Apparition, as it turned out, was even worse than traveling by Floo Powder.

To Vaughn, it felt like being squeezed through a rubber tube, hurled in a tight spiral around a spinning axis. The world spun wildly, and just when he thought his insides would liquefy, the tube spat him out.

He staggered the moment his feet hit solid ground, nearly tripping over himself as a wave of nausea surged up from his stomach.

Thankfully, he managed to keep everything down.

Dumbledore's voice was far too cheerful for someone who had just assaulted another person's equilibrium. "You handled that better than I expected, Vaughn. Truth be told, Fawkes is a bit impatient by nature. That tends to make his Apparition more... forceful than most wizards can manage."

"You could've warned me, Albus," Vaughn muttered, still trying to orient himself.

"But then I'd have ruined the surprise," Dumbledore said brightly.

"It wasn't a surprise. It was an ambush. No wonder Professor Snape called you a sadist, a loon, and a senile old bat."

Dumbledore sighed dramatically. "How tragic. To think that's how Severus sees me. He's never understood the meaning of fun."

He beamed, completely unfazed, and glanced around the rural lane with interest. "Ah, looks like Fawkes didn't misplace us this time. Come along, Vaughn. My dear friend will be delighted to see us."

Vaughn lifted his head and took in their surroundings.

They were standing on a narrow countryside road, flanked by tall grass and trees. In the far distance, under the silvery wash of moonlight, he could glimpse the gentle shimmer of the sea. The crashing of waves drifted faintly on the breeze.

Scamander…

It clicked. Vaughn realized who they had come to visit.

Newt Scamander.

If this was Dorset, it made perfect sense. Ever since adopting Fruity, Vaughn had taken a growing interest in magical beasts. And there was no one in the wizarding world more renowned in that field than the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

Over the summer, he'd even asked Mr. Weasley to try and track Scamander down. But they'd only known that he lived in seclusion somewhere in Dorset. Not that it mattered much. Unlike someone like Nicolas Flamel, Newt Scamander had no enemies, no need for extreme secrecy.

His cottage wasn't hidden at all. It stood plainly beside the country lane, a charming little two-story home of red brick and white stone. Simple, quaint, and somehow very… Scamander.

Dumbledore led the way to the door and gave it a polite knock.

After a few moments, it swung open, revealing a rather thin and rather sharp-looking elderly woman.

Dumbledore raised a hand with a smile. "Good evening, Tina, I--"

Bang!

The door slammed shut in his face.

Vaughn gave Dumbledore's robe a gentle tug. "This is the warm welcome you mentioned?"

Dumbledore looked mildly put out. "…Possibly a temporary delay."

Ten minutes later…

Inside the cozy sitting room, the fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the space.

Vaughn and Dumbledore sat side by side on a plush sofa, each holding a cup of tea. Newt Scamander had just finished pouring it, though his eyes kept darting to the stairs as if bracing for another scolding.

"Sorry about that, Dumbledore," he began.

He didn't get far.

Tina, now seated across from them with arms folded, snatched Dumbledore's teacup away. "Every time you come knocking, you drag him into some catastrophe. We're retired, Albus. Retired. Do you understand what that word means?"

Newt gave a sheepish chuckle. "Tina, love, not in front of the child…"

She glanced at Vaughn, and her expression instantly softened into something grandmotherly. "Don't worry, dear. I'm not the villain here. That title belongs to the one sitting next to you."

As the conversation moved on, Vaughn sized up the famous Magizoologist. Newt's appearance was unremarkable, mild features, thinning hair, but his eyes gleamed with a peculiar kind of brightness. Not the intimidating, piercing sort like Dumbledore's. Newt's eyes sparkled with childlike curiosity, even at his age.

It reminded Vaughn of Hagrid. And Professor Kettleburn, too. Maybe there really was something about Magizoologists… their minds seemed untouched by cynicism.

"You're a Weasley, aren't you?" Newt asked suddenly, eyes narrowing with recognition. "The hair gives it away. That's a big family. I remember back when I worked at the Ministry, there was a Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. And I just returned from Romania, where there was another Weasley studying dragons."

"That'd be my dad, Arthur Weasley, and my brother Charlie," Vaughn replied politely. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Scamander."

"Oh! Well, that explains it!"

The famously shy Newt managed a few more awkward remarks, then quickly excused himself from the conversation and turned to Dumbledore.

"So. You want me to look after the unicorn herd for a while?"

"Yes, Newt. I can't think of anyone better," Dumbledore said.

Newt didn't hesitate. "I'll do it. The basement still has some space, though it can't be for long. Unicorns hate confinement. They need open skies and freedom."

"Just a short time," Dumbledore promised. "Once we deal with the dark wizard, they'll return to the forest."

Newt's expression darkened. "Hard to believe someone like that is still out there."

Finishing his tea quickly, he excused himself. A moment later, he returned in travel robes, holding a battered leather suitcase that seemed far heavier than it looked.

"I knew this would happen," Tina muttered, marching up to him and adjusting his collar. "I should've shoved you straight into the Floo the moment he knocked."

"Don't worry, Tina. There's no danger," Dumbledore assured her calmly.

Tina ignored him completely and turned to Vaughn. "Come along, dear. Let the old men chase their unicorns. I'll show you the real magic, my creatures."

With a final wink at Vaughn, Dumbledore and Newt vanished into the night with a sharp crack of Apparition.

As the room quieted, Vaughn blinked slowly.

Wait a second.

He'd come to Dumbledore asking for help, wanting him as backup. But now that he thought about it… it felt like he'd been drafted into some convoluted plan.

Dumbledore knew Tina would never let him in the house. So he brought Vaughn as bait. Who could slam the door in a child's face?

Manipulative old fox!

Fine. One-all, Albus.

Meanwhile, deep in the Forbidden Forest, the newly arrived Dumbledore was guiding Newt toward the unicorn herd, their wands lighting the way.

"What do you think of Vaughn Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, voice quiet.

Newt blinked at him. "He's… complicated. Doesn't feel like a child."

Dumbledore sighed. "No, he doesn't. That's what worries me. He's remarkably capable, perhaps too much so for his age. I fear he's diving too deep into logic and power without anyone to pull him back."

Newt looked confused. "And you're telling me this because…?"

"Today, he suggested moving the unicorns. That interest in magical creatures, it's something. A thread we could follow. Maybe we can spark something gentler in him. Something grounding."

Newt's eyes widened. "You want me to teach him?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Newt groaned softly.

Tina was right. Nothing good ever came from Dumbledore knocking on your door.