Where you fall, you must rise again.
The backyard of the Leaky Cauldron was the site of Wayne's first Waterloo. Back then, the rubbish bins he had duplicated were swiftly removed by Tom, the pub's owner.
All that effort had earned him a measly hundred or so points—a humiliating defeat.
It had rankled him ever since. But no matter.
Back then, he had been a complete novice in the magical world, with only the most basic spells at his disposal.
Now... well, age-wise, he was still a rookie. But in terms of skill? He might not be a top-tier expert, but he was at least a mid-tier expert.
Every slight from back then would be repaid today!
Swish, swish, swish!
Wayne's wand flashed repeatedly—Doubling Charm, Permanent Sticking Charm, Protective Enchantments to safeguard the bins, and an Auto-Repair Charm.
He even incorporated ancient runes.
Two symbols representing purity and permanence glowed with a violet light before vanishing into the brickwork.
From now on, trying to locate the correct brick by marking it would be impossible.
No trace of tampering would remain on this wall until the runes' effects faded.
Given Wayne's current mastery of ancient runes, the enchantment was practically semi-permanent—certainly more durable than Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts professors.
After fussing over every detail to ensure nothing could go wrong, he finally stepped into Diagon Alley, satisfied.
With this combo of spells, only a handful in Britain's magical community could restore the wall to its original state.
The Ministry's curse-breakers certainly wouldn't manage it. The points didn't even matter—this was purely about settling the score!
What Wayne didn't know was that his little stunt would soon torment countless witches and wizards.
Unable to remember the brick's position, they had to rely on magical sensing, tapping each one laboriously. The Ministry dispatched specialists to resolve the issue, but after hours of fruitless effort, the incident even made the front page of the Daily Prophet.
This time, no one suspected it was a student's prank—if Hogwarts had that level of teaching, Britain would've conquered the world by now.
In the end, renowned journalist Rita Skeeter speculated it was likely the work of an eccentric old-timer amusing himself at everyone's expense. Even if it were repaired, it would likely be restored to its original state. Between the lines, the blame was directed at the white-bearded old man from Hogwarts.
Meanwhile, Wayne arrived at Gringotts and exchanged fifty kilograms of gold for a staggering sum of nearly fifty thousand Galleons.
The Goblins nearly threw themselves at his feet to lick his trousers, and even moved his vault number further forward, deeper into the underground vaults.
There, a dragon stood guard for protection.
As a result, Wayne also had to pay an inconsequential annual management fee of one hundred Galleons. Money in the wizarding world held no real significance for him. If he wanted, he could easily obtain several hundred kilograms of gold.
With his wallet replenished, Wayne took the opportunity to go on a shopping spree in Diagon Alley. He bought nearly a third of the stock from the sweet shop to give as Christmas gifts to all the Hufflepuff students.
In a country obsessed with sweets, if you didn't know what to gift a child, candy was always a safe bet.
It took Wayne the entire morning to sort out the Christmas gifts before he Apparated back home.
In principle, underage wizards were forbidden from casting spells outside school, as the Trace on their wands would detect it.
However, this rule only came into effect after the first school year, when students signed an agreement before leaving.
The Christmas break had no such restrictions, so Wayne had essentially found a loophole.
By evening, his uncle Humphrey arrived, dragging his exhausted body.
"Bernard told me yesterday that you called, but it was too late after work," he said. "So I could only come today."
"It's fine, Uncle. Work comes first." Seeing how tired he was, Wayne took out a vial of Invigoration Draught and poured it into his teacup.
"What's this?"
"Something to perk you up. Try it and see."
Humphrey downed it without hesitation, his face flushing red as blue mist seeped from his ears and nostrils.
It took a full half-minute for him to return to normal, but his energy was now at its peak.
"What in the world is this? It's intense."
"A potion from the wizarding world. I brewed it for fun in my spare time."
"This is brilliant," Humphrey said, eyeing the teacup eagerly. "Got any more? Give me a few extra vials."
"Sure, I'll leave some at home before I leave tomorrow. You can take them yourself," Wayne replied. "But no more than one a day. Any more could be dangerous—it's a potion meant for wizards, after all."
Humphrey nodded in understanding.
Many potions in the wizarding world couldn't be used by Muggles, as they lacked the magical power to resonate with the potion's effects.
Though the Invigoration Draught wasn't one of them, caution was still necessary.
Humphrey nodded again, but then his brow furrowed as he recalled Wayne's earlier mention of going to America.
"About the situation up north... do you know something?"
