A sickly green spell shot from the tip of his wand as Lester's face twisted into a triumphant sneer.
In that instant, Lafferty's face contorted in horror. Newt barely had time to turn his head, watching helplessly as the green light streaked toward Maxime.
Maxime, her back to Lester, felt her blood run cold. Death itself seemed to be pulling her soul from her body.
The distance was too close. Her wand was still at her waist, and the hasty Disarming Charm she attempted with wandless magic was instantly obliterated by the green light, buying her no time at all, only wasting precious moments.
Just as Maxime despaired, believing she would die here, a golden spell shot in from the side, intercepting the Killing Curse at the last moment.
The two forces of magical power collided violently less than half a metre from Maxime, erupting in a shower of sparks.
The green magic was swiftly overpowered, nearly swallowed whole by the golden light.
Lester's grin froze, twisting into furious disbelief. He tried to withdraw his magic and Apparate away, but Lafferty, snapping out of his shock, blocked him with a spell.
"Lester! What the hell are you doing?" Coming to his senses, Lafferty was utterly terrified. He couldn't fathom why his colleague had gone mad, attacking the Headmaster of Beauxbatons with the Killing Curse.
If anything were to happen to Maxime, it would undoubtedly be an explosive incident that would affect relations between the two nations.
"Damn brat!"
Ignoring Lafferty's questioning, Lester glared venomously at Wayne, who stood with his wand raised.
If not for this brat's interference, he would have completed his mission long ago!
"Seize him first!"
Having narrowly escaped death, Maxime's initial relief quickly turned to fury. She drew her wand and launched an attack.
Newt and Lafferty moved to intervene, but Lester, seeing the situation turning against him, dodged Maxime's spell and produced a conch shell, blowing into it with a resounding—
"Woo~!"
The melodious sound echoed around them as a dozen swirling vortexes appeared in the air, each disgorging a wizard.
Spotting the radiant sun emblem on each of their robes, Lafferty's eyes narrowed as he identified them. "Scourers!"
"Thorne, why did you fail?"
"It was that brat!" Lester—now revealed as Thorne—pointed at Wayne. "He blocked my Killing Curse."
"Useless!"
Their meticulously laid plans had been ruined by a mere child. The leader seethed at Wayne's interference and his subordinate's incompetence.
Through his address of Lester—or rather, Thorne—Lafferty finally understood.
His colleague had been replaced at some point without anyone noticing.
Whoosh!
A red beam shot from the leader's wand. Newt deflected it but had to abandon opening his case.
The battle erupted without warning.
The one attacking Newt was none other than Simmons, the Scourer from last night. His assault was ferocious, spells flying relentlessly, forcing Newt into pure defence.
Of the dozen other Scourers, three engaged Lafferty while the rest surged towards Maxime and Wayne.
Maxime's expression darkened. Though skilled, no wizard could easily overcome sheer numbers without reaching absolute mastery.
Four wands pointed at Wayne as incantations rang out.
Hiss!
Multicoloured spells tore through the air. Wayne sidestepped two, deflecting another pair with his wand.
"Quite capable, brat," remarked one attacker, sounding impressed. "No wonder you thwarted Thorne's ambush. You've got skill."
"Killing such a talented young wizard will be immensely satisfying."
"Confringo!"
The golden streak hit a Scourer. Though his Shield Charm held, the explosive force still sent him flying.
Wayne's robes billowed, his expression unreadable as he glanced at Newt, locked in combat with Simmons.
"Senior, will there be consequences for killing in self-defence?"
"Best avoid it if possible, Wayne," Newt panted, blocking two Hardening Charms. "The Aurors are coming—let them handle it."
"Expecting Aurors?" Simmons sneered. "They're tangled up with those greedy poachers. No one's saving you."
He suddenly shouted loudly, "Kill Maxime now, and that brat too!"
Upon hearing the order, the other Scourers intensified their assault.
Lafferty tried to intervene, but Thorne and two other wizards, not much weaker than he, held him firmly at bay.
Lafferty released two magical fireworks in succession, but there was no response signal. His heart gradually sank.
A Scourer's wand transformed into a whip, lashing against the ground as countless shards of stone turned into sharp arrows, hurtling towards Wayne with piercing whistles.
Three wizards channelled their power briefly before shouting in unison, "Avada Kedavra!"
Crack!
Wayne vanished. The next second, he dodged the Killing Curse, his wand pointing skyward.
"Fulminatus!"
Dozens of silver-white spears materialised instantly, radiating outward from Wayne with lethal speed. Even the Scourers besieging Maxime were caught in the crossfire, granting her a fleeting moment to catch her breath.
