Wayne considered himself a patient man.
Given his current power and connections - whether in wizarding or Muggle society - he could easily declare "I don't eat beef" without consequence.
Yet he still operated within established rules, refusing to abuse his strength.
This self-restraint prevented him from becoming isolated, ensuring life retained its pleasures.
Take Voldemort - immensely powerful, yet surrounded only by outcasts. A rather pitiful existence.
Still, certain irritants persisted in testing his limits.
Those blood-related families, for instance.
Since uncovering their schemes, their provocations had continued unabated, each instance pushing boundaries further.
Humphrey's increasingly frequent letters recently made Wayne realise something.
The situation was far more complex than he'd imagined.
According to the information Humphrey sent, several senior executives within the corporation had recently been corrupted, choosing to collude with foreign interests. Moreover, they planned to alter the bloodlines of the next generation through marriage alliances, fully assimilating into them.
From a legal standpoint, these people hadn't harmed the Lawrence family's interests—at least not yet.
The lower interest rates and more favourable loan terms offered by their banks allowed the corporations under the Lawrence name to develop faster.
But this was all superficial.
Money was merely a number, whether to Wayne or the major conglomerates.
What they truly sought was the Lawrence family's influence—using it as a stepping stone to connect with more Anglo-Saxon capital, eventually entangling them all within their own interest group.
This displeased Wayne immensely.
And when Wayne was displeased, people died.
Marching door-to-door with a wand was inefficient and risked escalating conflicts, requiring far more effort to resolve.
So Wayne chose a simpler solution.
A curse!
The blood samples had been collected under the guise of medical check-ups.
Using bloodline as the conduit, he could cast an advanced curse to systematically uproot the hosts and their close relatives in batches.
Similar to a blood curse, yet distinct.
Blood curses primarily tormented the descendants of those afflicted, but Wayne wasn't about to leave them any descendants.
Root and branch—that was his way.
In the past, his Dark Magic prowess wouldn't have allowed this.
But with Morgana's gifts and the Witch's Heart amplifying his power, Wayne's mastery of Dark Magic had become... festeringly potent.
Azkaban? Nurmengard? Neither could hold him now.
Especially since Morgana's talents leaned towards the esoteric rather than direct harm.
In just over a month, Wayne had synthesised Nagini and Astoria's blood curses into something entirely new.
Today, these people would serve as practice.
Cursing Muggles without magical power was far simpler than targeting wizards.
Wayne muttered rapidly, weaving incantations peppered with ancient runes and Latin—a convoluted, drawn-out chant.
Any bystander might catch only fragments.
"Great Goddess of Darkness, Gulnara..." and the like.
Two minutes later, the dark red blood flowing through the altar's grooves had dried. The entire structure pulsed with an eerie crimson glow, coalescing into a throbbing heart that Wayne crushed in his fist.
The large-scale curse was complete.
The effects wouldn't be immediate. Those in poor health might last two weeks.
The hardy could cling to life for months before their vitality was fully consumed.
Working through several more vials of blood, Wayne laboured until midnight to finish his purge.
The final death toll was uncertain.
But it would be substantial enough to plunge those vampires into panic and chaos.
Forget further infiltration of the Lawrence family; they'd be fortunate if other vampires didn't turn on them. Their community has always maintained an outward image of unity, but how could one expect a group of profit-driven, money-grubbing individuals to possess high credibility or moral character?
Given sufficient profit, they would undoubtedly be the first to turn on their own.
...
The next morning, Wayne summoned the executives of the family's lobbying group to his residence.
These individuals had been poached at high cost by the family trust from major media corporations and lobbying groups of other financial conglomerates. Each was a master at manipulating public opinion, steering narratives, and bribery.
Though newly assembled, they had already achieved repeated successes.
Thanks to the lobbying group's efforts, Jim Hacker's approval ratings had risen by a full three percentage points. He greeted Humphrey daily with a radiant face, their relationship in a honeymoon phase, working together splendidly.
Wayne handed each person a document.
After reading it, they exchanged bewildered glances.
