After repeated requests from Wayne, Newt reluctantly agreed.
First, he and Hermione took a photo with Newt. After some thought, Wayne decided not to play favourites.
He quickly had Gardevoir fetch Astoria and Cho as well, having everyone take commemorative photos with Newt like tourists checking off landmarks.
They even ended with a 'family portrait.'
What left Newt most speechless was:
"Why did you call Dumbledore over?"
Looking at the white-bearded old man smiling before him, Newt asked Wayne, who was adjusting the camera lens.
Wayne angled the camera while replying: "Photos are more fun with more people. Opportunities like this are rare. Next time we visit Nicolas's place, we'll take a complete set."
Dumbledore had no idea who Wayne intended to give these photos to, cheerfully adding:
"Mr Lawrence is quite right. Such opportunities are rare. The last time you took a photo with me was over sixty years ago, wasn't it?"
"I'm not particularly fond of photographs," Newt said helplessly.
He disliked the feeling of fame, so even photos with Tina were scarce.
The period when Newt appeared most frequently in photos was during his travels abroad, when his mugshot graced the front pages of newspapers daily, in the form of wanted posters.
"Done."
Wayne pressed the shutter, releasing a puff of smoke as the photo was captured.
After soaking in a special developing solution for several hours, it would become an animated, magical photograph.
Dumbledore released his arm from Newt's shoulder and asked cheerfully, "Newt, care for a drink tonight?"
"Hogwarts' house-elves have improved considerably since your school days. They've developed several new dishes—you must try the West Lake vinegar fish and pineapple fried sausages tonight."
Wayne's mouth twitched.
"Mr Lawrence, will you be joining us?"
"Thank you, Professor, but I have prior engagements this evening."
"What a shame."
Wayne gave a strained smile before hastily grabbing Astoria and Cho's hands to make his escape.
The old man was becoming increasingly mischievous, not even sparing an honest fellow like Newt.
True enough, when Wayne met Newt the next day, the magizoologist bitterly complained about Dumbledore's culinary atrocities, swearing never to eat anything in the Headmaster's Office again.
Wayne sympathetically offered him his leftover breakfast sandwich before heading to class.
...
By noon, everyone was astonished to discover that Dolores Umbridge—rumoured to have fled Hogwarts—had returned.
And she hadn't come alone.
She brought a proclamation:
"The Ministry of Magic seeks educational reform. Dolores Umbridge appointed as First Financial Auditor, responsible for reviewing Hogwarts' educational expenditures (to ensure fair and proper use of funds)."
"How does she keep getting more titles?" Harry said indignantly after reading the notice.
By now, his dislike for Umbridge ranked second only to Snape, surpassing even Trelawney.
After just one lesson, Harry realised exactly how detestable Umbridge was.
Not only did she forbid wand use, but she denied Voldemort and the Death Eaters' existence, praising the wizarding world's peaceful prosperity—sheer wilful blindness.
"Does this have anything to do with us?" Ron finished reading the notice too, finding nothing amiss. After all, the money wouldn't be given to them either.
"..."
Harry couldn't argue with that. The school's finances had nothing to do with them.
"But this has never happened before." After thinking for a while, Harry finally found a reason.
"But there's never been an Education Department before either."
Hermione, passing by, casually added, "Proper oversight is necessary. There's no need to make a fuss."
Harry looked at her strangely, as if discovering a new land.
"Hermione, I thought you hated Umbridge. Why are you speaking up for her?"
He'd never seen Hermione this fierce before—challenging a professor in the very first lesson.
Holding her books, Hermione replied matter-of-factly, "I acknowledge the purpose of the Education Department and its supervisory duties. Without oversight, corruption is inevitable."
"Dumbledore would never take school funds," Harry immediately protested. "Now, if you said Snape, I might believe it."
Hermione adopted a grown-up tone, "That's precisely why oversight is needed. If there's no problem, there's nothing to fear from inspection. But if issues exist, they can be caught early."
Seeing their blank expressions, Hermione sighed helplessly and walked away, shaking her head.
She hadn't understood these principles before either. Only after resolving to become the first Muggle-born Minister for Magic did she consciously study such matters, realising the importance of checks and balances.
This was also why Wayne hadn't blocked the implementation of this decree.
Had he wished, he could have vetoed it through the Wizengamot.
But the policy itself wasn't wrong—the problem lay with its implementers.
With Umbridge paving the way now, it would be much easier for him to use these mechanisms later, including the Education Department, which would undoubtedly be staffed with his people eventually.
...
At the staff table, Umbridge still occupied Professor McGonagall's usual seat, wearing her familiar simpering smile.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, please prepare Hogwarts' financial records from recent years. I'll review all expenditures on behalf of the Ministry."
"Hmm." Dumbledore popped a hazelnut chocolate into his mouth before responding, "Certainly, Professor Umbridge. Might I ask if the castle repair funds have been approved?"
"Of course," Umbridge said smugly. "Minister Fudge takes castle safety very seriously. He's specially approved six thousand Galleons in dedicated funding."
Snape, eating nearby, glanced sharply at the pink toad, his expression shifting.
"However, I'll need to approve all specific expenditures."
"No problem," Dumbledore agreed readily, never one for administrative details anyway.
Umbridge mistook this for a concession, flashing a triumphant smile.
"Then, Professor Umbridge, shall you handle this afternoon's classes?"
Her smile froze. "There's a Ministry meeting," she refused awkwardly. "And I must visit St Mungo's. Next week, perhaps next week."