The two had kept in touch via letters during the term, and though Humphrey hadn't understood Wayne's instructions at first, as events unfolded, it finally clicked.
What followed was sheer astonishment. Some of these preparations had begun as early as last year.
Wayne tapped his temple. "Well, I am a wizard. Having some unique prophetic talent isn't that unusual. Believe me, that behemoth is bound to fall apart—perhaps tomorrow, or perhaps some day in the future."
"But it won't be too long."
Wayne attributed everything to the mysterious, and to avoid revealing more, he subtly shifted the conversation's focus.
"Taking this opportunity, do you think Uncle Hacker could go further?" Though he spoke of Hacker, he was referring to Humphrey himself.
Hearing this, Humphrey also flashed a gentlemanly smile. "He will. It won't be long before God calls me God."
The two conversed a while longer, with Humphrey detailing his preparations.
Wayne wasn't the least bit worried. His uncle was an absolute elite with extensive connections—there was no chance anything could go wrong.
As evening fell, Wayne satisfied Humphrey's curiosity and Disapparated him home.
Watching Humphrey vomit uncontrollably while clinging to the doorframe, Wayne cheerfully waved. "Merry Christmas! Don't forget my present."
"Ugh! Piss off!"
...
New York. Queens. 47th Street.
When it came to Kowalski's Bakery, no resident in the vicinity was unaware of its existence.
Since 1927, this bakery has stood firm, offering bread and pastries that were not only affordable but also uniquely flavoured.
This wasn't part of New York's bustling districts—the surrounding area was filled with old houses. Walking down the street, you'd feel that even the world's most glamorous metropolis was just like this.
Wayne stepped out of the taxi and followed the address to the bakery's entrance. He admired the shop's sign and menu for a moment before pulling a tan-coloured business card from his pocket.
Something strange happened—a house squeezed itself into existence between the bakery and the neighbouring building.
Apart from Wayne, none of the passersby noticed this bizarre phenomenon.
Knock, knock, knock!
With no doorbell, Wayne had to knock by hand.
"Coming!"
A voice, aged yet vigorous, called out. Soon, the door swung open.
The one who answered was a silver-haired elderly woman with eyes like a Salamander's, gleaming like gemstones.
Though aged, it was clear she had been a rare beauty in her youth.
Upon seeing Wayne, the old woman paused briefly before realisation dawned, and she smiled.
"You must be Wayne Lawrence. What a lovely lad. Come in, come in. Newt's still busy—we thought you'd arrive in the evening." With that, she stepped aside to let him in.
Wayne entered, thanking her as he did. "Thank you, Grandma Tina."
The old woman's identity was now obvious.
Tina Goldstein—no, now she should be called Tina Scamander. Newt's wife, a former Auror for MACUSA, who, alongside Newt, had thwarted Grindelwald's schemes time and again.
Beyond the door wasn't an interior but a woodland path, the space within vast.
All the way, Tina held Wayne's hand, chatting warmly with him. "Newt has told me about you. When he heard that Hufflepuff had produced another outstanding student, he was so delighted he ate three hamburgers in a row.
"Frankly, I'm quite shocked you've managed to maintain correspondence. You must know he's not just taciturn in person—his letters are equally brief. Unless they're addressed to Dumbledore."
When Dumbledore's name was mentioned, Wayne sensed a sharp aura emanating from this centaurian.
The two moved to the sitting room and settled onto the plush sofa.
The tea set on the table levitated of its own accord, filling Wayne's cup to the brim. Several loaves of bread came floating out from the kitchen as well.
"Do try some. Jacob made these himself. Oh, you wouldn't know who Jacob is, would you?"
"He's my sister's husband, and the original owner of the bakery next door."
Unlike Newt's social anxiety, Tina was remarkably chatty and skilled at choosing conversation topics. Their discussion primarily centred on Wayne's time at Hogwarts. Having led an unremarkable school life, Wayne had little to conceal.
The elderly woman's smile never faded: "Fascinating, absolutely fascinating. You were far more rambunctious than Newt in his day. But he wasn't as clever as you, nor as naturally gifted."
Wayne hurried to defend his senior's honour: "Students in our house all regard Newt as an idol. He's the greatest Hufflepuff of this century."
"Hmph." Tina couldn't suppress a soft snort. "Great? Still got led around by the nose by Dumbledore, didn't he? Didn't settle down until Grindelwald was locked up in Nurmengard."
Wayne gave an awkward chuckle. This heroic Auror, who'd once captured Grindelwald, seemed rather dissatisfied with Dumbledore.
This was quite understandable.
