"I'm telling Mum!"
Ron, thoroughly roughed up by the two of them, had tears in his eyes and a face red with anger.
"Go ahead," George said without a trace of fear.
Fred added nonchalantly, "We were going to buy Ginny some new robes and thought we might get you something too. Now we'll just save the money."
Ron's face turned even redder. Harry looked at him like he was a teapot about to boil over.
To everyone's surprise, after just two seconds of hesitation, Ron plastered on a smile and began enthusiastically dusting flour off Fred's clothes.
"Brothers, I was just joking earlier! All in good fun, don't take it seriously."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "So you won't be telling on us then?"
"Of course not! Even if you threw me out the window, I wouldn't make a sound."
Harry looked sadly at his best friend.
Is this the pain of being broke?
Suddenly, he understood why Wayne was so fond of money. Harry, who'd always thought having enough was sufficient, found his perspective quietly shifting.
"Good lad," George said approvingly, patting his brother's shoulder.
The twins had made quite a bit of money through the Celia Shop, especially later when selling their prank products, for which Wayne had given them a higher commission.
Buying robes for Ron and Ginny had been part of their plan all along—they just hadn't expected to use it as leverage against Ron.
"Alright, out you go," George said with an air of authority, waving his hand. "What comes next is trade secrets—not for your ears."
After shooing Harry and Ron out, George and Weasley brought out a pile of their new inventions.
"This is the Extendable Ear you mentioned. We've made it work."
"Though it's a bit temperamental—the sound comes and goes."
Wayne put it to his ear. The flesh-coloured string slithered out the door like a worm, and he could hear the clattering from the kitchen. But the sound soon faded, then returned intermittently.
"Can I take it apart?" Wayne asked.
"Of course—it's just a prototype."
Wayne dissected the Extendable Ear and quickly identified the problem.
"These two runes are in the wrong order. Amplification should come before retraction."
The twins checked, then spent ages consulting their rune dictionary before having an epiphany.
"So that's how it is."
"You lot who are supposed to be studying still make such simple mistakes."
Fred felt utterly wronged.
"This isn't even third-year material. Probably won't be covered until advanced classes after OWLs."
"We're not freaks like you."
"Hmm?" Wayne shot the twins a sideways glance, and they immediately straightened up.
He proceeded to dismantle each of the other gadgets one by one, finding issues with all except the punching notebook.
Still, the twins had clearly put considerable effort into their creations.
"Children, come down for dinner!" Molly's voice called from downstairs.
With a flick of his wand, Wayne vanished the flour and mess from the floor. "Let's go. We'll continue after eating."
...
The Diggory family joined them for dinner. Cedric greeted Wayne by punching him lightly on the arm.
"You're impossible to pin down. Thought I'd have to wait until King's Cross to see you again."
Wayne shrugged. "Hardly. You might spot me if you frequent Diagon Alley more often."
"I've been interning at the Ministry – no time for that," Cedric complained.
To save up for a Nimbus 2001, he'd persuaded his father to secure him an internship position.
The result? All the grunt work fell to him as the junior, leaving him too exhausted to lift his arms each evening.
"At the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?" Wayne asked curiously.
"Yeah," Cedric sighed. "I never imagined adult wizards could be so dense. Some can't even tell a Kneazle from a regular cat. One bloke nearly ended up in St Mungo's after mistaking an Erkling for an ordinary Goblin. Did none of them take Care of Magical Creatures?"
Wayne spread his hands. "Probably returned all that knowledge to their professors upon graduation – clean slate and all."
Cedric gaped.
Was that really how it worked?
The adults had laid out a lavish spread on the extended table, beckoning everyone to their seats. This was a far more relaxed family gathering than at Nicolas's place, free from stuffy ancient formalities.
Fred snatched the fried fish Percy had been eyeing, while Ron swapped the drumstick in front of Ginny to his own plate, earning himself two solid punches from his furious sister.
Mr Diggory proved quite amiable too, showing Wayne particular warmth. His only flaw? An insufferable habit of boasting about his son – scarcely three sentences passed without "my Cedric this" or "my Cedric that."
This explained the twins' dislike for him, having endured countless scoldings measured against Cedric's example.
But tonight, they finally had ammunition.
Mr Diggory: "Ah, my Cedric topped his year again – Outstanding in every subject except Potions."
Twins: "Marvellous! Only a smidge away from matching Wayne's straight Os then."
Mr Diggory: "Cedric's already interning at the Ministry. His colleagues say he'll walk into a permanent position after graduation."
