The Pig-Feeding Plan
Tom asked, "What if they can't help me?"
"If they really can't help you..." The once arrogant Dark Lord sighed softly.
"Never mind then. Once you've fully risen to power, for my sake, just let their bloodline continue."
Tom had no reason to refuse this request, so he immediately nodded in agreement. The main reason was that the ideas of the Acolyte were much more reliable than those of the Death Eater.
They advocated for wizards to rule the world, considering all wizards as their own, allowing them to perform spells openly without having to hide.
Tom muttered to himself: If he were Muggle, he would definitely think Gellert Grindelwald was a terrorist.
But he was a wizard, and he actually found this ideal quite appealing; there was nothing wrong with it.
Many people oppose Gellert Grindelwald, either because they think he's evil, or because they fear he'll cause trouble.
Why risk getting yourself killed when you can just stay put? If it were a lunatic like Bellatrix or Barty Crouch Jr.., even if they were usable, Tom would find them disgusting.
Seeing that Tom agreed, Gellert Grindelwald finally felt relieved, and a smile returned to his face.
"Hey, Gellert Grindelwald, tell me, how did that old man capture you back then? Did he release Fantastic Beasts to bite you?"
Once the serious business was over, Andros immediately came over to watch the show, his eyes lighting up.
Gellert Grindelwald's smile froze instantly, his lips twitching. What had he done to deserve having such a roommate and colleague?
"I was captured by a husband-and-wife team, what do you know, you single dog?" Gellert Grindelwald glared at Andros, then withdrew his thoughts and returned directly to Nurmengard.
Andros's smile vanished instantly, while Tom, on the other hand, laughed so hard he almost couldn't stand up straight. When Mr. Graham got sarcastic, he was even more scathing Snape.
The Acolyte's affair was just a minor incident; once the appointment for August 20th was set, Tom completely forgot about it.
His mind was completely focused on the Fourth Trial; nothing else mattered.
The next day, Newt Scamander went to Thunderbird Town again, ostensibly to "fish for the tail".
I want to wipe out the remaining followers of the Acolyte all at once to avoid future trouble.
Tom stayed on the mountaintop to continue his fierce battle with the Thunderbird.
The trials were not something that could be accomplished overnight. Tom grouped the Thunderbird by age and tested them one group at a time.
He had already passed on the three-year-old Thunderbird; it was too unruly. Halfway through its flight, it was attracted by a passing eagle and chased after it until it disappeared from sight.
The five-year-olds were talented enough, but as soon as Tom sped up, they turned around and flew back to their nest to find their mother.
Tom stood on the ground, watching the Thunderbird's retreating figure, hands on his hips, silent for a long time, while Newt Scamander beside him suppressed a laugh.
Finally, he settled on the ten-year-old group. Tom gritted his teeth, thinking to himself, "I can't go any higher. Anyone higher is older than me, and it wouldn't be honorable to win!"
When the talent activated, the system panel flashed, and the Roman numeral IV lit up at the entrance of the fourth palace. But then, a problem arose: Tom himself messed up.
His current fastest flight speed is 320 kilometers per hour, while the speeds of the Thunderbird in the ten-year group are between 350 and 380 kilometers per hour.
These Thunderbird are already considered young; in another five years they will reach adulthood, not only flying fast but also capable of influencing celestial phenomena.
They were already slower than others, and they also had to be wary of lightning strikes from the sky at any moment.
After flying 100 kilometers, Tom was more than ten kilometers behind, a clear and decisive defeat. By the time he landed, the Thunderbird were already in their nest eating lightning nuts.
With no other option, Tom had to temporarily put the competition on hold and focus all his attention on studying the fusion of the two flight spells.
Every day, besides practicing a few laps with the little Thunderbird, I would squat in the tent pondering, and occasionally look for any weak Thunderbird I could pick up.
Besides flying with the Thunderbird, Tom did one more thing: feed. Feed it a lot.
Cut the beef into chunks, mix it with juicy fruit puree, and feed it to the baby several times a day.
At first, the little Thunderbird was a picky eater, but later it got used to the food and would pounce on Tom whenever it saw him.
In just a few days, she gained two sizes. Newt Scamander, who was standing next to her, hesitated for a moment, but finally couldn't help but say something.
"You're raising pigs."
"If the opponent slows down, doesn't that mean I speed up?"
Newt Scamander opened his mouth, and surprisingly, he thought it made some sense.
And so time passed by, and before we knew it, it was the last day of July.
At the top of the steep cliff, Tom and a ten-year-old Thunderbird stood side by side, exuding an aura of power.
"Chirp--" The little Thunderbird tilted its head and chirped twice, its tone full of sarcasm.
Tom rolled his eyes and bared his teeth at it. "Don't yell like that, it doesn't matter how many times I've lost before, I'm going to win today."
"Chirp--!" the little Thunderbird chirped again, swishing its tail triumphantly, its meaning clear: You? Dream on!
"Still mocking me? Go ahead and try striking me with your electric shocks!" Tom laughed angrily.
"Chirp--!" The little Thunderbird seemed to have accepted the bet, raising its head and puffing out its chest.
"You said it yourself, are you ready?" Tom instantly unleashed his magic, and wings of light appeared on his back.
A sudden gust of wind and dust swept up the cliff, but an invisible barrier surrounded the boy, keeping all the wind and sand out.
Every time Newt Scamander sees Tom unleash his magic, he can't help but marvel at how outrageous the kid's power is.
"Uncle Newt Scamander, we can begin!" Tom nodded to Newt Scamander was standing not far away.
"Three, two, one!"
Newt Scamander raised the small flag in his hand (don't ask, it was just something he found on the spot, it works better than the France flag), and the man and the bird rushed out almost at the same time.
Newt Scamander has gotten quite experienced as a referee these past few days. To give Tom an advantage, he deliberately disrupts the rhythm every time he calls out the countdown.
After all, Tom reacts faster than Thunderbird and can always gain the upper hand.
Newt Scamander put down the flag and rode off on his broomstick, but he couldn't catch up with Newt's speed.
But with Eagle Vision, even at a distance of 100 kilometers, they wouldn't be left completely out of sight.
To Newt Scamander's surprise, Tom didn't fall behind the Thunderbird this time.
But he knew it wasn't Tom who got faster, it was Thunderbird who got slower! Tom's pig-raising tricks had worked.
Overjoyed that his plan had succeeded, Tom immediately activated his Supernatural Mode, increasing his speed even further.
In his Supernatural Mode, he has more precise control over magic and can adjust the frequency more quickly.
Not only did it accelerate itself, but it also deliberately flew in front of the Thunderbird, disrupting its airflow and making it have to fly more laboriously.
With this addition and subtraction, the gap between the two gradually widened, but this trick stopped working when they flew to around 90 kilometers.
Tom wasn't worried. As long as he could maintain his lead, even if it was only by one centimeter, he would still win.
The little Thunderbird panicked when it realized it had fallen behind.
As its emotions fluctuated, thunderclouds gathered in the sky, a rumbling sound rolled in, and lightning crackled, as if it were about to strike.
"Crack!" A bolt of lightning grazed Tom's wing, but he was completely unaffected. However, the subsequent lightning strikes were not so easy to dodge.