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"So, Professor—"
"Just Newt is fine."
Newt cut Ariana off before she could finish. He still couldn't stomach the formal title, especially coming from Albus Dumbledore's sister.
Ariana looked a little conflicted but corrected herself. "Mr. Newt. Did you ask us here today because you've made progress on the Obscurus research?"
It hadn't been that long since Newt was pulling his hair out over hitting a dead end. How did he suddenly have a breakthrough?
"It's just a theory for now, but yes. I think we're onto something," Newt said. "But it mostly depends on you."
He turned his gaze toward Tom.
[Me?] Tom pointed a paw at himself, looking thoroughly confused. He didn't remember handing out any medical miracles recently.
"Exactly," Newt nodded. "Nicolas mentioned you've been making some... little gadgets using alchemy, right?"
Tom nodded. In the past, he'd relied entirely on his broken, overpowered magical instincts to make things, ignoring material compatibility or runic formulas.
After learning formal alchemy, he had tried following the standard procedures. His conclusion? The results were technically perfect, but the process was tedious and boring as hell.
Still, he absorbed the techniques and mashed them together with his own chaotic methods, creating his own distinct, bastardized style of alchemy.
And he had managed to churn out some pretty wild new toys.
[What exactly do you need?]
If Newt wanted to get his hands on custom hardware, Tom was definitely charging a rental fee.
"Nicolas said you built a device that converts emotions into physical flavors. I want to borrow it. One Galleon per use—how does that sound?"
After spending enough time around Tom, Newt had figured out the cat was a shameless little capitalist. Even with a horde of magical creatures constantly bringing him rare, expensive materials, Tom still had dollar signs in his eyes.
Honestly, Newt preferred it this way. Paying upfront was much easier than owing favors!
Money was the least of Newt's problems. If you didn't count Nicolas Flamel, Newt was easily the richest guy at Hogwarts. Even Hagrid couldn't compare.
Sure, the Forbidden Forest had plenty of magical beasts, but Hagrid barely harvested anything. Meanwhile, Newt had a literal zoo of rare, endangered creatures breeding in his suitcase.
Since money could solve the problem, and Tom's motivation directly scaled with how much he was getting paid, the two hit it off instantly.
[You've got yourself a deal!]
Seeing Newt practically throwing money at him, Tom patted his chest confidently. He reached into his pocket space and pulled out the so-called emotion converter.
It looked like a miniature, handheld vacuum cleaner. It had a long nozzle attached to a small box, but instead of a power cord, a flexible tube—basically a straw—dangled from the back.
[You point this end at the target and hit the switch. It automatically sucks up their current emotion and stores it in the box.]
[Then, you press this button over here, and the emotion dispenses through the tube. Like a soda fountain. Different emotions have different flavors.]
After pitching his invention, Tom looked at Newt curiously. [So, what the hell do you need this thing for?]
Newt took the device with a smile. "An Obscurus is born when a young witch or wizard suppresses their magic, correct?"
Tom nodded.
"And an Obscurus usually bursts out when they lose control of their emotions, right?"
Tom nodded again.
"Magic is driven by willpower and emotion. It's the power to shape the world according to our desires," Newt explained, his eyes lighting up. "Spells and wand movements are just mediums to guide that process."
"The way I see it, an Obscurus is just like any other spell—it's magic trying to alter reality. But without a medium or proper guidance, it spirals completely out of control and consumes its host. Like Fiendfyre. Does that make sense?"
Tom nodded, then shook his head. [Okay, sure. But what does that have to do with my juice machine?]
"It has everything to do with it!" Newt said, his voice rising with excitement. "If this theory holds, every piece of magic carries the emotion or desire of its caster."
"The Lumos charm comes from a desire for light. The Hover Charm is a longing for flight. Following that logic, what do you think the core desire of an Obscurus is?"
[To destroy everything in its path?] Tom guessed, thinking about the parasitic entity's nature.
[But my gadget isn't calibrated for emotions that complex. Do you need me to upgrade it? It'll cost extra, obviously.]
"No need. Basic emotions are exactly what we want," Newt said, shaking his head. He led them into his private quarters, the same room where they had been testing Ariana.
"Alright, Ariana. Let's have you shift into your Obscurus form."
Ariana nodded, closed her eyes, and within seconds, her body dissolved into a swirling mass of dense, black mist.
Taking advantage of the moment, Tom whipped out a glass jar and scooped up some of the black smoke. This stuff might be the key to finally building her a real body.
Neither Ariana nor Newt stopped him. Newt just raised the emotion-flavor converter, pointed it at the dark cloud, and flipped the switch.
Whirrrr~
As the machine hummed to life, Ariana's current emotional state was actively siphoned and materialized inside the box.
When the buzzing stopped, Newt lowered the device and reached for the dispense button.
Startled, Tom snatched the gadget right out of his hands. He quickly grabbed a few glasses, shoved the tube into one, and hit the button himself.
Under their watchful eyes, a stream of crystal-clear liquid poured from the tube and filled the glass.
"...?"
Newt stared at it, completely bewildered. What the hell was this? Nicolas had told him Tom had a useful gadget, but he completely forgot to mention how it actually worked!
While Newt was still trying to process the mystery liquid, Tom casually picked up a glass and downed it in one gulp.
Newt's jaw practically hit the floor. Good god. Did you really invent a groundbreaking psychological alchemical device just to make yourself custom beverages?!
Newt hit the nail on the head. Hogwarts had decent enough food, but the drink menu was absolute garbage.
Unless you wanted pumpkin juice, milk, or hot chocolate, you were out of luck. And since Tom couldn't drink hot chocolate without making himself sick, he was stuck with two options.
