"Mr. Scamander, you're back! And Professor Dumbledore, it's been a while. Is this another Hogwarts student?" a wizard sorting through the scene called out warmly, waving at Adam.
But as strange looks from the others landed on him, the wizard turned to his colleagues, confused. They hesitated before one finally asked, "You got here in the middle of the night, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I live a bit far out. Is something wrong?"
"Nothing…" The other Aurors exchanged complicated glances, their eyes drifting to the ruins of the burned village. They'd likely never forget what they'd witnessed last night.
Their minds flashed back to that blazing orange light.
Flames lit up the night sky, a wildfire roaring toward the heavens.
Explosions shook the air, the inferno split by howling winds as maple leaves swirled in the chaos.
A ferocious dragon soared upward, spitting flames and roaring with fury.
Most shocking of all was the small figure in a black coat riding atop the beast.
The tiny silhouette casually tossed something, and the ground trembled with each impact.
Later, a colleague stationed at the American Ministry identified the cause: Muggle-made high explosives.
Following the trail, they'd nabbed an illegal Muggle arms dealer, who was found ranting in front of an empty warehouse.
"So, you're saying you need the dragon to go into the suitcase for proper treatment?" Adam asked.
The dragon, sprawled on the ground, clearly remembered fighting alongside Adam the previous night. It nuzzled his outstretched hand affectionately.
But when Newt approached, it snorted, turning away with a huff, twin flames shooting from its nostrils.
"Yes, lad. Truth be told, this dragon's temper is worse than a Hungarian Horntail I treated in my youth," Newt said.
"It got into a brawl with another dragon shortly after entering the case…"
Adam shot a skeptical look at Dumbledore, who was suddenly very interested in the Muggle village ruins, his gaze conveniently wandering.
Under the nervous stares of the onlookers, Adam leaned down and whispered a few words to the dragon.
Reluctantly, it rose and lumbered into Newt's open suitcase.
As it went, it flicked its tail, snapping a charred tree in half.
"It says it hopes you won't remove its scars during treatment—they're its badges of honor as a warrior," Adam relayed to Newt, tactfully omitting the dragon's more colorful language.
"You… you were talking to it?" Newt asked, his stunned gaze shifting from the suitcase to Adam.
"Yeah. Can't you understand what it's saying?" Adam's question left everyone silent.
After a moment, Dumbledore explained that not all wizards could communicate with magical creatures. Such abilities, like Parseltongue or dragon speech, were rare, innate gifts.
Adam nodded, glancing at his Beast Taming skill on his panel. He recalled the soul who'd given him a task long ago—someone also named Scamander.
"Looks like, until Hogwarts starts, studying magical creatures with Newt could be a good use of your time," Dumbledore said with a wink.
Seeing no objection from Adam, he turned to Newt. "It's about time you took on an apprentice. Tina's written to me more than once, suggesting you teach Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts."
"But… Professor… I don't think I'm cut out to teach students…" Newt mumbled, gesturing awkwardly.
"Believe in yourself. And I believe in Adam—he might just help you with that issue of yours," Dumbledore said, his smile widening. A phoenix landed on his shoulder, letting out a graceful cry before they vanished in a burst of flame.
Adam glanced down at what Dumbledore had handed him before leaving.
A heavy coin pouch, stuffed with Galleons, and… a key engraved with a phoenix pattern.
Newt, who'd been struggling to find his words, looked up to find Dumbledore gone.
He and Adam were left staring at each other.
Adam pulled a dark green envelope from his pocket, carefully unfolding it. After a moment, he looked at Newt.
"Mr. Scamander, I think I need to visit Diagon Alley…"
Newt's face froze, a flash of panic in his eyes.
The thought of Diagon Alley's bustling crowds and eager shopkeepers pushing their wares made his fingers tighten around the suitcase.
But feeling the hopeful gaze of his first—and possibly only—apprentice, he relented.
"Just… call me Newt, lad," he managed, mustering his resolve.
"Alright, Professor Newt, do you know where to get a wand?"
"…"
The pair eventually made their way to Diagon Alley.
After passing the Leaky Cauldron, they stopped at Potage's Cauldron Shop and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, picking up the cauldron and robes listed in the letter.
But every time they entered a shop, Newt instinctively slipped into an inconspicuous corner, looking more like a nervous first-year trailing Adam than the other way around.
Their odd dynamic drew curious glances. Some recognized Adam from the papers, even asking for his autograph.
Finally, they reached a small, rundown shop. The crowd thinned, and Newt let out a relieved breath.
The dusty shop window displayed a single wand on a faded purple cushion.
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.
Adam squinted at the peeling sign, reading it softly.
Just as he reached to push the door open, a clear chime of bells rang out, and the door swung wide.
A summer breeze brushed past, thin clouds drifting lazily across the azure sky. A girl with wine-red hair stepped out, her locks swaying gently.
She wore a white cotton dress, her slender legs clad in short white socks, and held a box containing an ebony wand.
Sunlight danced on her dress and skin, giving her an almost translucent glow, pure as the open sky.
Her dark eyes, tinged with a faint crimson, were like polished glass—clear and empty.
But when her gaze landed on Adam, those glassy eyes sparked with life, outshining even the blazing sun.
Her gentle voice, like a summer breeze, brushed past his ear.
"It's been a while, Adam."