In terms of pure physical misery, phoenix Apparition was arguably worse than travelling by Floo powder.
Vaughn felt as though he'd been shoved head-first into a rubber tube, twisted like wet laundry, then flung out the other end like an unwanted parcel. His brain spun. His stomach swirled.
By some miracle, he did not vomit.
"You handled that better than I expected," Dumbledore said brightly, entirely too pleased.
"Fawkes is… enthusiastic. Phoenix Apparition is rather more energetic than the human version."
"Then maybe you could have warned me, Albus."
"But where's the fun in that?" Dumbledore beamed. "I thought you'd enjoy the surprise."
"Absolutely not. No wonder Professor Snape calls you twisted, eccentric, and senile."
Dumbledore looked delighted.
"Did he really? How tragic. Severus still hasn't learned to enjoy life."
Still smiling, he surveyed their surroundings.
"Ah! Looks like Fawkes got it right this time. We're not atop a sand dune or in a fishing boat. Splendid."
Vaughn straightened, taking in the scenery.
A moonlit country lane.
Salt-tinged wind from the sea.
Waves rolling rhythmically against the distant shore.
And then it clicked.
Scamander… Dorset… Newt Scamander.
Vaughn's expression sharpened.
They had come to meet Newt Scamander, the celebrated author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Vaughn had been trying for months to locate him. Even Arthur Weasley only managed to learn that Newt had "retired somewhere quiet."
But unlike someone like Nicolas Flamel, Newt wasn't hiding from enemies.
His home was right there: a modest two-storey cottage of red brick and white roof tiles, neat and welcoming.
Dumbledore rapped lightly on the door.
It swung open.
A stern, sharp-eyed older witch glared at them both.
"Good evening, Tina, I—"
SLAM.
The door shut in his face.
Vaughn tugged his cloak straight.
"This is what you call a warm welcome?"
Dumbledore inhaled deeply.
And said absolutely nothing.
Ten Minutes Later — Inside the Scamander Home
The living room was warm and cosy, lit by a crackling hearth.
Dumbledore and Vaughn sat on a sofa while Newt Scamander himself poured tea.
"Apologies, Dumbledore," Newt said, embarrassed.
"Tina just—"
"He only shows up when something's wrong!" Tina snapped, snatching the teacup from Dumbledore's hands as if he were a misbehaving schoolboy.
"We're retired, Albus. Retired. Do you understand what that means?"
"Tina, please," Newt said weakly. "There's a child present."
Immediately, Tina softened.
She turned to Vaughn with grandmotherly warmth.
"Don't be frightened, dear. Grandma Tina isn't the bad one here. It's that man beside you."
As the two elders bickered, Vaughn observed them closely.
Newt Scamander was—visually—an unremarkable old man.
But his eyes…
They sparkled with gentle curiosity, the kind only seen in people who had never lost their wonder for the world. It wasn't the brilliant, cutting clarity of Dumbledore's gaze; it was gentler, almost shy, carrying the same innocent warmth as Hagrid.
"You're a Weasley, aren't you?" Newt asked suddenly.
"That hair gives it away. Large family. Before I retired, I heard of a Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. And another doing dragon fieldwork in Romania."
"That would be my dad, Arthur Weasley," Vaughn replied.
"And my brother, Charlie."
"Ah. Splendid family…" Newt muttered politely, then quietly retreated from the conversation out of sheer social anxiety—leaving Tina to fuss over Vaughn like her own grandson.
Meanwhile, Newt turned back to business with Dumbledore.
"So… you want me to take care of the unicorn herd for a while?"
"Yes, Newt," Dumbledore said.
"No one else is better suited to keep them safe."
Newt nodded without hesitation.
"I can do it. There's still room in the basement habitat. But this must be temporary. Unicorns hate confinement—it will distress them."
"Just temporary," Dumbledore assured him.
"Until we resolve the matter of the dark wizard."
Newt's expression hardened.
"What kind of monster would hurt a unicorn…"
His voice trembled with quiet fury.
Then, with characteristic decisiveness, he downed his tea, stood up, and went upstairs.
Moments later he returned, dressed and carrying an old, scratched leather suitcase.
Tina immediately marched toward him, grabbing his collar to straighten it.
"I should've thrown you into the fireplace the moment you knocked," she hissed.
"Tina, I promise this will be safe—"
"I wasn't talking to you, Albus."
She brushed him aside, then turned to Vaughn with a fond smile.
"Come along, dear. Let the old fools handle their chaos. Grandma Tina will show you something more interesting—magical creatures."
In a blink, the two old wizards vanished with a burst of Apparition—Dumbledore giving Vaughn one last mischievous wink.
Vaughn stood in stunned silence.
He had come to Dumbledore for help…
And Dumbledore had used him as bait.
Tina clearly disliked Dumbledore.
He'd brought Vaughn along specifically to soften her—
betting she wouldn't slam a door in a child's face.
That sly old fox.
We're getting closer to even, Albus.
Meanwhile — Forbidden Forest
Deep within the night-darkened woods, Dumbledore reappeared with Newt beside him.
As they walked toward the unicorn herd, Dumbledore said casually:
"So, Newt… what did you think of young Vaughn Weasley?"
Newt blinked thoughtfully.
"Strange," he murmured.
"Far too mature for a child."
"Yes."
Dumbledore sighed.
"Far too mature. Too logical. Too focused on power and knowledge. He understands too much—and he is very hard to guide."
Newt stared at him, baffled.
"…Why are you telling me this?"
"Well," Dumbledore said mildly, "Vaughn was the one who suggested relocating the unicorns. I see potential in him. Perhaps he simply needs someone to teach him to care about magical creatures."
Newt opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again.
"So… you want me to teach him?"
He stared at the elderly Headmaster's innocent smile.
And finally understood—
Tina had been right all along.
Nothing good ever happened when Albus Dumbledore knocked on your door.
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