After Dumbledore left, the study fell quiet for a moment—only the soft sloshing of water as the young Occamy glided gently inside its misty enclosure.
Newt let out a long breath and turned to Viktor, pride shining in his eyes along with a faint, hard-to-spot thread of worry.
"Hogwarts… Viktor, I think the students are going to like you very much."
"Of course, Granddad. Still can't believe a Hogwarts dropout like me is coming back as a professor."
Viktor looked down at the offer letter in his hand and couldn't help but smile.
Hearing that, Newt—who was himself a proud Hufflepuff dropout—burst into a warm laugh.
For a minute the grandfather and grandson's laughter filled the room.
"Come on, Granddad. All these years travelling the world haven't been for nothing. I've grown up. And even if Voldemort really is back, you've still got Dumbledore—and you. You took down Grindelwald back in the day. Some noseless wannabe? We'll have him sorted in no time—you and Dumbledore together, one flick of the wand each."
Seeing the worry lingering in his grandfather's eyes, Viktor slung an arm around Newt's shoulders with a grin.
Newt looked up at that young, confident smile and felt the knot of concern loosen.
Yes… Viktor really had grown up. He wasn't the little badger cub anymore.
And besides, Newt wasn't so old that he couldn't still raise his wand if it came to it.
The words seemed to stir old memories; Newt straightened, suddenly looking years younger and full of energy.
"Right then—let's go! Tom and I came straight from Siberia without stopping. My stomach's been growling for hours!"
Right on cue, Tom—who had been doing his level best to maintain "assistant professor" dignity—let out a loud, shameless grrrroooowl.
"Yes, yes—look at me, chattering away. Tina must have a feast ready. Come on, let's go help."
…
The kitchen was the true heart of the Scamander home.
It wasn't just bigger on the inside than it looked from outside.
Right next to it opened a year-round springtime space bursting with magical plants, vegetables, and herbs.
Tina was already aproned up, accepting the latest harvest from the Bowtruckles and the little flower sprites.
The air smelled like heaven: fresh-baked bread, slow-simmered meat, fragrant herbs.
When the two men arrived, Tina was waving her wand, magically peeling a cluster of still-dirty potatoes that floated in mid-air.
"Newt, go pick some fresh跳跳球 bulbs and starlight mint. Viktor, grab some Flobberworm mucus for the soup base."
"Yes, sir!" they chorused.
In that moment Tina looked exactly like the fierce MACUSA Auror she used to be.
This kitchen was her battlefield, and the two Scamander men were her loyal squad.
Meanwhile Tom had already ditched the assistant robes and pointed hat. A pristine white napkin was somehow tied around his neck like a bib, and he was creeping toward a fresh tray of sizzling sausages with pure villainous glee, claws extended.
SMACK!
Without even turning around, Tina backhanded him with the spatula—dead-on claw strike.
"Tom~!"
Tom winced, rubbed his paw, then sheepishly untied the napkin, swapped it for a proper apron, and sidled up to Tina with the most ingratiating smile imaginable.
The kitchen quickly turned into cheerful chaos.
Nifflers popped out of nowhere, drawn by the shiny silver cutlery, only to be lured away by Viktor with a handful of Galleons and redirected to their designated play corner.
Pickett the Bowtruckle poked his head out from the greenhouse door, hopped onto Viktor's shoulder, and nuzzled his ear affectionately.
A gorgeous purple Puffskein rolled right up to Tina's feet; she nudged it gently aside with her boot. "Off you go, love—not now."
Newt returned with an armful of wriggling跳跳球 bulbs and faintly glowing starlight mint, beaming like a kid on Christmas.
"Look at these! This year's crop is especially lively! Oh—careful!"
One bulb broke free and started bouncing wildly around the kitchen.
Tom—mid-chop with a pair of chef's knives—immediately abandoned them (the knives kept chopping in mid-air on their own) and pounced after it in a blur of blue-grey fur, cat and vegetable vanishing into the greenhouse together.
In the middle of the joyful pandemonium, dinner slowly came together.
Tina's signature slow-braised beef, rich and fragrant with magical spices.
Viktor's Flobberworm-mucus vegetable chowder—strange texture, surprisingly delicious.
Newt's greenhouse salad, dotted with starlight mint that would glow faintly in the dark.
A mountain of roast meats, crusty fresh bread, and—for Tom—a heaping platter of perfectly grilled sardines and roast chicken.
By the time everything floated magically onto the big, battle-scarred oak dining table, night had fallen outside.
Warm light spilled from the kitchen windows onto the small courtyard garden.
The family gathered around. Newt stood, raising his glass with a touch of emotion.
"To Viktor's new position—and to Hogwarts!"
"To Viktor!" Tina echoed, smiling softly, eyes full of warmth.
Viktor felt a rush of affection and lifted his own glass.
Tom copied the motion exactly, hoisting his tiny fish-shaped goblet and clinking it with exaggerated force.
"To Hogwarts!"
Dinner unfolded in easy, happy chatter.
Newt couldn't resist retelling old travel stories from his younger days; Tina jumped in to correct details or add her own dry commentary.
Viktor shared bits from Siberia—especially the part where the Russian patrol boys "interrogated" the poachers in their own special vodka-fuelled way. Newt cackled; Tina just shook her head with fond exasperation.
Tom attacked his sardine mountain head-first, whiskers gleaming with oil, eventually slumping back in his chair with a huge round belly, contentedly picking his teeth.
Mac and the other Niffler babies perched in the centre fruit bowl, gnawing happily on a grape the size of Mac's whole body.
A few curious young Mooncalves pressed their faces to the outside window, staring wide-eyed at the cosy scene.
Dessert was Tina's golden syrup fruit pie—sweet, sticky, perfect.
Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching his grandfather carefully feed tiny bites to Mac and the siblings.
Watching his grandmother reach over to give belly rubs to a blissed-out, round-bellied Tom sprawled across his seat.
Watching Tom try (and fail) to cram the very last slice of pie into his already-full mouth.
Feeling pleasantly stuffed from all the food his grandmother had kept sliding onto his plate, Viktor finally opened the official letter Dumbledore had handed him earlier.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
Dear Mr Scamander,
We are delighted to invite you to take up the post of Professor of Magical Creature Protection. Please come to the castle at your earliest convenience to discuss teaching arrangements.
Deputy Headmistress (female)
Minerva McGonagall