Twins: "Really? Wayne's been staying with Nicolas Flamel for nearly a month now."
"Who?!" Harry and Ron's heads snapped up simultaneously, even Mr Weasley turning sharply.
"Fred, is this true?"
"Dad, I'm George."
"Makes no difference to me. Answer the question."
"Yeah, Wayne just told us," George said, pointing at Wayne, who was stuffing his face by the doorway.
"The man himself is right here—you can ask Wayne directly."
Having finished his fried onion rings, Wayne shot the twins a glare, realising there was no escaping this.
Sure enough, for the rest of the evening, Wayne became the centre of attention.
Harry and Ron, due to their interest in the Philosopher's Stone, were intensely curious about Nicolas Flamel. Mr Weasley, meanwhile, idolised Nicolas—his various modified Muggle gadgets incorporated no small amount of Alchemy.
When Wayne mentioned that Nicolas had a talking fridge, self-watering flowerpots, and a sink that washed dishes on its own, Mr Weasley trembled with excitement, his eyes darting around the room as he mentally catalogued which of his own appliances he could tinker with next.
He completely failed to notice Mrs Weasley's disapproving glare.
Under the twins' relentless teasing, Mr Diggory mumbled a few words before finally quieting down, no longer boasting about his son.
...
After dinner, everyone decided to stretch their legs, having eaten far too much.
They headed out into the garden, where the dim glow of oil lamps revealed shadowy figures darting about in the soil.
The twins pulled out their Beater's bats. "Ron, go fetch us a gnome."
Tempted by the promise of new robes, Ron was all too eager to oblige. He scampered off, rummaged around in the dirt for a moment, and yanked out a small, squirming creature.
Its skin was rough, its limbs stubby, and its head as bald and lumpy as a potato.
Even as Ron held it aloft, the gnome screeched, demanding to be released.
"We usually use these to practise our aim," Fred said.
Swinging his bat in a wide arc, Fred sent the gnome flying with a solid thwack. "Perfect."
Watching the gnome vanish into the darkness—its screams the only proof it had ever been there—Fred lowered his bat and clicked his tongue in mild disappointment.
"Too dark to tell if my skills have slipped."
"Easy," Wayne said, tapping each of them lightly on the temple. Instantly, their vision sharpened, piercing through the thick night as if it were daylight.
"What kind of magic is this?"
"A modified Eagle Eye spell I came up with—added some night vision," Wayne explained.
The twins exchanged glances, recognising its potential for nocturnal mischief, but they wisely kept that thought to themselves. This was Wayne's own invention, a unique spell—not something you could just look up in a book or the library. For all their antics, the twins knew where to draw the line.
"Won't this hurt them?" Harry asked uneasily as Ron dug up several more gnomes.
"Don't worry, these are just wooden bats," Cedric reassured him. "Gnome skin is tough. They'll crawl back in no time."
"But—" Harry still hesitated, finding the whole thing rather cruel—until one of the gnomes bit him hard on the leg. "Got any iron bats? Wood's too light."
A competition ensued to see who could hit a gnome the farthest.
Fred went first, managing thirty yards—hardly satisfied, he demanded a do-over and eventually sent one flying over forty.
George matched him, while Cedric outdid them both, surpassing fifty yards.
"Ron, maybe you should just sit this one out." Watching their brother repeatedly fail to hit the gnome after several attempts, George looked utterly disdainful.
"I—" Ron flushed red with embarrassment once more, but this time even Ginny, who was watching, couldn't help but laugh.
"Ron, you'll never make it onto the Quidditch team at this rate."
"If I can't be a Beater, can't I at least be a Chaser?" He grabbed the dazed gnome, which had been knocked senseless, and hurled it with all his might.
The gnome soared in a high arc before landing on the grass twenty yards away.
"Pathetic," Fred sneered.
"Wayne, you give it a go." He snatched the bat from Ron's hands and passed it to Wayne.
"Watch this." Wayne stretched his arms and—thwack!
He didn't hold back, putting most of his strength into the swing.
Everyone looked up, tracking the gnome as it seemed to shoot straight for the stars. There wasn't even a scream—it had likely been knocked out cold.
"No wonder they call you the Hufflepuff Boxing Champion," George muttered, and the others nodded in agreement.
Wayne's expression darkened.
...
After clearing all the gnomes from the garden, the group felt they'd worked off enough energy and headed back inside.
Fred had wanted Wayne to continue helping them identify flaws in their products, but they postponed it until the next day.
What fascinated Wayne the most was the clock hanging on the wall.