"Boss, is this... a script?" the general manager couldn't help asking.
The information Wayne presented was simply too fantastical.
Wizards, magic, Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts, Gringotts, pure-blood families...
It was all so meticulously constructed—backgrounds, key figures, departmental jurisdictions—they almost believed it described a real world.
Surely filmmaking didn't require this level of detail?
Wayne casually waved his hand, and their bodies lifted uncontrollably, forming a circle as they rotated above the living room at a steady pace.
"Convinced now?"
After initial panic, realising no strings were attached to them, they finally believed Wayne's claims.
"Boss, we believe! Are you some legendary archmage?"
Wayne frowned slightly—the title sounded odd.
But he didn't correct them.
"Exactly. What I need from you is a strategy to maximise the Lawrence family's—or rather, my personal—influence within the magical world."
Still rotating, they nodded frantically: "Understood! But could you put us down now?"
Any longer and they'd be dizzy!
Back in their seats, their perspective on the document had completely transformed.
What seemed absurd before now inspired excitement and solemnity.
This was a supernatural world hidden beneath ordinary society!
Particularly for the English, most being devout Protestants, magic and mysticism held special allure and could be embraced more readily.
They pored over the document's contents, weighing every word, frequently whispering among themselves and questioning Wayne.
Written intelligence wasn't always precise—firsthand accounts carried more weight.
Wayne patiently answered each query until noon arrived unexpectedly.
Gardevoir delivered lunches before them, eliciting fresh astonishment.
Appearing and vanishing instantly.
If only this ability could be extended to their staff—imagine the extra daily overtime saved from commuting!
By nearly two o'clock, Wayne grew impatient.
He'd promised Nagini an outing today. Fortunately, the executives finally ceased deliberations.
"Young master, we've grasped the essentials now."
A man with a receding hairline concluded, "Based on the information you've provided, the political system of the wizarding world is quite primitive and conservative. There are no political parties, and the Minister for Magic is elected through the most common form of popular vote."
"In essence, it's highly susceptible to infiltration. Much like our esteemed Prime Minister, whoever wields the greatest influence will have him wagging his tail like a Doberman spotting a piece of meat."
"If all goes smoothly, within one to two years, over half of the Ministry of Magic will align with you and serve your will."
"However, there are still a few issues..." The balding man paused before asking:
"Should we approach wizards as Muggles for lobbying? There's an inherent barrier there, not to mention legal risks."
"No need. I only require you to devise the strategy. The Greengrass family will handle the actual execution."
These elites possessed remarkable memories, instantly recalling details about the Greengrass family in their minds, visibly relaxing.
Every detail of lobbying required meticulous consideration.
The same words spoken by different people could produce vastly different outcomes.
Having an established pure-blood family as their foothold would significantly reduce both their workload and difficulty.
"Two days. I want a concrete implementation plan in two days. It doesn't need to be exhaustive, but the preliminary framework must be solid. Can you manage this?"
"No problem, you can rest assured."
Confidence radiated from their expressions. Given the state of the wizarding world, deploying their collective expertise was practically overkill. A few simple interest groups would be easily controlled in no time.
Neither side mentioned funding or budget, as the required amount was utterly insignificant.
...
After the others had left, Nagini came downstairs from the bedroom, looking somewhat worried.
"Wayne, is it really all right for Muggles to know about these things?"
"Won't it violate the Statute of Secrecy?"
"It's fine. A few people knowing won't cause any trouble. Actually, the magical community in Britain isn't as isolated from Muggle society as you might think. In the Ministry of Magic, there are even two departments dedicated to liaising with the Muggle government."
Wayne was stating facts, not fabricating anything just to reassure Nagini.
One department was called the Misinformation Office, responsible for communicating with the Muggle Prime Minister.
If major incidents occurred—such as Voldemort's uprising or Sirius Black's escape—both sides would need to coordinate, preparing contingency plans to explain magical events in non-magical terms.
The other was the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, which operated at a lower level, handling minor issues.
Its work was largely similar to the Misinformation Office: deceiving Muggles into disbelieving magic's existence.
