— — — — — —
Fifteen minutes later, Tom trudged back, dragging the wings of two young Thunderbirds with a gloomy look on his face.
"No luck?" Newt didn't even need to ask—Tom's expression said it all.
"Didn't even make it thirty kilometers," Tom grumbled, tossing the two little ones back to their parents. "They ran out of energy halfway and didn't even have the strength to fly back."
"They need to finish the race. At least a hundred kilometers…"
He had underestimated the challenge this time. Maybe he was pushing the limits of shamelessness—or maybe even the system itself couldn't stand him anymore. Either way, there hadn't been any signs that the trial was about to begin.
Still, it was fine. Over the past few days, Tom had figured out the inner workings of the Thunderbird population. Their ecosystem was healthy, with birds of all ages around. He just needed to work his way up slowly—he'd eventually find a weak enough opponent he could beat.
"Pffft—"
Newt couldn't help but laugh in exasperation. He'd suspected from the beginning that Tom's plan was a bit of a stretch, but it was Tom's cheat... uh no talent, and it wasn't his place to interfere.
"...I have an idea."
Tom only stayed discouraged for a moment before bouncing back, determination reigniting in his eyes.
---
Back at their base, Tom spent the whole night reworking his approach and came up with a new plan.
This time, instead of picking out a few specific Thunderbirds, he expanded his target group to include all birds between three and fifteen years old. He'd bond with them all and train their competitive instincts together—no more quitting halfway.
Once he'd won them over, Tom ran wild with his little Thunderbird gang. The older Thunderbirds didn't even bother interfering. In fact, at some point, he'd basically become the unofficial 'Boss Baby' of the entire flock.
"Tom, you've been cooped up here for nearly ten days. How about coming out for a walk with me?"
Newt was starting to worry. This kid was pushing himself way too hard. When he wasn't wrangling Thunderbirds, he was studying. And if he wasn't doing that, he was zoning out or sleeping—though Newt suspected even that wasn't real rest. He didn't know about the Study Space yet… but he was getting close.
Anyway it was 100% unhealthy.
Sure, a love of learning was great, but it shouldn't come at the cost of a childhood. So Newt—introverted old man that he was—worked up the courage to ask Tom to come along to town. For the sake of his mental health, it was worth the effort.
Tom had been lost in thought, working through spell fusion theory, but paused when he saw the concern in Newt's eyes. A beat later, he understood exactly what Newt was worried about.
"Sounds good. I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said something. Just give me a sec to let the Thunderbirds know I'm heading out."
He stood up at the edge of the cliff and flew off.
---
By midday, Tom and Newt had arrived in Thunderbird Town.
They'd stayed here once before, just for a night. Tom had only followed Newt around to buy food, so today was a chance to really look around.
Their first stop was the statue at the center of town. Without a care in the world, Tom whipped out a magical camera and asked Newt to take a picture of him with the statue.
Newt's embarrassment levels skyrocketed.
In the end, it took a thinly veiled threat (Spoiler: Tom mentioning Tina's name) for Newt to grudgingly snap a few awkward, half-turned photos with his head down.
Luckily, magical photos could be edited, or else the results would've been downright tragic.
Even worse, Tom made Newt take a photo with the statue himself. That shot was guaranteed to go down in history as one of Newt's rare moments of blackmail material.
...
Around the square, there were not only shops but also several small stalls where people had wheeled in carts to sell things.
Tom wandered up to one stall where the vendor had laid out all kinds of feathers, bone tools, and weird eyeballs.
"Looking to take home a souvenir?" the stall owner said enthusiastically. "Everything here's from the reserve—Thunderbird feathers, daggers made from their teeth, even their eyes."
He leaned in and whispered like it was some kind of top-secret deal. "That eyeball right there? Took me ages to get. It can detect friend or foe. Fifty Galleons, and I'll let you have one."
Tom laughed—really laughed. He was that annoyed.