The clock had nine hands, each representing a family member. At the moment, the hands for George, Fred, and the others all pointed to 'home.' Other options included 'school,' 'work,' 'travelling,' 'missing,' 'hospital,' 'prison,' and—where the twelve would be on a normal clock—'mortal peril.'
If possible, Wayne would have loved to take it apart to see how it worked. But this was a treasured heirloom of the Weasley Family, so he could only stand beneath it, carefully studying the intricate magical engravings on its surface.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" Mr Weasley, who had just stored the television in the shed, returned and stood beside Wayne.
"More than fascinating—it's brilliant," Wayne marvelled. "Did you make this?"
"Merlin, no," Mr Weasley shook his head. "It was modified by an ancestor over three hundred years ago. He shared my interest—both of us were fascinated by Muggle artefacts."
Wayne nodded silently.
This was a case of inherited talent and exceptional aptitude.
The Weasleys rarely produced fools.
Bill, already graduated, was a curse-breaker—a role requiring immense skill in charms. Charlie had gone off to work in the Romanian dragon reserve. Only the strong survived dealing with dragons—the weak would've been swallowed whole.
The twins had inherited their father's talent for alchemy, excelling in both Potions and Ancient Runes.
As for Ginny, she'd inherited her mother's speciality: the Reductor Curse.
Wayne asked a few more questions, some of which Mr Weasley could answer, while others were beyond even his knowledge.
The clock was tied to magical contracts, bearing traces of the Fidelius Charm and linked to the magical power embedded in the names it tracked.
Indeed, wizards' names often carry magical power, which is why Voldemort changed his.
People dared not speak his name directly for fear of being sensed.
"What about tonight?" Fred suddenly leaned in. "Why don't you stay in Charlie's room?"
"No need," Wayne shook his head. "I'm going with Cedric. We agreed on it earlier."
"Fair enough," Fred nodded.
After sharing a few more curious stories about the Muggle world with Mr Weasley, Wayne left with the Diggorys.
...
The Diggorys lived on the other side of the hill. Their house looked much tidier than The Burrow, with bedrooms to spare.
Mrs Diggory prepared a brand-new set of bedding for Wayne and left a cup of warm milk before heading out.
Cedric didn't leave either, instead sitting in a chair and continuing to regale Wayne with bizarre incidents he'd encountered at the Ministry of Magic.
"How much do you earn as an intern?" Wayne asked curiously.
"Thirty Galleons. Regular staff get fifty—way more than me," Cedric replied with a smile.
"I've already saved over three hundred Galleons. If Celia Store does well after term starts and the maps sell, I'll soon have enough for a Nimbus 2000."
"Two thousand?" Wayne looked at him in surprise. "The Nimbus 2001 just came out—why not get the latest?"
"You think I don't want to?" Cedric grimaced. "Who'd have thought the Nimbus 2001 would jump by a hundred Galleons? Saving up for that would take at least a whole term. Might as well get a Nimbus 2000—they're at 15% off now, and it's not much slower."
"I could lend you some," Wayne offered. "You can pay me back bit by bit each year."
Cedric was tempted. If he could get the latest, why not?
"Could you lend me three hundred Galleons? I promise to pay back at least a hundred a year—if you don't mind."
"No big deal," Wayne waved grandly. "Five hundred, right? I only brought four hundred with me and need to keep a hundred, so I can lend you three hundred."
With that, he pulled ten Galleons from his Niffler pouch and handed them to a stunned Cedric.
"Remember—you owe me five hundred," Wayne patted his shoulder, looking rather self-satisfied.
"I'll fight you!" Cedric leapt from his chair—only to be mercilessly subdued.
"Honestly, can't even take a joke," Wayne muttered, pulling out three hundred Galleons.
"That was a joke?" Cedric glared. "That was murder!"
Then, gleefully clutching the money, he dashed out the door.
With Wayne's loan, he could now buy the latest Nimbus 2001—though he'd have to wait until the weekend to visit Diagon Alley since he still had work tomorrow.
Watching Cedric's instant change in demeanour, Wayne couldn't help but think of Snape.
Both had faces that switched like dogs.
Could Slytherin and Hufflepuff actually be related?
Shaking his head at the decline of morals, he climbed into his trunk.
Wayne remembered copying a See-Through Charm from Nicolas. He'd originally dismissed it as too unsavoury to learn, but now reconsidered—perhaps it had legitimate uses after all.
'Tonight, I'll hurry up and learn it thoroughly so I can study the clock tomorrow.'