Chapter 76: Newt Scamander

It seemed there had been a disagreement over the dragon assignments, forcing Garrick Ollivander to alter his original plan and remain in the reserve for three full days, with Silven accompanying him.

But with Charlie as a diligent guide, Silven wasn’t bored these past few days—he visited many interesting places.

Yet there was one thing: he always felt Charlie seemed off.

Was a dragon keeper really this idle? Having time to spend three full days wandering nearby with him?

And every time Silven suggested he go attend to his own duties, saying he didn’t need company, Charlie would inexplicably grow tense.

It was as if he didn’t want Silven to act alone at all.

Though Charlie claimed it was out of concern for Silven’s safety, that excuse would only fool Neville.

Never mind the reserve’s own strength—Dumbledore was right here too. Silven had heard clearly when Alastor and Garrick spoke those words.

Besides, there were over a dozen elderly wizards, including Newt Scamander. With this lineup, even Voldemort himself, if resurrected on the spot, would wait until everyone had left before daring to resume his old business.

Silven even felt the dragon roars from the reserve had grown noticeably quieter these past two days.

Silven had reason to suspect Charlie was lying, but couldn’t say why—it couldn’t possibly be that he feared Silven might try to steal a dragon.

But that made no sense.

His grandfather had enjoyed decades of excellent cooperation with the dragon reserve, with impeccable reputation, and he himself was merely a second-year student at Hogwarts… no, before term started he wasn’t even a second-year—he was still a first-year, standing there barely reaching a dragon’s leg.

Even if Charlie were overly suspicious, he wouldn’t possibly be wary of him.

Unable to make sense of it, Silven simply gave up thinking. After all, his purpose here wasn’t the dragons—let Charlie follow if he wanted.

Moreover, after learning Silven was also a Gryffindor, Charlie spoke far more freely, sharing not only details about the reserve but also many things about Hogwarts.

Like hidden passage entrances, Filch’s nightly patrol routines, the location of the Hogwarts kitchen… his tone implied he was certain Silven would break school rules.

A textbook stereotype.

Still, since he’d said it all, Silven quietly memorized plenty of useful information—not wanting to waste it.

And so, until midday on the third day, Silven finally saw his grandfather again.

Standing with Garrick were two other youths.

The one with silver-white whiskers was surely Dumbledore; the other looked socially anxious, standing half a step behind Dumbledore, his tall, slender frame slightly hunched, as if trying to vanish into his slightly too-large brown-and-yellow robe.

Even from afar, Silven could hear Dumbledore’s sigh.

“One thing after another—the new professor hasn’t been found yet, and those annoying rats have returned again. Newt, is your information reliable?”

“Yes, it’s Tina’s old friend. She said several people vanished from South America, but she didn’t say whether they came to Britain,” said the man in the brown-and-yellow robe.

“It’s unlikely to be wrong,” said Dumbledore. “Half a month ago, those events seemed to give them hope. Souls still steeped in darkness have never stopped seeking ways to bring him back, craving to reclaim their former status and glory.”

“Wait, Albus,” Garrick frowned. “Aren’t all those fanatical Death Eaters locked up in Azkaban?”

“Aurors are too few—there are always some who slip through,” Dumbledore’s long fingers tapped lightly against his palm. “Also, the team Tom used to recruit giants vanished mysteriously after his fall, and the Death Eaters he sent to find Salazar’s wand weren’t in Britain at the time…”

“That bone wand crafted by Salazar Slytherin himself?” Garrick perked up. “Isn’t it at Ilvermorny?”

“So they’ve never found it…” Dumbledore shook his head and didn’t elaborate further, instead turning his gaze to the side. “Long time no see, Mr. Ollivander. Did you enjoy your holiday?”

“Wonderful,” said Silven, walking over.

“A delightful answer,” Dumbledore smiled. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Newt Scamander—the author of the essential first-year textbook, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.”

He’s Newt Scamander?

Silven looked at him curiously.

Newt instinctively glanced away, then after a moment, gave Silven a stiff, hesitant nod.

He’s genuinely socially anxious!

Dumbledore acted as if he hadn’t noticed Newt’s discomfort, and winked at Garrick.

Garrick understood instantly.

“By the way, half the unicorn tail hairs I use for wand cores come from Newt… Speaking of which, I really ought to thank you properly.”

Newt pressed his lips tightly together, shrinking further into his robe—but hearing Garrick’s words, he had no choice but to force out, “No, no need… it’s just… regular grooming… fallen tail hairs…”

“Only you could say that,” Garrick muttered, feeling subtly outdone.

He’d spent half a year searching the forests of the Nordic Peninsula and barely found twelve tail hairs long enough… and now Newt called that amount “regular grooming.”

“Oh, that’s not necessarily true. Unicorn trust isn’t exclusive to Newt,” Dumbledore said, glancing at Silven. “Isn’t that right?”

“That’s true,” Silven shrugged. “When I make regular wands, I use unicorn tail hairs provided by Hagrid.”

Why did that feel odd? Why did he say “regular wands”?

Silven scratched his head.

Fortunately, no one else noticed anything strange about the remark—Dumbledore was already preparing to leave.

Newt visibly exhaled in relief, finally emerging slightly from his robe.

“Garrick, if anything unusual happens in Diagon Alley, write to me,” Dumbledore added.

“I’ll keep an eye out—if they truly dare come to Diagon Alley,” Garrick said.

Dumbledore nodded, then vanished like mist scattered by the wind, taking Newt with him.

“We should head back too,” Garrick said, pulling out a twig and handing one end to Silven. “Alixter’s Portkey. Activation time is five o’clock—three minutes left.”

It was indeed a Portkey. Silven gripped the other end.

“Wait, Silven, Mr. Ollivander.”

Charlie ran over from nearby and shoved two boxes into Silven’s hands.

“The gifts I promised you,” he said. “Could you deliver this other one to Ron for me? The owl post here is too expensive.”

“Only for Ron?” Silven asked.

“Consider it compensation. Because of me, he never got a new wand,” Charlie said.

“What about your other three brothers at Hogwarts? Oh right, you’ll have a new sister this year too.”

“Two minutes ago, I spent my last knut,” Charlie spread his hands. “I’ll bring gifts for the others when I go home next time.”

“Alright, I’ll try to give Ron’s alone, without letting the others know.”

“Phew, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

The Portkey began to tremble slightly. Silven quickly stuffed the boxes into his pocket, then added, “Actually, Ron already has a new wand—mine, in fact.”

…

(End of Chapter)