Hanging up the phone, Lynn leapt up off his bed.
He tucked his wand into his sleeve first, then dug through the cabinet for that barely-used wizard passport—last time he'd gone abroad was Norway, and Dumbledore had helped process it back then.
Had it expired?
He flipped it open to check; still plenty of time left on it.
Then he fished a small bag of Galleons out of a drawer and stuffed it in his pocket.
On second thought, he grabbed another bag too.
Just in case he needed extra.
Dodo poked his head out from the kitchen. "Master's heading out?"
"Yeah, off to the United States."
Dodo froze. "The United States? For how long?"
Lynn thought it over. "Hard to say. A few days, maybe."
Dodo went quiet a moment. "Should Dodo come along?"
Lynn waved a hand. "No need, not heading into a fight this time."
Dodo's expression clearly read "I don't believe you," but he said nothing, just packed a bag of freshly baked cookies and pressed it into Lynn's hands.
"Eat these on the way."
Lynn took the cookies, patted Dodo's head, and turned to go.
He'd originally planned to have Levi teleport him straight there, quick and easy.
But Dumbledore had mentioned over the phone some documents he'd need first, telling him to stop by the Ministry of Magic to find Tonks.
The old headmaster's tone had carried a rare hint of embarrassment. "The International Confederation of Wizards has been checking things strictly lately; you can't get in without the proper paperwork."
Lynn had wanted to point out that Levi could bypass inspections entirely, but the words died before he said them.
Forget it. Better safe than sorry.
He arrived in central London and turned into a nondescript alley.
Narrow, cluttered on both sides, sunlight barely reaching in.
At the very end of it stood that abandoned red telephone booth.
One corner of the glass sat shattered, an "Out of Order" note taped to the door, a layer of dust over everything.
Lynn pulled the door open and stepped inside.
The interior looked even more worn than the outside; the phone buttons heavily faded, a crack running across the receiver.
"Number should be... 6-2-4-4-2." Recalling Dumbledore's message, he punched it in.
The call connected, and a calm female voice came through. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and purpose."
"Lynn. Traveling abroad."
A brief pause, a click, and a silver visitor's badge dropped into the coin return slot. Lynn picked it up and pinned it to his chest.
The next second, the booth lurched and began slowly descending.
Lynn grabbed the handrail, watching the light overhead narrow and dim until it vanished entirely.
Darkness surrounded him, only the floor beneath his feet glowing faintly.
The descent ran neither fast nor slow, like an ordinary elevator.
The booth's door popped open automatically, revealing the Atrium eight floors underground at the Ministry of Magic. Lynn stepped out and spotted Tonks waiting right there.
She leaned against the fountain, yawning.
Spotting Lynn, she straightened up at once, shaking the document bag in her hand. "Afternoon, Lynn."
"Afternoon, Tonks." Lynn walked over, took the bulging bag, and peeked inside.
Goodness, quite a lot in there.
A brand-new passport, the International Confederation of Wizards emblem embossed in gold on the cover. A transit certification, stamped several times over. A Hogwarts enrollment certificate—what use would that be in America? A wand registration form, a magical items declaration form...
Even a certificate of no criminal record.
Lynn stared at that last one for a long while. "The wizarding world actually has one of these?!"
Tonks blinked, thrown by the question. "Something wrong?"
Lynn shook his head. "No, nothing."
Just hadn't expected the Ministry to issue such a thing.
Tonks nodded. "Great, you can head out via the Floo Network now."
Lynn had just turned to go when Tonks called after him again.
"One more thing." He turned back.
Tonks pointed at the document bag. "That wand permit needs activating at MACUSA."
Lynn looked down and, sure enough, found a crumpled form at the bottom labeled "Wand Use Permit Application Form," to be processed at a designated location upon entry.
Lynn's lip twitched. "Such a hassle."
Tonks shrugged. "Rules."
He stuffed the form back in and waved at her. "Thanks."
She waved back. "Safe travels."
———
MACUSA.
The moment Lynn stepped out of the Floo fireplace, the sight nearly blinded him.
The lobby stretched far larger than he'd imagined, the dome so high its top disappeared entirely, chandeliers hanging overhead, each one rivaling the size of the ones in Hogwarts's Great Hall.
Dark marble floors, polished to a mirror shine.
Massive magical paintings lined the walls, not still portraits but moving ones—a wizard in a star-spangled robe delivering an impassioned, spit-flying speech, the crowd below clapping and cheering on an endless loop.
The air smelled of coffee, far more pleasant than the old parchment scent of the British Ministry.
Lynn had no time to admire the scenery, though.
The moment he stepped out of the fireplace, a Congress employee blocked his path.
A tall man in deep blue uniform, a golden badge pinned to his chest.
His expression stayed serious, businesslike. "Sir, identification, please."
Lynn handed over the document bag.
The employee took it, opened it, and flipped through page by page.
Passport, fine. Transit certification, fine. Enrollment certificate, fine.
Reaching the wand registration form, he lingered a moment longer, glancing up at Lynn, then back down.
"Laurel, dragon heartstring, thirteen and a half inches?"
