To make the effects more noticeable, Wayne took out two vials of Potential Elixir and gave them to Astoria and Daphne.
These weren't brewed by Snape, but made by Wayne himself in his spare time. He still had seven or eight vials left.
He hadn't given them earlier because Astoria hadn't fully recovered, and he worried about potential complications.
Now there was no need for concern.
Moreover, in a sense, he and the Greengrass family were practically family now. Using good things on family was only natural.
...
Over the next few days, Daphne finally experienced what it felt like to be a genius.
Spells that used to work intermittently now flowed smoothly, their power significantly enhanced. Learning new spells became much faster.
Even Moody's unique techniques could be grasped quickly.
Compared to now, her past self might as well have been a Troll like Crabbe and Goyle.
Wayne also observed the changes in Daphne and Astoria.
The Round Table's effects were vaguely explained by the system - a comprehensive upgrade to S-rank, but it wasn't specified which talents reached S-level.
After several days of observation and noting their performance with different types of spells,
Wayne had roughly estimated their strengths.
Daphne excelled more at Defence Against the Dark Arts and Dark Magic, while Astoria showed aptitude for Charms and Transfiguration.
Moreover, the Round Table-enhanced levels didn't seem to come with special talent bonuses. After these days, Wayne hadn't discovered anything additional.
Still, this was enough to astonish Moody.
It was as unbelievable as watching a fool suddenly gain wisdom.
"What method did you use?"
Moody keenly noticed that all changes originated from that boy who appeared occasionally.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he approached after one day's lessons to ask.
Without revealing the Round Table's existence, Wayne simply blamed everything on the Potential Elixir.
"Snape..." Moody frowned, his impression of the man far from favourable.
"Inventing such a potion is impressive indeed, but you should keep your distance from him."
Mad-Eye warned: "Snape was once a Death Eater, following Voldemort. Though I don't know why Dumbledore trusts him so much, even making him... just be careful."
Wayne nodded earnestly, agreeing: "Don't worry, I realised long ago he's no good."
Astoria, who had just approached, secretly rolled her eyes.
Of course, Wayne wouldn't miss any chance to badmouth their Head of House.
Moody seemed quite satisfied, praising the boy for his vigilance.
Noticing the girls' arrival, Wayne reminded Moody, "Just train Daphne strictly. Astoria doesn't want to be an Auror, so don't be too hard on her."
Astoria immediately teared up.
Wayne was so much kinder to her, unlike her mother, who never showed concern.
"This doesn't mean you can slack off," Wayne ruffled her hair. "With enhanced talent comes greater responsibility."
"Your talent determines your ceiling, but your effort determines your floor."
"If you can't beat Harry after next term starts, I won't let Gardevoir make you treats anymore."
At this, Astoria grew visibly anxious. Since signing the contract with that magical round table, apart from the changes in her talents, her appetite had also skyrocketed.
Astoria was beginning to suspect that the table was genuinely a dining table.
She had even planned to take advantage of her increased appetite to indulge in more delicious food, yet Wayne used this to blackmail her.
How wicked!
Only Daphne noticed something and quietly asked, "Wayne, are you leaving?"
"That's right," the boy admitted frankly. "I've been here for a while now, and the two shops are opening the day after tomorrow. It's time to go back."
"When will you come again?" Astoria grabbed his hand.
"Hmm... at least not until August," Wayne replied after a moment's thought.
Though reluctant, Astoria understood Wayne couldn't stay with her forever.
Before leaving, Wayne also asked Mrs Greengrass to help activate the Floo Network permissions for the fireplace in his home.
Such a small favour was naturally not refused by his future mother-in-law.
...
The first day of July.
Early in the morning, before the Leaky Cauldron had even opened for business, Wayne was dragged by Penelope to the Firebolt boutique in Diagon Alley.
"Boss, you're finally here." McKay and Wallow paced nervously around the shop, quickly stepping forward when the two appeared.
"It's not even seven yet... why did you call me here?"
Wayne yawned helplessly, taking a sip of the warm milk from Penelope's hand before feeling slightly more awake.
"It's like this, boss," McKay explained sheepishly. "Last night, we received a letter."
"Mr Mostafa is coming today. Wallow and I were worried about making mistakes, so we thought we'd ask you to help receive him. Aren't you acquainted with Mr Mostafa?"
"That's all?" Wayne was speechless. "Let him come. He's not some big client."
