When they emerged from the Thunderbird sanctuary, Newt's hands were trembling slightly.
Only Wayne wore a faint, composed smile.
Back in their room at the inn, Newt fidgeted uneasily. "Wayne, are you really planning to take the Thunderbird to Hogwarts?"
"Of course," Wayne replied cheerfully. "It's still just a youngster—it needs to be raised close by."
In the end, they took with them a young Thunderbird, barely a year and a half old, and a descendant of the Thunderbird King himself.
Thanks to the Thunderlord's Decree and his Magical Creature Affinity, when Wayne proposed taking a Thunderbird, he effortlessly secured the consent of both the Thunderbird King and his mate.
Had Newt not intervened, the two Thunderbirds would have also gladly followed Wayne away.
A single young one was manageable, but if the sanctuary's Thunderbird leaders had left with Wayne, the American Ministry of Magic would have been furious.
"Then you must take good care of it," Newt urged. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me."
Under normal circumstances, Newt would never have allowed anyone to take a Thunderbird. But this was entirely the Thunderbird's choice to follow Wayne—he had no right to stop it. It was the creature's freedom.
The two didn't linger long, returning to New York via the Floo Network.
By the afternoon, a well-rested Maxime and Lafferty realised the pair had already slipped away.
"It must have been Mr Scamander's idea," Lafferty grumbled, slapping his thigh in frustration.
He'd hoped to spend the next few days getting closer to Wayne and even introducing him to his daughter. It was hard to say whether the two would get along well, but if they did, she might just be able to lure him to Ilvermorny.
Maxime's expression wasn't looking too good either.
But she wasn't in a hurry. During yesterday's casual chat, she'd learned that Wayne was participating in the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship.
And the venue for the competition happened to be Beauxbatons. Once it was on her home turf, there would be much more room for manoeuvring.
"Lafferty," Maxime suddenly said. Lafferty looked at her in confusion.
"Let's discuss the matter of compensation," Maxime said seriously. "Although this incident wasn't the fault of Ilvermorny or the Magical Congress, the Scourers were using me to target you."
"In other words, I was put in danger because of you."
Lafferty was also very straightforward: "If you have any requests, we'll do our best to fulfil them."
"It's not for me," Maxime shook her head. "I'd like your school to join me in applying for an Order of Merlin for Mr Lawrence—preferably First Class."
"What?!" Lafferty was stunned. "You can't be serious. That's the Order of Merlin! The youngest recipient was sixteen, and even that was posthumous—"
Maxime cut off his rambling, staring straight into his eyes. "Mr Lawrence saved my life, subdued over a dozen vicious Scourers, and salvaged relations between our two countries. Doesn't that merit an Order of Merlin?"
"Well..." Lafferty was left speechless but still hesitant. "But Wayne's age is bound to be an issue."
"First Class is impossible. As for Second or Third Class, I'll do my best."
Only then did Maxime smile in satisfaction. "Of course, this is just an idea. First Class would be ideal, but a lower rank is acceptable too."
"Don't worry, Beauxbatons will work with Ilvermorny on this. The chances of success are quite high."
Despite Maxime's imposing stature, her mind was exceptionally sharp.
Applying for the Order of Merlin for Wayne wasn't just about repayment—there was calculation involved.
First, it would be an opportunity to strengthen her ties with Wayne, making it easier to lure him to Beauxbatons.
Second, even if Wayne had no intention of transferring, this could serve as a restriction.
Thinking of the large-scale event she was planning, a deep concern flickered in Maxime's eyes.
A first-year who could eliminate over a dozen Scourers—such exaggerated combat prowess was unimaginable. How powerful would the boy be in two or three years?
If he participated, the others might as well go home and sleep. With the Order of Merlin, she could impose restrictions to prevent him from competing, giving Beauxbatons a chance to win.
The straightforward Lafferty was completely unaware of these intricacies, his mind occupied with how to persuade the Wizengamot to agree to award the Order of Merlin to an eleven-year-old wizard.
...
Meanwhile.
New York time, 4:30 p.m. Wayne and Newt returned home.
Tina was sitting by the fire, knitting a sweater and looked up in surprise at their sudden return.
"Back so soon?"
"There were some unexpected events, but overall, it went smoothly," Newt said wearily.
"Unexpected events..." Tina's eyebrows rose. "Do tell."
This old lady was once an Auror, the kind who would rush towards trouble wherever it appeared.
Upon hearing Newt mention an incident, she was naturally very curious. Newt could do nothing but humour his wife and began recounting the story.
