Grace's home was in a Fulham apartment in inner London. Wayne found her doorstep in under five minutes.
"That fast?" Grace looked genuinely surprised when she opened the door to see the boy already there.
"Best to finish early so I can rest."
Grace wore scandalously little—a silk nightdress that left little to the imagination.
Wayne walked straight past her without glancing, eyeing the shoe rack in the entryway. "Should I change shoes?"
"Don't bother." Grace yawned, oblivious to her slipping shoulder strap.
"Funny, you're actually my first ever house guest..."
The two-bedroom flat was compact, its interior haphazardly arranged with a lived-in messiness.
She led Wayne to the sofa.
Through an ajar door, he spotted bookshelves and a writing desk—a converted study—and asked curiously:
"Don't your parents live here?"
"You mean my birth parents?" Grace leaned against the boy, her head resting on his shoulder as she murmured:
"I grew up in an orphanage."
Two seconds of silence.
"My apologies."
"Nothing to apologise for." She chuckled. "I rented this place after leaving the orphanage at sixteen. Once I've saved enough, I'll buy it and remodel it properly for wizarding living."
"A bit small though. Ever considered upgrading?"
Seeing she genuinely wasn't bothered, Wayne relaxed and teased lightly.
"Not all of us are Earl Lawrence," Grace huffed, swatting him. "With London property prices, affording this place alone will take me ages."
Wayne seized the opportunity to get to the point. "What a coincidence. I came today to discuss a major business deal with you."
"If we pull this off, buying this house will be a breeze for you."
"You're not actually planning to keep me as your mistress, are you?" Grace's expression turned odd as she playfully shielded her chest with both hands, making Wayne's eyes twitch violently.
Most people raised their arms defensively, but what was she doing, squeezing them together like that? Was she trying to buff his attack speed?
"Stop joking around. I'm serious."
"Oh." Grace instantly became docile, her attitude shifting so swiftly that it took Wayne a moment to process before he sighed in resignation.
"First, tell me how much you've earned these past months working with the expedition team."
After some thought, Grace replied, "Not counting Borgin's compensation, I sold some items and made about three hundred Galleons."
"Though I also earned some Muggle currency. A few of the antiques were quite valuable and fetched around three thousand seven hundred pounds."
"So what do you think of your teammates' abilities?" Wayne asked again.
"Quite mediocre," Grace shook her head. "Few powerful wizards would choose this line of work unless they're desperate."
"There you have it."
Wayne spread his hands and advised, "Following those small fry won't lead anywhere promising. Why not listen to me? First train at the Ministry of Magic for a while. As for tomb exploration, we can team up after you've grown stronger or after I graduate."
"Those tombs are buried underground—it's not like they'll grow legs and run away."
"Hahaha."
Grace was amused by Wayne's analogy, yet still couldn't make up her mind.
Because...
"If I may ask, why are you so fixated on Hufflepuff's death?" Wayne inquired curiously, noticing her hesitation.
"Actually... I can't quite explain it."
Grace bit her lip. "Before I even enrolled, I read some basic school information and felt an immediate affinity for Hufflepuff's name... Before the Sorting Hat made its decision, I already knew I'd be placed in Hufflepuff."
"And then... I researched extensively about Hufflepuff and grew increasingly fascinated. But after the school's founding, she mysteriously vanished without any subsequent records."
"Anyway, it's like... an inexplicable connection."
Grace couldn't quite articulate this feeling.
Intuition, emotion, instinct...
All these factors played a part.
Seeing her like this, Wayne didn't press further and continued persuading:
"Then you should focus on improving your strength and gathering more information first. If you do find clues, you don't seriously think those teammates of yours could break into a powerful ancient tomb, do you?"
"What does this have to do with the Ministry?" Grace asked, puzzled.
Wayne produced an envelope and handed it to her.
Opening it, Grace withdrew the parchment inside and exclaimed in surprise, "Auror training program?"
Wayne nodded lightly. "Your grades easily qualify you to apply as an Auror. Even if you're not interested in the job itself, what they teach would still be useful."
This was something he'd obtained through Madam Greengrass's connections.
Becoming an Auror wasn't just about meeting academic requirements—it involved rigorous screening.
Typically, Auror candidates are trained for about three years before passing examinations to officially join. The assessments were comprehensive.
