At Wayne's question, Newt's wand faltered mid-cast of a rainmaking charm. The gentle drizzle instantly transformed into a torrential downpour, forcing Wayne to hastily erect a protective barrier against the deluge.
"My apologies."
Realising his mistake, Newt quickly adjusted the spell while asking, "Why the sudden interest in those events?"
The boy shrugged nonchalantly. "Simple curiosity. Everyone knows Grindelwald's name, but historical records about those events are scarce."
"I only know the Headmaster defeated him, but details are impossible to find. As someone who was there, you must know more."
Newt fell silent until Wayne, noticing the excessive rainfall, dispersed the rainclouds.
Otherwise, their newly transplanted saplings would have drowned.
"Indeed," Newt murmured. "Perhaps the memories are too painful, so people avoid mentioning them. Hence, the lack of documentation."
"Or perhaps that man was too complex – neither vilification nor praise would serve as appropriate definitions."
As they walked through the grove, Newt waved his wand, causing vines to emerge from the earth and weave into two hanging cradles.
Wayne climbed into one, swinging gently as Newt continued: "We cannot provide definitive judgment, but if one were to faithfully record Grindelwald's ideology and deeds..."
"Just the sight of him would make countless wizards fall under his spell, becoming his followers and stirring up tremendous waves."
"After all, he isn't dead yet. Even now, many still hope he'll walk out of that tower."
"That powerful?" Wayne was astonished.
He knew Grindelwald was indeed formidable, but this seemed exaggerated.
"That's the truth."
Newt sat on another rocking chair, smiling bitterly. "Though I've opposed Grindelwald many times, I can't help but admire him—even felt a flicker of admiration myself."
"If his path hadn't meant so many lives lost, I wouldn't have stood against him."
"And if Dumbledore hadn't possessed such overwhelming personal charisma, we wouldn't have won either."
"How exactly did the Headmaster defeat Grindelwald?" Wayne's curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
Newt hesitated but finally whispered, "I'd planned to reveal these secrets in a book before my death, but since you've asked... just promise not to tell anyone."
Wayne nodded eagerly, practically ready to make an Unbreakable Vow with Newt.
Only then did the old man relax, his eyes glazing over with memories.
"I witnessed that battle with my own eyes—it happened in Godric's Hollow."
"In truth, when I arrived, Grindelwald and Dumbledore were still arguing. But the moment Grindelwald saw me, he suddenly attacked. Dumbledore stopped him."
"And then they started fighting," Wayne interjected.
"Right, right."
'So you were the spark that set it off, eh? Truly, beauty brings calamity.'
Unaware of Wayne's inner sarcasm, Newt continued reminiscing, his face still etched with a look of awe.
"Just watching the duel drained all my protective magic, even with Tina's help."
"We began to wonder if these two could even be called wizards anymore. They seemed like figures stepped out of legend—beings of an entirely different order."
"They were evenly matched, with Grindelwald even gaining the upper hand." Newt paused.
"Later, I learned he wielded an extraordinarily powerful wand."
Wayne understood. He knew the wand's origins.
One of the Deathly Hallows—the Elder Wand.
"So, how did Dumbledore win in the end?"
"He didn't." Newt shook his head. "Grindelwald acted strangely. He had chances to defeat Dumbledore but held back."
"Perhaps it was beyond our comprehension—maybe Dumbledore left deliberate openings."
"At the very end, Grindelwald suddenly stopped, tears in his eyes, and let Dumbledore disarm him."
"Honestly, I've always thought his eyes were even more beautiful than Tina's."
"Hold on, hold on." Wayne hastily cut in. "Senior, that bit can't go in the book."
He feared Grandma Tina might have a fit if she ever found out.
"Alright." Newt scratched his head, baffled. "That's all I know."
"As for why Grindelwald suddenly became so odd, I've no idea. If you want answers, you'll have to ask Dumbledore."
Wayne nodded slowly. This was already staggering enough.
Dumbledore hadn't truly defeated Grindelwald after all. He had always believed Dumbledore was powerful enough to beat the combination of Grindelwald and the Elder Wand, so he hadn't held Grindelwald in particularly high regard.
Now it seemed that wasn't the case at all.
"When did the duel take place?" Wayne asked casually.
"On the evening of August 6th. It ended just after midnight."
Wayne's body stiffened. 1945, August 6th.
