Not Even Looking at People Properly

Tom laughed it off, "Hey, they just believe I'm really capable. Where am I?"

Tom looked around. A Canada flag hung outside the cabin, and several maple trees rustled in the wind.

"Quebec, transit point. Your Portkey is here for your transfer before departure."

Tom nodded, calculated the time, and realized that the journey from Britain to Canada involved a speed of over 2,500 kilometers per hour, more than twice as fast as an airplane.

If you used Portkey to open a delivery company, Amazon would go bankrupt.

After registering, the chubby wizard handed over the Portkey the next stop, which turned out to be a plastic tray commonly found in convenience stores.

"Go, kid, finish in New York, but don't cause any trouble."

"Thanks." Tom took the tray and asked the fat wizard to help him activate it, since minors couldn't cast spells outside of school, so it was just a formality.

There's a direct route from Britain to New York, yet the Magical Congress of the United States of America is becoming increasingly arrogant.

Since the visiting wizards insisted on using their homemade Portkey, Tom had to transfer in Canada, adding fifteen minutes to his journey.

The Portkey to New York was located in a small alley near Wall Street. As soon as Tom landed, two wizards in gray robes came to greet him.

"Department of International Magical Cooperation, please come with us. We need to complete the entry registration."

Tom followed them through several streets and into a gray building.

The registration area was deserted, with only a few young wizards around his age in line.

When it was his turn, the staff looked at the invitation letter over and over for a long time, then looked at his face, then looked at the invitation letter again.

Where are your parents?

"In the Britain."

The staff member opened his mouth, but didn't ask any more questions. He stamped the document, signed it, and handed over a piece of parchment.

The sign above read "Magic is prohibited outside of school," and Tom signed it in the bottom right corner.

The registration staff repeatedly warned him against using magic in the Muggle area, adding that Ilvermorny students had to hand in their wands during the holidays.

They simply didn't have the right to accept Tom, an outsider, Tom nodded perfunctorily.

He hailed a taxi after leaving Woolworth Building. The driver, a chubby Black man, glanced at him. "Where to?"

"Norwood Avenue, Brooklyn."

The driver stepped on the gas, and the car weaved through New York traffic, horns blaring incessantly.

Tom leaned against the car window, looking at the skyscrapers outside. He had been to New York before, in a past life.

The address Newt Scamander gave was for an ordinary townhouse, sandwiched between two houses, with the house number mostly obscured by vines.

Tom took out the invitation and waved it at the door. The air distorted, and a non-existent house "squeezed" out from between the villas on both sides.

There's a balcony covered in ivy on the brick wall, the windows are spotless, and there's a pot of unidentified flowers by the door.

Tom rang the doorbell, and within two minutes the door opened, and an elderly man with white hair stood in the doorway.

Although he doesn't look like the character in the movie, Tom recognized him at a glance as Newt Scamander Scamander.

His eyes were bright, blue, like two clear springs, and he had a shy smile on his face, just like in his photos when he was young.

His face is etched with the marks of time, yet he is remarkably spry, and his eyes are full of sincerity.

But when she makes eye contact with Tom, she always unconsciously looks away, tilting her head slightly to one side.

Whether he was unknown before or is now famous, Newt Scamander Scamander has this problem.

I never dare to look people in the eye.

"Mr. Scamander. Newt Scamander"

"Tom Riddle." Newt Scamander extended his hand and shook it. "It's good to meet you."

Tom stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly laughed. "Swooping Evil."

Newt Scamander was taken aback. "What?"

"I just looked into your eyes and for some reason thought of the Swooping Evil; they're both so clear and sincere. I didn't mean anything by it."

Newt Scamander's embarrassment lessened considerably, and his social anxiety improved significantly when Fantastic Beasts were mentioned; he laughed as he spoke.

"The Swooping Evil's eyes are indeed beautiful. This is the first time someone has used them to describe me. Thank you, child."

"You can just call me Tom." Tom said politely. "I'm honored to have been invited to New York by you."

He truly respected Newt Scamander; Newt was the wizard he admired most, without exception.

His promise was far more reliable than Albus Dumbledore's schemes. After Albus Dumbledore considered you a friend, he would still treat you as a pawn, but Newt Scamander wouldn't.

"Okay, Tom," Newt Scamander said softly, "You can call me Newt Scamander too, come in."

Tom nodded, stepped through the gate, and followed Newt Scamander onto the garden path. From the outside, it looked very close to the main entrance of the villa.

Upon entering, Tom realized he had to walk a distance, and that the place had been enchanted with Undetectable Extension Charm.

The area is more than ten times larger than the house, and the paths are lined with flowers and plants, filling the air with a sweet fragrance.

There are streams, bushes, several towering trees, and a large meadow full of wildflowers.

A group of flower fairies were busy among the flowers, their wings shimmering in the sunlight. They carried buckets bigger than themselves and were picking nectar from the flower stamens.

Tom walked over and unceremoniously snatched a small bucket that the flower fairy was struggling to lift, then drank all the nectar inside in one gulp.

The flower fairy was stunned, then stomped her feet in anger.

"You're welcome, I'm just trying to lighten your load," Tom said with a wicked smile.

Newt Scamander chuckled beside him. "If you like, they can fill a jar for you later."

"Long-term consumption is beneficial to health. I can still walk and jump even when I'm over ninety years old, which may be related to this."

Tom returned the bucket to the fairy, who glared at him, picked up the empty bucket, and flew away, flapping her wings rapidly.

"They came from Nebraska, where their homes were taken over by Muggle and turned into industrial plants."

"I originally wanted to find a suitable place to settle them, but they thought this place was good, so they settled down here."

Tom nodded; this was the difference between Newt Scamander and most Fantastic Beasts researchers.

He prefers to maintain the stability of the food chain and release the rescued animals back into a suitable environment.

But some of the little creatures got frightened and refused to leave, so over time, he ended up with more and more Fantastic Beasts.

It all happened in a rather haphazard way, and it became a "Fantastic Beasts Shelter".

Tom's own style is to collect them and keep them as pets. They're currently in his small space.

Besides the unicorn, there are also Puffskein, Diricawl, Swooping Evil, and Bowtruckle, and there will only be more in the future.

Newt Scamander led the way, and when they passed the territory of the Clabbert, the Clabbert huddled in their tree holes, too afraid to come out.

When Tom passed by the Crup, the Crup tucked its tail between its legs and ran away. The Niffler peeked out from the bushes, glanced at Tom, and quickly darted back inside.

Newt Scamander stopped. "Interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"It's one thing for shy Fantastic Beasts to avoid you, but even the most outgoing ones are avoiding you."