My partner at Hogwarts is Tom

After handing the poachers over to his team, Ivanov turned and smiled.

"So, Viktor, you're going back to England?"

Viktor nodded, Ivanov sighed, and took out a bottle of vodka.

"According to Far Eastern custom—farewells require drinking!"

"It's eight o'clock in the morning, Ivan."

"No, Viktor, this is Siberia, every hour is a good time to say goodbye!"

Twenty minutes later, Victor, reeking of alcohol, dragged Tom, whose entire body was red, steam was billowing from his ears, and whose bearskin hat was almost blown off, to say goodbye to the Russians' rough singing.

"It's time to go." Victor walked towards a thick birch tree in the forest clearing, then gently touched the bark with his wand, causing a magical glow to flow.

Immediately, the birch tree, as thick as a person's embrace, was uprooted from the earth and suspended in mid-air.

He first cast a windproof and moisture-proof spell on himself and Tom, covering their entire bodies with a transparent magical film.

Then straddle the tree trunk and hold onto two specially grown handrail branches.

Tom, having finally expelled all the vodka from his ears, jumped in front of him, found a comfortable spot to sit down, pressed his paws tightly against the bearskin hat on his head, and pulled out goggles from somewhere and put them on.

"Hurry up."

As soon as Victor finished speaking, there was a "buzzing" sound.

The birch trees shot westward like arrows released from a bow, leaving silver trails in the sky.

Victor turned around and saw the patrolmen, now just black dots, still waving.

Tom excitedly raised his paws to "surf" in the wind. Despite the windproof spell, his face was still blown backward, revealing a comical expression, but his bearskin hat remained firmly on his head.

Mike, who was lying in the bearskin hat, also stood up, just like Tom.

However, the next moment he was blown over by the oncoming gust of wind, and then Viktor grabbed him with lightning speed and stuffed him into the waist pack on his back.

…………

The sea breeze in Dorset carries a salty, warm feeling that is quite different from that in Siberia.

Having just returned here using the door key, Victor quickly determined his direction and then took out the flying birch tree he had bought in the Far East from his waist bag.

Compared to the flying broomsticks in Britain, he preferred the flying giant trees in the Far East.

It's big, thick, and powerful enough; its performance absolutely blows away any tiny flying broom.

Victor straddled the floating birch tree, while Tom skillfully lay on its front, its paws gripping its beloved bearskin hat, its cat eyes wide with excitement behind its mini goggles.

"take off!"

With a whoosh, the birch tree lifted off the ground, leaving a silvery trail in the afternoon sunlight of southern England, and flew towards Scamander's house.

Below are rolling green hills, neat fields, and scattered red-roofed villages, a world apart from the vast tundra of Siberia.

Tom faced the wind, his mouth agape in ecstasy, his tongue making a slapping sound as it was blown, while his hat remained firmly on his head.

It even took a moment to pull a small mirror from the fur behind its rear end, admire its "heroic appearance," and nodded in satisfaction.

After flying for about half an hour, a familiar rural landscape, cleverly hidden by magic, came into view.

Several low stone buildings sit in a forest clearing, surrounded by seemingly ordinary fences and gardens that are actually protected by various spells.

This is the Scamander family's residence, unassuming on the outside but connected inside to Newt's legendary, ever-expanding magical space.

Victor lowered his altitude, and the birch tree glided lightly into an invisible entrance above the manor.

The surrounding air rippled slightly, and the scene changed instantly.

What lies below is no longer a simple pastoral landscape, but a vibrant and astonishingly large ecological zone.

A small, shimmering lake connects swamps, woodlands, grasslands, and a small desert climate zone, where all sorts of amazing animals of different sizes live in harmony.

Those stone houses, situated on the edge, seemed like guardian stations for this miniature world.

The birch tree landed steadily on the open ground in front of the main house.

Just as Victor jumped down, a figure strode out of the house.

It was Tina Scamander, his grandmother.

Time has left its mark on her face, but her eyes remain sharp and full of care.

She was dressed in a neat wizard's robe and was holding a thick notebook in her hand.

"Victor!" Tina stepped forward and gave him a firm hug, then immediately took a half step back and looked him up and down.

"Did you eat well in Siberia? You've lost weight! Oh, and you too, Tom!"

Her gaze shifted to the cat, which was struggling to smooth its wind-blown fur, and a knowing smile appeared in her eyes.

Tom immediately stood at attention, raised his paws to the brim of his hat, and gave an exaggerated military salute.

Then he put on an innocent expression that said, "I'm super well-behaved."

"Grandma," Viktor smiled and hugged her, "everything's fine. You even helped the patrol catch a few poachers. And Grandpa?"

"Over there, they're comforting a somewhat emotional baby Cabloomosaurus that just arrived from South America."

Tina gestured towards the extended space behind the main house.

"He received your reply and knew you were arriving today; he's been talking about it ever since. Oh, and Albus is here too; he's waiting in the study."

Upon hearing this, Victor raised an eyebrow. "Dumbledore himself has come?"

It seems that the matter of Hogwarts is even more urgent than Grandpa said in his letter.

"I'm coming right now," Viktor said, casually stuffing the birch tree into his pouch.

Tina nodded, then looked at Tom: "There are freshly baked scones and fresh sardines in the kitchen."

Tom's eyes lit up instantly, and his ears perked up, but he tried his best to maintain a reserved demeanor, only secretly tugging at Victor's trouser leg with his paw, giving him a frantic hint.

"Go ahead," Victor said with a smile.

Tom immediately cheered and transformed into a streak of blue-gray lightning, rushing towards the kitchen.

Tom's favorite bearskin hat was then left hanging in mid-air.

Before the hat could even land, a furry paw stretched out like rubber, grabbed the bearskin hat in mid-air, and then retracted.

Victor shook his head and walked through the familiar, slightly cluttered living room of the main house—piled with books, specimens, drawings, and strange collections about magical creatures.

The study door was ajar. Victor knocked, then pushed it open.

The room was filled with the mixed smells of old books, parchment, and some kind of sweet.

Newt Scamander stood before a huge, aquarium-like, yet fogged-up glass container, intently watching a blurry, swimming shadow inside, humming a soft, off-key melody.

He looked a little older than Viktor remembered, his back slightly hunched, but his eyes were still as clear as ever, filled with curiosity and tenderness about life.

And sitting in a slightly cramped armchair next to the desk was Albus Dumbledore.

He wore a dark blue robe embroidered with stars and moons, his long silver hair and beard were neatly combed, and behind his crescent-shaped glasses, his azure eyes were looking towards the door with a gentle and wise smile.