As Wayne and the others made their way towards the Thunderbird's nest, the undercurrents beneath the calm surface grew increasingly turbulent.
Like the Unicorn, every part of a Thunderbird was valuable, and the largest population of Thunderbirds in the world resided in the Arizona reserve.
During ordinary times, most poachers wouldn't dare entertain any ideas.
From a purely combative standpoint, a single adult Thunderbird was more than a match for three or five average wizards. Even a group of ten highly trained wizards would struggle to overpower one.
Even if outmatched, Thunderbirds possessed innate abilities that made them exceedingly difficult to capture.
Few wizards mastered flight magic, let alone the ability to cast offensive spells mid-flight.
Pursuing them on flying broomsticks was futile, as Thunderbirds could summon storms and lightning at will, manipulating the weather to make a swift escape.
There was only one exception—the period when the Thunderbirds were nesting. The females, weakened from laying eggs, saw their combat prowess and agility diminish significantly. Meanwhile, the males, protective of their mates, refused to flee, presenting the perfect opportunity for capture.
Despite knowing that Aurors and officials from the Magical Congress of the United States would be present to maintain order and protect the Thunderbirds, many poachers still flocked to the reserve annually, lured by the potential rewards.
Scavenging leftover materials counted as a modest gain, while killing a Thunderbird and plundering its body was a major windfall.
But capturing a juvenile Thunderbird or successfully hatching an egg? That would ensure a lifetime of financial freedom.
Deep within the dense forest, over a dozen hooded wizards gathered in a hastily dug cavern.
Their hoods were enchanted, shrouded in an impenetrable darkness that concealed their identities from the outside world.
The wizards maintained a cautious distance from one another, a clear indication that they belonged to different factions.
"Twenty-three Aurors and fourteen scholars, many of whom are formidable in their own right," came a slightly hoarse voice. "With such a strong force present, should we still proceed with the original plan?"
"Of course," replied a wizard standing at the innermost part of the cavern, his tone indifferent. "Our target isn't the Aurors or the experts—it's the Thunderbirds."
"As long as we succeed and retreat swiftly, we'll only have to face five or six at most."
The same hoarse voice spoke again: "Newt Scamander is here."
The cavern fell into an abrupt silence, the atmosphere growing tense.
Several heads lifted, and someone asked, "Is the intel reliable?"
"He was spotted at the Blazing Tavern, accompanied by a child—likely a descendant."
Newt Scamander.
Among poachers, this name carried far greater weight than it did in the outside world. They hunted magical creatures; he protected them. Their paths were destined to cross.
Scamander was formidable—a survivor of the Global Wizarding War, his combat experience rivalled that of seasoned Aurors.
Poachers, who typically relied on sheer numbers to intimidate even the most veteran Aurors, found little comfort in their advantage when it came to Scamander.
Because his true terror lay not in his own abilities, but in the battered suitcase that rarely left his side. You never knew what might crawl out of that peculiar suitcase.
The best example was fifteen years ago when hundreds of poachers from around the world gathered in Africa, all for the sake of capturing a pair of wild Nundus.
Then Scamander showed up, opened his case, and unleashed two Chimaeras, a Lethifold, three dragons, and over a dozen Manticores.
The result of that battle? Three poachers died on the spot, over twenty were captured, and many lost limbs, though some were lucky enough to escape.
Ever since, wherever Newt appeared, these poachers became as cautious as they could possibly be.
At the first sign of trouble, they immediately Apparated away.
Even now, hearing Scamander's name, some of the poachers were already having second thoughts.
"What's there to fear about him?" The same flippant voice from earlier now spoke through gritted teeth.
"There's still time. I'll go call for more men. The moment we snatch a Thunderbird chick, I'm leaving immediately!"
"If you can't prove you have the strength for this, I'm withdrawing from the operation," a hoarse voice declared before Apparating away.
After he left, several others also vanished.
Meanwhile, on another hill not far away, the hooded figure who had led the departure reappeared, where another group awaited him.
Pulling back his hood, he revealed a rugged face.
Someone spoke up: "Simmons, well? Did that fool Dylan take the bait?"
Simmons—the hooded man—sneered. "Of course. He's gone back to gather more men. That'll take some of the pressure off us."
"Damn Scamander. If he hadn't interfered, we wouldn't be in this mess."
"I heard he brought some brat along. If we get the chance, we'll take him out too—consider it payback."