Wallow fidgeted uneasily. "But he decides whether our brooms are allowed in next year's World Cup."
"Fine, fine." Wayne glanced around. "Is there somewhere to rest in the back? I'll take a nap. Call me when he arrives."
"There is," Wallow said hurriedly. "Miss Clearwater, please take the boss there. We'll handle the cleaning and tidying."
Both assumed Penelope was the 'supervisor' Wayne had assigned, so despite being the bosses themselves, they treated her with utmost respect.
Penelope offered an apologetic smile and led Wayne to the back room.
The newly arranged space still lacked many essentials. Wayne lay directly on the sofa, enjoying a golden-haired senior's lap pillow as he caught up on sleep.
Over an hour later, he was gently roused by Penelope's wake-up service.
"Let's go to the front. Guests have arrived."
When the two reached the shop, they saw Wallow and McKay standing before a Firebolt with two elderly men, explaining various specifications.
Mostafa noticed Wayne and strode forward with a hearty laugh, shaking his hand vigorously.
"Long time no see, Mr Lawrence."
"On my way here, I kept wondering if the Firebolt's revival had something to do with you."
"Long time no see, Mr Mostafa." Wayne smiled. "Thanks to your guidance, I was able to find those two geniuses, Wallow and McKay, and enable them to develop such an excellent broom."
Then he looked behind Mostafa. "Mr Gis, I didn't expect you'd come too."
Claudio Gis, owner of the Nimbus company.
The two men were now competitors of sorts.
Gis forced a smile that looked somewhat stiff.
"Congratulations, Mr Lawrence. The Firebolt is truly remarkable - a genuinely groundbreaking product."
The words tasted bitter in his mouth.
Nimbus had been the undisputed market leader, crushing brands like Cleansweep and Comet.
But the Firebolt's arrival had completely eclipsed them.
After thorough analysis, Gis realised even deploying all their company's technological reserves couldn't match the Firebolt's performance.
This realisation was utterly devastating.
After Wayne joined the team, McKay and Wallow seemed to vanish from public view.
They had never been fond of social gatherings, preferring to stay in the background and focus on their research.
As for the Firebolt, Mostafa was utterly enamoured.
The exquisite craftsmanship, the advanced technology, and most importantly – the sheer spectacle of it.
Its speed, far surpassing other products, would make matches more thrilling, and next year's World Cup was bound to be even more spectacular.
By then, his name as the chairman would be etched into history.
Soon enough, Mostafa walked away with a Firebolt.
Once it passed inspection without any illegal modifications, it would become the official broomstick of the World Cup.
Gis also purchased one to study back home, though Wayne wasn't worried about any secrets being uncovered. The Goblins' craftsmanship was foolproof – any attempt at forced disassembly would trigger a self-destruct mechanism, leaving no room for exploitation.
After ten o'clock, the shop gradually filled with customers.
Thanks to the reports from the past few days, many had heard about the powerful new flying broomstick and came to see the hype for themselves.
Wayne even spotted several familiar faces from school.
"Lawrence, what are you doing here?" Wood was practically drooling over the Firebolt in the display case when he caught sight of Wayne out of the corner of his eye.
"I was dragged here by Penelope. She works here," Wayne answered truthfully.
"Clearwater?" Wood blinked, glancing around before spotting Penelope assisting another customer.
"So, what do you think of the broom?" Wayne asked casually.
"It's brilliant, absolutely perfect," Wood gushed, his eyes lighting up at the topic.
"It's leagues ahead of the Nimbus 2001. The Nimbus line would need at least ten more iterations even to come close to the Firebolt's level."
"If you like it, buy one," Wayne seized the opportunity to promote. "There's a special offer today – every customer gets a ten-Galleon voucher, plus a grand opening discount of two hundred Galleons. It's quite a bargain."
"That much of a discount?" Wood exclaimed. "So what's the final price?"
The Firebolt had no listed price, only a note saying "enquire within."
"4,789 Galleons."
At that astronomical figure, Wood trembled from head to toe, his voice disbelieving.
"How much?!"
"4,789. The original price is 4,999 – you're practically saving enough to buy a whole Nimbus."
Wood: "..."
'As if it's the discount I'm worried about!'
...
After seeing off the price-shocked Wood, Wayne surveyed the shop. Most visitors were like Wood – just here to look, only to be scared off by the price.
