At that moment, frantic shouts came from outside.
A girl in a floral sundress and a French lady's hat burst in, just in time to witness the scene.
Her beautiful blue eyes nearly turned red.
"Gabrielle! You—you demon, let her go!" she screamed. "Take me instead!"
Wayne turned to look at her.
She bore some resemblance to Gabrielle—or, instead, she looked like an older, more mature version of the girl.
She had breathtakingly perfect features and mesmerising blue eyes that could ensnare souls even in anger. The most extraordinary thing was the astonishing charm emanating from the young girl. Every man in the sweet shop couldn't help but gaze at her, their eyes filled with infatuation.
Wayne was no exception.
This was the most stunning girl he had ever seen, without question.
He glanced at Gabrielle, then back at the girl. Had she just shouted to let Gabrielle go and come at her instead? That wouldn't be bad—no, it would be fantastic!
"Sister!"
Gabrielle also looked up and, upon seeing the silver-haired girl rushing over, cheered and threw herself into her arms.
The silver-haired girl froze, watching Gabrielle's delighted expression, utterly confused by the situation.
It seemed... this wasn't a case of being kidnapped by a villain?
Wayne also stood up, leaving a Galleon on the table. "This isn't the place to talk. Let's go outside."
All eyes in the shop were fixed on the trio.
Seeing her younger sister excitedly grab the boy's hand, the silver-haired girl bit her lip lightly but eventually nodded.
They didn't go far, but the silver-haired girl was too eye-catching, so they had no choice but to step outside.
Standing at the street corner, Wayne recounted the events. With Gabrielle's corroboration, the girl finally realised she had misunderstood earlier and bowed deeply in apology.
"I'm sorry, I was too impulsive just now. Thank you for saving Gabrielle. If anything had happened to her, I..."
At the thought of such a tragic outcome, her eyes began to redden, and she couldn't help but give Wayne a hug, her melodious voice trembling with gratitude.
"Thank you so much!"
A faint scent of lavender drifted into Wayne's nose, making him unconsciously inhale twice before he took a step back.
The girl also realised she had been too emotional, her ears burning slightly as she struggled to find the right words.
Earlier, her attention had been entirely on her sister, but now she took a proper look at Wayne.
Then her face grew even hotter. This... was unfairly good-looking.
She had always been confident in her beauty, but seeing this boy now made her think that if he were a girl, he would undoubtedly be even prettier than her.
Wayne remained unaffected by the girl's extraordinary charm, but she, on the other hand, was falling into his. Just who was the part-Veela here?
"My name is Fleur Delacour," the girl introduced herself, her head lowered.
"Wayne Lawrence. I know you—Madame Maxime has mentioned you many times," Wayne replied.
Indeed, she had spoken of her often—almost to the point of arranging a marriage for him.
"You're Lawrence?" Fleur looked up in surprise. "The one who received the Order of Merlin? Madame Maxime has told me about you, too."
"Is that so? I haven't seen her in a while. Is she doing well?"
"She's fine, though she's become much stricter with us since returning. Probably because of you."
The two quickly fell into conversation, leaving Gabrielle, the original cause of the incident, feeling neglected.
Watching the smiles on her sister's and the older boy's faces, the little girl's cheeks puffed up in frustration, her eyes wide as she tried to get their attention.
'Pay attention to me! I was here first...'
Alas, her efforts didn't earn her so much as a glance from either of them.
"Your French is excellent. If I didn't know you were a Hogwarts student, I'd have thought you were French."
"My linguistic talents are quite good, and I've recently been teaching myself the language of the Abraxans. I've heard Beauxbatons keeps quite a few of them."
"Exactly, they're in the mountains behind the school. I can take you to see them if you'd like. It's not just the Abraxans—Beauxbatons is the most beautiful school in the world, especially the magical fountain..."
"No problem, but you must keep a close eye on Gabrielle. You can't afford to be careless like that again."
"By the way, you mentioned earlier..."
As the two spoke, the Delacours, who had been searching elsewhere for Gabrielle, arrived.
Fleur suddenly remembered she had forgotten to notify her parents after finding Gabrielle, too caught up in chatting with Wayne—another awkward moment.
Gabrielle finally regained some presence.
Mrs Delacour, a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, embraced Gabrielle and burst into tears.
Mr Delacour, however, stood out in their family for different reasons, with his dark beard and shorter stature.
After learning what had happened from his eldest daughter, he grasped Wayne's hand firmly, shaking it vigorously while thanking him repeatedly.
As for Wayne's concerns about the Vampires, Mr Delacour assured him no one would dare trouble him.
