Wayne found himself far busier than expected during the holidays.
He'd originally planned to visit The Burrow the next day to see the twins and Diggory, but a letter from Dorset disrupted his plans.
Hurriedly, Wayne made his way to Newt's home.
"Senior, why are you suddenly returning to America?"
Holding a Kneazle in his arms, Wayne asked with some confusion.
Newt didn't answer immediately, instead glancing towards Tina in the kitchen.
Tina unhurriedly placed freshly baked cookies on the tea table before sitting beside Newt and saying leisurely:
"Little Wayne, Britain is about to become chaotic again. We can't stay any longer."
"Just because Voldemort has returned?"
Wayne found this hard to believe. Back in the day, this couple had chased Grindelwald across continents—they wouldn't flee Britain simply because it was Voldemort now.
"No." Tina took an elegant sip of floral tea, closing her eyes to savour the aroma. "It's because of Dumbledore."
"Er..." Wayne's mouth opened slightly.
"Dumbledore visited a few days ago, inviting Newt to join the Order of the Phoenix. I refused."
Setting down her teacup, Tina's tone turned sharp: "Newt and I are at this age now, and he still wants to drag us into the whirlpool."
"Tina, Dumbledore's just concerned," Newt said with a wry smile. "After all, it's the Dark Lord. He needs allies."
"You're defending him again!" Tina glared, and Newt promptly fell silent.
"Anyway, we're tired. We don't want to meddle in these messy affairs anymore—just want to retire peacefully."
Wayne looked at Tina and Newt, who appeared only around thirty years old, and wisely chose to ignore the remark.
"Where will you go?"
"Back to North America. Queenie's granddaughter is about to give birth, so we'll help look after her."
At this, Tina glanced subtly at the transparent creature nearby.
She and Newt had their son late in life, and he'd only had Rolf in his thirties.
The result was that Jacob and Queenie were about to become great-grandparents, while Rolf was still a third-year student.
"Wayne, Rolf will come back with us, but he'll return to Hogwarts when term starts. Please keep an eye on him for us."
"No problem. With me around, Voldemort and his lackeys won't lay a finger on Rolf," Wayne promised outright.
Newt added a reminder: "Be careful of the Ministry, too."
"The current situation resembles decades ago. The Ministry will only hold things back—back then, they even wanted to imprison Dumbledore in Azkaban."
"I've got a feeling Hogwarts won't be peaceful next term."
Wayne gave an awkward chuckle, refraining from grandiose claims.
'The older, the wiser. Your premonition is quite accurate.'
After spending another evening with the Scamanders, Wayne saw the three off to North America the next day before heading to Devon to inform Nicolas about their departure.
Upon hearing this, Nicolas chuckled.
"Seems Tina's truly afraid Newt might be whisked away by Albus."
"You should be careful, too, senior. If Voldemort comes knocking, contact me immediately."
Wayne didn't give Nicolas any alchemical devices—the old man had lived so long that his collection of treasures far surpassed Wayne's.
Even if he couldn't defeat Voldemort, he could hold out until Wayne arrived.
Nicolas smiled. "Don't worry. Very few know I'm still alive, and fewer still know I'm in Britain—just you lot."
"Fair point."
"Let Dumbledore worry about it; he'll handle it." Nicolas waved his hand dismissively before asking, "I heard you were selling Command Seals before the final round of the tournament. Have you fully mastered them?"
"Yes, they can be mass-produced now."
Wayne took out the machine for crafting Command Seals and discussed its principles and technology with Nicolas Flamel.
Regarding the magical power decomposition aspect, Nicolas's alchemy skills were up to standard, but his strength fell short. With Wayne's help, Nicolas quickly created a device for engraving Command Seals.
Once completed, Nicolas directly produced over a dozen Philosopher's Stones, making Wayne's eyelids twitch violently as a sense of foreboding rose in his heart.
Sure enough, by the next day, Nicolas was bundled up tightly from head to toe. Wherever the wind blew, it lifted a corner of his clothing to reveal the red hue of Command Seals beneath.
"Just how many have you engraved on yourself?"
Nicolas rolled up his sleeve, looking at his completely crimson-stained arm with some uncertainty. "I'm not entirely sure. In any case, I used up all the magical power from yesterday's Philosopher's Stones—enough to keep Perenelle and me alive for several thousand years."
Wayne fell silent.
In the past, he might have worried about the old man wasting the Stones' energy. But ever since Nicolas taught him how to make Philosopher's Stones, such concerns vanished.
The only thing that can extend life... is life itself.
This was the most indispensable material for creating Philosopher's Stones.
The Black Death, the chaotic Middle Ages, the Franco-Prussian War, World Wars I and II...
This turbulent world had already provided Nicolas with more raw materials than he could ever use.
After bidding farewell to the eye-searing spectacle that was Nicolas, Wayne finally arrived at The Burrow.
The Weasley family welcomed him warmly, with Mrs Weasley preparing a lavish feast.
Bill, who hadn't yet returned to Egypt, was also present. He pulled Wayne aside to discuss more details about recent events, his expression growing increasingly grave as he whispered:
"It seems I should apply for a transfer back, too. Charlie's already resigned from his dragon-handling job."
"What are you two whispering about now?" Fred complained loudly. "Always so secretive. What couldn't we possibly know?"
George banged the table. "We're graduating soon—we're adults now!"
"Then we'll talk after you've graduated," Molly retorted as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a massive platter of roast chicken, having overheard their grumbling.
