"Professor, how's your examination of the Holy Grail coming along?"
In the Headmaster's Office, Wayne asked again.
"I haven't found any issues. Regarding the Holy Grail, I'm no longer concerned about its safety."
A look of delight appeared on Wayne's face: "So you agree then?"
"I know you're eager, but don't be hasty."
Wayne's expression darkened, but Dumbledore merely smiled: "The Holy Grail has no problems, but the tournament's danger level has indeed increased significantly. So I'm still considering..."
"Just tell me directly – what would it take for you to agree?" Wayne didn't want to beat around the bush with Dumbledore and got straight to the point.
If Dumbledore's conditions were too harsh, he'd organise his own Holy Grail War. He didn't believe he couldn't gather enough participants.
"Two conditions," Dumbledore said softly. "The first isn't my requirement, but rather Madame Maxime and Deputy Headmaster Worley's demand."
"She believes your participation would be rather unfair."
"To avoid dampening other students' enthusiasm, this tournament..."
"No problem," Wayne said bluntly. "I wasn't planning to participate anyway. Just tell me the second condition."
"I haven't thought of it yet."
Dumbledore smiled gently. "The second condition is purely my personal whim, but currently, I don't seem to need your help with anything. Let's leave it for later."
After a moment's consideration, Wayne nodded slowly.
"Fine, but let me state upfront – nothing too unreasonable. If I find it objectionable, don't blame me for reneging later."
Dumbledore nodded: "That's only fair. I'll mind the boundaries."
"Then I'll inform Mr Crouch when I return."
With their agreement, the matter was settled.
"Could the Holy Grail remain with me?" Dumbledore asked. "The sealing magic on it is quite remarkable – I'd like to study it further."
"Study it as long as you like. I'm only interested in its secrets."
Having achieved his goal, Wayne prepared to make his exit.
Before leaving, he suddenly remembered something and snapped his fingers, summoning the Sorting Hat.
"Forgot to return this to you."
"Eh? Dumbledore, you're back at school already?" the Sorting Hat said curiously.
Dumbledore smacked his forehead.
So that's what had been missing from his office.
The Sorting Hat was gone!
He'd been back for so long and hadn't even noticed.
"I'll return the hat to you now. Merry Christmas, Headmaster."
With that, Wayne placed the Sorting Hat back on its original shelf and slipped out of the office.
The Sorting Hat sighed regretfully. "Why did you return so soon? I wasn't done having fun yet."
"The Hufflepuff students are all such talents, so pleasant to talk to. I could have stayed there forever."
"Perhaps you could send me back?"
Listening to the Sorting Hat's rambling, Dumbledore felt a headache coming on.
This school... was becoming stranger by the day.
...
Early the next morning, after breakfast, the students boarded Thestral-drawn carriages bound for King's Cross Station in Hogsmeade.
Most of the Ministry's Aurors and Dementors had been withdrawn.
Aurors were human too and needed holiday breaks. At the same time, the Dementors had been sent back to Azkaban to prevent them from succumbing to feeding urges amidst the festive cheer that might disturb Hogsmeade's residents.
Fudge's considerate decision unexpectedly earned him considerable praise.
The train departed on schedule. In their compartment, the girls discussed their holiday plans while Wayne stared blankly out the window.
"What's wrong?" Cho noticed the boy's unusual silence and asked softly.
"Nothing." Wayne snapped out of his thoughts and took Cho's hand. "Before leaving school, I received a letter."
Hermione asked curiously, "Who was it from?"
"Snape." Wayne's expression turned odd. "He asked me to visit him during the holidays."
Astoria's hair tuft twitched as she said uncertainly, "Your relationship... isn't exactly good, is it?"
That was putting it mildly.
In reality, their relationship was far worse.
Snape never missed an opportunity to mock Wayne, something that had happened countless times during Potions class.
"It's just Snape targeting me unilaterally," Wayne said matter-of-factly. "I respect every professor's lessons."
"Then why would he want to see you?" Cho asked, puzzled.
"Maybe he wants to give you a proper scolding during the holidays?" Ginny speculated with maximum malice.
Every house except Slytherin disliked Snape, but none hated him more than Gryffindor.
"Ginny," Hermione said disapprovingly. "Professor Snape wouldn't go that far."
"He probably has something important to discuss with Wayne."
"Well, if I have time, I'll go see him." The old bat was being so mysterious that Wayne's curiosity was piqued.
