The Magical Magic

In a three-story house near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

Eleven-year-old Kyle Chopper was standing by the window, carefully examining the parchment in his hands.

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Chopper, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

That's right, it was a Hogwarts acceptance letter.

Ever since he transmigrated here eleven years ago, Kyle had been waiting for this day.

As for why he was so certain, it was simple: there were several other peculiar families living in the immediate vicinity.

The ones Kyle was most familiar with were Xenophilius Lovegood, the editor of The Quibbler, and the Weasley family.

The latter, in particular, with their bizarrely constructed house and their signature red hair, allowed Kyle to confirm the nature of this world instantly.

It is worth mentioning that living here also meant that this version of Kyle was born into a wizarding family as well.

His father, Chris Chopper, worked at the Ministry of Magic as the Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, as well as the Head of the Beast Division. Thanks to a family talent for communicating with magical creatures, he was also a renowned Magizoologist and one of the few students of Newt Scamander.

His mother, Diana, also worked at the Ministry of Magic, though she was in the Department of Mysteries; Kyle had no idea what she actually did there. He had tried to probe for information in various ways, but all had failed. Clearly, his parents' sense of secrecy was impeccable—not a single shred of information had ever leaked out.

As for his family status... well, since no prominent figures had emerged from his ancestors, it could only be described as plain and unremarkable, far inferior to famous names like Dumbledore or Grindelwald.

However, even so, Kyle was already satisfied. At the very least, both his parents were wizards, so getting into Hogwarts was surely a given.

Unless he was a Squib.

But that possibility had been ruled out after his first bout of accidental magic at the age of three.

Although he had known this day would come, when an owl actually pecked open his bedroom window with the envelope, Kyle was still so excited he nearly jumped for joy.

He treasured that piece of parchment like a baby, refusing to let go even when he slept, checking it every now and then.

"Dear, you've been flipping through that acceptance letter for three days now. Can you put it down? I assure you, it is absolutely real!"

Chris looked at his son, who had started giggling like a fool again, and couldn't help but remind him, "Don't forget we have an appointment with the Weasleys next door to go to Diagon Alley today. Let's not keep them waiting."

"Alright, Dad, I'm coming."

Hearing this, Kyle hurriedly tucked away the Hogwarts letter he had read countless times and stood up in a rush, tapping a wooden post nearby as he did so: "Groot, I'm leaving."

As soon as he finished speaking, a small green creature popped out and waved at Kyle.

Kyle's family kept magical creatures, though not many. Aside from this Bowtruckle named Groot, there was also a Kneazle named Tom.

Although, as the Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, it wouldn't be difficult for Chris to keep a dozen or twenty magical creatures, he chose not to. And even Groot and Tom were only kept because they stubbornly refused to leave.

It wasn't that Chris didn't like magical creatures; it was that he believed magical creatures, by nature, should not be kept by wizards.

Anything kept by one's side could only be called a pet.

On this point, the middle-aged gentleman—who was always gentle with others and had a reputation as a bit of a pushover at the Ministry—was extremely firm.

This view of his was also supported by Newt Scamander.

Newt also believed that magical creatures belonged in the wild, and he had always acted accordingly.

As for why there were so many magical creatures in that miraculous suitcase of his, it was purely a matter of Newt's own constitution.

Kyle had met the old man, and not just once, so he could be certain.

Much like a certain miraculous "Death God" elementary school student, Newt Scamander possessed a similar constitution.

Kyle clearly remembered when he was five years old and out for a stroll in the garden with Newt, he had witnessed a Diricawl dive straight into Newt's arms with his own eyes.

One must know that Diricawls are natural masters of Apparition. While they aren't very bright and don't intentionally hide themselves like other magical creatures, they possess a keen sense of territory and an acute perception of danger.

Once they sense a wizard or any other creature that poses a threat approaching, they vanish in an instant.

In Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the first sentence describing the Diricawl is that it can only be observed from afar, but never approached.

Yet, a Diricawl had done exactly that—dived squarely into Newt's arms without a hair's breadth of error.

It was simply absurd.

Then, when he was seven, he was out with Newt again and encountered a Salamander.

