"Pfft!"
Smiles don't vanish—they merely transfer.
The joy Maxime had felt earlier now belonged entirely to Newt and Tina, who were thoroughly amused.
"He's practically charmed the girl away in just a few sentences," Tina said cheerfully. "Newt, if you'd had half of Wayne's skill back in the day, our great-grandchildren would already be in school by now."
"Both Hufflepuffs, yet the difference is night and day."
Newt wasn't smiling anymore either - all the smiles had transferred to Tina's face.
Maxime glanced at Tina but ultimately said nothing. That woman was best left undisturbed.
Tina wasn't the type to stand behind any man. During Grindelwald's reign of terror, she'd personally arrested half of America's Dark wizards.
If you excluded all those bizarre creatures, Newt stood no chance against Tina at all.
Meanwhile, Fleur and Wayne remained oblivious to the older generation's game of smile transference.
The two were having quite a pleasant conversation.
Wayne had already formed his assessment of Fleur in his mind.
A simple, haughty, aristocratic girl.
Proud as a princess - an attitude bolstered by her beauty and lineage, yet not the nose-in-the-air arrogance of a Malfoy. Towards things and people she deemed beneath her, Fleur would simply ignore them. She also possessed that uniquely French romanticism.
Yet this naturally proud girl found it impossible to maintain her usual haughtiness around Wayne.
Here was the saviour of her little sister, whose own talents far surpassed hers. While she'd been preening herself over accompanying Maxime to meet Nicolas Flamel, Wayne had already been an honoured guest, mingling with the elite at the most exclusive tea parties.
Under these circumstances, Fleur's demeanour around Wayne differed markedly from her usual self.
However, the young woman wasn't in the best mood.
'Why do you keep asking about Gabrielle? If you have something to say, say it to me directly!'
Noticing the girl's displeasure, Wayne felt a sense of helplessness.
The truth was that, having just met Fleur, their conversation topics were limited - school and family.
They'd only become acquainted because of Gabrielle, so who else were they supposed to discuss? Eventually, Fleur could contain herself no longer and decided to take the offensive.
"With your academic excellence and Order of Merlin, you must be quite popular with girls at school."
"No," Wayne shook his head thoughtfully. "To be precise, both boys and girls like me equally. My house, Hufflepuff, is renowned for having the best interpersonal relationships."
Wayne briefly explained the differences between the four houses before proudly declaring himself the quintessential Hufflepuff.
Newt, who'd been listening nearby, fell into contemplative silence. He felt there might be something slightly off about Wayne's understanding of Hufflepuff, though he couldn't quite pinpoint what.
The meal concluded with all parties in high spirits.
Before parting, Fleur repeatedly reminded Wayne that he absolutely must visit her family before leaving.
During her previous two attempts to see Wayne, Gabrielle had tagged along and cried when they missed him.
It was this sisterly concern that drove Fleur's persistent reminders, though admittedly, she too very much wanted Wayne to visit.
Unlike the schoolboys who fell easily under her spell, Wayne's normal behaviour towards her felt refreshingly novel.
"Still thinking about Mr Lawrence, Fleur?"
Maxime's sudden question startled Fleur during the carriage ride back.
"Yes," Fleur answered instinctively before correcting herself. "No! I mean, I was just wondering when he'd come to see Gabrielle."
"It's natural for outstanding young people to grow close," Maxime continued, unconvinced by the denial. "It would do you good to communicate more with Mr Lawrence, but don't let yourself be lured away to Hogwarts.
"Your parents and younger sister would be heartbroken."
"Madam, you jest," Fleur replied, her cheeks tinged pink.
...
Inside Nicolas Flamel's castle.
Wayne and Newt sat in the tearoom, sipping tea to aid digestion.
"How is Nagini?" Newt asked softly.
"Still the same," Wayne replied with a slight headache. "The blood curse is too troublesome—the purification process is painfully slow, and it keeps regenerating, devouring Nagini's consciousness."
"Not long ago, she regained clarity for a moment—just two or three seconds—but quickly lost control and tried to attack me."
Wayne suspected that this blood curse was not merely tied to bloodline but had even seeped into the soul. That was why even Ho-Oh found it troublesome.
Newt fell silent for a long moment before finally saying, "Take it slowly. Having hope is already something."
Wayne nodded lightly, tapping his fingers on the table as he pondered. Newt grew uneasy at the sight.
The last time the young man had hesitated like this, he'd dropped a shocking revelation about Nagini. What was it this time?
