Two hours later, Wayne finished sorting the processed materials and stowed them neatly into his pockets.
Snape merely watched, making no move to stop him.
The formula and materials had been his early Christmas gift to Wayne. Though the boy constantly clashed with him and manipulated many Slytherin students like puppets, his terrifying talent was something Snape couldn't help but admire—even as it infuriated him.
As Head of Slytherin, he despised Wayne. As a Potions professor, he appreciated the boy. Contradictory—utterly contradictory.
"Professor, Merry Christmas," Wayne waved cheerfully before leaving.
Snape replied flatly, "I might actually be merry if you gifted me a vial of Ho-Oh's tears."
Wayne paused, leaning against the doorframe with amused interest.
"Professor, have you already used up all three vials? Discovered anything noteworthy? We had an agreement—any potions made would be split seventy-thirty."
A vein twitched on Snape's forehead. He had exhausted all the materials.
But the results?
Practically nonexistent.
The potions brewed from Ho-Oh's tears were less effective than the tears themselves—rendering the entire effort redundant.
Yet Snape refused to give up. After countless experiments, he was certain of one thing: those tears contained immense, unparalleled vitality.
That was the miracle he had been desperately searching for.
He hadn't even shared this secret with Dumbledore.
When Wayne saw Snape remain silent, he chuckled softly and closed the door behind him.
A flash of fire erupted as Ho-Oh swooped out, gripping Wayne's shoulder before both vanished without a trace.
...
The Forbidden Forest.
Wayne carefully groomed the little Unicorn, summoning a stream of clear water to give her a bath.
The little one had grown quite a bit, resembling a small foal with adorable stubby legs.
She stood there docilely, letting Wayne wash her.
"Hestia, I'll be leaving the school in a couple of days, and Ho-Oh will be coming with me."
Wayne blew a gentle breath, and Diana, who had been slightly damp moments ago, was now dry and refreshed.
Letting go of the little one, he turned to the Unicorn mother and said, "Hogwarts hasn't been very peaceful lately. A Dark Wizard has been targeting your blood to restore his strength. For your safety, starting tomorrow, you should stay near the Centaur tribe for a while.
"Move back once I return."
Quirrell had approached Wayne several times recently, demanding Phoenix tears, but Wayne had always found excuses to refuse.
By December, Quirrell had suddenly given up, which made Wayne wary.
It couldn't possibly be that Voldemort had simply keeled over and didn't need them anymore, could it? That's why he was making arrangements before leaving.
Even if Quirrell acted, he would only target lone Unicorns. With the Centaurs' help, Hestia and Diana would be safe.
"Neigh~!"
The Unicorn mother softly acknowledged, not refusing. She knew Wayne would never harm them.
After spending a little more time playing with the two Unicorns, Wayne finally returned to the castle under their reluctant gazes.
...
Time quickly passed until the 21st.
Today was the day of the holidays. Aside from the students registered to stay at school, everyone else would once again board the Hogwarts Express back to London.
Not many students remained at each house—Gryffindor only had Harry and the Weasleys, while Hufflepuff had just over a dozen.
In Ravenclaw, Penelope had originally planned to go home for the holidays, but after Wayne introduced her, she successfully partnered with the twins and decided not to leave.
She wanted to use the holiday to develop a few products as quickly as possible, aiming to sell them as soon as the term started.
Wayne had asked the twins how Penelope's skills were. Both gave enthusiastic thumbs-up, praising her endlessly.
Though Penelope was only a year above them, she knew far more—truly a Ravenclaw.
Fred mentioned that Penelope had taken inspiration from them and was working on a candy that could make tongues swell.
If she succeeded, it would surely sell out instantly.
Early in the morning, after breakfast, Wayne packed his luggage, crossed the stone bridge, and boarded a carriage with Cho and Hermione.
The front of the carriage was empty, but the shafts floated eerily. Once everyone was aboard, the carriage began moving on its own.
Hermione, experiencing this for the first time, marvelled, "I thought Hagrid would bring horses over. I didn't expect it to be self-driving."
"Thestrals are pulling it," Wayne explained. "A class XXXX magical creature. Only those who've witnessed death can see their form."
"Is that so?" The exclamation didn't come from Hermione but from Cho, the older student.
The girl looked slightly dazed. "I always thought the carriages moved by themselves."
Hermione, deep in thought, turned into a fountain of questions: "I've stepped on so many ants... I suppose I've witnessed death before, so why can't I see the Thestrals yet?"