Did this guy seriously think he could scam him that easily? Mr. scammer reminded him of a certain people from a certain country—full of online scammers.
The feathers were dull and lifeless—no Thunderbird would have feathers that gray and frayed. The "teeth" were obviously made from rhino horn. And the eye? Come on. If you're going to fake a magical creature's eye, at least use something impressive—an eagle's, a hawk's... anything but a pigeon's eye with a simple enlargement charm slapped on it!
Newt said nothing. He knew Tom wouldn't fall for such a clumsy trick, so he didn't even bother to step in.
Just as Tom was about to walk away, a balding middle-aged wizard excitedly elbowed past Newt and rushed up to the vendor.
"I heard everything! You said that's a Thunderbird eye, and it can detect hostility?"
"Absolutely!" the vendor said, thumping his chest. "Guaranteed authentic. If it's fake, I'll pay you ten times back."
Tom could only stare in disbelief as the gullible wizard nodded eagerly and handed over the money.
"Give me one. If I find out you scammed me, I'll come back and deal with you."
"Don't worry, sir. You've got my word."
The vendor beamed as he pocketed the cash. The man left with his prize, looking like he'd just bought a treasure.
"Only one left now, kid. Sure you don't want it?"
Tom waved him off. "Nah. I guess Thunderbird eyeballs and I just aren't meant to be. You'll have to wait for someone else."
Ignoring the seller's pleas, Tom walked away with Newt in tow, while the vendor sighed dramatically—if only he could sell the rest of this junk, he could pack up and move to the next town to continue his scam.
"People are really getting harder to scam these days... Whatever time to run from here."
— — —
They strolled through the streets, walking side-by-side.
"Did you feel that?" Tom asked.
Newt nodded. "Yeah. He warned me."
A Bowtruckle peeked its head out of Newt's pocket—those little creatures were extremely sensitive to magical fluctuations. It's how they always found the most magically potent trees in any forest.
"Looks like someone is targeting you," Tom said with a grin.
When that balding wizard had shoved past Newt earlier, he'd subtly cast a tracking charm on him—probably thought no one noticed. Unfortunately for him, both Tom and Newt had picked up on it immediately.
Newt had his creature's warning. Tom just had a soul pure enough to sense it on his own.
And now, Newt was angry.
He could deal with being targeted. Over the years, he'd caused plenty of trouble for poachers and even pureblood families, so he was used to being watched. It had been quiet lately, and honestly, he'd found that more suspicious than anything.
But today, he'd finally managed to convince Tom to come out for some fresh air—and now this happened.
It felt like he'd dragged Tom into it.
"Tom, when the attack starts, I'll open the case. You jump in immediately. Leave the rest to me," Newt said quietly, his tone more serious than usual.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Come on, Mr. Scamander. I fought off a dragon, remember? You really think I'd be scared of a few shady wizards?"
Newt paused—then remembered exactly who he was talking to.
Right. This was Tom. The kid who tamed a dragon and even killed one.
"But you're still just a kid."
"Exactly," Tom said with a smirk. "That's why I need to experience more. If I don't see how brutal the wizarding world can be now, what am I gonna do when something real goes down later?"
Newt opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. Even if he had three tongues, he couldn't out-argue Tom.
…So, he gave up and let him have his way.
The two didn't immediately leave Thunderbird Town—that would've looked too suspicious. Plus, there weren't many places to hide in the desert during the day. They were worried their stalkers wouldn't take the bait if things seemed too convenient. So, they stuck to the original plan.
Tom basically wandered through every shop in the tiny town, picking up all kinds of souvenirs: a Thunderbird model, a quill made from genuine Thunderbird feathers, and even a crystal ball supposedly able to capture the awe-inspiring power of a Thunderbird calling down the storm.
That evening, after stuffing themselves full of Texas BBQ, they finally strolled out of town and hopped on their brooms, flying off into the night sky.
Summer in Arizona was no joke. Even after dark, the wind that whipped past them while flying still carried a dry, suffocating heat.