"What? You ran into Scourers!"
Tina's expression turned grave after listening. "Newt, what were you thinking? A grown man like you still needs Wayne to protect you."
Newt gave a wry smile. "Tina, it's not that I didn't try—it's just that Wayne is too capable."
Before he could even begin to summon anything, Wayne had already dealt with the enemy, leaving him with no choice but to sigh in resignation.
Facing Wayne, Tina immediately softened into a kindly smile and took his hand:
"Good boy, you're the most talented young wizard I've ever seen. Now, tell me about that spell you created—how does it work with the Thunderbird?"
Watching the old yet stubborn woman, Newt couldn't help but admit that age was catching up with him. Just a few days out, and his body was already feeling the strain.
...
After spending New Year's Day of 1992 at Newt's home, the date soon turned to the ninth of January. It was time for Wayne to return to London.
With the second half of the Hogwarts term starting after the weekend, the night before his departure, Tina prepared a lavish dinner and even invited their neighbours, Queenie and Jacob, to join them in seeing Wayne off.
"Remember to write to your grandmother—don't just chat with Newt about those creatures," she chided. "And whatever you do, don't end up as dull as him. No girl would fancy you then."
Wayne laughed and agreed. He adored Tina's temperament—her youthful bluntness paired with a grandmotherly warmth.
Jacob brought two boxes of handmade doughnuts and bread, one for Wayne and the other to be delivered to Dumbledore.
This didn't sit well with Queenie.
Neither sister could understand why their men were so fond of Dumbledore.
After decades apart, they still couldn't let go of him.
"We'll be moving back to Dorset this year," Newt said. "Don't forget to keep your summer free."
"I won't," Wayne nodded.
Earlier, when Maxime had tried to tempt Wayne with Nicolas Flamel, Newt had scoffed—who didn't know Nicolas Flamel?—and promised to take Wayne to meet the great Alchemist himself.
Over the past few days, Newt had received a reply from Nicolas Flamel, expressing his eagerness to welcome Wayne and Newt, and scheduling their visit for a week after the summer holidays.
The location? Paris.
During dinner, Wayne brought up another matter: "Have you thought about what I mentioned earlier?"
Newt hesitated. "Well… perhaps not. I don't quite have the energy anymore. Though I'd love to go back and see it."
"What's this about?" Tina narrowed her eyes at the two men. Were they keeping secrets from her?
"Oh, I invited Newt to return to the school as the professor for Care of Magical Creatures," Wayne explained with a smile.
"If he agrees, the students in our house would be thrilled."
"A professor?" Tina shook her head. "At his age, he shouldn't be stirring up trouble."
"Ilvermorny invited Newt once, too, but we turned them down."
That was only part of the reason.
A man who could care for hundreds of magical creatures without an assistant might not have the stamina of his youth, but he was certainly fit to teach.
Wayne suspected that Grandma Tina was simply worried Dumbledore might whisk Newt away again.
Seeing neither was keen, he didn't press the matter.
Hagrid it was, then. If he ended up teaching them about Blast-Ended Skrewts, so be it.
After dinner, they lingered a while longer before Queenie and Jacob prepared to leave.
"Wait a moment," Wayne stopped them.
Everyone turned to him curiously.
The young man smiled. "This visit was rather rushed, and the Christmas gifts I prepared were… quite simple."
"Don't say that, Wayne," Tina chided, giving him a light tap. "I really liked the music box you gave me."
Queenie nodded with a smile. "Yes, and my fashion magazines were lovely too. If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known how tasteless wizarding fashion has become these days."
Wayne's lips twitched.
But then he thought of the difference between Vinda Rosier and Bellatrix. Fair point.
The older generation of wizards had been the epitome of elegance.
"But those were just rushed gifts," Wayne quickly steered the conversation back on track. "Now, I'd like to give you all a proper Christmas present."
With that, he snapped his fingers.
Ho-Oh descended with a melodious cry, emerging from a burst of flames. "Ho-Oh, use Sacred Fire!"
"Chirp-chirp!"
Pure white flames scattered through the air, merging into their bodies before they could even react.
A surge of vibrant, pulsating life force spread wildly, making the four near-centenarians close their eyes in bliss, barely suppressing their moans.
Their backs straightened, their wrinkles diminished, and even their greying hair showed streaks of black.
A full ten minutes passed before they awoke from the euphoric sensation, as if they'd ascended to the heavens.
They stared at their hands in disbelief, then at each other.