"Agreed!"
The others all flashed vicious looks.
...
With the Thunderbird's help, Wayne and the others quickly reached the Thunderbird's nest at the mountain peak.
The closer they got, the more violent the lightning in the sky became.
Though they were birds with nesting habits, Thunderbirds were far too large to nest in trees; instead, they made their homes in caves.
Wayne hopped down from the Thunderbird and patted its head as a reward.
Newt grinned. "Thanks to you, Wayne, we've saved a lot of effort."
The others nodded in agreement.
"Lawrence, would you be interested in transferring to Beauxbatons?"
Madame Maxime, growing fonder of Wayne by the minute, extended the invitation outright: "Transfer, and all the school's resources will be open to you. I'll even introduce you to Nicolas Flamel—you must know of him, the greatest Alchemist in the world, who's lived over six hundred years."
"After graduation, I'll arrange for you to join the Ministry of Magic. You could rise quickly, even become Minister for Magic—it's not an impossible dream."
"Oh, and our school has no shortage of beauties—including a part-Veela."
"Maxime!" Lafferty hastily cut in, even dropping to surnames in his urgency.
"I believe Mr Lawrence would be far better suited to Ilvermorny," Lafferty said eagerly, gazing at Wayne. "Mr Lawrence, if you're willing to join Ilvermorny, you can choose any of our four houses. We also have considerable influence within MACUSA."
"I've got a daughter too, undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in school—no less stunning than a pure-blood Veela."
"Lafferty," Maxime frowned, "that's most ungentlemanly. I extended the invitation first."
"There's no such thing as first-come, first-served," Lafferty waved his hand dismissively. "I simply think Ilvermorny offers better prospects for Mr Lawrence's development."
"Look at his connection with the Thunderbird! He's practically born to be in Thunderbird House!"
Under Newt's dumbfounded stare, the two began quarrelling.
Extraordinary talents always manifest in remarkable ways. If nothing else, the fact that Wayne had earned such intimacy and obedience from the Thunderbird King already marked him as exceptional.
Moreover, Newt had just pointed out that Wayne possessed the same affinity for magical creatures as himself.
Even if his magical abilities were poor, this innate gift could make him the next Scamander.
If they didn't act now, when would they?
"Wait!"
After a long while, seeing their argument intensify rather than subside, Newt finally snapped out of his daze and interjected: "Who said anything about Wayne transferring schools? He's perfectly happy at Hogwarts—he's a Hufflepuff through and through."
"Wayne isn't going anywhere!"
If Dumbledore found out Wayne had been poached by another school during a simple visit here...
Would he storm into New York, wielding the Elder Wand for a 'chat'?
No, Sprout would probably come charging in too. Hufflepuff rarely produced such prodigies—he'd be the whole house's treasure.
Newt shot Wayne a pleading look, urging him to refuse.
Wayne appeared deep in thought...
After a lengthy pause, he murmured: "Is she really that beautiful?"
What?
Newt was utterly flabbergasted.
Seeing the comical expression on Newt's face, Wayne couldn't help but laugh.
"Just joking, Madame Maxime, Mr Lafferty. I'm quite content at Hogwarts and have no intention of transferring. But I appreciate your kind offers."
"We could still negotiate..." The two persisted, but Newt, thoroughly alarmed, grabbed Wayne and made a swift exit.
They quickly pitched a tent, not to sleep in, but to access Newt's magical case. Truth be told, Newt's home was rather... eccentric.
"Wayne, don't let those two tempt you. Hogwarts is absolutely the best school for you," Newt reminded him before turning in, making Wayne chuckle at his earnestness.
He'd only been teasing. Although...
Half-Veelas...
Wayne recalled that Fleur had a younger sister. That meant two half-Veelas. Double the delight!
Meanwhile, Hermione, vacationing in distant Provence, and Cho, visiting relatives, simultaneously shivered without reason.
...
The next day...
Newt and Wayne set to work.
During the breeding period, the female Thunderbird's body weakens, and past injuries may resurface. Newt needed to help examine them.
"Take these potions," Newt said, pulling out over a dozen bottles filled with blue liquid and handing them to Wayne.
"This is a nutrient solution to replenish the Thunderbird's strength. Laying eggs is exhausting work."
"Wayne, it's all up to you now."
These nutrient solutions had been hastily prepared yesterday morning.