They tested not just combat skills but also knowledge of law, Dark Magic detection, intelligence gathering, and even physical fitness.
A few years of training would undoubtedly benefit Grace.
Having gone this far, Grace knew refusing again would be unreasonable, so she nodded slightly in agreement.
"Alright, I'll follow your advice."
A smile finally appeared on Wayne's face.
"No need for thanks. Just sell me any interesting finds from your future tomb explorations—we can negotiate prices."
As he spoke, Wayne took Grace's hand.
"Now, time to replenish your magic..."
...
The final days of the holiday passed quickly. Wayne went nowhere, instead keeping Nagini company at the Diagon Alley shop.
After learning of his whereabouts, Wallow and McKay came calling—they'd encountered new troubles.
"Boss." Wallow said with a bitter expression, "Those two old Goblins aren't satisfied with their current dividends – they want more gold."
"They've even threatened to lead the other Goblins in a strike if we don't increase their shares."
"I expected as much."
Wayne wasn't surprised.
A Goblin's greed knows no bounds – one should never expect gratitude from them.
Seeing how the Firebolts were selling like hotcakes with demand outstripping supply, it was natural that the two Goblins had grown even more avaricious.
Wayne had prepared for this eventuality.
"Go find a Goblin called Bell. I had him secretly learn the craft from those two old relics."
"If his skills are comparable, promote him and give all the Goblins a small pay rise. As for those two fossils... let them get away with embezzling a bit, then once we have evidence, hand them straight to the Ministry and send them to Azkaban."
Wallow gaped. "Boss, you actually planted a spy?"
"Standard procedure." Wayne waved his hand dismissively. "After those two have been exploiting the other Goblins for so long, there's bound to be resentment. Remember, if Bell gets any funny ideas, deal with him the same way."
"This world's never short of greedy Goblins. Pay them enough, and betraying their own kind is commonplace."
Wallow and McKay practically fell to their knees.
On the final day, Wayne finally made a trip to Knockturn Alley, collecting Magick Moste Evile from Borgin and Burkes.
He also pocketed a thousand Galleons as payment.
"Keep an eye out for any news related to Hufflepuff in future."
Seeing Borgin's respectful demeanour, Wayne made the request.
Naturally, Borgin didn't dare neglect this, promising to search and contact his pure-blood connections for leads actively.
"By the way, how do you plan to deal with the Rosier family?"
Before leaving, Wayne suddenly remembered something and asked curiously.
"Heh..." Borgin gave a cold smile. "You'll have to excuse me – I'm just a small businessman who can't afford to offend a powerful family like the Rosiers. I'll just have to... send them a few small gifts to vent my frustrations."
Wayne knew these "small gifts" were no presents.
Borgin had a whole room of Dark Artefacts – even a few would make the Rosiers suffer.
...
Leaving Knockturn Alley, Wayne Apparated to Snape's doorstep.
Only then did he realise Snape – who never came home for Christmas – had actually returned this year.
Had he stopped guarding Harry?
With this question in mind, Wayne knocked. Hurried footsteps sounded inside before the door soon opened, revealing Snape's scowling face.
"You're finally here."
"It's the holidays. I don't even have enough time with my girlfriend – couldn't this have waited until term?"
Wayne complained as he entered.
Just like last time, the interior was oppressively dark and dreary.
Snape ignored this, shutting the door firmly before casting several protective spells. He then approached a bookshelf.
His wand tapped lightly against it, causing the shelf to split down the middle and slide apart, revealing a hidden passage.
"All this secrecy?"
Now even more curious, Wayne followed Snape inside.
The enclosed room contained a single bed, upon which lay a man. Against the wall stood two workbenches cluttered with cauldrons and various potion ingredients.
Wayne didn't examine them closely, his attention entirely captured by the figure on the bed.
"You've started experimenting again?" He couldn't be bothered to ask where the unfortunate man on the bed had come from.
"No," Snape replied coldly. "I never stopped."
"I've told you, you can't succeed." Wayne sighed.
He understood Snape's obsession. Lily's death was an eternal wound in his heart. But reviving someone was far from simple – too many factors needed consideration.
"True, I haven't succeeded yet." Snape approached the bed, head lowered with barely contained excitement. "But I'm halfway there!"