"Correct."
"Spare wand?"
Lynn nearly asked "which one," but caught himself, remembering he was abroad.
He pulled the second wand from his sleeve and handed it over.
The employee examined it carefully. "Ash, phoenix feather, eleven inches?"
"Correct."
He nodded, logging the info on the form.
While writing, his gaze drifted to the trunk in Lynn's hand.
His eyes lingered on it for two seconds.
"Sir, the trunk's contents need inspecting too."
Lynn raised an eyebrow. "Was this required before?"
Felt like something newly added, to him.
The employee shook his head, sounding a bit apologetic. "Sorry, sir, hasn't been for a while. But with Mr. Scamander's entry recently, Congress temporarily added this step."
Lynn went quiet.
Newt Scamander's trunk—the contents of that thing genuinely warranted a strict inspection.
He handed over his decoy trunk, silently thinking, "Denied."
The employee took it and popped the lid; inside sat a few neatly folded changes of clothes, two books, a bag of cookies.
He reached in, checked the clothing pockets, flipped and shook the books, and finally picked up the cookie bag for a look.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Cookies," Lynn said. "Homemade."
The employee glanced once more and set the bag back down.
He closed the lid, pushed the trunk back over. "No problem, sir. Documents activated. Enjoy your stay in the United States."
Lynn took the trunk and headed for the exit.
The streets of America ran far wider than Britain's.
Sunlight beat down without a cloud in sight, bright enough to ache the eyes.
Tall buildings lined both sides of the street, glass curtain walls throwing back blinding white light; cars streamed by one after another, horns blaring nonstop.
Lynn stood at the roadside and took a deep breath.
The air carried some indescribable smell, like... a mix of exhaust fumes and some kind of perfume.
Just then, the Magic Phone in his pocket buzzed.
He pulled it out to find a message from Edgar: "What'd the Headmaster want with you? Still by the Statue of Liberty, want to come over?"
Lynn replied: "Already in the US."
A few seconds later, Edgar sent a location.
Followed immediately by: "You didn't smuggle yourself in, did you?"
Lynn: "..."
"Official channels. Here to help Mr. Scamander find something."
Silence on the other end.
After a good while, Edgar's message popped up: "Need my help?"
"Probably not."
The messages stopped there.
Then Lynn suddenly remembered something crucial:
He'd completely forgotten to ask Scamander for his contact info last time—simply unacceptable.
Just as Lynn wondered how to reach Newt Scamander—
a fluttering sound came from overhead.
He looked up to see a barn owl flying toward him unsteadily, a kraft paper envelope clutched in its talons.
The owl landed on his shoulder, shoved the letter into his hand, then flapped off, vanishing into the canopy of a large tree across the street in seconds.
Lynn tore the envelope open.
Inside, just a slip of paper, handwriting like chicken scratch.
"Central Park. Ask a passerby if you can't find it. —Newt S."
Well, that saved him a call to the old headmaster, at least.
...
Arriving at Central Park, Lynn spotted Scamander crouched sneakily behind a large tree.
He'd shrunk himself behind the not-especially-sturdy trunk, half his head poking out, gaze locked intently on the canopy of another tree across the way.
His leather trunk sat tightly shut on the ground beside him, faint rustling sounds drifting out from inside.
Lynn glanced around and noticed no one near Scamander at all.
Not that people weren't passing by—joggers, dog walkers, stroller-pushers wandered the park paths occasionally—but each one seemed guided by some invisible force, steering clear of this exact spot without exception.
Lynn was about to call out when a flash of silver caught his eye in the tree opposite.
Something moved fast, weaving through the branches like it was swimming, leaving only a blurred afterimage in its wake.
Silver fur, vaguely ape-like...
The little creature paused a moment on a branch, tilting its head to look over, huge eyes brimming with curiosity.
Then it vanished again, melting straight into the sunlight.
Lynn followed the direction it had gone and spotted a neat pile of fruit set out just ahead of Newt—apples, bananas, grapes, all stacked fresh.
Just then, a bunch of grapes wobbled up into the air, and a few plucked themselves free.
Newt's eyes lit up.
His movements came startlingly fast, nothing like an elderly man's.
His wand slid from his sleeve, a soft light shooting silently toward the fruit pile.
A startled cry rang out from midair.
With a flick of Newt's wand, the trunk's lid popped open.
The instant it closed again, Lynn caught a burst of indignant chattering from inside.
Cursing, unmistakably.
Newt let out a long sigh of relief, shoulders finally loosening.
He pocketed his wand, bent to straighten the trunk, and brushed dust off its lid, movements gentle as if soothing a child.
Only then did Lynn walk over.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Scamander."
Newt turned.
His coat was covered in leaves and grass clippings, hair a mess like it hadn't seen a comb in days.
"Was that just..." Lynn gestured toward the trunk, "a Demiguise?"
Newt nodded.
"Yes."
Then fell silent.
He simply stood there, looking at Lynn, as if waiting for him to continue.
Lynn looked right back, waiting for the same.
A few seconds of silence passed between them.
Well. Newt was every bit as socially awkward as ever.
---
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