Inside the space, Grindelwald was practically grinding his teeth.
This kid, Tom… he had Newt Scamander's personality completely pegged.
Back in the day, wasn't it because Dumbledore trusted Scamander so utterly that Newt had gone all out to help him cause trouble for Grindelwald?
Stupid Scamander! Can't you see this brat is playing you like a fiddle?!
Grindelwald almost laughed out of sheer exasperation.
He'd originally thought Tom was a lot like himself—methodical, domineering at the core. But now? Now he realized Tom was more like Dumbledore.
Just as scheming!
"Mr. Scamander, I came to America this time to find a Thunderbird," Tom said, completely unaware that Grindelwald was mentally cursing him to the high heavens, and steering the conversation back on track.
"Thunderbird…" Newt's face turned hesitant—he thought Tom wanted to kill a Thunderbird.
Thunderbirds were nothing like dragons. As long as you didn't provoke them, they posed almost no threat to humans. Dragons, on the other hand, would occasionally get the urge to vent their temper by torching a nearby human village. Every year, dragon-breeding countries had to invest enormous manpower and resources just to deal with the aftermath.
Newt's expression practically screamed "No way." Tom instantly understood what was going through his mind and explained:
"Mr. Scamander, I don't need to kill or hurt a Thunderbird. I just need to beat it in a contest of speed."
"Oh, I see…" Newt let out a long breath, his expression easing.
But when Tom mentioned he wanted to race a Thunderbird in flight speed, Newt's face twisted again—this time in worry for Tom.
Did Tom have any idea how fast a Thunderbird could fly? At full speed, even the fastest broomstick currently in existence couldn't keep up.
Then Tom suggested something that made Newt's eyelid twitch wildly.
"My thinking is… if I can't beat the big ones, why not pick on the small ones?"
"If you can help me find a Thunderbird that's just hatched, or maybe a chick that can barely fly a hundred kilometers, I'll race that."
It wasn't just Newt who was dumbfounded—Grindelwald and Andros both felt their lips twitch violently.
Sorry, Dumbledore. I take back what I said earlier—this kid isn't like either of us. He's more shameless than both of us put together…
Racing against a newborn bird… How do you even say something like that out loud…
Tom didn't care about their reactions. As long as it didn't slow down his mission, he'd happily race… well, even a half-hatched egg.
The reason he sought out Newt was because Newt had once saved a Thunderbird and had even helped establish the Arizona Sanctuary—he had real influence among Thunderbirds.
Thunderbirds, like dragons, were extremely protective of their chicks and eggs. If Tom tried to steal one himself, he'd end up with an entire flock chasing him down.
In both the wizarding world and the magical creature world, it all came down to connections and reputation.
Newt still thought the idea was a bit shameless, but he had to admit—it was clever. And since it didn't involve harming a Thunderbird, he could actually help.
So he agreed without hesitation.
"Tom, when I visited the sanctuary last year, a few Thunderbirds had just hatched. Judging by their growth rate, they should fit your… criteria now."
"Here's what we'll do—I need to make some preparations. Let's leave in two days. That okay with you?"
"I'm ready anytime," Tom replied with a smile. "Thank you for your help."
Newt shook his head. "It's nothing. I make the trip every summer anyway… to visit that one."
"You mean the Thunderbird you rescued back then?" Tom asked, intrigued.
This wasn't some secret grudge like the one between Newt and Grindelwald—many books recorded that Newt Scamander had saved a Thunderbird from poachers and, together with it, had helped prevent the exposure of the wizarding world.
As for how that crisis came about—well, don't ask.
Newt smiled faintly. "That's the one. Time flies—look at me, old and worn out, and it's only just reached middle age."
Thunderbirds had a long lifespan, easily living 150 years, sometimes even 200—just a bit shorter than the 300-year lifespan of dragons.
"These two days, let's not waste time," Newt continued. "I'll teach you how to get along with Thunderbirds and win their trust. It'll help you a great deal."
"Exactly what I was hoping for," Tom nodded.
They chatted a while longer, and Tom learned quite a bit about Newt's current life.
Newt had a son who had followed in his footsteps to become a magizoologist, constantly traveling the globe. This time, he'd even brought along his grandson, Rolf Scamander. After the summer, Rolf would start his studies at Hogwarts.
No need to guess—he'd be a Hufflepuff, of course.
Tom also mentioned that in August, he planned to visit Nicolas Flamel. Hearing that name, Newt's eyes softened with nostalgia for his impossibly old friend.
Since their meeting in Paris years ago, they'd kept up a strong friendship.
Unfortunately, Newt had been banned for life from entering France by the French Ministry of Magic, so the last time they'd met was thirty years ago at Flamel's home in Devon.
Later, when Voldemort rose to power, Flamel moved back to Paris to avoid trouble, and since then, they'd only corresponded by letter.
Tom was puzzled. "With your experience, sneaking into France to see an old friend shouldn't be that hard, right?"
After all, before coming to New York to see Grindelwald, Newt had already been on the "not welcome" list of dozens of countries, and yet he'd always managed to move around freely. How could his skills have suddenly… declined?
Newt gave an awkward laugh. "The International Confederation of Wizards assigned someone to watch me, so I can't just go wandering around…"
Tom frowned, stretching out his senses again. After a careful sweep, he said gravely, "Mr. Scamander, I didn't sense anyone watching your house on my way here."
Could it be that the MACUSA had hired someone so skilled even he couldn't detect them?
With his soul power tripled and his physical abilities also tripled, it would have to be someone extremely powerful to escape his notice. Snape, for example, wouldn't stand a chance at hiding from him.
Would they really waste such a master just to watch over Newt?
Newt's expression grew even more awkward. His hands fidgeted as he muttered, "It's Tina. She still works at the MACUSA in a special capacity… and she's the one assigned to watch me."
Tom: "…"
"Mrs. Goldstein certainly… still has plenty of vigor," Tom coughed lightly, quickly changing the subject. "By the way, the unicorns have shown some new changes recently."
Half an hour later, the elderly lady in question—Tina, official keeper of Newt Scamander—finally came home…