My partner at Hogwarts is Tom

Even in July, the permafrost deep in Siberia still felt chilly, and Viktor Scamander's breath condensed into white mist in the cold early morning air.

He crouched at the boundary between a tundra and a sparse coniferous forest, squinting his gray-green eyes at the valley ahead.

There, three modified magic sleds sped past silently, their bodies enchanted with silence and levitation spells.

In the lower right corner of his field of vision, the semi-transparent system interface, visible only to him, flickered briefly:

[Mission: Protect the Siberian Poisonous Horned Beast Herd (In Progress)]

[Target: 6 international poachers]

[Partner: Tom - Ready]

Upon seeing the "Tom is ready" notification, Victor's lips curled into a slight smile.

Tom—the first, and most outrageous yet reliable, companion drawn from the "Fantastic Beasts Master" system that suddenly awakened on his eighteenth birthday.

After seven years of traveling around the world, this blue-gray shorthair cat, who can't speak but whose expressions and movements are so exaggerated that they defy the laws of physics, has become his most reliable partner after experiencing countless adventures with him.

"The horde of venomous horned beasts is on the other side of the valley," Victor muttered to himself, his right hand unconsciously rubbing the wand in his hand.

"Don't these idiots know that the magic within the horns of the Siberian Poisonous Horned Beasts is most active during the summer, making them even more dangerous..."

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Before he finished speaking, Tom, wearing a thick, fluffy bearskin hat, peeked out from behind a rock, his cat face displaying an extremely exaggerated "shocked" expression.

His cat-like eyes were wide open like copper bells, his beard stood straight up, and his ears were pressed back like airplanes under the brim of his hat.

It covered its mouth with its furry paws, then pointed in the direction of the poachers, making a series of explosion gestures. Finally, it patted its heart with its paws, rolled its eyes, stuck out its tongue, and fell straight to the ground.

Tom Victor, suppressing a laugh as he watched his theatrical impulse flare up, said, "I know, they'll blow themselves up."

Upon hearing Victor's reply, Tom sprang to his feet.

Then he nodded in satisfaction, his bearskin hat swaying gently with the movement.

It pulled a sleepy Niffler from behind its back—the little money-grubber Mike was still clutching a glittering Russian Ministry of Magic badge in its paw.

Tom poked the Niffler's belly with his paw, then shrugged as if to say "I can't do anything with you," his hat almost slipping off, which he quickly straightened with his paw.

An explosion suddenly came from the valley ahead, and Viktor's eyes sharpened.

"Here we go. Tom, Plan A."

Tom's eyes widened dramatically in an instant, steam billowed from his ears like a train whistle, his hind legs stomped excitedly, and his whole body compressed like a spring—and then—

"call out!"

It transformed into a bluish-gray afterimage, its bearskin hat tightly fastened to its head in the wind, and began its charge in a posture that completely defied biomechanics.

His limbs spun like a windmill, carving a deep furrow in the tundra, raising a three-meter-high cloud of dust behind him.

Halfway through the run, it even deliberately slipped on the edge of the wetland, its body being lifted up by the wind like a piece of paper, spinning seven and a half times in the air before landing perfectly, and not forgetting to use its paws to steady its hat, giving Victor an exaggerated bow.

Viktor was already used to his partner's outrageous performances.

He acted simultaneously, lightly tapping his temple with his wand, "Instant Senses."

The moment the spell was activated, the world in Victor's eyes suddenly changed.

At the same time, the combat instincts honed over seven years of adventures perfectly controlled this abruptly enhanced perception.

He could hear the poacher leader's rough commands and see the dangerous red light flashing on the horns of the venomous horns in their panic at the appearance of the poachers.

While the poachers' attention was drawn to the horned beasts that had gathered together, Victor was no longer in his original spot.

He used the shadows of the rocks to perform three short-range Phantom Movements, appearing on the side of the sled.

"He collapsed unconscious!" The red beam of light struck the back of the driver's head precisely.

"Enemy attack!" The poachers frantically raised their staffs.

Viktor had already anticipated their reaction pattern in the face of the attack.

These poachers, clearly from Greece, have a greater preference for small-scale curses and other forms of black magic.

The next moment, three ominous black incantations shot towards him, but he dodged them by slightly turning his body.

The one directly in front of him was precisely lit up and sent flying by him swinging his wand.

"He's there—ah!" Before the second poacher could finish speaking, the ground beneath his feet suddenly collapsed.

The tunnel Tom dug opened right beneath his feet.

The outrageous cat wearing a bearskin hat flew out of the hole and kicked the poacher in the face with an exaggerated ballet spin. The force was so great that the man spun three and a half times before landing, while Tom's hat remained perfectly still in the air.

As soon as Tom landed, he gave himself a score: he stretched out his two paws, showing all ten toes, blinked his eyes, and the bearskin hat on his head seemed to shake proudly, and then a shiny golden "10 points" appeared on his head.

"Watch out!" Victor shouted.

A slicing spell grazed Tom—the cat's body was instantly split in two. His upper body, still wearing the thick bearskin hat and maintaining a smug expression, moved with a dance-like gait.

The next second, the two halves of the body snapped together like magnets, and Tom even had time to adjust the position of his hat with his paws.

Then he glared fiercely at the poachers who were staring at him in disbelief.

Viktor had no time to pay attention to his partner's performance.

The horde of venomous horned beasts has been alerted. Seven adult venomous horned beasts are frantically digging at the ground, their horns emitting a deep red glow—a dangerous sign that their power is about to unleash an attack.

"Mike!" Victor shouted.

As soon as he finished speaking, a dark brown sniff appeared out of nowhere and pounced precisely on the bait bag at the poacher leader's waist.

Mike was so fast that he was just a black shadow. When he returned to Victor's shoulder, the bag had been replaced with a special calming powder.

And six shiny silver buttons have appeared on its claws.

The bait bag exploded, and a pale blue powder enveloped the area.

The venomous beasts inhaled the powder, and the frenzy in their eyes gradually subsided.

"No!" the leader roared, raising his wand at Victor, "Avada Kedavra—"

However, the incantation abruptly stopped the next moment.

Tom appeared behind him without his noticing and struck the chief on the head with a huge oak log that "conjured" from the tundra.

With a loud bang, the surrounding trees and venomous beasts bounced up and down as if they were on a trampoline.

The man was bounced around under the giant hammer like an accordion, his eyes instantly turning into vortexes before he collapsed limply.

Tom, carrying a hammer bigger than himself, struck an exaggerated home run pose, standing on one leg with the other raised high, his paw resting on the brim of his hat as he gazed at the non-existent "fly ball."