"Exactly. All blood-related."
Wayne nodded slightly. "The companies they recently proposed partnerships with are all family-owned businesses tied by blood relations."
Humphrey's face darkened as he snorted angrily. "Their reach has grown too far!"
"Seems they resent how well we feasted last year," Wayne remarked impassively. "Through their thoughts, I've discerned their strategy."
"Deepen our cooperation, leverage financial dominance to permanently bind the Lawrence family to their interests—making us part of their collective."
"I'll handle this," Humphrey declared, rising abruptly. "Within a month, you'll find them at the bottom of the Thames."
"Uncle, no need for such dramatics." Wayne actually smiled. "Eliminate this group, and they'll simply send replacements. I'd have to screen them all over again."
"Then what?" Humphrey paced irritably. "Leave these vermin unchecked?"
"First, we take their offerings," Wayne decided. "To draw us in, they'll provide substantial benefits. Once we've consumed enough, I'll harvest them."
Facing such promising crops, Wayne showed remarkable tolerance.
"You're certain this won't backfire?" Humphrey asked cautiously.
"Rest assured." Wayne smiled faintly. "Mere buffoons can't stir real trouble."
"Now there's something more urgent for you."
"What?" Humphrey asked.
"Build a lobbying group exclusively for the Lawrence family. I want results within a year."
Pouring himself whisky, Humphrey asked in confusion: "Isn't it too early? If you want to enter politics later, there'll still be time to plan then."
The elite primarily used lobbying groups to influence decisions at the highest levels—leveraging money and connections to steer political outcomes.
Typically, only the absolute elite held lobbying power-those with the capital to maintain armies of silver-tongued gift-bearers.
For a family of the Lawrences' stature, maintaining their own lobbying group would pose no difficulty.
But Humphrey considered it wasteful to establish one while he still held his current position.
"Uncle, you're being shortsighted..." Wayne shook his head and began explaining his intentions. As Humphrey listened, his eyes brightened until he regarded his nephew as though seeing a monster.
"Does the magical world teach politics now?"
"Of course," Wayne replied without batting an eyelid. "Our Headmaster's an old schemer..."
...
It was nearly midnight when Humphrey left in high spirits.
If Wayne's strategy succeeded, the Lawrence family would undoubtedly stand atop the world, controlling the politics and economies of multiple nations.
Yet Wayne's lobbying group served another purpose—preparing for the wizarding world.
There, interest groups were simpler, requiring less effort to see results.
...
Another dawn arrived.
That morning, Wayne visited Diagon Alley for supplies and new publications, accompanying Hermione home for lunch afterwards.
Mr Granger enthusiastically offered dental examination services, which Wayne declined - not from politeness, but genuine prior engagement.
Shortly after returning home, Mrs Greengrass arrived with Astoria.
"Mr Lawrence, these documents express our gratitude for saving Astoria."
"Please don't refuse."
Madame Greengrass placed the prepared payment on the table. Wayne glanced at it briefly before looking up at her in surprise:
"Madame, isn't this too much?"
Ten thousand Galleons, three Diagon Alley shopfronts, and shares in several companies.
This was several times the previously agreed terms.
"Of course, it's not too much." Madame Greengrass maintained her smile. "Astoria is my most precious treasure. As long as she can be healthy and happy, these are nothing."
"Mum." The wealthy girl looked at her mother with moved eyes.
Madame Greengrass gently stroked her long hair as she made her position clear: "From now on, House Greengrass will be your most loyal ally. I still have some influence in the Immigration Control Department and the Department of Transportation."
Madame Greengrass then took a document from her bag: "Astoria mentioned you'll be competing in Beauxbatons early next year. These are your travel documents."
"Thank you very much. This saves me considerable trouble." Wayne happily accepted them.
His trip to France would be under wizarding credentials, requiring Ministry of Magic registration. Snape had specifically reminded him about this before leaving school.
He'd originally planned to handle it after Christmas, but Madame Greengrass had arranged everything without him even needing to be present.
Such were the small privileges of power.
Their conversation remained quite formal, and Astoria grew bored. After obtaining permission, she began exploring Wayne's home.
Only after the wealthy girl left did the discussion gradually become more open.
Madame Greengrass shared the family's history with the blood curse.
All blood curses only manifested in female family members. Astoria's grandmother had passed away shortly after giving birth to Madame Greengrass.
That's right, Mrs Greengrass hadn't married into the family – she'd taken in a live-in son-in-law instead...
Wayne asked curiously, "Astoria told me the blood curse originates from the legendary witch Morgana. Is that true?"
"That's what the family records say," Mrs Greengrass shook her head. "But the exact details are unclear – it was simply too long ago."
"However, our family still preserves several spells passed down from Merlin himself. I believe there's a high probability it's true."
"Spells from Merlin?" Wayne's interest was piqued.
"If you're interested, I could teach them to you," Mrs Greengrass said generously.
"But I do have one small request."
"Please go ahead."
"Your first child with Astoria must bear the Greengrass surname."
Wayne: "???"
...
Before dinner, Mrs Greengrass left with a somewhat reluctant Astoria in tow.
Watching the two figures – one tall, one small – gradually recede into the distance, Wayne shook his head.
