Tom found that even with Harry's reputation slightly tarnished, many still revered him as "The Savior." Colin, for instance, still tried taking Harry's photos, albeit surreptitiously, fearing a beating from the Death Eater wannabes swarming around him. Then there was Newt Scamander's grandson, Ralph, who'd grown up on tales of Harry Potter.
After learning of Ralph's admiration, Tom tasked Harry with extracting information. Predictably, Ralph immediately divulged his home address—which Harry, in turn, relayed to Tom.
...
Inside a picturesque manor nestled deep within the woods, Newt Scamander was incandescent with rage. "So, you're the one who led the Dark Lord here?!" he roared, glaring at his grinning grandson.
Seeing Newt's reaction, Ralph darted behind an elderly woman, seeking refuge. Newt sighed, finally understanding the sting of being outwitted by his own kin.
He then glanced over at Tom Riddle, who was nonchalantly feeding a house cat and a lemur.
"Um… Mr. Scamander, could I possibly get your autograph?"
Newt looked down to find Hermione Granger holding out a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, her eyes wide with anticipation. He silently took the pen and book, signed the title page, and returned them. Hermione was thrilled but suddenly sensed that Newt wasn't the easiest old man to deal with. Little did she know, his reticence stemmed from sheer introversion.
"Alright, children, come inside for some snacks," Newt's wife, Tina Goldstein, called out, gently pulling Ralph along and beckoning Hermione and Luna Lovegood. Hearing her, Newt seemed to realize something, turning to look at her with affection.
Tina Goldstein, fearing a sudden outburst from the Dark Lord, was ushering the children to safety, leaving Newt to hold him off. It was all based on a gross misunderstanding of Tom Riddle, who fancied himself a relatively ordinary person with a passion for magic.
Truth be told, Newt had penned several letters to Dumbledore before Ralph started at Hogwarts, discussing Tom Riddle. This was why, though wary, Newt hadn't yet sicced his creatures on Tom or fled with his family.
"Alright, alright, stop acting like this is life or death," Tom said, clapping his hands with a hint of impatience. Tina Goldstein cast one last, meaningful look at Newt before leading the children, along with a gaggle of cats and raccoons, inside. Only after the door clicked shut did Newt turn back to Tom.
"..."
Sensing Newt's hesitation, Tom cut to the chase. "Have you heard of the Basilisk?"
Newt visibly perked up. "A basilisk? A legendary creature! I've never seen one in my life."
Tom pressed on, "Then you know one cannot look directly into a basilisk's eyes."
Newt's eyes widened with realization. "You mean…"
"I have a basilisk. I need your help to render its gaze harmless, or at least give it control over its power, without blinding it."
Newt, ever the enthusiast for magical creatures, was overjoyed by the request. Furthermore, being the affable sort, he didn't even try to haggle—not because he couldn't, but because he dared not.
With Newt's eager agreement, Tom flicked his left hand, conjuring a suitcase from thin air. He set it on the ground, opened it, and the familiar staircase materialized.
"Come in." Tom stepped inside.
Seeing this, Newt's expression turned peculiar. He was accustomed to inviting others into his menagerie, not the other way around. He chuckled, then followed Tom into the case.
The moment he entered the small room, Newt felt strangely at home. Spotting the little black dragon dozing on the table, he couldn't help but exclaim, "You even have a Norwegian Ridgeback? Keeping dragons is illegal, you know!"
"Who are you to lecture me?" Tom retorted, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
Newt scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He, of all people, was in no position to judge. After all, he housed plenty of forbidden creatures himself.
Tom reached the door and uttered a few words in Parseltongue. Then, turning to Newt, "Come on, don't shut your eyes. Trust me." With that, Tom pushed the door open.
They emerged into an endless expanse of forest, grassland, and a vast lake. This case was easily as large as his own. Newt marveled inwardly, but his attention was quickly seized by the basilisk coiled on the grass. Its eyes were shut, realizing that Tom must have commanded it in Parseltongue.
Looking at the serpent's gargantuan form—tens of meters long, with a head nearly a meter in diameter—Newt's lips twitched. "This basilisk… it's absurdly huge! Where did it even come from?" He couldn't fathom Tom hatching it himself.
"Salazar Slytherin raised it, but it belongs to me now. It's probably thousands of years old."
"..."
No wonder he's the Dark Lord. He gets his hands on EVERYTHING. But none of that mattered. What truly mattered was that he could study a basilisk up close!
"Solving this will take time," Newt said excitedly, circling the creature, then paused. "I'll need information about the basilisk—its likes, dislikes, preferred prey—because I might need to find a solution using other magical creatures."
Tom shook his head. "I don't know."
Newt sighed, a headache already forming. This was going to be difficult.
Tom added, "But someone does."
Newt turned, puzzled.
Tom gently shook his left hand. "Hey! Old man! Wake up!"
Just as Newt was wondering what was happening, Salazar Slytherin emerged from the ring on Tom's left hand. "You unfilial grandson! Your grandfather was merely replenishing his spirit!"
Seeing a ghost materialize from Tom's ring, Newt's eyes widened. "Who is he?"
"Slytherin."
---
I am staying up around the clock to ensure you have fresh, high-quality content delivered straight to your screen every few hours without fail.
Reaching the Top 10 is non-negotiable, but I cannot do it alone. Destroy that vote button right now and drop a comment to show the other readers that this community is the strongest!