It wasn't that they hadn't thought of it before—they simply hadn't been able to administer them. Thunderbirds during egg-laying are extremely wary; apart from their mates, any creature attempting to approach would face a storm of attacks.
Only Wayne's performance yesterday had given Newt a glimmer of hope. If they could get the Thunderbirds to absorb these nutrients, it would significantly improve the hatching success rate.
The two rode their flying broomsticks to the nearest nest.
A slightly smaller Thunderbird than yesterday's blocked the entrance, but greeted Wayne warmly.
When Wayne expressed his intention to feed its mate, the bird immediately stepped aside.
Newt slipped in under Wayne's cover, but getting close to the brooding female was out of the question—two pairs of sharp eyes fixed on him unwaveringly.
He could only watch as Wayne approached alone, gently stroking here and there.
"Two bottles will be enough," Newt whispered, careful not to provoke any misunderstanding.
Wayne opened the lids, deftly using Transfiguration to turn the jars into large bowls for easier consumption.
He sniffed—the mixture contained a fair amount of dragon blood.
For most magical creatures, dragon blood is the finest tonic. The two bottles of nutrient solution were quickly drained, and the female's condition visibly improved as she affectionately nuzzled Wayne.
Seizing the opportunity, he collected several shed feathers and fragments of eggshell before leaving with Newt.
"This is truly incredible," Newt murmured. Even with his suspicions, witnessing it firsthand still felt surreal.
"You're the first person I've ever known who can approach Thunderbirds during their pregnancy."
"Just lucky, I suppose," Wayne deflected, unable to offer a proper explanation.
Newt chuckled and let the matter drop.
...
The entire morning was spent administering nutrient solutions to five egg-laying Thunderbirds. Two of them had additional complications, for which Newt had prepared corresponding potions, again relying on Wayne to feed them.
By the time they returned to camp, three young Thunderbirds trailed behind them. Barely hatched and roughly the size of eagles, they chirped incessantly around Wayne, refusing to leave.
Newt couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy.
He had always been the one surrounded by magical creatures—until Wayne came along and changed everything.
"What's next?"
"We wait. Once the eggs are laid, we'll do another check, and then we can leave."
"Will it take long?" Wayne asked, worried about missing the start of the term. If so, he'd have to request leave.
"No." Newt shook his head. "Two days at most. With luck, we might even make it back to New York for New Year's."
In the afternoon, Newt set up a grill and pulled two prime beef ribs from his suitcase. The two ate and chatted, with Newt recounting how he had caused quite a stir during his first trip to America when releasing a Thunderbird back into the wild.
Most importantly, he had met Tina.
Halfway through their meal, Maxime, Lafferty, and Lester arrived.
Wayne glanced at Lester.
The man hadn't spoken a single word since yesterday—how could someone like that even be a professor?
Did he teach in sign language?
Maxime also asked Wayne if he would sell her some of the materials he had just gathered. After some thought, Wayne decided to sell her a portion.
Beauxbatons held significant influence over France, Spain, and several neighbouring countries, so maintaining good relations with Maxime would greatly benefit him.
A true great wizard not only needed formidable power but also the corresponding influence.
Wayne needed to start building his network.
But he wouldn't go out of his way to curry favour—selling some at the regular price would suffice. Beauxbatons wasn't short on funds, after all.
Both parties were satisfied with the arrangement.
As night fell, a chorus of cries echoed from the Thunderbirds' nests. Unlike laying eggs, this process would last several hours. The storm in the sky grew increasingly violent, and Wayne yawned—it seemed he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.
He pulled out a vial of Calming Draught and handed it to Newt.
The old man was getting on in years, and Pepper-Up Potion was too strong for him. The gentler Calming Draught was just right.
Newt thanked him and downed the blue liquid in one gulp, then pulled out his notebook to jot something down.
Suddenly—
A series of magical fireworks erupted from the foot of the mountain, visible from their high vantage point.
Lafferty's expression shifted slightly.
"Poachers. Don't worry, the Aurors will handle it."
Neither Newt nor Maxime showed any reaction—they had weathered far greater storms, and this little commotion wasn't enough to faze them.
But then, the battle grew increasingly intense. Flames surged skyward, spells flew in all directions, and the sharp cracks of Apparition could be heard intermittently.
Just as Maxime frowned, about to say something, Lester abruptly drew his wand and aimed it at her.
"Avada Kedavra!"