Factoring in the time difference, midnight...
Wasn't that exactly when the 'Fat Man' descended upon Hiroshima?
Wayne took a deep, chilling breath, contributing to global warming.
...
In the following days, an event occurred that would completely reshape the world. Even the wizarding world was affected—over a dozen new Ministries of Magic sprang up overnight, joining the International Confederation of Wizards.
The Daily Prophet ran headlines for days about the upheaval: who had become Minister for Magic, who had been sentenced, and so on.
But it had little to do with Wayne.
His focus remained mainly on the Muggle world.
The financial markets were in turmoil, and thanks to prior arrangements, the Lawrence family reaped a substantial windfall from the northern regions.
Whether in cash or assets, the family's power was rapidly expanding. Wayne wasn't involved in the specifics—he merely provided the overarching strategy.
Once the stock market closed, he returned to Newt's place to tinker with his little world.
Newt's generosity far exceeded his expectations.
He had even taught Wayne how to create and expand the enchanted suitcase, holding nothing back.
Not that Wayne would ever mass-produce and sell them, of course.
Though his moral flexibility was considerable, he would never exploit someone so genuinely kind.
Perhaps due to Newt's decades of research, the suitcase wasn't limited to its original size as depicted in the films.
With advanced Shrinking Spells, it could still be reduced in size, though it couldn't be placed inside another object enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, as that would cause both spaces to collapse.
Newt had emphasised this point, warning him to be careful.
...
Far across the ocean, in Hogwarts Castle...
Harry Potter had recently fallen into a strange state.
Ever since he'd used the Invisibility Cloak to sneak into an abandoned classroom and discovered a peculiar mirror, only one thought consumed him: he just wanted to stand before it and gaze at the figures within.
On the first day, he went alone.
On the second, he brought Ron, though Ron only lingered briefly before leaving.
On the third day, he returned.
In the mirror, his parents smiled at him, looking so perfectly matched.
Harry sat before it, staring blankly, an unconscious smile tugging at his lips.
It was wonderful.
Until he noticed Dumbledore.
"S-sorry, I didn't see you, Professor." Harry's limbs turned to ice. He dreaded to imagine the punishment awaiting him—house points deducted, detention, or even expulsion?
"How odd. Invisibility seems to have made you short-sighted," Dumbledore remarked, stepping closer—though he avoided looking at the mirror.
In the dim light, Harry had only made out Dumbledore's silhouette. Now, bathed in the mirror's faint glow, he could finally see the professor's face clearly—and his expression was rather peculiar.
At this moment, Dumbledore was holding a needle and thread, with a ball of yarn floating beside him.
Even as he walked over, his hands never stopped moving, deftly knitting... socks?
Sensing Harry's confusion, Dumbledore smiled and explained: "This was a Christmas gift from Mr Lawrence. I like it very much."
"He specifically said that giving a man a fish feeds him for a day, but teaching him to fish feeds him for life. Once I master this skill, I'll never lack woollen socks again."
"I plan to gift him a pair on his birthday. Would you like some, Harry?"
"No, thank you."
"What a pity."
The greatest white wizard of the century, the Headmaster of the wizarding school, was knitting socks.
Harry had a dozen sarcastic remarks stuck in his throat, but he dared not voice them. After all, he'd been caught breaking curfew during his nighttime wanderings.
Finally, Dumbledore finished a pattern, put away his tools, and sat beside Harry.
"This is the Mirror of Erised. It shows us the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts."
"Faced with beautiful things, people are utterly defenceless, even when they know it's an illusion."
"The Mirror of Erised is a terrifying object. Countless people have gone mad before it, and even I was once lost in its allure."
"Oh." Dumbledore suddenly remembered something. "There was one exception—someone who even scorned it."
"Who?" Harry asked curiously.
"Mr Lawrence." Dumbledore didn't keep him in suspense.
Seeing Harry's disbelieving look, he chuckled: "He knew the mirror's effects but showed little interest. In that regard, he is far more outstanding than I."
"Of course, in many other ways, Mr Lawrence is also far more outstanding than I."
Harry blinked. What had he just heard?
Dumbledore said Wayne was more outstanding than him.
Harry admitted Wayne was a genius. He'd never seen Wayne do his homework—he just copied Hermione's with a Plagiarism-Proof Quill.
