Walking towards the living room, Wayne asked a question that had been on his mind for a long time.
"Ravenclaw has her diadem, Gryffindor has his sword. But what's the use of Hufflepuff's cup? And what about Slytherin - what represents him?"
Wayne didn't believe Slytherin's Locket was the most precious treasure Salazar Slytherin possessed.
At best, it was just one of his ordinary relics.
There was no way a locket could be more valuable than a necklace.
He'd asked the Sorting Hat before, but as just a hat, its knowledge was limited.
The Sorting Hat only knew that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff often drank from the cup together, getting drunk for three to five days at a time, much to Gryffindor's frustration when he couldn't find them.
"Do you think I'm some know-it-all who knows everything?" Nicolas Flamel said irritably.
Wayne shivered.
No, there's only one true know-it-all - his Hermione.
"I don't believe you weren't curious about it."
They continued discussing the topic after taking their seats.
Having lived over six hundred years, Nicolas Flamel had ample time to cultivate numerous interests and learn various secrets.
Especially regarding such controversial topics, Wayne refused to believe he hadn't investigated.
"What are you two talking about?" Newt asked curiously.
"About the founders' treasures," Wayne said. "I want to know what effects Hufflepuff's Cup has, and what exactly Slytherin's treasure was."
"The cup... You mean the one in the portrait of Madam Hufflepuff?"
Cho recalled the Chocolate Frog card - a kindly plump woman holding a golden cup, smiling warmly.
"That's the one."
"That was actually a magical artefact..." Cho was learning this for the first time.
"I happen to know a bit about Hufflepuff's Cup," Newt said with a smile. "The Scamanders have always been Hufflepuffs, but it's just a casual mention in some notes. I can't guarantee the accuracy of the information."
"No matter, do tell," Nicolas said, intrigued.
"Legend says Hufflepuff's Cup could purify water sources. Back when Hogwarts was first established, the area was desolate—no Forbidden Forest, just swampland."
"Helga Hufflepuff walked the land with the Cup in hand, transforming the marshes into the Black Lake. Then she sprinkled the purified water from the Cup, enriching the surrounding soil."
"That's how we got the thriving Forbidden Forest and Black Lake we know today."
Isn't that just magical fertiliser?
Wayne raised an eyebrow. It sounded impressively effective—and perfectly in character for Hufflepuff.
"I can't vouch for its authenticity," Newt hastily clarified upon seeing their expressions. "The ancestor who wrote this notebook lived in the thirteenth century. By then, Hufflepuff's Cup had long been lost. I've no idea what basis he had for these claims."
"That aligns with what I've learned," Nicolas nodded gently.
"Hufflepuff's Cup leans towards auxiliary functions, so it never garnered much attention from wizards. There are very few records about it."
"As for Slytherin..." Nicolas hesitated. "Dark Wizards have always been eccentric and secretive. Clues are even scarcer. I think the Basilisk—"
"Alright, alright," Perenelle suddenly interjected.
"It's a holiday today. There'll be plenty of time later if you want to explore this."
Who would dare disobey the elder lady?
The group dropped the topic and began enjoying the lavish feast.
The house-elf in charge of cooking had pulled out all the stops, preparing not only an abundance of French dishes but also several Eastern courses specially for Cho, which tasted rather good.
Truth be told, the wizarding world could be quite dull.
Apart from print media, there wasn't even a television to watch. Fortunately, Nicolas' home was full of amusing little contraptions.
After dinner, the old man proudly brought out his collection for Wayne and Cho to admire.
"This is a thermometer—a real thermometer. Just adjust the dial, and it changes the room's temperature."
As Nicolas spoke, he turned up the heat slightly, and immediately everyone felt uncomfortably warm.
Next, he had Nabby bring over a mirror.
"This is a dressing mirror. It can showcase different outfit combinations based on the clothes you own. I used this frequently two hundred years ago, though I can't be bothered with it now."
Cho's eyes sparkled, clearly taken with the mirror.
Noticing her interest, Nicolas offered to gift it to her, but Wayne declined, promising to craft one for her himself upon their return.
To be precise, he'd make one for all the girls.
Not only that, he'd also send one to Sakura, currently at Mahoutokoro.
Though honestly, it wouldn't be Sakura who'd be thrilled—it'd be Tomoyo.
Wait, no. He shouldn't send it directly.