The Delacours held considerable standing in France—otherwise, they wouldn't have been on such good terms with Madame Maxime, who doted on Fleur.
In the end, they invited Wayne to their home as a gesture of gratitude, but the young man politely declined.
Before parting, Gabrielle gazed at Wayne with reluctance. "Big brother, you must come to see Gabrielle."
"Don't worry," Wayne bent down, smiling as he patted her head. "I'll visit once I've finished my business."
"Wayne, where are you staying?" Fleur asked.
Wayne told her the address of his hotel. The girl memorised it carefully before waving goodbye.
As they left, Gabrielle kept looking back every few steps, her face full of longing.
Wayne waited until the little girl was out of sight before finally leaving La Place Cachée and returning to his hotel.
...
The next morning.
After freshening up and having breakfast downstairs, Wayne left the hotel and headed to Nicolas Flamel's home.
Like Newt, Nicolas Flamel had also settled his residence in Muggle society—or at least, that was the case in Paris.
According to Newt, Nicolas's house in Devon was hidden deep within secluded mountains—a vast, rarely visited estate.
Following the address, Wayne arrived at his destination, then took out the parchment with the recorded address and set it alight.
The ashes transformed into golden runes.
Once the runes appeared, Wayne deciphered their meaning: 'Key.'
What key?
He glanced around—nothing had changed. Unlike Newt's home, where the true address revealed a house that abruptly pushed its way into view, nothing here shifted.
"Must everything be so complicated?" The young man sighed in exasperation.
These big shots' homes are truly difficult to find. Not only are they protected by the Fidelius Charm, but they also involve numerous tedious steps.
After some thought, Wayne took out a book and imprinted golden runes onto it, turning it into a Portkey.
He then tentatively activated it.
It felt as though his navel had been hooked, and he was suddenly flung into the air. The scenery around him rapidly faded until he could see nothing at all.
After what felt like an eternity, his blurred vision gradually cleared, and he felt solid ground beneath his feet.
Shaking his head to dispel the dizziness, he finally had a moment to take in his surroundings.
At that moment, he stood at the beginning of a stone-paved path leading to a beautiful Gothic-style building.
The stones were each engraved with different runes.
Not daring to act rashly, Wayne observed carefully for a long while before finally taking his first step, then his second.
Occasionally, he would hop or land on one foot, much like children playing hopscotch.
What should have been a short walk took him a full quarter of an hour. Finally, both feet landed on the steps before the door.
Creak.
The grand oak doors slowly swung open. Straightening his clothes, Wayne stepped inside.
Beyond the entrance was an incredibly majestic Great Hall, with a ceiling at least ten metres high. The floor was paved with marble tiles, and the towering pillars were adorned with exquisite stone carvings.
For a moment, Wayne felt as though he had stepped into a medieval cathedral.
Another piece of parchment descended from above. Catching it, Wayne softly read the words written upon it.
"Banquet Hall."
Space shifted around him, and in the blink of an eye, Wayne found himself in another room, equally opulent, with several sofas arranged in a circle. On the central sofa, two elderly figures sat smiling at him.
"Mr Nicolas Flamel, Mrs Perenelle."
"Oh, hello there, child."
Nicolas Flamel grinned as the sofa suddenly bulged, lifting him into a standing position. A small two-wheeled balancing device appeared beneath his feet, carrying him over to Wayne.
Nicolas extended his hand, and Wayne gingerly reached out to grasp it.
He swore he had never been this gentle, not even when reading Hermione's or Cho's palms. He was afraid that if he applied even a bit too much pressure, the old man's hand might snap.
"The speed at which you passed the trials truly surprises me," Nicolas said. Though his body appeared frail, his voice carried no hint of weakness.
His gaze was filled with delight as he looked at Wayne. "I must apologise for the little tricks I played on the invitation. But next time you visit, it won't be so troublesome. It's just that Albus and Newt spoke so highly of you—I couldn't resist testing your abilities myself. You don't mind, do you, child?"
"Of course not," Wayne shook his head. "It was a bit tedious, but quite interesting—especially the stone path at the entrance."
Nicolas Flamel's smile widened.
"Alright, Nicolas," Perenelle finally spoke up. "You can't keep our guest standing here while you chat. Wayne, please sit. What would you like to eat?"
A House-elf Disapparated into the room, bowing deeply. "Master Lawrence, I am Nabby, at your service."
Unlike the Hogwarts House-elves who wore pillowcases as clothing, Nabby wore a meticulously tailored suit and tailcoat with a bow tie hanging at the neck.
Aside from being rather unattractive, there were no other flaws.
