North America's wizarding population was far larger than Britain's—several times larger, in fact—and with its vast territory, it was inevitable that the Magical Congress's grip would be weaker. Having regional centers was only natural.
"I've got a house here," Newt said. "We'll be staying there for the next while."
But then he noticed Tom had stopped walking. Following the boy's gaze, Newt's expression froze… and then his face flushed red.
"That… that is—"
Tom grinned. "What's there to be embarrassed about? You should be proud."
What Tom was looking at was a towering brass statue: a Thunderbird bowing its head, and a young wizard with a suitcase in one hand, reaching out to stroke it with the other.
No need to guess—this was to commemorate the day Newt had rescued a Thunderbird from poachers.
"They made far too much fuss over it," Newt muttered awkwardly. "I only did what anyone should do…"
"You're far too modest," Tom said, shaking his head. "Doing what's right is already a rare quality. But in this case—it's something most people could never dream of doing."
Newt quickened his pace. If Tom kept praising him, his skin might just peel right off.
…
Newt's local property was a two-story house with a back garden, looking no different from the neighboring homes.
He had places like this all over the world—some deep in remote forests, some in bustling cities—but they all shared one thing in common: magical creatures nearby that had once crossed paths with him.
The Scamanders were hardly short on money. Newt could take the smallest amount of rare material to market and walk away with a fortune.
Take, for example, the juice Tom had collected from a Jarvey the other day—worth ten times the venom of an Acromantula.
Once the beds were made, Newt came over. "Let's rest today. Tomorrow we'll head into the Sanctuary."
"Will we come back here afterward?" Tom asked.
"Normally I Apparate back," Newt said after a moment's thought. "But if we run into special circumstances, we might end up camping."
"Then let's stock up on some food."
Newt agreed. They went to local pubs and restaurants, buying plenty of hot dishes, sealing them with magic so they'd stay fresh for days.
Tom handled all the talking. The old man—ever the introvert—couldn't even bring himself to step inside the busier shops.
Tom was starting to suspect Uncle Newt had brought him along mainly as a… diplomatic envoy.
…
The night passed without event. At dawn the next day, Newt and Tom arrived at the Sanctuary's entrance, where Congress Aurors were stationed to check visitors.
The moment the wizard inspecting documents saw Newt Scamander, his expression turned respectful—and eager.
To Tom's surprise, the man pulled out the latest edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
"Mr. Scamander, I'm a huge fan! I've bought every edition of your book. I've been hoping you'd pass through while I was on duty—could you sign it for me?"
The sudden enthusiasm left Newt utterly flustered. Tom, seeing him freeze, quickly pulled him aside and took the book from the Auror.
"Of course he can sign—just give us a moment."
Once again acting as middleman, Tom waited for Newt to finish the autograph before handing the book back. With that, they were waved through into the Sanctuary.
With no outsiders around, Newt relaxed again. He pulled out two Nimbus 2000s, handing one to Tom, and together they swept across the vast wilderness, diving deeper in.
The Sanctuary was mostly high-altitude desert, located in the middle section of the world-famous Grand Canyon. Towering above the land were massive saguaro cacti—the only giant species in the cactus family. In ordinary places, they reached thirty meters. But here, perhaps under the influence of magic, thirty-meter saguaros were everywhere, and fifty-meter ones were not uncommon.
The two flew fast, crossing ridge after ridge, until they reached the top of the canyon, then followed it northward.
The sky grew steadily darker, with flickers of lightning rolling through the clouds.
"SCREEEEE!"
Thunder split the air. A piercing cry echoed from afar, and the sky suddenly flared with light. From the roiling clouds emerged a pure white figure.
Tom's eyes lit up.
The Thunderbird… was magnificent.