At eight, an injured Unicorn.

At ten, a Fire Crab that was nearly turned into a cauldron.

Some of these magical creatures had escaped after being smuggled into the British Wizarding World, while others had wandered in from who knows where; they always managed to appear by Newt's side in all sorts of unimaginable ways.

And this was only assuming Newt stayed home.

Back when he used to carry his suitcase around the world returning magical creatures to their homes, the situation was far more severe than it was now.

For every magical creature he returned, a dozen or two more would come crashing into his life; it would have been a miracle if his suitcase hadn't been overflowing with beasts after all that time.

Possessing such a unique talent, it was no wonder Newt was blacklisted by almost every Ministry of Magic.

After all, those magical creatures were rarely in a good mood before meeting Newt, especially the injured or pregnant ones, which would explode with rage at the slightest provocation.

Just imagine: you're leisurely sipping afternoon tea on the street, and suddenly a rampaging Manticore or a Nundu jumps out right next to you... tsk, the mere thought of that scene is enough to break anyone out in a cold sweat.

So, honestly, what were Gellert or Voldemort compared to him? Dark Lords having to do their own dirty work? Is that it? How weak.

Look at the great Newt; he doesn't need to lift a finger to make a place disappear. He just buys a plane ticket, stays for a few days, drinks some coffee, enjoys the view, and leaves without even a trace of karmic entanglement.

This is why Grandma Tina is so legendary; she single-handedly sealed Newt by her side. It is no exaggeration to say that the entire world owes her an Order of Merlin, First Class.

The only ones who suffered were the British Wizarding World.

According to incomplete statistics, ever since Newt settled in Dorset, incidents involving magical creatures at the Ministry have grown exponentially, and the British Wizarding World has inexplicably become the most popular dumping ground for smugglers, bar none.

Fortunately, while incidents big and small haven't stopped over the years, they haven't caused any serious damage—at most, some unlucky soul might suffer a minor injury.

Perhaps, as Newt's birthplace, this place has some sort of passive buff.

However, Chris wasn't quite as lucky. Due to the nature of his job, he had to work overtime for several days every so often.

But looking at him, Kyle guessed he probably enjoyed it.

Arriving at the door, Kyle realized that besides Chris, his mother Diana had also returned from the Ministry of Magic unusually early and was standing there, watching him with a beaming smile.

Her long black hair was groomed meticulously, and the black robe with white trim looked dignified and elegant on her. As she looked at Kyle, her light blue eyes were filled with tenderness.

Elegant and intellectual.

That had always been Kyle's impression of Diana.

Subconsciously, Kyle glanced at Chris... well, he was still somewhat handsome, and one could still catch a glimpse of his youthful charm; the two of them were quite a good match.

Most importantly, Chris wasn't going bald. Even nearing forty, the distance between his hairline and his eyebrows was still only about an inch. This stood in stark contrast to Mr. Weasley next door.

Naturally, with such strong genes, Kyle's own appearance couldn't be bad either. Among the people he knew, he could at least rank first, showing signs of being a heart-stealer even at his young age.

Of course, that wasn't important, and Kyle never kept it in mind—he wasn't someone who relied on his looks to get by.

"Sorry, I'm late."

Kyle walked between the two of them and said apologetically.

"If you could put that acceptance letter away, you probably wouldn't be late. Hogwarts isn't going to leave Britain just because you didn't keep your letter safe."

Chris teased Kyle, telling a joke he'd just made up on the spot.

Er, let's call it a joke—at least Chris laughed quite happily after saying it.

As for Kyle, although he didn't understand what Chris was laughing at, he still politely tugged at the corners of his mouth, just to give his dad some face.

Fortunately, this situation didn't last long.

"Alright, it's getting late, we should be heading out."

Diana smiled slightly, interrupting the awkward interaction between father and son, and took Kyle's hand: "There are a lot of things to buy for school, we need to hurry, and it wouldn't be polite to keep the Weasley family waiting."

With that, accompanied by a crisp crack, she vanished from the spot with Kyle.

Seeing this, Chris quickly Apparated to follow them.