Nicolas Flamel led Wayne to sit on the sofa beside him, then waved his hand, summoning dozens of musical instruments from the room's cupboard.
Soon, soft, melodious music filled the hall.
"Just a cup of black tea, please. I've already had breakfast."
"Please wait a moment," Nabby said before vanishing.
While waiting for the tea, Nicolas Flamel struck up a conversation with Wayne.
"Could you explain how you navigated the path when you came in?"
"I applied principles from the Hermetic Writings—specifically the theory of elemental materialisation. For example, earth is formed by combining dryness and cold, while fire is dryness plus heat. By layering these combinations correctly, you create a shortcut through the array, improving magical energy conduction efficiency."
"An interesting idea," Nicolas Flamel nodded approvingly. "Innovative, yet still making use of old principles."
The runestones at the crossroads were composed of seemingly chaotic runes, but there wasn't just one correct answer.
To enter, one had to combine those runes into a coherent alchemical technique or potion theory.
Any mistake would result in being forcibly teleported back to the starting point to try again.
"The method that teleported me just now—was that spatial transposition from ancient magic?" Wayne asked with interest.
Nicolas Flamel nodded. "Indeed. To you, it may be ancient magic, but for Perenelle and me, it's just right."
He glanced up at the ceiling. "This house has undergone centuries of modifications by me. There are plenty of interesting spots waiting for you to discover—I won't spoil the fun by pointing them out."
Seeing the two delve back into alchemy, Perenelle shook her head helplessly. Over the centuries, she had never taken an interest in alchemy or potions, sharing only a love for opera and art with Nicolas.
"Dumbledore mentioned you've crafted quite a few interesting little gadgets at school. Did you bring any with you?"
"Er, just some very basic trinkets."
Wayne rummaged in his pocket for a while before pulling out the ring he had crafted a month ago—his finest work to date.
Nicolas took the ring, tracing the patterns engraved on it.
"A standard alchemical artefact—storage circuit, release channel, solidified enchantments. Very well done. I dare say there aren't many in all of Britain who could surpass your craftsmanship."
After examining it for a while longer, Nicolas frowned.
"What's wrong?" Perenelle asked curiously. Though she had no interest in alchemy, it was rare to see Nicolas look troubled in his area of expertise.
After all, the name Nicolas Flamel was practically synonymous with alchemy.
"This spell..." Nicolas said uncertainly. "Is..."
Wayne lowered his head sheepishly. "You're not mistaken. It's... Fiendfyre."
Nicolas's hand trembled slightly.
Paris. Fiendfyre.
The combination of those two words brought back unpleasant memories. Even Perenelle was startled.
"Fiendfyre can be contained?"
"I used the General Counter-Spell to suppress it," Wayne scratched his head. "But once released, there's no controlling it. It burns wherever it spreads."
Nicolas Flamel regarded him with a complex expression. "A stroke of genius... but Wayne, are you really a Hufflepuff?"
Six or seven decades ago, he and a Hufflepuff had joined forces to combat Fiendfyre. Now, six or seven decades later, this little badger of Hufflepuff was playing with Fiendfyre himself.
Was the boomerang effect this potent?
"Of course, I'm a standard Hufflepuff through and through," Wayne declared proudly, puffing out his chest.
"Pfft!"
Perenelle couldn't help but laugh, her gaze softening with affection as she looked at Wayne. She had initially assumed he'd be a quiet soul like Newt, but now realised she'd been labouring under a stereotype.
The elderly always dote on the youngest, especially those with a mischievous spark. She and Nicolas had no children of their own, and seeing Wayne—adorable yet full of 'clever tricks'—instantly warmed her heart.
'The General Counter-Spell could be solidified into a magical circuit?'
Nicolas Flamel's interest was piqued.
After all, this wasn't just any ordinary counter-spell. Initially, it could only be cast by several powerful wizards working in unison.
It wasn't until advancements in Charms simplified the spell that it became a single-caster enchantment, though its difficulty remained high, let alone crafting it into an artefact.
He was deeply curious about the techniques Wayne had employed.
Nicolas became engrossed in his research, momentarily forgetting his duties as host. Fortunately, Perenelle kept Wayne company in conversation, ensuring no breach of etiquette.
Having received a standard aristocratic education, Wayne was well-versed in traditional pursuits, such as opera and theatre.
It didn't take long for him to win over the elderly lady's favour completely.
By the time Nicolas Flamel snapped out of his reverie, he found his wife holding Wayne's hand as they animatedly discussed 'King Lear'.
The old man looked bewildered.
Wasn't this my guest?