Her head injury hadn't fully healed yet. She'd rushed back solely to flaunt her authority before Dumbledore—certainly not to teach while wounded.
After lunch, Umbridge hurried away again, leaving many students dismayed.
They really didn't want to attend Snape's Defence Against the Dark Arts class...
...
Meanwhile, Wayne was also troubled.
The vessel for the Horcrux was ready—now all that was lacking was the sacrificial offering.
The selection of sacrifices posed a dilemma. It wasn't about finding candidates, but rather having too many targets to choose from.
Eventually, Wayne settled on the shadowy figure of a media conglomerate's controller.
This company had recently been vying with the Lawrence family for dominance over Western Europe's public discourse, making itself thoroughly irritating with its antics.
The manager overseeing this sector had complained to him several times, each mention accompanied by gnashed teeth.
The usual tactics employed by those involved were the use of both media and finance.
Using finance to influence the upper echelons and media to guide the masses, thereby completing a top-down cycle of influence.
Time flew by until Friday. After classes, Wayne first went to Berlin and apprehended his target.
Worried one person might not suffice, he considerately captured the entire family.
Thanks to the Confundus Charm, Disillusionment Charm, and Muggle-Repelling Charm, the entire operation proceeded without hindrance.
This exemplified the most unreasonable aspect of wizards—mastering just these few spells rendered Muggle society virtually defenceless, allowing one to act with impunity.
...
Nurmengard Tower.
Wayne deftly navigated around the defensive wards, flying up to Grindelwald's cell.
The old man lay bored upon a straw pallet, counting ceiling stones. He barely reacted to Wayne's entrance, still staring upwards as he casually inquired, "Got the items?"
"Mhm. The books you wanted, plus the photos—all acquired."
A thick stack of volumes materialised on the table, topped by a silver locket.
These were all titles Grindelwald had specifically requested. Some came from Wayne's personal collection, others from the Black Family's and Nicolas's archives—all concerning Dark Magic, many touching upon Horcruxes.
Particularly one volume—'The Howling Soul'. When Wayne approached Nicolas about this book, the old man had, for the first time, not immediately acquiesced, instead demanding to know Wayne's intentions.
The tome contained nothing but the most sinister Dark Arts—soul transmutation, soul torture and such abominations.
Any misstep in its study could lead to drastic personality changes or soul mutilation.
Wayne had to reassure Nicolas, explaining his purpose.
Upon hearing the 'mitosis' theory, even Nicolas had felt his scalp prickle. After much hesitation, he lent the book with repeated warnings to exercise caution.
'Don't sacrifice yourself just to understand the enemy,' he'd said.
To this, Wayne told Nicolas not to worry in the slightest.
He was being extremely cautious by passing the buck entirely.
Grindelwald was the one who needed to be careful. Though given he'd known the book's title, perhaps he'd studied it before and understood its dangers.
Grindelwald rose from the floor, ignoring the books as he picked up the locket. A faint smile touched his eyes upon seeing the photograph within.
"And the sacrifices?"
With a flick of his wrist, Wayne produced several unconscious figures on the floor.
Grindelwald instantly recognised them as a family unit from their features, his expression turning peculiar.
"You call me ruthless, yet here you are doing much the same?"
"I'm keeping the family together," Wayne countered with perfect seriousness, making his cousin's eye twitch violently.
'So it's fine when you do it, is that it?'
He took a deep breath, not wanting to argue with Wayne any further—otherwise, he might end up dead because of that sharp tongue.
Grindelwald said solemnly, "I still need a wand and some food. Creating a Horcrux isn't as simple as killing. These people can't die yet."
"I don't have any food on me. I'll have Ho-Oh deliver some to you tomorrow."
"As for the wan—"
After rummaging around, Wayne pulled out over a dozen wands and laid them on the table. "Pick one that suits you."
Grindelwald was speechless again. "Why do you carry so many wands with you?"
"Some I made myself, others I found." Wayne blinked. "Is that a problem?"
Grindelwald shook his head slightly. "Don't waste your energy on such trivial things."
He admired Wayne's approach to things and was even more impressed by the young man's talent and strength. He believed Wayne's achievements would surpass both his and Dumbledore's, perhaps even reaching the legendary heights of those fabled sorcerers.
That was precisely why Grindelwald felt Wayne shouldn't waste time on such matters.
Wands, alchemy, even potions—these were minor pursuits. Only the magic one mastered was fundamental.
"I don't study them anymore." Wayne also shook his head. At the time, he had wanted to learn wand-making techniques to see if he could improve his own wand.
Later, he realised that wand-making had little to do with technique—it was purely a matter of the materials' inherent limits.
Coupled with his innate ability to enhance item quality, he had stopped putting effort into wand-making altogether.
Grindelwald nodded slightly and began selecting a wand. His gaze had been fixed on the two longest wands from the start.
"This..."
This material—he knew it all too well.
"Elder wood." Wayne casually picked up one. "Thirteen inches, Thestral tail hair core. Ideal for Dark Magic and curses."
Then he picked up the other and introduced, "Twelve and two-thirds inches, core made from a shard of a long-horned water serpent's gemstone. Balanced in ability, but unsuitable for the weak—they can't control it."
"Quite the expert," Grindelwald muttered as he watched Wayne speak with such ease.
After testing both wands, he ultimately chose the one with the long-horned water serpent core.
Neither wand was a perfect match for him, but this one was clearly stronger—good enough for now.
As Wayne put the other wands away, a mischievous grin crept onto his face. "Oh, and here's a little gift for you."
With that, Wayne pulled out a photograph...