Wayne stroked his chin. For something this interesting, he ought to make Tomoyo trade him several photos of Sakura—preferably some of herself, too.
Apart from their first group photo with Sakura, all the subsequent pictures Tomoyo sent featured only Sakura. She'd never appeared in them again.
By ten o'clock, Nicolas and Perenelle's energy had waned, and the festivities drew to a close.
Wayne didn't return to his own room. Instead, he followed Cho into hers.
With a rare chance for them to be alone, he wasn't about to let it slip.
After over an hour of teasing banter, he finally wiped his lips contentedly and retreated to his bedroom.
Just as he prepared to sleep, anticipating waking to a room full of gifts the next morning, a Zombie Ward was suddenly triggered, causing Wayne's expression to shift.
This mark... belonged to Senior Grace.
...
Cumbria, North West England.
A secluded stretch of woodland hosted a perilous battle.
Dazzling lights flared in succession as several wizards sprinted, firing spells blindly behind them without checking if they'd hit their pursuers—their sole aim was to buy time.
Even if they hit their targets, it made little difference—there were simply too many enemies pursuing them.
Inferi, Ghouls, Vampires, cursed bats, blood-sucking bats, and over a dozen highly magic-resistant armoured knight constructs.
On the wizards' side, there were only six.
"I can't... I can't run anymore!"
One wizard stopped, gasping for breath. He turned and used Transfiguration to create an earthen wall, but it was shattered instantly as a construct charged through, swinging a greatsword at him.
"Bombarda!"
Grace shouted the incantation, and a blazing fireball struck the construct, sending it staggering back. Its sword clattered to the ground.
"Damien! Hurry!"
In the brief moment they had gained, the enemies closed in again. The wizard who had claimed exhaustion somehow found the strength to grit his teeth and keep running.
"This is the 'small graveyard' you mentioned, Mr. Borgin!"
Even as they fled, they couldn't resist blaming the one who had led them into this mess.
The elderly Borgin was too winded to respond, forcing himself to keep moving.
But how could humans outlast monsters and tireless constructs?
One wizard finally snapped, attempting to Apparate—only for his legs to remain behind while the rest of him vanished to who-knows-where.
Soon, the legs left behind were devoured by Inferi.
A blood-sucking bat streaked across the night sky, diving toward the remaining five with terrifying speed.
"Stay back! Stay back!"
The Shield Charm on Borgin's body flared to life, releasing a powerful shockwave that sent the bat hurtling away.
The repelled bat spiralled toward Grace, jaws gaping wide, fangs glinting as it aimed for her head.
Then—a burst of white light erupted from Grace's right arm, obliterating the bat. More beams of light followed, coalescing into a humanoid figure.
"Senior, where exactly are you?"
Wayne frowned at the cacophony of monstrous screeches around him.
The power he had left with Grace was far greater than what he had given to Crouch, so the projection was far more solid—enough to reveal the handsome features of the young man.
"Mr. Lawrence?" Borgin gasped, equal parts shocked and relieved.
"Oh? Mr. Borgin is here, too?" Only then did Wayne notice the familiar face behind Grace.
"Now isn't the time for chatter." He frowned, turning his attention forward.
In the few seconds they had spoken, more dark creatures had surged toward them.
With a flick of his hand, Grace's wand flew into his grip.
Then, a devastating shockwave erupted, visible as a crushing tidal wave of force.
Every creature caught in the blast was sent flying.
At the sight of this absurd display, the fleeing wizards skidded to a halt, eyes alight with hope.
"Can you handle this?" Grace looked up at the spectral figure floating in the air, her voice trembling.
She had been inches from death—her life already flashing before her eyes...
"A bit troublesome, but manageable."
Just as he had said when leaving this mark, this power was more than enough to deal with a dragon, containing roughly two Lawrences' worth of magical power.
Though there were no dragons here now, the number of dark creatures and puppets easily exceeded a hundred.
He'd have to get serious.
No, not just serious. He'd have to cheat.
"Reducto!"
The red spell struck a puppet, its thick armour shattering like paper into scattered debris.
Wayne pointed his wand skyward. Within the white light, crimson arcs of electricity appeared.
Boom! Boom!
Dark clouds rolled as thunder roared.
Crack!
A bolt of lightning descended from the heavens, striking the horde of Inferi with a blinding flash that obliterated over a dozen.
With each flick of Wayne's wand, another thunderbolt fell.