Wayne still hadn't lowered his wand, instead swinging it rhythmically, his deep pupils occasionally flashing with crimson arcs of electricity.
Boom!
Boom!
Dark clouds gathered overhead as ominous thunder rumbled. Silver serpents of lightning danced wildly, crashing mercilessly upon the Scourers.
Piercing screams mingled with the deafening clashes of spells. Several Scourers, too slow to cast protective shields, were struck directly, emitting a nauseating stench of charred flesh.
"Damn it!"
Simmons' eyes bulged with fury. These were his elite subordinates, and losing several in an instant nearly made him spit blood in rage.
He fired volleys of curses, only for them to be firmly blocked by the golden shield before Wayne. Where the hell did this little wizard come from?
"Screech~!"
The cry of a Thunderbird echoed from below the cliff. The Thunderbird king, which had carried Wayne and the others up the mountain yesterday, soared into the sky bathed in lightning.
The storm grew even more violent. Under this combined force, Wayne felt an inexplicable connection with the sky's thunder, as if he could command it.
Thus, under the stunned gazes of Maxime, Newt, and Lafferty, the battle turned into a game of whack-a-mole.
Lightning struck relentlessly from above as the Scourers scrambled frantically below, attempting to Apparate away—but the bolts were always one step faster.
Even Madame Maxime accidentally took a hit.
"Mr Lawrence! Aim properly!" she snapped in exasperation.
Wayne gave an awkward chuckle. "Apologies. First time using this spell—still getting the hang of it."
Simmons struggled desperately against the falling lightning, now utterly unable to stop Newt from opening his case.
Though Newt glanced at the current scene and seemed to think that opening it hardly mattered anymore.
"Mr Lawrence."
Lafferty's two opponents—one charred to a crisp, the other collapsed unconscious—prompted him to exclaim, "Please show some mercy! Lester is still in their hands!"
The impostor posing as Lester had revealed his true form, evidently having taken Polyjuice Potion.
This confirmed that the real Lester was still alive, as the potion would have ceased to work had he died.
Wayne raised his wand and hesitated for a moment before admitting sheepishly, "Er... I can't control the power of this spell. You'd better hurry and save whoever's left."
Newt and the other two were dumbfounded.
But they had no choice but to brave the storm of lightning, stunning or petrifying the remaining five captives. In the process, all three were struck several times, leaving them with frizzy, singed hair and mouths puffing black smoke.
Only then did Wayne lower his wand and whistle, summoning the Thunderbird King back to the ground before it returned to its nest.
The three singed figures limped over to the boy.
Newt said flatly, "Where did you learn that spell? Using it before mastering it—aren't you afraid of magical backlash?"
"An improvised, self-created spell—that's why I couldn't control it," Wayne replied, shaking his head. The magic had been inspired by Thunderlord's Decree, channelling natural lightning.
Since the bolts were formed by nature, they barely drained Wayne's magical power, making their force even harder to restrain.
Furthermore, the Thunderbird's interference had further weakened his control. Still, with more practice, such issues shouldn't recur.
"Thank you, Wayne," Maxime said, bending down to envelop the boy in a tight hug. In her arms, he looked as delicate as a doll.
"Without your help, I might not have made it out alive today," she added sincerely.
A dozen coordinated Scourers had ambushed her, leaving no chance to Apparate away.
"You're too kind. They wanted me dead too—this was just self-defence," Wayne replied with a warm smile.
Maxime nodded inwardly, committing the debt to memory.
Words alone couldn't express her gratitude; she would need to repay him in action.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on that—there were more pressing matters.
Releasing the boy, Maxime turned to Lafferty, her expression shifting from gentle to icy in an instant. Paired with her towering frame, the sheer intimidation was palpable.
"Lafferty, I believe I deserve an explanation."
"Why was one of the men you brought a Scourer? Is this a plot by MACUSA or Ilvermorny against me?"
"Olympe, absolutely not!" Lafferty's forehead beaded with sweat. "You saw for yourself—that wasn't Lester, but a Scourer in disguise. I'm just as clueless as you are. Right now, our priority is driving off those poachers before interrogating them."
After a long, scrutinising stare, Maxime finally snorted.
"I'll await your final answer. If it doesn't satisfy me, I'll take this up with the French Ministry of Magic."
"Of course," Lafferty hastily agreed.
The battle below still raged, and after such a disaster, Lafferty had lost all interest in studying Thunderbird eggs.
