Grace finally witnessed Wayne's money-making speed firsthand.
Currently interning at the Ministry of Magic, she earned forty Galleons a month – already considered average.
But Wayne?
Four vaults. Four hundred thousand Galleons.
After a full half-hour of collecting, Wayne finally emptied these vaults, pocketing an additional five thousand Galleons as spending money.
Pity Jerry had been left at home – the poor Niffler would've gone mad with joy.
Wayne didn't plan to deposit this money in his own vault either, choosing to carry it instead. With him around, it was safer than Gringotts anyway.
Harry gaped. "What kind of chest is that? It holds so much!"
"Must have an Undetectable Extension Charm," Sirius said with a smile. "I'll buy you one later – it'll make school much more convenient."
Sirius currently resembled a parent who'd been away on business too long, desperate to shower Harry with every possible luxury.
Harry naturally shook his head repeatedly.
"No need. I already bought one of Wayne's Undetectable Extension Charm bags. It's more than enough."
"Speaking of which..." Wayne suddenly said ominously, "Someone not only ate my food but also stole my bag..."
"Someone actually managed to steal from you?" Grace asked curiously.
"Indeed." Wayne shook his head ruefully. "Not from my hands, though – from Norman."
Sirius froze. He felt more panicked now than during his trial.
Sirius had assumed Wayne never recognised him as that performing black dog, but the boy had known all along – he simply never mentioned it.
"How awful!" Sirius blurted, thinking fast. "Don't be angry, Wayne. Just a few bags, right? I'll pay you ten times their worth!"
"No need for money." Wayne waved dismissively. "Just give Harry more allowance so he can patronise my business more often."
"Deal!" Sirius slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and exhaled in relief.
His hard-earned reputation was finally preserved.
...
Having suddenly acquired hundreds of thousands of galleons, Wayne naturally wanted to celebrate.
After leaving Gringotts, he arranged a time to meet Sirius at Grimmauld Place before they went their separate ways.
Sirius had not only withdrawn a large sum of galleons but also exchanged plenty of Muggle currency, planning to take Harry on a shopping spree.
Meanwhile, Wayne returned home with Grace.
"Just something quick to eat," Grace said, stretching on the soft sofa. "I've got to return for training this afternoon."
Whether it was his imagination or not, Wayne couldn't help noticing his senior's figure seemed to have improved even further.
Her nutrient absorption ability is truly impressive...
"Your department head is busy accompanying Fudge at St Mungo's," Wayne remarked. "What's the rush for an intern?"
"It's not Shacklebolt who's conducting the training," Grace sighed. "The instructor is really strict, so I can't afford to be late."
"Fine."
Wayne summoned Gardevoir to prepare lunch, and the two ate while chatting.
"It's exhausting, but I'm learning a lot," Grace admitted. "What they teach at school feels like child's play. Only after becoming an Auror do you understand what real magic is."
She smiled slightly. "Luckily, I met a Hufflepuff senior—she got reassigned to retraining for breaking protocol on a mission and has been helping me out."
Wayne raised an eyebrow. "You mean Tonks?"
"How did you know?" Grace stared at him in surprise.
"Heh." Wayne chuckled. "Nymphadora Tonks' disregard for rules isn't exactly news at the Ministry. If she weren't so talented, she'd have been sacked long ago."
Metamorphmagus' abilities might not enhance combat skills, but they made undercover or ambush missions far easier than for ordinary Aurors.
Grace couldn't help laughing. "She's actually quite nice—just a bit hot-tempered, very Gryffindor-like."
"At least both Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt have high regard for her."
"No, he has to regard you even higher now," Wayne said arrogantly. "If Kingsley Shacklebolt gives you trouble, just tell me. I'll help the Ministry replace another Head of the Auror Office."
Grace's eyes curved like crescents. "Don't worry, Shacklebolt's much friendlier than Scrimgeour. Ever since he found out I'm connected to you, he's been extra careful with his words."