This was far too calculating. They were discussing children's surnames when such matters weren't even on the horizon yet.
Then again, it wouldn't be long before the blood curse within the wealthy little witch would be completely eradicated.
If he and Astoria did have children, and one was adopted into the Greengrass family, the blood curse that had plagued them for millennia would vanish entirely.
He'd figured it out now – those expensive gifts today weren't so much payment as they were Astoria's dowry.
He wondered if the wealthy little witch even knew she'd been sold off?
At this thought, the young man couldn't help but smile.
...
Over the following days, Wayne found himself with ample free time.
Mornings were spent bringing Hermione to his home – the young witch would play with the Virtual Brain Machine while he played with the young witch. After dinner, he'd escort her back.
A relatively leisurely routine.
It wasn't until the 24th, when an owl delivered a letter, that he set off for Knockturn Alley and arrived at Borgin and Burkes.
"Welcome, Mr Lawrence."
Mr Borgin eagerly emerged from behind the counter, displaying far more enthusiasm than he ever had for Lucius Malfoy.
Compared to Malfoy's shady Dark Artefacts, this young man before him promised far greater profits.
"Mr Borgin, have you found what I requested?" Wayne dispensed with pleasantries, getting straight to the point.
"In the back courtyard. Please follow me." Borgin gestured grandly before leading the way.
Wayne followed, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the bamboo-munching figure.
"Mr Lawrence, acquiring this Iron-eating Beast cost me dearly," Borgin lamented while simultaneously currying favour. "But since it was your request, I'd have sold the pots and pans to fulfil it."
"Excellent."
Wayne approached to examine the creature, verifying it showed no signs of mistreatment before nodding in satisfaction.
"Hufflepuffs never mistreat loyal friends. Name your price."
He cared little about how much of Borgin's tale was exaggeration. As long as his requirements were met, he wouldn't be stingy.
Hearing this peculiar statement, Borgin's mouth twitched.
Wouldn't "Slytherin" have been more appropriate than "Hufflepuff" in this context?
"What's the most powerful artefact you can create?" Borgin asked.
"Defensive or offensive?"
"Offensive, preferably large-scale."
The young man stroked his chin in thought. "How about Fiendfyre? I happen to have a few in stock."
"That would be perfect." Borgin clapped his hands in delight. "The best choice."
Borgin and two other families had discovered an ancient tomb filled with Inferi. Fiendfyre was ideal for dealing with them.
Though they all knew the Fiendfyre Curse, casting it deep inside the tomb would inevitably put them in grave danger.
Using an artefact was far simpler—it could be activated remotely.
"Here." Wayne pulled three Fiendfyre rings from his pocket and handed them to Borgin. As he eyed the bag, a flicker of greed flashed in Borgin's eyes—one Wayne immediately noticed.
"Thinking of stealing it?" Wayne's tone was almost encouraging. "There are plenty of goodies inside."
"You jest." Borgin forced a laugh, his heart skipping a beat. "Just curious, that's all."
"Just curious? What a shame."
Wayne shook his head regretfully. "If you'd tried, I wouldn't have had to pay this time."
Borgin: "..."
'If you want my old life, just say so. No need to be so subtle...'
After jotting down an address in Dorset, Wayne left the shop.
Months had passed, and Knockturn Alley had grown even more crowded with wizards. Many lowered their heads upon seeing Wayne, desperately trying to make themselves invisible.
But some newcomers weren't so clever.
"Little one, all alone in Knockturn Alley? Did you lose mummy and daddy?"
A cold, slithering voice spoke up. Two wizards—faces grotesque, marred by hideous scars—blocked Wayne's path, one in front, one behind.
In the wizarding world, ugliness came in two forms.
The first was natural—like Marcus Flint or Pansy Parkinson, products of inbreeding.
The second was magical in origin.
Excessive study of Dark Magic could warp one's features unpredictably.
These two belonged to the latter. Insects writhed in their flesh, and when they grinned, a yellowish vapour seeped from their mouths.
Wayne lowered his gaze, voice icy. "It's the holidays. I don't want to kill anyone. Piss off."
"Hahaha! This brat's still wet behind the ears, talking big about killing."
The wizard behind Wayne sneered. "Bet you've never even seen blood."
Through the window, Borgin watched the scene unfold, a smirk playing on his lips.
More fools rushing to their deaths?
Perfect. It had been a while since he'd seen Wayne in action. Today would be a treat.
"Come quietly with us. Don't worry—we'll fetch a fine price for you."
The wizard in front revealed his wand, hidden in his sleeve. The shadows at his feet twisted, clawing toward Wayne like living tendrils before snapping free of the ground, coiling into ropes.
"I'm really not in the mood to see too much blood." Wayne sighed—then his body blazed with light.
The alley, steeped in gloom, suddenly scorched with heat. Wizards nearby covered their hands over their eyes.
Only when the searing brilliance faded did they dare lower their hands and look again. The young man walked unhurriedly towards the end of the alley, but the two wizards who had blocked his path were already nowhere to be seen.
Borgin's heart chilled with fear.
In just one term, this little monster had grown stronger again.
Don't want to see too much blood?
You've reduced people to ashes—how could there possibly be blood!