He hurried down the mountain to join the fight, with Maxime following close behind, determined to uncover some answers herself. As for Wayne and Newt, they remained behind to continue their original work.
Truth be told, Lafferty had wanted Wayne to come along and assist, but he refused.
He hadn't come here to work for free for the American Ministry of Magic. Who had time to babysit them?
The turmoil below didn't concern Wayne or Newt in the slightest.
The two of them moved through the Thunderbirds' nests—Newt recording data and observing the birds' physical condition, while Wayne played the role of a charmer, soothing the Thunderbirds and keeping them from growing too agitated.
...
By dawn the next day, the five Thunderbirds had laid a total of thirteen eggs.
According to Newt's assessment, all thirteen eggs were healthy, with no deformities or signs of malnutrition.
Even so, how many would ultimately survive remained unknown.
Every Thunderbird, upon hatching, had to endure a baptism of lightning, meaning they had to be struck by it once.
Those with good fortune would survive the ordeal and emerge transformed, while those without would simply vanish into smoke.
This was precisely why Thunderbirds laid eggs every year, yet their numbers never grew significantly.
Lafferty and Maxime, who had also been busy all night, returned covered in dust.
Their robes were streaked with grime and scorched with large holes, though fortunately, neither of them was injured.
"We've mostly figured things out," Lafferty managed to say after gulping down some water, then plopping onto a rock to recount the previous night's events.
For the first half of the night, they had assisted the Aurors in capturing poachers. But due to the sheer number of them, the operation eventually turned into a forced expulsion, capturing whoever they could.
It wasn't until the latter half of the night that they roused Simmons, Thorne, and the others for interrogation.
To quickly clear up the misunderstanding with Maxime, Lafferty and the American Ministry of Magic even resorted to Veritaserum, extracting the most accurate account of events from the surviving captives.
This incident was indeed a Scourer conspiracy, unrelated to Ilvermorny or the Ministry.
Their target had been Maxime—killing her would have provoked conflict between the American and French magical communities, potentially even dragging other nations into the fray.
The information about the poachers had also been deliberately leaked to the Aurors by the Scourers, setting both sides against each other so they'd be too preoccupied to interfere.
The Scourers had prepared thoroughly. Even if Thorne's ambush failed, there was a Plan B—over a dozen of them would attack directly.
The strongest among them, Simmons, would deal with Newt, preventing him from releasing magical creatures, while the rest would kill Maxime and flee.
But what the Scourers never anticipated was that both plans would be foiled by a single young wizard.
"Was the real Professor Lester found?" Wayne asked curiously.
"Yes," Lafferty replied with a sigh. "He was locked in a cellar in town. When we found him, he was terrified and had suffered significant torture."
"Looks like we'll need a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
"What a senseless tragedy. Lester had been doing well these past two and a half years. Let's just hope he recovers soon."
Wayne: "…"
So it wasn't just Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts professors who were expendable—Ilvermorny's weren't much better.
"Thank you, Wayne," Lafferty said sincerely, stepping forward. "You saved the relationship between Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons."
Wayne was unaware that Maxime's visit this time involved important matters to discuss with Ilvermorny.
Many ancient traditional competitions had recently been planned for revival, and Ilvermorny was eager to establish communication channels with other schools. In a way, Wayne had given Ilvermorny a significant boost.
Maxime once again expressed her gratitude to Wayne and extended another invitation for him to transfer schools. This time, the offer was even more extravagant—almost outright suggesting handing Fleur over to him. If Wayne fancied any other female students, that could also be arranged. While she couldn't make decisions on their behalf, she certainly wouldn't mind playing matchmaker.
"Alright, Maxime, you've been busy for a full day and night. You must be exhausted—go and get some proper rest."
Newt, unable to listen any longer, shooed them both out.
Before leaving, Lafferty handed the conch shell to Wayne, which had previously been used by Thorne. "This is a reverse Portkey—it can summon other wizards. Consider it your rightful spoils of victory."
Wayne accepted it without hesitation; he was genuinely intrigued by the conch.
Once the two had left, Newt immediately began packing.
"This matter no longer concerns us, and the Thunderbirds are in good health. Let's hurry back."
"So soon?" Wayne was puzzled.
Newt remained silent, fearing that if they stayed any longer, Wayne might be lured away.
"Senior, could we wait just a bit longer?" Wayne flashed his trademark shy smile.
Newt felt a sense of foreboding—after spending these past few days together, he'd learned that whenever Wayne smiled like that, he was definitely up to no good.
"What else do you want to do?"
"Nothing much. Just thought I'd take a Thunderbird back with me."