The onlookers felt their eyes nearly seared by the brilliance, their ears assaulted by the unending thunderclaps interspersed with occasional screams...
Wayne hovered aloft, coldly observing the dark creatures' annihilation.
This world held no concept of lightning inherently countering dark entities—yet scarcely any creature feared not the thunder's wrath.
Whether Vampire or Inferius, all struck turned to charcoal, the powerful shockwaves injuring nearby creatures too.
Still, Wayne found it too slow.
A wand flick summoned several towering trees erupting from the earth, their branches intertwining mid-air to form a colossal wire mesh that descended.
Violent currents instantly conducted through this enormous grid, countless electric arcs dancing across its surface.
Like a heavenly net woven from lightning itself, it enveloped the dark creatures as the stench of charred flesh filled the air.
The armoured puppets proved troublesome—their material rendered them immune to electricity, forcing Wayne to eliminate them individually.
Dozens of invisible blades sliced through the air with peerless sharpness, reducing the puppets to scattered, motionless wreckage.
Within two brief minutes, the very horrors that had cornered Grace and her companions lay utterly annihilated.
Staring at the hellish scene before him, the wizard named Damian murmured, "If only Frank had Apparated a bit later..."
Silence fell over the group.
Only after confirming no other living threats remained did Wayne float back to ground, approaching Grace.
"How exactly did you provoke so many foul things?"
The white radiance around him had dimmed considerably, its magical power nearly depleted.
Even borrowing the thunder's might through clever means, wielding such large-scale magic in one go had taken its toll.
Every gaze—Grace's included—snapped toward Borgin.
Facing their scrutiny, Borgin's legs nearly gave way.
"M-Mr Lawrence, I didn't mean to..."
"Explain properly." Wayne frowned at the disjointed apology.
Grace sighed, explaining, "He found some ancient tomb. Initially claimed it was just some insignificant wizard's grave."
"But who could've guessed... upon entering, we discovered the tomb's owner was terrifyingly significant."
"After we took the treasures inside, we accidentally triggered a mechanism. These puppets and creatures are all guardians of the tomb."
"We lost our brooms in there and didn't dare to Apparate recklessly. Before you arrived, one of our companions had already failed."
Grace's beautiful eyes gazed at Wayne's spectral figure: "We owe you our thanks today. Otherwise, I'd probably be buried here."
Wayne understood and drifted over to Borgin's side.
"Mr Borgin, this doesn't align with your professional standards."
"With your knowledge and experience, you wouldn't make such a basic mistake. Unless... you had another purpose?"
Facing Wayne's pressure, Borgin genuinely fell to his knees this time.
"Mr Lawrence, please let me explain!" Borgin said through gritted teeth. "The intelligence about this place came from the Rosier family. We've collaborated for years, and there's never been any problem before."
"That's why I didn't investigate thoroughly before bringing people here."
"But who knew they'd even betray me! Clearly using me as a pathfinder – I'm a victim too!"
Having witnessed Wayne's earth-shattering display earlier, Borgin didn't dare lie now, confessing everything truthfully.
The other wizards glared at him furiously.
"Borgin! You said you discovered this tomb yourself!"
"Damn bastard, you tricked me once before, and now again?!"
"We must demand compensation! Frank's bereavement payment should be doubled!"
"Silence!"
Wayne's cold command instantly hushed them, leaving the group too terrified to speak.
"Your personal grudges don't interest me. If you want to settle accounts with Borgin, wait until I've left."
"Now, Borgin, lift your head and look into my eyes."
Borgin quickly raised his head, his eyes widening as he realised what Wayne intended to do. Yet his mind still reeled in shock.
What kind of magic was this? A mere projection not only possessed formidable power but could even perform Legilimency.
Wayne probed all his thoughts without detecting any resistance from Occlumency, leading him to trust about eighty per cent of Borgin's claims.
Then, he turned to Grace with a hint of schadenfreude:
"Senior, you really are unlucky to stumble into something like this."
Grace shrugged helplessly, spreading her hands.
"So... whose tomb is this anyway?"
Wayne didn't press Borgin about his mistakes—it wasn't his concern. What intrigued him now was the identity of someone who could employ so many Dark creatures and constructs as tomb guardians.
Borgin knew this was his moment to shine and hastily stood to answer:
"It's the tomb of Hereward, son of Godelot!"