Newt Scamander's Boggart was a desk. To him, office work was the most terrifying thing imaginable.
Yet "unfortunately," after returning to Britain and beginning work at the Ministry of Magic, all he did was office work.
"Poor little thing," Pomona said sympathetically.
"I knew you'd think that," Tina said in an odd tone, taking a sip from her glass.
"Why?" Pomona asked.
Tina let out a long sigh. "He said I have eyes like a Salamander's."
"What?" Pomona cried despite herself.
"I know he was trying to compliment me. He tried," Tina said, taking another sip of wine. "But I don't think other people would like the sort of compliments he gives."
Pomona looked up at the sky for a while before speaking.
"Other people say Newt Scamander dislikes socializing because he wants to maintain an air of mystery."
Tina laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" Pomona asked.
"Do you know how he'd answer that?" Tina cleared her throat and imitated Newt's tone. "You know, ancient egyptians would paint or carve reliefs onto boxes, and the reliefs depicted what was inside the boxes. If they appeared in murals, the boxes would be painted as 'transparent' so that their contents could be seen. This wasn't because ancient egyptians couldn't depict the spatial relationship between objects and boxes in paintings, but because only by faithfully depicting the items inside could those items acquire physical form in the afterlife through magic."
"What?" Pomona asked, bewildered.
"You were just talking about mystery. That's what mystery means to him." Tina shook her head. "Newt isn't a mysterious person."
"Then what kind of person do you think he is?" Pomona asked.
"Come on, we should head back." Tina swirled her empty wineglass. "Let's see what else there is to drink."
The one who drove over