Fleur remained utterly oblivious to any implication in her words, pulling Wayne inside by the hand while chattering, "Just yesterday I wondered if you'd forgotten again, and here you are today!"
"Have you eaten breakfast? Have a seat first - Gabrielle, that little sleepyhead, isn't up yet."
She enthusiastically ushered him into the living room, bringing out baguettes and jam. "Our house-elf is tending to Grandmother. I made all this myself - do try some."
Seeing the girl bustling about, Wayne - even if he'd already eaten - now had to pretend he hadn't.
Wayne picked up a baguette and began munching on it.
"Mmph!"
Fleur couldn't help but laugh at his silly expression.
"No one eats baguettes like that! You should add some butter or jam at least. Here, have some mushroom soup before you choke."
Wayne shrugged helplessly. "At Hogwarts, hardly anyone actually eats baguettes. We usually let them go stale and use them for Quidditch practice."
The boy ate with casual indifference, completely unconcerned about maintaining a good impression before the girl. Yet Fleur found this unguarded version of Wayne rather charming, resting her chin on one hand as she watched him eat.
"This is a gift from Madam Perenelle," Wayne said after finishing his meal, handing Fleur a brooch.
At first, she thought it was ordinary jewellery, but after Wayne explained its significance, she immediately tried returning it. "I can't accept this - it's far too valuable!"
"Don't tell me that," Wayne replied. "The old lady wanted you to have it. My job was just delivery."
Fleur shot the boy a coquettish glare. Were it not for Wayne's connection, she wouldn't even know Perenelle - why would the woman send such an extravagant gift?
"Then please convey my deepest thanks to Madam Perenelle," Fleur said, unable to resist the allure of the ageless inducing brooch as she pinned it to her dress.
"How does it look?" the girl asked.
"Beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful," Wayne answered earnestly. Whether it was Nicolas Flamel's craftsmanship or Fleur's divinely favoured features, both deserved his praise.
Fleur beamed, thoroughly enjoying the boy's compliments.
She never denied her own beauty - school admirers' flattery had long since grown tiresome - but coming from Wayne, it felt completely different.
Wayne waved his hand, and two glasses of milk floated out from the kitchen. "Why just watch me eat? You should have something, too."
Their conversation was interrupted by a sleepy voice from upstairs. "Sister... I'm hungry~"
Gabrielle rubbed her drowsy eyes, calling out in her adorable pyjamas.
"Go change immediately," Fleur frowned. "What sort of appearance is this?"
"But I always wear-"
The little girl's protest died when she spotted Wayne sitting across from her sister. Blinking hard, she squealed with delight and came barrelling downstairs.
"Big brother! You finally came to see Gabrielle!"
Wayne raised his arms to catch the human cannonball, laughing. "I've been busy lately, but I came to see you the moment I had time."
The little girl's eyes curved into crescents, then - where Wayne couldn't see - she shot her sister a triumphant smirk.
'See? Big brother came for me, not you.'
Fleur gritted her teeth in frustration - this sister of hers was truly unbearable.
Gabrielle immediately monopolised Wayne, dragging him around the house before showing off her doll collection in her room.
Wayne hadn't come empty-handed either, producing gifts from his suitcase - three unicorn plushies modelled after their three young charges at home.
A press of the button on their necks made them grow large enough to ride, capable of running and jumping - essentially magical toy cars.
Gabrielle adored them, while even Fleur felt a twinge of envy. "You only brought gifts for Gabrielle? What about mine?"
"You already got the brooch."
"That doesn't count!" the girl protested. "That was from Madam Perenelle."
Woman, thy name is unreasonableness.
Facing the young girl's expectant gaze, Wayne had no choice but to take out a few of the quills he had crafted.
Upon hearing their effects, Fleur happily accepted them.
"If students at your school like them, you can contact me. It'd be a good way to earn some money."
A sudden thought had struck Wayne.
Money was money, no matter where it came from. If Hogwarts students could provide him with generous points, why couldn't Beauxbatons do the same?
From this day forth, the glory of Wayne Lawrence would graciously extend to the Pyrenees, allowing Beauxbatons students to bask in his benevolence.
For such a small request, Fleur naturally didn't refuse.
Wayne went ahead and handed over all the items he had on him—potions he had brewed, various prank products from the twins, and a few other magical concoctions.
Worried that Fleur might struggle to carry everything, he even gifted her two bags enchanted with Undetectable Extension Charms.
The smile on the girl's face gradually faded.