The Newt of those days was the Potter of the future.
Though they'd all been willing participants, every step had been part of Dumbledore's designs, willingly pushed to the forefront to battle the darkest forces of their time.
Tina's resentment was only natural.
Being overshadowed by various magical creatures was one thing—after all, many of them were genuinely adorable.
But even an old man was beyond her reach, so Tina naturally harboured resentment. It was only logical that she held a grudge against Dumbledore.
"Wayne," the elderly woman said earnestly, "you're a clever lad, but whatever you do, don't follow his example—being used by Dumbledore and feeling content about it."
"Don't worry, Grandma Tina," Wayne replied with a smile. "In my year, we've got the saviour of the wizarding world. The Headmaster won't spare a glance for someone as insignificant as me."
"The saviour?" Tina frowned. "That Boy Who Lived?"
"Exactly—Harry Potter. He's my classmate, the one who defeated the Dark Lord."
"Hmph." Tina let out a cold laugh, offering no further comment. She said nothing, yet her silence spoke volumes.
A Dark Wizard who hadn't even set foot on the European continent could be called the Dark Lord?
Only those who had witnessed Grindelwald's terror firsthand could truly understand what the title 'Dark Lord' signified.
It was a pity. Though they had emerged victorious, an entire generation had been decimated, and the wizarding world had been in steady decline ever since.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A sudden noise came from below as a trapdoor was flung open.
"Tina, I heard voices. Have Jacob and Queenie arrived?" The elderly man emerged from the staircase, stepping onto the ground floor.
Wayne rose to greet him, but the moment the old man spotted him—
Whoosh!
He immediately retreated into the basement, slamming the trapdoor shut behind him.
Wayne: "..."
"Sorry about that, Wayne," Tina said awkwardly. "It's Newt's old habit—he's rather shy around strangers."
Taking a deep breath, Tina glared at the trapdoor and said coldly,
"Newt, if you don't come out within thirty seconds, I'm throwing all your Nifflers into a crate!"
"Don't do that, Tina," Newt pleaded. "You know they can't handle that."
Then, hesitantly, he called out, "Wayne... is that you?
"My apologies. Your visit was rather sudden—I needed a moment to prepare myself."
With Newt saying that, what could Wayne do? He and Tina exchanged a helpless, wry smile.
Half an hour later, Newt finally managed to compose himself and emerged from the basement.
He and Tina sat together on the sofa opposite Wayne, though Newt kept his head slightly turned and lowered. Seeing the elderly man's social anxiety to this extent, Wayne was utterly speechless.
"Wayne, it's... nice to see you. How is Dumbledore?"
Tina immediately shot him a sharp glare, prompting Newt to correct himself hastily: "I mean—how is Hogwarts?"
"Quite well, aside from the yearly rotation of Defence Against the Dark Arts professors. Everything else is running smoothly. Professor Sprout asked me to send her regards."
"Pomona? It must have been twenty years since I last saw her." Speaking of an old acquaintance seemed to ease Newt's nerves slightly.
Seeing that the two could now converse normally, Tina stood up.
"I'll leave you to chat. I'll go prepare dinner—Queenie and Jacob will be joining us later."
With that, she left the two to themselves.
When dealing with someone as socially anxious as Newt, the best approach was to steer the conversation toward his interests. Fortunately, when it came to magical creatures, Wayne and Newt had plenty to talk about.
"Wayne, seeing you, I know you're a true Hufflepuff," the earnest Newt praised sincerely. "You share the same qualities as me—perhaps that's why magical creatures are drawn to you."
Listen to that! With Newt's celebrity endorsement, who could ever say he didn't belong in Hufflepuff?
Wayne, of course, knew it was all due to his Magical Creature Affinity.
"What were you busy with earlier?" Wayne glanced at the trapdoor.
"Oh, it's like this," Newt perked up slightly. "The Bowtruckle colony and the Chameleon Ghouls got into a fight over a grove of Dirigible Plum trees. It took quite some effort to persuade them to coexist peacefully."
"Have you considered planting some Keeper's Trees? Bowtruckles prefer them over Dirigible Plums."
"Already done, but that area belongs to the Bowtruckles."
"Then switch to Lignum Vitae."
"A fine choice." Newt thought it was an excellent idea and made a mental note before softly extending an invitation: "Wayne, would you like to come and see them? You'd surely love them—they're all adorable little creatures."
"Really?" Wayne's eyes sparkled.
"Of course."
The two passed through the trapdoor into the basement.
Pushing open the wooden door, an entirely new world unfolded before Wayne's eyes.