The usual excuse staff employed was "gas explosions." If Muggles remained unconvinced, their memories would be erased—everyone except the relevant officials would be hit with a Memory Charm.
After hearing Wayne's explanation, Nagini felt much more at ease.
"Alright, let's head out now. Gardevoir, we won't be back for dinner tonight," Wayne said, standing up.
"Gardevoir!"
"Where are we going?" Nagini asked.
"A Muggle shopping centre, or Diagon Alley—you choose."
"Diagon Alley," Nagini mused for a moment. "I should adapt to magical society first. I'll explore the Muggle world another time."
"Fair enough. Come to think of it, it's been a while since I last visited Diagon Alley, too."
Wayne took Nagini's hand, and with a single step, they apparated directly into Diagon Alley.
The three shops Madam Greengrass had mentioned were in excellent locations—two flanking the Owl Post Office, and the other beside the Quidditch boutique.
The Firebolt shop was right next to the Quidditch boutique, already renovated but not yet open for business.
The official launch was scheduled for July 1st. McKay and Wallow had initially planned a quiet opening, but Wayne overruled them, spending five hundred Galleons on a full-page advertisement in the Daily Prophet.
Even the finest wine needed promotion. Though the Firebolt was a groundbreaking creation, waiting for customers to stumble upon it would have been foolish.
Releasing the specifications early would attract professional Quidditch players sooner.
However, given current production capacity, only thirty brooms would be ready by opening day—far from enough to meet the overwhelming demand.
The moment they arrived in Diagon Alley, Nagini's eyes darted everywhere, overwhelmed.
The weekday afternoon crowd wasn't large, but the liveliness still stirred excitement in her, having been disconnected from wizarding society for decades.
Most importantly, no one here knew about her past as a Maledictus. She could finally live as an ordinary witch.
"Let's go. The shops can wait—we should check out some clothes first."
As he spoke, Wayne handed Nagini a pouch of Galleons.
"Take this. It's your allowance—buy whatever you like without hesitation."
"Pfft!"
Nagini, who had been on the verge of tears from emotion, suddenly burst out laughing. A half-grown boy giving pocket money to an adult like her was rather comical to think about.
Yet Nagini accepted it nonetheless. She belonged entirely to Wayne now and knew he cared little for money—there was no need for pointless courtesy in such matters.
...
The entire afternoon saw them shuttling between various shops.
By dinnertime, Nagini had undergone a complete transformation.
A high-quality silver-threaded robe from Twilfitt and Tattings concealed her shapely figure, her ears now adorned with gemstone earrings, and a visit to the hairdresser had given her a high ponytail that lent her a fresh, youthful vibrancy.
The only complication was the wand.
These were essentially contraband in the wizarding world. Nagini remained undocumented, lacking official wizarding registration, which meant Ollivander couldn't sell her one.
Wayne had no choice but to let her continue using the one she'd won from a prize draw—barely serviceable, but it would have to do.
"When do I start work, Wayne?" Nagini asked eagerly.
Chewing a mouthful of steak, Wayne pondered before replying, "Actually, you could begin in a few days. Handle the hiring yourself."
"Let's open on the same day as the Firebolt flagship store, then. We'll focus on preparatory work initially."
"What about pricing? Have you decided?"
Hiring staff was trivial—Nagini could manage that effortlessly without Wayne's input. But product pricing was entirely beyond her.
This shop, also called Serenia's Mystical Emporium, sold an eclectic range. Expensive items included defensive necklaces, enchanted rings, and various alchemical conveniences, while cheaper offerings comprised common potions and prank novelties.
For pricing, Wayne simply took Hogwarts' rates and marked them up by 10% to 50%. Without earning house points here, profit became the sole consideration.
By the time discussions concluded, their meal was finished. Returning home, they found Gardevoir approaching with a letter.
After reading it, Wayne smiled at Nagini. "I'd planned to take you to Dorset in a few days, but seems that won't be necessary now."
"You'll be meeting an old friend tomorrow."