She had initially thought these were carefully prepared gifts from Wayne, but seeing the mountain of items filling the room—
So they were all just bulk purchases?
Gabrielle, on the other hand, was overjoyed.
By comparison, her three Unicorns must have been specially made by her big brother.
However, Fleur's anger didn't last long.
"What? You're leaving tomorrow?"
"Yes, my flight's tomorrow."
"Can't you stay a couple more days?" The sisters pouted in perfect unison.
"No can do," Wayne shrugged. "I've got a lot to handle back home. I've been here for over a month already. I really have to go."
"Big brother, can't you stay with Gabrielle for two more days?" The little girl blinked, her large eyes brimming with tears in an instant.
"Be good. I promise I'll come find you next time I'm in France," Wayne soothed, gently stroking her silky hair.
"When will you come next?"
Wayne suddenly remembered something.
"Fleur, the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship—it's being held at Beauxbatons, right?"
Fleur paused. "Yes, next January. Are you competing?"
"Mhm. I'll be there." Wayne nodded, then turned to Gabrielle with a serious expression. "I promise I'll visit you next January."
Gabrielle's pout remained. Though she wasn't great at maths, she knew "next year" was a painfully distant concept.
Still, she was sensible enough not to pester him further.
Before he left, the little girl threw herself into his arms once more, whispering in his ear:
"Big brother, don't rush to find a girlfriend. They're all old ladies. You can wait for me to grow up."
She then sneakily glanced at Fleur, who hadn't heard a word.
Amused, Wayne tapped her forehead. "Listen to your sister, alright? No running off on your own, especially outside. Understood?"
Gabrielle nodded obediently, stuck out her tongue at him, and darted behind her sister.
Fleur stepped forward, straightening the boy's collar, which the little imp had rumpled. Then, just like their first meeting, she embraced him lightly.
"Remember to write to me when you're back."
Wayne's heartbeat quickened, though his expression stayed composed.
"Of course. Don't worry."
Fleur didn't let go. Instead, she tightened her hold slightly.
"Once a week. That's the bare minimum."
"As you wish."
It was Wayne who pushed Fleur away first, both of them still feeling the intensity of each other's heartbeat.
He was genuinely afraid that if he stayed any longer, he might develop thoughts of transferring to Beauxbatons. The young man Apparated away, leaving the sisters standing where they were.
"Big sister, I want to write to big brother too," Gabrielle said.
Fleur smiled faintly. "Then you'd better learn to spell properly first. I won't help you."
"Pfft, I don't need help from an old woman like you anyway," Gabrielle stuck out her tongue. "You're three years older than big brother!"
A vein throbbed on Fleur's pale forehead. "Gabrielle! Who are you calling old?! Didn't get enough of a beating last time, did you?"
The little girl let out a yelp and immediately scampered upstairs on her short legs. Fleur didn't chase after her; instead, she gazed silently at the spot where Wayne had stood moments earlier.
'Safe travels.'
...
Upon returning to Nicolas' estate, Wayne was surprised to find they had a guest. "Mr Damocles."
"Mr Lawrence, you're finally back!" Damocles, who had been deep in conversation with Nicolas, hurried over excitedly.
"It works. It really works!"
"You've tested it on someone?" Wayne knew exactly what he meant.
"Of course!" Damocles exclaimed. "The recovery period was shortened to just three days, and even those three days were far more bearable than before."
"I came specifically to share this good news with you. I want to purchase the formula and distribute it freely to all potioneers—but rest assured, full credit will remain yours."
"Mr Damocles," Wayne shook his head. "It's just a supplementary potion. There's no need for payment. You're free to use and share it as you wish."
"Mr Lawrence!" Damocles' eyes welled with tears, visibly moved by his selflessness.
"You... you truly embody the spirit of a Hufflepuff!"
The praise left Wayne rather pleased. The two exchanged mutual admiration for a while before Damocles finally took his leave.
He also promised to help Wayne apply for membership in The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers this year.
This was the most elite academic organisation for Potions Masters. To join, one needed a recommendation from an existing senior member and had to pass a series of rigorous tests.
Snape, for instance, was a member—and a senior one at that. But, expecting Snape to spare a recommendation for him? Wayne reckoned it'd be easier to get the man to award House points to Harry.
...
"Leaving tomorrow, then?"
During dinner, Perenelle asked again, "Would you like to stay at our home in Devon for a while?"
"No need, Grandma Perenelle," Wayne declined politely. "I still have friends to visit, and the essay Professor McGonagall assigned hasn't even been started."