They kept a low altitude, barely ten meters off the ground. Half an hour passed without incident…
…until they crossed a wide plain dotted with scattered stone pillars.
Suddenly, the ground split open—and beams of light shot toward them.
Tom reacted instantly, leaping off his broom and switching to a flight charm. Black wings flared open, and he dodged the oncoming spells with smooth, practiced movements.
It looked like he wasn't even the main target—those spells seemed like stray shots, maybe misfires. Newt, on the other hand, had at least three times as many spells coming at him and more deadly.
Yanking his broom upward to slow down, Newt reached into his coat pocket just as a serpent-bird—an enormous Occamy—burst out, rapidly expanding until its scaly body was thicker than an ancient tree.
The Occamy coiled around Newt protectively, deflecting the spells with ease. The attackers' magic didn't leave so much as a scratch on its shimmering scales—in fact, it only made the creature angrier.
Once Newt touched down safely, the Occamy lunged forward with a roar, tail whipping hard enough to scatter the enemy formation.
Newt opened his case, and the moment it hit the ground, his magical creatures surged out, already geared for battle. A Graphorn, three Kneazles, and a Nundu.
Tom? He just raised a hand and summoned a blazing fireball that streaked down like a meteor, lighting up the night—and revealing the situation.
The Occamy had pinned two of the ambushers, while the Nundu engaged another pair. The Graphorn moved slowly but purposefully, its massive hooves pinning one man as it simply stood there, unmoving and unbothered. The three Kneazles kept multiplying and darting around, completely overwhelming the last three attackers with sheer chaos.
That's eight wizards, and there were three more, closing in fast on brooms.
Seeing that Newt had the situation well in hand, Tom turned his attention to the incoming three.
With a powerful flap of his wings, he launched himself toward them. The broom-riding wizards fired spells at him, but Tom weaved around them with ease. Within seconds, he closed the gap and grabbed the throat of the nearest one, yanking him off his broom and slamming him into the ground.
The impact knocked the guy out cold.
"Lyan!" one of the others shouted.
Tom's ears perked up.
That accent—German?
He mentally filed that detail away as he continued moving without pause.
With a flick and spin of his wand, one of the nearby stone pillars jerked to life. Two offshoots twisted into arms that swung at the wizards like clubs, their spiked palms looking brutal.
The wizard who had just shouted dove off his broom at the last second, momentum still sending him tumbling across the ground in a messy roll—but at least he'd dodged the blow.
His unlucky companion wasn't so fortunate. Trying to zip away on his broom, he swerved a bit too slow—his body made it clear, but one arm didn't. A massive spike speared right through it, lifting him off the broom and into the air.
"FUUUCK!!!"
His scream tore through the night.
Tom followed up with a Blasting Curse that shattered another wizard's Shield Charm—and hidden within the blast was a Stunning Spell that landed cleanly.
In just a few seconds, the reinforcements had been taken out more quickly than the original ambushers.
Tom didn't kill them. He wanted answers—wanted to know who sent them after Newt. So he tied them up and confiscated their wands.
By the time he flew back, Newt was finishing up on his end. He and his creatures worked together with such fluid synergy that the remaining enemies, already overwhelmed, had no chance. One by one, they went down.
Only one remained—a middle-aged wizard, clearly the strongest of the group. He'd kept apparating mid-fight to escape being pinned. But the moment Tom arrived, he cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx over the area.
The man didn't last long after that. The Occamy wound itself tightly around him, locking him in place.
Newt and Tom didn't knock him out—he was the only one still conscious, and they needed answers.
The man glared furiously at Newt, who frowned, troubled by the hostility.
"Sir," Newt said calmly, "I don't believe we've met. And I've certainly never had dealings with your group."
The man snarled, teeth clenched. "Scamander… it doesn't matter if it's fifty years or a hundred. The Acolytes will never forgive you!"
Newt's face fell.
Tom's expression twisted slightly too.
"Acolytes?" he muttered.
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