Now it was Ginny's turn to be upset. "You told Mum you might not have time to visit The Burrow, but you'll make time for Snape?"
Wayne looked exasperated. "I said I wasn't sure, not that I wouldn't come."
He was spending Christmas at Nicolas's home this year. Nicolas Flamel's residence was also in Devon, as was Ottery St Catchpole, where The Burrow stood, though there was some distance between them.
If everything worked out, he might pay a visit.
"By the way, who's joining me for Christmas to meet an elder?" Wayne looked around at the girls.
Hermione shook her head—she was going skiing in Scandinavia with her parents.
Penelope couldn't either, as she was visiting her grandparents with her family.
Astoria was the first to raise her hand, only for Daphne to push it down firmly. "Mother would never agree, so forget about it," she said bluntly.
Finally, Wayne could only look at Cho.
"I don't have any plans this year," the girl said with a faint smile. "If you can convince Dad, I'll go with you."
"You said it yourself," Wayne confirmed with the girl.
Previously, he'd had no way to deal with Mr Zhang, but now... heh.
Future father-in-law, I hear you work at the Department of International Magical Cooperation?
...
The train arrived at King's Cross Station. After exchanging pleasantries with a few acquaintances, Wayne Apparated back home, startling Humphrey, who was having tea in the living room.
"Since we're back in the Muggle world, couldn't you choose a normal mode of transportation?"
Humphrey dabbed at the tea stains on his shirt, his face dark with displeasure.
These were brand new clothes he'd changed into today – their first wearing too.
"You didn't tell me you were visiting today," Wayne said helplessly, flicking his fingers to vanish the tea stains from the white shirt.
"Such a convenient ability," Humphrey marvelled. After a moment of admiration, his expression turned serious:
"I knew you were on holiday today. I came specifically to wait for you."
Humphrey's face grew stern: "What's this about Nagini?"
"You've met her?" Wayne asked, surprised.
"I passed by your place last time to deliver two financial reports and saw her." Humphrey's mouth twitched. "I thought we had a burglar."
"My fault for not telling you in advance," Wayne said with an embarrassed smile.
"That's not what I meant." Studying the young man, Humphrey ventured cautiously: "Nagini's quite attractive, but the age gap... isn't it a bit much?"
God only knew what thunderbolt had struck Humphrey when he discovered his nephew was dating a woman over a decade his senior.
Had he known Nagini's true age, the shock might have been even more devastating.
"Uncle, I know what I'm doing." Wayne dismissed the concern airily. "Wizards live longer than Muggles. A small age difference means nothing."
"Is being a wizard really that good?" Humphrey asked enviously.
At his level of status and position, beyond power, longevity was the only thing left to desire.
"Don't worry." Wayne winked. "With me around, your life is just beginning."
Humphrey's breathing quickened, immediately forgetting his nephew's questionable romantic choices.
Who would care about such trivialities when granted decades more life?
...
That evening, Nagini rushed to embrace Wayne the moment she returned home.
"Young master, I missed you."
"Gardevoir!" The Pokémon teleported over, voicing her displeasure.
"Of course I missed you, too, Gardevoir." Nagini happily hugged the psychic-type.
The little maid smiled contentedly, her eyes curving into crescents.
Among all the girls, Gardevoir remained closest to Nagini – after regaining human form, Nagini had lived in the suitcase with her daily during that period.
After dinner, Wayne inquired about Nagini's recent activities.
To his relief, the snake-woman had fully adapted to the wizarding world of this era, shedding her initial timidity completely.
"Will you come with me to Nicolas's for Christmas?" Wayne asked.
"I'd better not."
Nagini shook her head slightly. "The shop does its best business during holidays. I can't leave."
Wayne sighed. "The shop was just to give you something to do. No need to take it so seriously."
"No." Nagini insisted firmly. "I must manage it properly to deserve your trust."
Wayne felt he'd shot himself in the foot – he'd never intended to mould Nagini into a career woman.
...
Under the gentle care of Gardevoir and Nagini, Wayne comfortably soaked in a hot bath before settling into bed.
With a thought, he opened his system panel to check his points.
During his last lottery draw, he had nearly emptied his entire stash.
After a term of accumulation, he now had over thirteen thousand points again.
Most of these points came from the sales of Patronus brooches, which had sold nearly fifteen hundred units.
The rest were earned through breaking school rules and the occasional contributions from Snape's "performance".
No major incidents had been generated.