"That's more like it." Satisfied, Wayne nodded before revealing his ulterior motive. "Senior, I recently bought a new camera with great specs. Fancy testing it out?"
The girl rolled her eyes prettily but said nothing, simply heading upstairs instead.
...
Over the following week, Fudge was discharged from St Mungo's, though doctors advised him to rest and avoid work temporarily.
Thus, Peter Pettigrew's retrial was scheduled for July 15th.
Meanwhile, after spending a week at Nicolas' house with Hermione, Wayne returned to London, arriving at Grimmauld Place near King's Cross Station.
The square skipped from number eleven straight to thirteen—clearly under protective charms.
Yet as Wayne recalled the address Sirius had shown him, a house squeezed itself between the two numbers.
The black paint on the door had peeled away, covered in scratches. The silver door knocker took the shape of a coiled serpent, with neither keyhole nor letterbox.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Wayne knocked, and soon the door swung open.
"Professor Lupin," Wayne greeted politely.
"I'm no longer a professor," Lupin smiled. "Just call me Lupin or Remus."
Wayne nodded agreeably. "Then I'll call you Remus from now on."
"Come in quickly, Sirius is already waiting for you."
Following behind, Wayne entered the room and was immediately assaulted by a musty odour that made him instinctively wrinkle his nose before casting the Bubble-Head Charm.
Dim candlelight illuminated the dark hallway, its walls crowded with paintings and tapestries, some so mouldy their edges curled upwards.
"How's living here?" Wayne asked.
"Tolerable," Lupin replied with a wry smile. "The house-elf here doesn't much care for me, though out of respect for Sirius, it hasn't thrown me out."
"Have you considered finding another job?"
Lupin paused mid-step, hesitating before nodding. "The thought has crossed my mind, but Sirius absolutely refuses to let me leave."
Wayne joked, "Does he plan to support you for life then?"
"I might have a job that would suit you."
Unperturbed by Wayne's teasing, the good-natured Lupin asked curiously, "What sort of job?"
"Do you know Borgin and Burkes?" Wayne inquired.
Lupin nodded. "Of course, the most notorious merchant in Knockturn Alley. You're acquainted with him?"
Wayne gave a slight nod.
Lupin fell silent...
Since when did young wizards run in such circles?
Then again, why would he measure Wayne by ordinary standards?
"The job I'm suggesting involves him, Remus."
Wayne pushed open a door into the sitting room, continuing, "Given your frequent dealings with dark creatures, you must have some understanding of Dark Magic artefacts?"
"Passable," Lupin answered cautiously. "Better than most wizards."
"Then give it a try."
"Just mention my name, and I'm sure he'll give you a chance."
Lupin hesitated. "But my... condition as a werewolf..."
"That's nothing," Wayne waved dismissively. "His shop contains far more dangerous things than werewolves. If anything, you'll need to protect yourself from getting cursed."
Lupin considered this silently, realising the truth in Wayne's words.
Finally, he said gratefully, "Thank you, Wayne. I'll go and try my luck soon."
"Try what?"
Sirius descended the stairs, having missed their earlier conversation.
"Nothing," Lupin deflected, preferring to inform Sirius only after everything was settled.
Wayne's gaze shifted to the house-elf trailing behind Sirius.
This elf appeared ancient, nearly naked, with skin hanging in folds several sizes too large for its frame. From its bat-like ears sprouted tufts of white hair.
Disgusting.
While all House-elves were ugly, among the dozens Wayne had encountered, this one took the prize for sheer repulsiveness.
The house-elf acted as if Wayne and Lupin were invisible, offering no greeting whatsoever. Hunched and bent, it slowly trailed behind Sirius, muttering in a hoarse, low voice:
"...Smells like the gutter and criminals, just look at the disgraceful good-for-nothing young master's company... What would my poor old mistress say to Kreacher? Such shame, a werewolf, a brat, what next will the wastrel bring home?"