Wayne explained with a wry smile, "The 'death' here refers to humans—both Muggles and wizards count—and it has to leave a deep impression on you."
Hearing this, the two young witches couldn't help but shiver. "Then I'd rather never see Thestrals in my lifetime."
Wayne gazed at the empty carriage shafts ahead. When would he be able to see Thestrals?
...
On the Hogwarts Express, the trio found a compartment.
Cedric spotted Wayne, too, and initially wanted to join him. But after noticing Hermione and Cho were also present, he fell silent for three seconds.
"I just remembered—Wotley and Macmillan asked me to sit with them. I'll be off then."
Considerately, he closed the compartment door behind him.
However, it did sting a bit.
He recalled how Wayne used to ride in the same carriage with him when they first came to school. After just one term, the return trip had become a party of three.
While he remained... a lone wolf. Or rather, a lone man.
As the train departed on schedule, the two young witches chattered excitedly about their Christmas plans.
"My whole family's going to my aunt's house in Devon for Christmas," Cho said.
"I'm visiting Provence," Hermione replied eagerly. "I've been a few times, and it's always breathtaking."
"Are you travelling by Muggle transport?" Cho, less interested in scenery, inquired about aeroplanes instead.
She'd never ridden one of those flying 'birds'.
Meanwhile, Wayne pondered his travel plans to America.
Ho-Oh couldn't Apparate such distances—its maximum range was about a hundred miles per jump, after which it needed rest before continuing.
A Portkey would work, but transcontinental Portkeys required advanced applications. The bigger issue was his underage status in the wizarding world, which barred him from independent international travel.
"Guess I'll have to charter a private jet," Wayne decided, making a mental note to arrange it through the family trust fund later.
As the train passed through snowy towns, hunger struck by afternoon. Wayne produced meals that had been prepared earlier by house-elves, still steaming hot, thanks to Warming Charms.
"Sometimes I envy you Hufflepuffs," Cho said between bites of steak, her voice tinged with jealousy. "Whenever I get hungry at night, just thinking about the distance from Ravenclaw Tower to the kitchens kills my appetite."
Hermione nodded in agreement, having noticed something herself—the Hufflepuff table always seemed better stocked than others.
"The cooks favour your house," she observed.
Cho opened her mouth to respond, but Wayne's glance silenced her.
Hermione still didn't know about the house-elves working in the kitchens, and Wayne had no intention of telling her. Some things were better left unknown. Certain organisations shouldn't exist.
He was selfish, he admitted. Enjoying the benefits house-elves provided, he wouldn't disrupt the status quo. As a beneficiary, why would he?
Moreover... imagine liberating a dangerous species capable of wandless magic and Apparating through anti-Apparition wards. What next? Overthrowing wizards to become masters themselves?
With Wayne's deliberate avoidance, the three of them soon stopped discussing the topic of the kitchen.
As evening approached and the train neared King's Cross Station, they shed their robes and donned thick down jackets and cotton coats.
Hermione looked at Wayne, momentarily dazed.
Their first meeting had been at Flourish and Blotts, barely four months ago, but now, dressed in Muggle clothes, Hermione suddenly noticed how much Wayne had changed.
He'd grown even more handsome.
"What are you thinking about?" Wayne waved a hand in front of the young witch, snapping her out of her reverie. Her cheeks flushed pink.
"Nothing! I was just wondering which book to bring to Provence."
"How about An Introduction to Alchemy?" Wayne said meaningfully.
"Alchemy?" Hermione thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I've seen books on it in the library, but I don't have any at home."
"Never mind, then." Wayne sighed inwardly.
He had only wanted to give her a hint, seeing how long she'd been searching for clues about Nicolas Flamel, but the hint had fallen flat.
Finally, the train pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Under the direction of Ministry of Magic staff, the students filed through the barrier in small groups, emerging onto the platform at King's Cross.
"Cho, over here!"
A middle-aged man of Eastern descent called out, and Cho immediately brightened, pulling Wayne along as she ran towards him. The man's smile faded slightly.
"Dad!"
"Cho, who is this...?" There was a hint of wariness in Cho's father's eyes.
"This is Wayne. I—" The girl's face turned slightly pink. "I mentioned him in my letters."
"Oh." Mr Chang's expression cleared, though Wayne could detect a faint gritting of teeth beneath his polite tone.
"So you're Wayne Lawrence."
"Hello, sir." Wayne greeted him courteously, then turned to Cho. "You should go home with your dad now. See you after the holidays."