Wayne noticed his discomfort and guessed his thoughts, chuckling lightly.
"Senior, don't be nervous. I'm just thinking about whether there's a connection between the curse on Nagini and the one afflicting the Greengrass family."
"Greengrass?" Newt blinked in surprise.
"How much do you know about that family?" Wayne pressed.
"Greengrass..." Newt thought for a while before speaking slowly, "To be honest, I don't know much."
"That family is among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, with very few members, yet they control a staggering amount of wealth. They keep a low profile—never flaunting their influence, never drawing attention. For example, the current head of the family, Fiona Greengrass, is the Director of the Department of Magical Transportation and also a member of the Wizengamot."
He lowered his head sheepishly. "She's the one who issued my international travel ban."
Wayne found this amusing. Senior Newt was such a good person—everyone in the world knew it—yet no one really welcomed him.
"Back to the topic," Newt quickly shifted the conversation. "About the Greengrass curse, I've heard my brother Theseus mention it. That curse is also called a blood curse—extremely sinister—but unlike Nagini's, it doesn't turn people into beasts. It just continuously devours one's vitality, even their soul, until they become a lifeless corpse."
"But why do you ask?"
"I have a friend whose younger sister seems to be suffering from the same condition," Wayne said quietly.
Newt's expression darkened, a flicker of pity crossing his face.
The outcome of the curse was dreadful enough, but even more horrifying was the suffering endured throughout the process. Even without witnessing it firsthand, he could imagine how tragic the cursed child's life must have been.
"That's all I know," Newt sighed. "You could try asking Dumbledore or Nicolas—they're experts in this field."
Wayne nodded and didn't press further.
"When do you plan to leave?" Newt took another sip of tea and asked.
"What about you?"
"I need Nicolas to help me build a feeding machine. There are more and more little ones at home, and I can't manage on my own. It should take about three to five days."
"I'm not that quick," Wayne shook his head. "Nicolas has too many books. It's not easy coming here, so I'll copy as much as I can."
Newt teased, "Is it because of the books, or that half-Veela girl?"
"Wayne, here's a little-known fact you should know," Newt suddenly perked up, as this fell within his expertise. "Half-Veela don't transform into hideous Banshees when angered like pure-blood Veela do."
Wayne stared at him speechlessly.
"Why on earth would you research that? Are there many half-Veela in the world?"
"There used to be, but after the Veela collectively retreated to the forests, their numbers dwindled," Newt shrugged. "So cherish her. With both your looks, your children would undoubtedly be very handsome."
Wayne was both amused and exasperated.
"If you keep teasing me, don't blame me for telling Grandma Tina how you still pine for Bunty."
"No, no, no!"
The smile instantly vanished from Newt's face as he hastily begged for mercy.
If Tina really found out, it wouldn't just be a matter of whether he could sleep indoors—he might end up in St Mungo's intensive care unit!
...
And so, Newt and Tina also settled into the manor.
Wayne handed his case directly to Newt, asking him to help examine the magical creatures inside.
He also made another trip to the La Place Cachée black market to retrieve the pre-ordered magical creatures.
Unexpectedly, Cross Rosier had even managed to procure a pair of Kneazles—one male and one female.
"I thought you said it'd take at least half a month?"
Wayne looked at the two cubs, utterly adorable, barely two or three months old, like two little balls of dark fur.
Cross rolled his eyes. "In half a month, you might've vanished. Didn't want them stuck with me."
"Not bad," Wayne stroked the little creatures, pleasantly surprised. "How much?"
"Five hundred Galleons. Consider it a friendly deal."
The boy nodded—the price was indeed reasonable. After all, anything banned from sale would see its price skyrocket.
However, he'd only withdrawn enough from Gringotts for the other creatures and hadn't accounted for the Kneazles. Going back for more now would be a hassle.
In his pocket, Jerry trembled, curling into a tight ball and making not a sound.
After a moment's thought, Wayne produced two bracelets.
"Can't be bothered fetching the money. See what these are worth."
"What are they?"
Without Nicolas Flamel's discerning eye, Cross could only tell they were magical artefacts—their exact effects eluded him.
"Apparition bracelets. Each stores three uses of Apparate."
"Quality stuff," Cross's eyes lit up. "Range?"
"Not too far—about a mile."
The best Wayne could currently make allowed for a ten-kilometre Apparition with five consecutive uses. But he wouldn't part with such high-end goods. Even these novice-level practice pieces were clearly precious, judging by Cross's reaction.
"Name a fair price, and they're yours."