The complaints against the Ministry of Magic were spontaneous actions by the students and had little to do with him. Expelling the Dementors also didn't meet the system's criteria for chaotic behaviour.
However, locking old Dumbledore out of the Headmaster's office had provided him with a one-time bonus of two thousand points.
Since points wouldn't multiply on their own, Wayne immediately spent them on a hundred consecutive draws.
Card after card shattered. Blue cards were ignored outright, while purple cards—if duplicates—were glanced at before being dismissed.
For some reason, this draw seemed to be flooded with Fire-Making Spells. He pulled four in a row, instantly boosting this rarely practised spell to master-level proficiency.
Finally, on the fifth purple card, a brand-new skill appeared.
But after reading the description, Wayne's expression twisted into one of exasperation.
[Tongue Lash: Your tongue becomes as flexible as that of the River King, capable of extending, softening, or hardening at will. Power scales with magical output.]
He admitted it—he was a vulgar man with an imagination that leaned towards the unsavoury.
He couldn't think of a single respectable use for this spell...
Well, having it was better than nothing.
Wayne shook his head and continued flipping cards.
The remaining purple cards yielded nothing of value until he finally tapped the golden one.
"Hmm? Another talent?"
The young man perked up.
[Precision Talent 'Overheal': Converts vitality into tangible storage, usable for healing or extending lifespan.]
At first glance, this talent overlapped significantly with Ho-Oh's abilities.
After all, Ho-Oh at its peak could even resurrect the dead. Any reward related to healing or longevity was essentially redundant for Wayne.
But upon closer inspection, he noticed the most critical aspect of Overheal—
Tangible storage...
"Ho-Oh..." Wayne called softly. A glow appeared in the pitch-dark bedroom as Ho-Oh alighted on the bedside, tilting its head curiously at the boy.
"Condense a few sacred flames for me, and make sure they don't dissipate."
After absorbing the talent and roughly understanding its mechanics, Wayne issued the command.
Ho-Oh never hesitated to obey its master. Immediately, several pure white sacred flames floated in the air.
Wrapping one flame in his magical power, Wayne activated Overheal.
Visibly, the flame dimmed and shrank, droplets of crimson liquid coalescing within it.
Wayne hurriedly pulled out a crystal vial to collect the liquid.
By the time the last few flames dissipated, the small vial was only a third full.
The red liquid was vivid as blood, thick and concentrated, barely rippling even when shaken vigorously.
This was the purest essence of life, surpassing even the tears of Ho-Oh and the ashes formed after its rebirth.
Wayne decided to name it the Elixir of Life.
Previously, these clusters of sacred flames could replenish thirty years of lifespan for a person – roughly what had been given to Grindelwald last time.
In other words, whoever drank this bottle of Elixir of Life would instantly become thirty years younger. Even an old man could rise and kick.
"Chirp chirp!"
Ho-Oh curiously examined the bottle.
"You want to drink it?" Wayne looked at it in confusion. "Isn't this formed from your own power?"
"Chirp! Chirp chirp!"
Only after Ho-Oh cried out several more times did Wayne understand its meaning.
While it was indeed formed from its power, the Elixir of Life was even purer than the sacred flames. Though it wouldn't provide significant benefits, the taste would certainly appeal to it.
"I need to keep these. Produce a few more flames, and I'll process them for you."
Wayne shook his head and put the bottle away.
Ho-Oh happily took flight, this time producing several times more sacred flames than before.
Wayne shot it an exasperated glance but dutifully set to work.
Fifteen minutes later.
Ho-Oh contentedly drank an entire bottle of Elixir of Life, let out a soft cry, and flew out the window.
...
The next day.
Wayne rose early, sent Nagini to work in Diagon Alley, then visited Barty Crouch Sr.'s home.
"Has Dumbledore agreed?"
After dismissing the house-elf Winky, Crouch immediately pressed the question. Regarding the Holy Grail War, he was now more invested than even Wayne. Only by confirming the Grail's true power could his nebulous hope become tangible.
"Not so fast." Wayne picked up a sweet from the table and took a bite. "I rushed over without even having breakfast."
"Winky," Crouch called sternly. "Prepare breakfast for Mr Lawrence!"
"Yes, master!"
Winky's voice carried from outside as she hurried into the kitchen.
"Let's go." After finishing the small cake, Wayne clapped his hands.
"Where?" Crouch looked bewildered. "Didn't you want breakfast?"
"There's still some time," Wayne said with a smile. "It's been a while since I tortured your son. My hands are itching."
Crouch: "..."