Sure, pumpkin juice was alright, and milk was fine, but drinking the same two things every single day got old fast. Tom missed soda. He wanted variety.
So, to satisfy his cravings and save money on importing ingredients, he built this thing.
The results, however, were a little underwhelming.
Because it only picked up baseline emotions, the drinks it produced were perfectly safe to consume, but it couldn't replicate the complex, mixed-flavor profiles of a good modern soda.
He could have upgraded it, but Tom had the attention span of a goldfish. Upgrading it sounded like work. It was way easier to just teleport to the Muggle world and raid a convenience store.
So, the device had been tossed into his inventory and forgotten—until Newt found a use for it.
[Not bad,] Tom smacked his lips, evaluating the taste.
"Really?" Newt grabbed a glass, morbidly curious, and took a sip. Ariana shifted back and tried some too.
The taste, however...
"This is just plain water! With a weird, dry aftertaste!" Newt grimaced, looking deeply betrayed. "You call this good?"
[Compared to the other crap this thing spits out, this is gourmet!] Tom rolled his eyes.
Aside from positive emotions, the faint, dry sourness was the absolute best of a bad bunch.
Once, when he refused to do Ron's homework, he extracted the kid's frustration and tasted it. It tasted like expired bitter almonds. Just thinking about it made him gag.
Even positive emotions had their limits. Joy, for example. When Tom finally agreed to do the homework, Ron's relief and happiness produced a flavor so sickeningly, artificially sweet that only someone like Dumbledore could stomach it.
"Is that so?" Newt didn't push the issue. Instead, he steered it back to the research. "So, what does this specific flavor represent?"
[Calmness. A totally blank slate tastes like plain water. The dry aftertaste is probably a tiny bit of lingering anxiety,] Tom answered bluntly.
Newt nodded thoughtfully. He looked at Tom. "Let me borrow this. I'll be right back."
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the converter and vanished down into his magical suitcase.
"What is Mr. Newt doing down there?" Ariana asked, staring at the leather case.
[Probably running a control group,] Tom signed, stretching lazily. He knew Newt kept a wild Obscurus locked up in that zoo of his.
Actually, this thing makes a pretty fun toy, Tom thought to himself. Maybe I should tweak it and give it to the Weasley twins to mass-produce. Hogwarts desperately needs a better beverage selection.
Before long, Newt popped back out of the suitcase. Mimicking Tom, he grabbed some glasses and dispensed three servings of liquid.
Except this time...
"Why is this one glowing red?" Newt asked, eyeing the violently crimson liquid. Still, for the sake of science, he picked up the glass and tossed it back like a shot of whiskey.
He moved so fast that Tom didn't even have time to stop him. (Whether Tom actually couldn't stop him, or just wanted to see what would happen, was a secret he'd take to the grave.)
"HSSSSSAAAHHH!"
The next second, Newt's jaw unhinged and a massive gout of literal fire erupted from his mouth. If Norberta had been there, she would have thought he was her real dad!
"Jimki!" Newt roared between violent, coughing bursts of flame. "Get me some milk! Now!"
With a loud crack, a house-elf appeared holding a tall glass of milk. "Here you go, sir."
Newt snatched it, chugged the whole thing, and slumped against the table, gasping for air. "Sweet Merlin, that was spicy. Why the hell was it so spicy?!"
[Because that's what pure rage tastes like.]
Tom had tried to dodge the blast, but a patch of his fur was still smoldering. He patted his singed coat, glaring at Newt.
[Judging by the fireball you just puked up, the only emotion left in that thing is blind anger. Let me guess, that was the wild Obscurus you keep locked up?]
"Yeah. It's been so quiet in the case lately, I actually thought it was calming down. I didn't expect..." Newt shook his head, but his eyes were shining with triumph.
"But this proves my theory! A normal Obscurus is born from raw, unstable magic. It's fueled entirely by blind rage, which is why the child can't control it."
"But Ariana's Obscurus is different. Hers acts like a stable magical construct. It's almost like being an Animagus—a controlled, stable transfiguration!"
Newt grabbed the table, practically vibrating with excitement. "Do you know what this means? If we can isolate this process, we can artificially stabilize an Obscurus. It won't be a fatal curse anymore!"
"If we publish this, forget an Order of Merlin, Second Class. They'd hand you a First Class medal on a silver platter!"
Newt was ecstatic. Even with all his legendary contributions to Magizoology, he only held a Second Class medal.
Tom, however, just stared at him with complete apathy.
[That's it? Hard pass.]
He genuinely didn't care. He'd had his fill of medals and titles in his past life. Useless shiny trinkets meant nothing to him. He preferred cold, hard, practical rewards.
Newt was stunned. How could anyone brush off the highest honor in the wizarding world so casually?
Then, remembering who he was talking to, Newt quickly changed tactics. "If this works, the Ministry will have to pay you a massive royalty for the rights to use and distribute the treatment."
"And since this method doesn't just cure Obscurials, but actually empowers them? The amount of Galleons they'd write on that check would be absolutely astronomical—"
Whoosh!
Before Newt could even finish his sentence, Tom blurred across the room and slammed his paws onto Newt's chest, his eyes practically glowing like gold coins.
[Say no more! Let's get this research started immediately!] he signed with aggressive enthusiasm. [And let me be clear—this isn't about the money. I just have a deep, burning passion for helping poor, unfortunate Obscurials!]
Watching the cat pull a complete 180, Ariana couldn't help but shake her head. The speed at which he sells out is honestly terrifying.