"Halfway?" Wayne regarded him with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"See for yourself." Snape gestured for Wayne to come closer.
The young man stepped forward, studying the figure on the bed.
Steady breathing. Normal temperature and heartbeat. Only the complexion was paler than usual.
Wayne's expression gradually turned grave as he noticed something amiss.
At first, he'd assumed this was merely someone Snape had placed in a coma for experimental convenience.
But closer observation dismissed that theory.
The breathing was far too even and significantly slower than normal.
Almost like...
"A living corpse?"
The youth's eyes glowed blue as he unconsciously activated his X-ray vision, examining the internal changes.
"How did you achieve this?"
After five minutes of scrutiny, Wayne dispelled the magic, his voice laced with puzzlement.
"Did you catch a Dementor and have it kiss this fellow?"
Snape's eyes lit up. "Precisely! That's exactly the state!"
"I've struggled to find the right analogy – you've phrased it perfectly!" Snape bent forward, his tone feverish, as if admiring the world's most flawless artwork.
Seeing this expression and recalling the earlier claim of being 'halfway there', Wayne's face registered shock. "Don't tell me this person actually died..."
"Five days. He was dead for five full days." Snape's excitement contrasted sharply with his usual gloom. "His body had begun decomposing – foul odours, visible decay."
"But when I administered the potion, everything restored itself. As if... he'd come back to life!"
Wayne wrinkled his nose in distaste.
That sounded thoroughly revolting...
Yet beneath his disgust lay genuine awe. He'd never imagined Snape could progress this far.
Even with superior ingredients, this surpassed both the man's natural limits and the very boundaries of potion-making itself.
"Lawrence, we're so close now. Just one final step." Snape whirled around, eyes pleading in a manner Wayne had never witnessed before. "Help me. I need more experiments. I must... bring her back."
"Professor..." Wayne sighed.
All inclination to jest had left him.
Regardless of whether Snape was good or evil, such devotion commanded respect.
Now he understood why Snape hadn't broached this at school.
If old Dumbledore learned of these inhuman experiments...
Hmm?
Wayne suddenly thought of Ariana. If old Dumbledore knew about this, he'd probably be desperate for Snape to succeed immediately, wouldn't he?
"I underestimated you before," Wayne admitted frankly, acknowledging his mistake. "Turning a long-dead corpse into a vegetative state can already be considered a miracle."
Snape remained silent, still staring intently at him.
"But..." Wayne observed the 'specimen', "as you can see, this is merely an empty shell lacking a soul."
"Soul..." Snape murmured to himself.
"I wonder if you've discussed this matter with ghosts."
Wayne continued, "After death, human souls journey to another place. Some, fearing death, choose to remain behind—that's how they become ghosts."
"So what you're currently lacking is the soul of the person you wish to revive."
As he spoke, Wayne's wand emitted green arcs of electricity that struck the living corpse lying on the bed. The body gave a slight tremble.
"See? Although the Killing Curse is called 'Killing', part of its power actually affects the soul. This is just the body's instinctive reaction."
"Moreover, since this is a potion we're discussing, the revived person must be functional, correct?"
"Can you even find her complete corpse now?"
Snape seemed to have all his strength drained from him as he collapsed onto the floor. Every point Wayne mentioned was an insurmountable obstacle for him now.
A complete corpse. Lily's soul.
Where could he possibly find these?
"Don't lose heart completely," Wayne consoled kindly. "This still counts as achieving one-third of the goal. As long as you're alive, there's always hope."
"I don't need your comfort," Snape said as he climbed back to his feet, the light in his eyes refocusing. "As long as I draw breath, I'll never give up."
"I admire your spirit." Wayne gave a thumbs-up.
Snape had genuinely surprised him. He wanted to see how far Snape could go, driven by his feelings for Lily.
Suddenly, Wayne understood why Dumbledore always emphasised that love was the most powerful magic in this world. Wasn't this a perfect example?
"Words are cheap," Snape reverted to his usual unpleasant demeanour. "I've exhausted my materials. Aren't you going to sponsor some?"
"Of course," Wayne maintained his smile. "Just hand over that potion recipe, and we can discuss anything."
Snape's expression darkened gradually. This brat remained as infuriating as ever!
---
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