The only serious buyer was a manager from a professional Quidditch team, who had already been led into a private room for negotiations by a sales assistant.
Finding there was little left for him to do here, Wayne informed Penelope and headed to the Serenia Shop, which also opened today.
Compared to the unattainable Firebolt, the far more affordable Serenia Shop was bustling with activity.
The shop was packed, not just with curious young wizards but also plenty of adults.
Prank items were cheaper at school, but the real draw here was the assortment of peculiar alchemical gadgets.
Especially for housewives like Molly, who couldn't resist snapping up self-cleaning cloths and flower-safe weed killers.
Two shop assistants had been hired, both now swamped with customers.
Nagini, the shopkeeper, was busy restocking shelves in between the rush. Upon seeing Wayne, she merely gave a slight nod before continuing with her tasks.
As noon approached, Hermione arrived with the Grangers in tow.
"Hello, uncle and aunt," Wayne greeted them after setting down the newly delivered massage chair.
"Hello, Wayne," they replied cheerfully. Mr Granger peered inside just as a young witch's head transformed into a roaring lion.
"Are these all enchanted items?" he asked excitedly.
"More or less. Each product has its description—you can take a look."
No sooner had he spoken than Mr Granger hurried inside, picking up a fake wand to examine like a child with a new toy.
Mrs Granger offered an apologetic smile, though Wayne found it perfectly understandable.
Men remain boys at heart. By comparison, Mr Granger was quite normal. Wayne suspected he and Mr Weasley would get along famously—one fascinated by all things Muggle, the other bewitched by wizardry. They'd complement each other perfectly.
...
As Mrs Granger browsed her own interests, Hermione naturally slipped her small hand into Wayne's the moment her parents were out of earshot.
"You haven't visited me these past days," the young witch pouted.
"I've been staying at Astoria's place." After a pause, Wayne leaned close to whisper about the Unbreakable Vow.
"What?!"
Hermione's eyes widened. "That's practically an engagement!"
Her voice rose sharply, but the shop's chaotic noise swallowed the outburst.
"Not at all. Who says you need marriage to have children?" Wayne countered earnestly.
"What kind of scoundrel logic is that!" Hermione tried wrenching her hand free, but Wayne held fast.
Previously, though other girls had always orbited Wayne, an unspoken understanding existed—acknowledged yet unaddressed. Now everything had changed. With Astoria's relationship confirmed, Hermione could no longer deceive herself.
"Hermione, you must understand my position," the boy murmured, pulling her into a secluded corner. "The Lawrence bloodline hangs by a thread—I've no choice in this."
"Blame my parents if you must, for failing to provide siblings. This vast legacy rests solely on my shoulders."
"I won't let my children suffer the same. So... help me?"
"Alright..." Hermione nearly nodded before catching herself. "Wait—that's the most preposterous excuse!"
"Let go."
"Won't."
"Are you letting go or not?"
"Stop asking. Never."
"Speaking of which, didn't you promise to stay at mine? Have you asked your parents?"
"No. Not going. Stay with Astoria."
Wayne clung shamelessly, steering the conversation away. Forced to pierce this delicate veil today, he'd had little choice.
If he delayed further, by the time Fleur arrived for the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts... he'd likely be facing far sharper consequences than heartbreak. Better to say it now, to give Hermione and Cho some mental preparation while also demonstrating his sincerity.
Then, he could rely on time and affection to let the girls gradually adapt to this lifestyle.
Truth be told, the wizarding world had no relevant marriage laws—it was merely subconscious self-restraint influenced by Muggle society.
Many pure-blood families, when facing the crisis of lineage extinction, would take multiple wives at once.
So strictly speaking, he was only being immoral, not illegal.
Hermione was furious, refusing to utter a word, no matter how sweetly Wayne coaxed her.
The silver lining was that she had stopped struggling, allowing the boy to hold her like a delicate porcelain doll.
When the Grangers returned laden with shopping bags and saw the two clinging to each other, they froze.
Mr Granger's smile stiffened before transferring to Mrs Granger's face.
Mothers and daughters were always closer, sharing more secrets, so she wasn't entirely surprised by the scene.
But Mr Granger, whose little princess had been snatched away, wasn't pleased. He moved to separate them, only for Mrs Granger to yank him back.
"Why meddle in the children's affairs? Stop causing trouble and let's go."