"Give me three, and you can keep the rest," Cross said decisively.
Galleons he had aplenty, but life-saving items like these were rare on the market—especially ones enchanted with Apparate, rarer even than Shield Charms. People who possess such things would never easily sell them; they'd keep them as trump cards for critical moments.
Only this lad would.
Cross also knew that Wayne was currently staying at Nicolas Flamel's house, likely brewed by the lad himself. The scales in his mind tipped slightly once more.
Wayne pondered, "I can only give you two."
"Two will do. I'll pay for the other one—six hundred Galleons."
"Not selling. Saving it for the next trade."
"You little fox," Cross grumbled resentfully, but this was a seller's market—he had no choice but to agree.
Before Wayne left, Cross handed him a badge.
"Though I'm a Frenchman, I've got some friends in your neck of the woods. If you ever need anything, go to Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley."
"Don't bother with the British Rosiers—they're all a bunch of fools."
Wayne didn't refuse and pocketed the badge.
"If you come across any more goodies in the future, do reach out."
"No problem."
...
Upon returning, Newt's expression was priceless when he saw Wayne had even bought Kneazles.
"Did Cross really sell them to you?"
"Or did I catch them myself?" Wayne's lips twitched. "Take care of them for me these next few days. If they've got any congenital issues, I'll go settle things with Cross."
"Don't worry." Newt gently massaged the two Kneazles, saying, "Cross may be eccentric, but his integrity is beyond reproach. If he dared hand them over, there won't be any slip-ups."
Watching Newt disappear into his case to tend to the creatures, Wayne returned to the library to continue reading.
But within two days, Nicolas dragged him out. "You've read enough books—time for some hands-on practice."
Nicolas sighed. "Perenelle's even cross with me, saying I'm the one corrupting you. Books can wait. You're welcome here anytime—get out and about more."
"Fine." Wayne closed the Seventy Theses in his hands and followed the old man out of the library.
...
From then on, he began practical training.
The sheer volume of materials at Nicolas's place was staggering—many rare ingredients hard to find on the market were piled up in heaps here.
The only comfort for Wayne was that even Nicolas didn't possess as much Acromantula venom as he did.
His first creation was the runic puppet.
Gardevoir worked hard every day, maintaining the miniature world, so he planned to create several runic puppets to assist her.
Though they couldn't handle technical tasks, mechanical work like cleaning and distributing food wouldn't be a problem.
Next was the Pensieve.
The technique for making Pensieves had not only been preserved but also improved upon by Nicolas.
Many extinct materials have been replaced with others still obtainable.
During the crafting process, Wayne's 'Master Inspiration' talent from the Zou Yan template card unexpectedly activated, granting him divine assistance in creating an entirely new memory storage and viewing device.
This was the first time he'd triggered this 'Master Inspiration' talent. Holding the finished product in his hands, even Wayne hadn't anticipated such remarkable results.
"Could it be that my previous creations were too rudimentary to warrant triggering it?"
He speculated uncertainly, recalling the sensation of continuous inspiration flooding his mind as his thought processes expanded significantly.
...
Nearly a month had passed since arriving in France. Newt and Tina had returned to Dorset long ago.
Considering his future plans, Wayne prepared to return home. But before leaving, he needed to visit Fleur's house.
Upon hearing Wayne intended to visit Fleur, the elderly couple exchanged knowing smiles. Perenelle even presented Wayne with a brooch.
"This was a gift Nicolas gave me years ago. It keeps clothes perpetually neat and contains the effects of the Elixir of Youth to nourish the skin."
"This is too valuable." Wayne declined to accept it.
The Elixir of Youth was also a supreme alchemical product that could slow ageing and preserve one's appearance. Though not as miraculous as the Philosopher's Stone, it still drove countless women wild with desire.
"What use is it to me? You must bring a gift for your first visit."
Perenelle insisted, pressing the brooch firmly into Wayne's hand. Seeing the old lady's determination, Wayne had no choice but to accept.
...
Leaving the estate, Wayne Apparated to a nearby avenue and took a taxi to Fleur's home.
It was a beautiful neighbourhood with widely spaced houses and immaculately clean streets.
Finding the correct address, Wayne rang the doorbell.
"Coming!"
A girl's clear, melodious voice and footsteps sounded from inside.
The door opened to reveal Fleur, her face alight with surprise at seeing Wayne. "Perfect timing! Mum and Dad aren't home!"
Wayne inhaled sharply.
'Wait, I'm just here to see the little girl. Must you phrase it so provocatively?'