"Kreacher!" Sirius barked. "Shut up! You will not speak of my friends that way!"
"Oh, the runaway young master grows bold again, the Ministry of Magic truly is useless..."
"Kreacher!" Sirius trembled with rage. "I order you! Be silent!"
At last, the irritating muttering ceased...
Sirius had spoken with the authority of command. No matter how much Kreacher despised him, he had to obey the last remaining bloodline of the Black Family.
"It's fine," Wayne said, amused. "He's not entirely wrong. You did give me over half your family fortune – how's that not being a wastrel?"
Hic!
Kreacher let out a strange, muffled sound, his bloodshot eyes bulging wide.
"Half the fortune?"
"No, the majority," Wayne corrected seriously.
Kreacher fell backwards with a thud, mirroring Fudge's reaction from before – though he didn't faint. Instead, he rolled over and began pounding his forehead against the floor.
"Mistress! What sins have you committed!"
"The ancient and noble House of Black will soon be squandered away! How can I face you? Why, why did the young master not survive instead of this disgraceful eldest!"
"Kreacher! You're just a house-elf – what I do is none of your concern!"
Sirius kicked him aside angrily, then turned apologetically to Wayne. "Sorry about that, Wayne. Kreacher's too old – he's gone completely mad since I returned."
"He can't even clean properly anymore. Lupin and I have to do it ourselves."
Sirius looked thoroughly exasperated. Kreacher had been driving him mad these past few days – he hadn't even brought Harry home yet for fear of frightening him.
"It's fine..." Wayne shook his head.
"Let me take you to the library. There are thousands of books there – many are cursed. It'll keep you busy for a while."
"No, I'm more interested in Kreacher right now." Wayne stared at the self-harming house-elf and asked softly:
"Was he always like this before?"
"Before?" Sirius seemed puzzled, but after consideration answered, "I was the black sheep of the Black Family. My mother and the 'young master' Kreacher mentioned never liked me, so naturally, he never treated me well either."
"That's not what I meant." Wayne shook his head. "I meant – was he always this deranged? Those bloodshot eyes... His skin doesn't look right either."
Sirius had never paid attention to Kreacher's condition. "What exactly are you getting at, Wayne?"
The teenager dropped a bombshell: "I suspect he's been poisoned."
"Poisoned?" Sirius and Lupin exclaimed in unison.
"How did you notice?" Lupin also examined Kreacher but couldn't detect anything amiss.
"You've had too little contact with house-elves. Kreacher reeks of despair, and the bloodshot eyes are highly irregular..."
Wayne wasn't speaking idly—he'd also vaguely detected a... corpse-like odour.
"Sirius, help me question him." Wayne tilted his chin slightly. "What kind of person would poison a house-elf?"
"Kreacher! Tell me, have you been poisoned?" Sirius demanded.
Yet he received no response. Kreacher continued muttering curses under his breath.
"I command you!" Sirius resorted to his trump card. "Tell me—have you been poisoned?"
Kreacher finally stopped, replying in a listless voice, "Kreacher is fine. Kreacher isn't poisoned."
"Wayne, were you mistaken?" Sirius asked, turning his head.
Wayne looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Do you think he'd know if he'd been poisoned?"
"I meant for you to ask what strange things happened to him or what odd substances he ingested."
Sirius froze.
That... made sense.
Lupin quietly took two steps back. He hadn't spotted the flaw in that logic either.
What a wonderful thing the brain is...
Thus, Sirius repeated his demand in a commanding tone. After prolonged silence, Kreacher curled into a ball and slowly confessed:
"Yes..."
"It was the Dark Lord... The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink a strange potion."
"The Dark Lord?" Lupin and Sirius exclaimed simultaneously. "You mean Voldemort?!"
"Don't speak that name!" Kreacher shrieked.
"Tell me everything you know!" Sirius snarled through gritted teeth. "Did Regulus take you there? How many atrocities did you help the Dark Lord commit?"