The twins, who had been moments away from staging a rebellion, instantly deflated.
"Mind your own business," Molly said with a smile to Wayne before turning a stern face to the twins. "Your most important task right now is passing your Apparition test and preparing for next year's NEWTs."
Not daring to argue, the twins agreed dejectedly.
Soon, Mr Weasley returned and was delighted to see Wayne, though Percy's absence from the dinner table went unremarked upon.
...
"Percy's had a falling out with the family."
After dinner, Wayne was dragged into the twins' room, where Fred filled him in on recent events at The Burrow:
"He got transferred to the Minister for Magic's office and has been unbearably smug about it—you'd think he'd become Minister for Magic himself."
"Lately, he's been badgering Dad daily to cut ties with Dumbledore and side with Fudge. They had a huge row, and then Percy moved out."
George warned, "Don't mention the Ministry of Magic in front of Mum, let alone Percy, or she'll have a breakdown."
"I know," Wayne nodded, equally exasperated.
He admired Percy's determination to climb the ranks, but was it really worth alienating his own family over it?
Not that he intended to interfere. It was family business—none of his concern, nor was it his place to meddle.
"How about you take Percy's old room tonight?" Fred suggested.
"No need, I'm going to see Cedric."
...
True to his word, after giving the twins some pointers on Disapparating techniques, Wayne left The Burrow and arrived at the Lovegoods' house.
Seeing Mr Lovegood still awake, Wayne hit him with a Stunning Spell before slipping into Luna's room.
Luna blinked her large eyes at the suddenly appearing boy. "You came?"
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Wayne, listening to his steady heartbeat.
Wayne gave the girl in his arms an approving once-over. "Seems you've been eating properly lately." Then he frowned slightly. "Your dad's being too vigilant. Doesn't he ever go out?"
Luna shook her head gently. "Dad's run out of money. His usual research trips got cancelled."
Wayne looked down at her. "What if I want to take you away for a few days?"
The Lovegood house was cramped, the rooms shabby, and worst of all, there was that old man constantly playing third wheel. Wayne really didn't care for the place.
After some thought, Luna offered a solution: "What if we let him sleep for a few days? The latest issue of The Quibbler has already been published—he doesn't have much to do right now."
Such filial piety.
Patting Luna's head, Wayne said nothing as he led her into his enchanted suitcase.
In the end, Wayne decided against keeping Mr Lovegood unconscious for days. It would be too obvious—the man would notice something amiss upon waking.
Instead, Wayne chose another approach.
Short on money? Then he'd make The Quibbler's sales skyrocket. With funds coming in, Mr Lovegood could resume his travels.
Wayne ordered a copy of The Quibbler for every Hufflepuff student. The publisher, unprepared for such demand, scrambled to print more copies.
...
The next day, he visited Cedric's house and discussed his plans with Mr Diggory, whose eyes lit up with excitement.
Currently, werewolf jurisdiction fell under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—a bureaucratic backwater where few ghosts or werewolves bothered to register.
However, Wayne proposed establishing a Werewolf Regulation Office, a Ministry-Funded Entity, distributing Wolfsbane Potion every six months, and issuing a 'harmless certification'.
Unregistered werewolves would be deemed illegal entities, subject to capture by Aurors and Hit Wizards for forced medication.
Eager for career advancement, Mr Diggory enthusiastically volunteered to lead this new department for the sake of wizarding community safety.
They quickly reached an agreement. Mr Diggory worked through the night drafting a proposal.
Finding it satisfactory, Wayne accompanied him to the Ministry the next day to meet the current department head, Jonathan.
As a recipient of Wayne's life-extending potion, old Jonathan's cooperative attitude was a foregone conclusion.
...
Soon, the proposal landed on Fudge's desk, with Umbridge conveniently present.
Umbridge whispered in her uniquely shrill voice, "Minister, I've ascertained that this proposal is Lawrence's handiwork."
"He's trying to extend his reach into the Ministry of Magic, showing no respect for your authority!"
"It might even be Dumbledore's arrangement. This bill absolutely must not pass."
Umbridge vividly remembered Dumbledore's contemptuous dismissal of her when he'd last visited Fudge. She'd sworn revenge ever since.
Now the opportunity had finally arrived.
She cared not whether Voldemort had truly returned. If Fudge said no, then no it was—she'd cling tightly to his coattails.
Indeed, Fudge had recently nominated her for the Wizengamot, even hinting at a higher office.
Umbridge was thrilled at this validation of her tactics.
She hadn't even read the bill's contents today—it didn't matter. Anything connected to Dumbledore warranted opposition.
What she didn't know was Fudge's internal sneer.
"Dolores, didn't you see the signatures?" Fudge tossed the parchment at her.
"Twenty Wizengamot members co-signed this. You expect me to refuse outright?"
"If I veto this today, the Daily Prophet will crucify me tomorrow!"
Umbridge hastily lowered her head, flustered by the lengthy list of names. "But you're the Minister for Magic!"
"This is your prerogative. Even if rejected, would they dare oppose you?"
"Ah." Fudge sighed heavily.
"Look at Dumbledore's influence. What does being Minister matter when he's Honorary President of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?
"Even your Wizengamot nomination requires his approval."
"Being Minister... isn't easy." Fudge gazed heavenward, murmuring as if to himself: "If only someone could share my burdens... weaken his influence."
Umbridge's eyes gleamed.