"Queenie, you—!"
"Tina!"
"Jacob, your hair!"
"Newt, forget about me—your freckles are practically fading!"
Only then did they realise what Wayne's gift truly was—and how precious it was.
"Child, I..." Queenie's eyes welled with tears as she clutched Wayne's hand, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Her emotion wasn't for herself, but for Jacob.
As a witch, she could easily live to a hundred and fifty without illness or mishap.
But Jacob?
Even with the aid of potions, a Muggle living this long was already remarkable.
Queenie knew that one day, perhaps soon, the man who had walked beside her for over half a century would quietly depart.
For those who cherished love and loyalty, their own lifespan mattered little—only that those they cared for could live longer.
Of course, if they could stay together forever, that would be ideal.
'Death is but the next great adventure.' Wayne had always thought that was utter nonsense.
If he brought Ariana Dumbledore back to life, he'd like to see the old man still eager to die.
"This gift is too generous," Tina said, trembling. "Newt and I... we don't know how to repay you."
"Grandma Tina," Wayne huffed. "I told you, it's a gift, not a transaction. Don't worry about repayment."
"Just don't get annoyed when I come to visit you later."
"Never, never. You're welcome anytime," Tina said warmly, dropping the formalities.
Ho-Oh, looking rather drained, perched weakly on the table. Wayne patted its head.
"Honestly, you're slacking. Pathetic."
"Chirp-chirp!" Ho-Oh pouted indignantly.
It was barely six months old—performing this well was already impressive, considering how well it had been fed.
"I'll fetch some herbs for Ho-Oh," Newt said, more distressed by its state than Wayne was. He dashed towards the trapdoor with newfound agility, far quicker than before.
"You silly child," Tina scolded with a laugh. "If we had Ho-Oh as a companion, we'd cherish her beyond measure. Yet here you are teasing her."
"Chirp chirp!" Hearing someone speak up for her, Ho-Oh immediately perked up with renewed vigour.
Currently, Newt and the other three had hair that was half-white and half-black, giving them a rough appearance of being around sixty years old.
For wizards, this was merely middle-aged, with their vitality nearly restored to its peak. Even Jacob claimed he could bake five crates of bread at once.
When Newt brought over a large basket of precious herbs, the four of them took turns feeding Ho-Oh. Watching this heartwarming scene, Wayne couldn't help but smile.
As he'd said earlier, he'd never considered expecting anything in return for gifts. When Newt had given him the case, he hadn't thought about what Wayne might bring him either.
When encountering sincere people, Wayne responded with equal sincerity.
...
The next day, Wayne rose early, quietly washed up, picked up his case and prepared to leave in silence.
He didn't want to see the sad expressions on Tina and Queenie's faces as they said goodbye. But as he stepped out into the living room, he found Newt and Jacob already sitting there, perfectly composed.
Seeing Wayne tiptoeing, the old man, Newt, couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Queenie guessed right. She said yesterday you'd try to slip away quietly. Don't worry—they understand and won't come to see you off."
"That's good then," Wayne sighed in relief.
Newt stood up, and Jacob hugged Wayne, telling him to visit New York often before leaving.
"Shall we walk together?"
"Sure, there's still time before my flight."
Carrying his case, Wayne walked with Newt by his side. The latter produced a packet of seeds. "These are herbs that Phoenixes particularly enjoy. You can grow them in your case. If you run out, I've cultivated plenty more—just ask whenever you need."
Newt wasn't a man of many words. This was the only way he could think to thank Ho-Oh.
As for Wayne, should the young man ever need anything, Newt wouldn't hesitate to be there for him.
Along the way, Newt shared tips about caring for Thunderbirds, which Wayne carefully noted down. Hogwarts' records on Thunderbirds were indeed scarce. They were native to North America and were rarely seen elsewhere.
"I'd suggest keeping your Thunderbird in the Forbidden Forest for a while first," Newt advised. "Natural lightning greatly aids their growth."
"Wouldn't that be too dangerous?" Wayne frowned. "The Forbidden Forest has Acromantulas and dangerous creatures like Graphorns."
"You underestimate Thunderbirds."
Newt shook his head. "They'll have no natural predators there. I know that forest well."
"Alright then."
As they walked, Wayne's expression shifted as if wrestling with something. The perceptive Newt noticed but didn't pry, waiting for Wayne to decide whether to share.
At a street corner, Wayne suddenly stopped and took a deep breath. "Senior, there's something I need your help with."
Newt showed no surprise. "What do you need me to do?"