And he'd defeated the Three-Headed Dog and many older Slytherin students.
But compared to Dumbledore...
Perhaps no one would think so, given how great Dumbledore was.
"That is the truth." Seeing his disbelief, Dumbledore gently stroked the mirror's surface, and a velvet cloth fell, covering it.
"Mr Lawrence lives each day to the fullest—with friends, ambitions, and purpose."
"He does not need to rely on such delusions to satisfy his heart."
"That in itself is a form of strength."
Noticing Harry's thoughtful expression, Dumbledore smiled approvingly and stood up.
"Tomorrow, this mirror will be moved elsewhere. I ask that you refrain from seeking it out. Indulging in illusory dreams is of no benefit to real life and may even distance you from your friends."
"Put on your marvellous Invisibility Cloak and return to bed."
"I hope you'll pay more attention to those around you and enrich your own life."
"Professor," Harry stood up, "may I ask what you saw?"
"Woollen socks," Dumbledore said. "I saw myself holding a thick pair of woollen socks."
Harry's eyes widened.
...
The next day, Harry indeed didn't go to look at the mirror again.
He played two games of Wizard's Chess with Ron in the common room and got thoroughly crushed.
The twins invited him to try out Celia Store's new product, which made his tongue swell fat and long, taking a full five minutes to return to normal.
He went to the library to do homework but fell asleep within five minutes, catching up on some lost sleep.
After lunch, the group went to Hagrid's hut for afternoon tea, where the rock cakes nearly chipped their teeth—he'd forgotten that, without Wayne around, there was no Softening Charm.
On their way back to the castle, they ran into Snape.
The old bat was already scowling, but upon seeing Harry, his face darkened almost to black.
"Don't you know how to greet your professor, Potter?"
"Good afternoon, Professor," Harry replied dutifully, privately wondering if Snape hadn't used the Christmas gift he'd sent—his hair was still as greasy as ever.
"Too late. Five points from Gryffindor."
Noticing the direction he and Ron had come from, Snape added, "Entering the Forbidden Forest without permission. Another five points from Gryffindor."
With that, Snape swept off, giving them no chance to argue. He had potions brewing in his quarters and no time to waste on Harry.
Watching his billowing robes disappear, Harry sighed. "What a bloody productive day."
...
December 29th.
The third-to-last day of the year.
Wayne had roughly set up his little world, introducing some creatures to establish the most basic ecological cycle.
Another six months of cultivation, and Hestia and Diana would be ready to move in—just in time for summer holidays, when he could take them home for daily cuddles.
Today was the day Wayne and Newt were heading to the Thunderbird sanctuary in Arizona. They planned to set off after lunch.
"How are we getting there, Senior?"
"Floo Powder, though we'll need to transfer twice—it's practically crossing the entire U.S.," Newt explained.
"A designated Portkey would be more convenient, but—"
"But Newt's been banned from using Portkeys," Tina interjected, exposing his past.
"He smuggled himself into too many countries with them back in the day. Oh, and most of those trips were on Dumbledore's orders."
Tina never missed a chance to disparage Dumbledore—Wayne heard it dozens of times a day.
Sometimes, Newt tried to defend his mentor, but a single glare from Tina would shut him down.
This time was no exception.
Wayne played along, flashing a teasing grin. He knew perfectly well who ruled the roost in this household.
After the meal, Newt took out a box of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fireplace, turning the flames emerald green.
"Remember, enunciate the destination clearly. I'll repeat it twice."
"Got it."
Wayne eyed the fireplace. He'd love to connect his own home to the Floo Network, but underage wizards' households weren't eligible.
"Internalas, The Wosidie Bar!"
Newt stepped into the flames and shouted, with Wayne following suit.
Compared to Apparating, the sensation was rather poor, but he was used to it by now and showed no signs of discomfort.
It was Newt, being older, who needed a moment to recover his energy after each transfer before proceeding to the next.
Finally, after more than two hours, the two reached their destination.
This was also a bar, nestled between cliffs, with a long, bustling street outside filled with witches and wizards.
Upon their arrival, many inside recognised Newt and moved to greet him.
The elderly man quickly made his way to the counter, booked two rooms, and hurried upstairs with Wayne, only relaxing once they were inside.
"E-everyone's always so enthusiastic. I'm not quite used to it."
"Rest for a bit. We'll check on the Thunderbird's condition later."