Cho gazed at him reluctantly, but the middle-aged man seemed somewhat appeased.
Wayne waved and headed in the opposite direction. He couldn't linger—he had another meeting to catch.
"Mum, Dad, this is Wayne."
Outside the station, in front of a small car, Hermione introduced Wayne to her parents. Mr Granger's attitude was far more welcoming.
"Hello, Wayne—may I call you that?"
"Of course. Nice to meet you, sir." Wayne smiled shyly, and Mrs Granger, charmed by his polite demeanour, warmed to him instantly.
"Thank you for looking after Hermione at school."
"Not at all. Hermione and I are good friends—she's helped me a lot, too."
The young witch lowered her head, slightly embarrassed. She hadn't done much for him. Unless warming his hands counted?
"I was worried Hermione's personality might make it hard for her to make friends. Seeing you puts my mind at ease."
Mrs Granger knew her daughter well. With a good friend by her side, she wouldn't have to worry about Hermione being bullied at school.
In her letters, Hermione had sung Wayne's praises at length. For the fiercely independent Hermione to hold someone in such high regard, Wayne must be truly exceptional.
"Is someone picking you up? Would you like a lift home?" Mr Granger offered.
"Thank you, but my ride is already here. I won't trouble you further."
"Alright, then. You're welcome to visit anytime."
Not far away, a blonde girl watched silently as Wayne chatted amiably with the Grangers. Beside her stood a petite, slightly frail-looking silver-haired girl who was a head shorter.
Following the blonde girl's gaze, the silver-haired girl asked curiously, "Sister, do you know that boy?"
The blonde girl finally snapped out of her thoughts and glanced awkwardly at her younger sister. "Astoria, that's Wayne Lawrence. The protective ring I gave you was made by him."
"So that's him?" The silver-haired girl's eyes lit up.
Hearing their conversation, the previously silent mother also turned her attention to Wayne.
At that very moment, Wayne finished saying goodbye to Hermione and turned to meet their gaze, momentarily taken aback.
Recognising Daphne, he smiled and waved in greeting. Only then did he notice the silver-haired girl beside her.
Unlike Daphne's average looks, the silver-haired girl was a natural beauty in the making.
Though still young, judging by Wayne's extensive experience as an LSP, this girl would undoubtedly grow into a beauty rivalling Hermione and Cho when older.
She just seemed somewhat frail.
Under Wayne's direct stare, the silver-haired girl shyly lowered her head.
"Let's go," Mrs Greengrass gave Wayne a slight nod before leading her two daughters away.
Wayne then crossed the street and boarded a Rolls-Royce.
"Good afternoon, Young Master."
"Take me home."
"Right away, sir."
As the car slowly drove off, the Grangers, who had just helped Hermione load her luggage into the boot, witnessed the scene.
Mrs Granger remarked, "I said earlier Wayne's demeanour didn't seem like someone from an ordinary family. This proves it. He must be some young master, surely."
Hermione murmured, "Actually... you could call him Earl Lawrence."
"An earl?!"
The Grangers gasped simultaneously.
...
Westminster City.
Wayne had returned home. Though he hadn't been back for nearly half a year, weekly cleaning services had maintained the place impeccably.
He called his uncle Humphrey, only to have his assistant answer, informing him that Humphrey was still working overtime.
After hanging up, Wayne contacted the trust fund. First, to arrange a private jet for the day after tomorrow. Second, to have the fund liaise with the bank.
He needed fifty kilograms of physical gold, required by tomorrow.
Wayne's funds at Gringotts were nearly depleted, and he planned to ask Newt for a case during his trip to New York.
He also knew that figures like Newt placed little importance on money. But what could he do? He was poor in everything except cash.
With gold prices currently low, one gram was only about ten dollars, even less when converted to pounds. Fifty kilograms of gold amounted to just a few hundred thousand pounds.
The only hassle was that he wanted physical gold—most people would be investigated if they suddenly requested such a large quantity.
But Wayne had no such worries.
After recalling Ho-Oh and letting it amuse itself, he took a bath and went to bed early.
...
The next morning at nine, he arrived at the agreed-upon bank.
Packing all the gold into his suitcase, he strode out under the astonished gazes of the staff and slipped into a secluded corner to Apparate.
Without alerting a soul, he instantly materialised in the courtyard between the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, a sly grin playing on his lips.
"Back then, I was still green."
"But now... the tides have turned!
"Geminio! Aeternum Adhaesio!"