Fifteen minutes later, Tom trudged back, shoulders slumped, dragging the wings of two small Thunderbirds in each hand.
"Didn't work out?" Newt, seeing his expression, had already guessed the result.
Tom, clearly annoyed, returned the two little ones to their parents. "We didn't even make it thirty kilometers before they were so exhausted they could barely flap home."
"They have to finish the race, right? At least a hundred kilometers," Newt reminded.
This time Tom had underestimated the challenge—and perhaps pushed his shamelessness too far. Maybe even the trial itself couldn't bear to watch him cheat; there hadn't been the slightest sign that the trial had even started.
But Tom didn't mind much. Over the past few days, he had learned the ins and outs of the Thunderbird flock. Their ecosystem was healthy, with birds of every age. All he had to do was slowly raise his demands until he found the weakest possible opponent.
Newt could only smile helplessly. He had thought Tom's plan was unreliable from the start, but it was the boy's talent—an outsider had no say in how it was used. And now, seeing they weren't all that different in their stubbornness, he simply let it be.
Tom only looked dejected for a moment before his fighting spirit reignited, so Newt didn't bother with comfort.
That night, back in the Thunderbird sanctuary, Tom buried himself in research and by morning had chosen a new target.
This time he wasn't picking just a couple of specific Thunderbirds—he included all between the ages of three and fifteen. He would befriend them, train them in competition awareness, and make sure none gave up halfway.
Once he got close to them, Tom could wander around with the young Thunderbirds without any of the adults interfering.
"Tom, you've been here almost ten days. How about coming out with me for a stroll?"
Newt thought the boy was pushing himself too hard—if he wasn't training Thunderbirds, he was studying, or else sitting in a daze (which was actually just more studying—spatial magic, no less).
That wasn't good. Studying was fine, but losing all of one's childhood joy over it? Not fine. So Newt had decided to invite Tom into town. For the sake of Tom's mental health, even the socially-awkward old man was willing to push himself.
Tom was in the middle of pondering spell fusion when he froze, catching the concern in Newt's eyes. One quick thought, and he understood exactly what Newt was worried about. He agreed without hesitation.
"Sure. Honestly, I hadn't noticed. Give me a sec to tell the Thunderbirds, then we can go."
He stood up from the cliff edge and flew off toward the horizon.
By midday, Tom and Newt arrived in Thunderbird Town.
They'd spent one night here before, but that time Tom had only followed Newt to buy food—no sightseeing. Today would make up for that.
Their first stop was the central statue of the town. Without a hint of shame, Tom pulled out his magical camera and asked Newt to take a picture of him with it. Newt's face burned with embarrassment; he only agreed after Tom threatened to tell Tina, snapping a few awkward side-angled shots while barely looking.
Thankfully, magical photos could be edited, or the results would have been unspeakable.
Even worse, Tom made Newt take a picture with the statue. That one would surely go down as one of Newt's rare blackmail-worthy moments in history.
The plaza was ringed with shops and vendors pushing carts piled with goods.
Tom wandered up to one cart, which displayed beautiful feathers, bone-crafted trinkets, and odd-looking eyeballs.
"Want to take some souvenirs home?" the stall owner asked enthusiastically. "All from the reserve—Thunderbird feathers, daggers made from Thunderbird teeth that still carry a bit of their lightning, and… Thunderbird eyes."
Lowering his voice, the man added mysteriously, "This one was hard to get. It can tell friend from foe. Fifty Galleons, and it's yours."
Tom almost laughed out loud—more out of sheer disbelief.
What did this guy take him for, some gullible tourist?
The "Thunderbird feather" was dull gray and lifeless. The "Thunderbird teeth" were clearly rhinoceros teeth—pull a rhino's tooth, smear on some potion, and in a month you've got more. As for the "Thunderbird eye"… please. If you're going to fake it, at least use an eagle or a hawk. Not a pigeon eye with an Enlargement Charm slapped on!
Newt said nothing—he knew Tom wouldn't fall for it and saw no need to interfere.
But just as Tom was about to turn away, a balding wizard squeezed past Newt, eyes lighting up.
"I heard you say that's a Thunderbird's eye? And it can sense hostility?"
"Absolutely, genuine, guaranteed—fake it and I'll pay you ten times back!" the vendor swore, pounding his chest.
The balding wizard nodded rapidly, pulled out the coins, and handed them over without a second thought. "I'll take one. If I find out you lied, I'll be back for you."
"Don't worry, my friend. You'll be fine," the vendor said, grinning ear to ear as the man walked away clutching his prize.
"Only one left now, kid. You sure you don't want it?"
Tom shook his head. "Nah. Me and Thunderbird eyes just don't have that kind of fate. Wait for your next 'fated customer.'"
Without another glance, he pulled Newt away, leaving the vendor sighing. If he could just sell off this batch, he'd move on to the next town to scam fresh faces.
Walking side by side down the street, Tom spoke without looking at Newt.
"You feel it too?"
"Mm. I got the warning," Newt murmured.
A Bowtruckle peeked its head out from Newt's pocket—it was highly sensitive to magical fluctuations, perfect for finding the strongest magical trees in a forest.
"Looks like they're here for you," Tom said with a teasing grin.
When that balding wizard had brushed past Newt, he'd cast a Tracking Charm on him, thinking it had gone unnoticed. But both Tom and Newt had caught it instantly.
Newt had his "physical cheat codes." Tom… well, Tom simply had a soul of exceptionally high caliber.
Newt wasn't sure what to say. Even for him, a bit of anger stirred.
It wasn't unusual—plenty of poachers and even pure-blood families had suffered heavy losses because of him. Being targeted was normal; in fact, it had happened so rarely in recent years that it almost felt strange.
But today, of all days, when he'd finally convinced Tom to come out and relax, trouble had found them anyway. That made Newt feel like he'd dragged the boy into danger.
"Tom, when they show themselves, I'll open the case. You get inside right away, and I'll handle the rest," Newt said softly, more serious than usual.
Tom just curled his lip. "Come on, Newt. I've taken down a dragon—do you really think I'm scared of a few wizards?"
Newt blinked—then remembered Tom's rather impressive battle record.