Perenelle patted his hand affectionately. "Ah, busy, busy is good."
"Nicolas," Wayne suddenly asked mid-meal, "do you still have any Philosopher's Stones left?"
Nicolas Flamel blinked. "About seven or eight. Do you want one?"
"No need, I was just asking." Wayne sighed in relief: "Dumbledore's public stance is that you've only stored some Elixir of Life."
Nicolas chuckled dryly: "He's just helping us avoid trouble. In truth, many of our friends know the reality."
"A single Philosopher's Stone can only extend mine and Perenelle's lives by fifty years, and it also serves as the energy core for the entire estate. Truthfully, they get used up quite quickly—we need a new one every few decades."
"Have you noticed Newt's changes?" Wayne asked again.
"Child, don't worry about us," Nicolas said kindly, gazing at him. "Old folks should act their age."
"Actually, I quite enjoy this brittle, fragile feeling—don't I, Perenelle?" Perenelle nodded with a smile.
Brittle, fragile feeling?
What an absurd notion.
Wayne was equally stunned by the old man's peculiar logic, torn between laughter and exasperation as he dropped the subject.
After dinner, Nicolas disappeared briefly, returning with a white waxwood box adorned with intricate runes. "A small parting gift."
Wayne took it, undid the central clasp, and the box sprang open.
A surge of potent magical power spilt forth, revealing a radiant crimson gem resting inside.
"I told you I didn't want it," Wayne said, closing the lid.
This was the true Philosopher's Stone—the pinnacle of Alchemy. Compared to an exhausted Stone, the difference was like gold to gravel.
"Please, take it," Nicolas urged gently, pushing it forward with care, as though afraid his fingers might fracture again.
"You certainly don't need it to prolong your life, but as an energy core, it'll serve you well. Study Alchemy diligently. With your talent, you'll be crafting your own in just a few years."
"Alright then." After a moment's thought, Wayne accepted it.
Once back, he planned to renovate his home—using the Stone as a power source wasn't a bad idea.
"I've got a gift for you, too."
Wayne produced a helmet. Nicolas took it curiously.
"Try it on."
Seated on the sofa, Nicolas placed the helmet on his head.
Wayne poured a vial of silvery memory strands into the recess on top of the helmet.
Instantly, Nicolas was immersed in a memory—a scene from the famous opera The Tempest, performed at London's Royal Opera House.
After savouring it for a while, Nicolas removed the helmet. "A Pensieve... no, what do you call this?"
This could no longer be called a Pensieve. The helmet was far more portable and efficient, and the memories it displayed were strikingly vivid.
"Memory Helmet, I suppose," Wayne said casually.
"Fitting. A marvellous invention. No more dunking my head foolishly into a basin."
Nicolas was delighted. This wasn't just a gift—it was proof of progress. He could clearly see Wayne's advancement in Alchemy. Such skill was worthy of being called mastery.
"Don't grow complacent," Nicolas warned, though pleased. "Next time we meet, I expect to see further improvement—or else..."
Wayne smirked. "Or else I'll have a chat with Granny Perenelle?"
"You little rascal!" Nicolas glared, and the two burst into laughter.
...
The next day, Wayne left the castle quietly, without disturbing the elderly couple, and boarded his private jet back to London.
Perenelle was quite displeased with his sneaky departure. She still had so many words of advice left unsaid.
"Nicolas, invite the young girl from the Delacour family over for tea another day."
"You mean Fleur?" Nicolas looked at her in confusion.
"Exactly. Since Wayne's left, we shouldn't sever connections here. It'll help maintain his relationships and keep me company, too."
Nicolas muttered, "Why meddle so much in the children's affairs?"
Perenelle's eyebrows shot up. "What do you know? Didn't Newt say Wayne has several little girlfriends at Hogwarts? If we don't help the Delacour girl excel, how will she compete with them?"
"Fine, fine," Nicolas surrendered promptly. In their six hundred years together, he'd never won an argument against Perenelle.
"We'll do as you say. The tournament's revival is approaching anyway – consider it training for Beauxbatons."
"That's more like it." Perenelle smiled in satisfaction.
...
Meanwhile.
The distance between Paris and London wasn't particularly far.
By the time Wayne returned home, it was barely afternoon.
As he pushed the door open, the person in the kitchen quickly noticed the movement and hurried out.
The blonde senior smiled at him. "You're back."
Wayne felt momentarily dazed.
That tone...
Why did it sound like a wife welcoming her husband home?