Since the first time with Grace, Wayne had noticed his temper getting shorter.
Dinner would have to wait.
Nagini's face flushed crimson, though inwardly pleased.
After all these years, she'd finally succeeded in shaping Wayne to her liking...
...
The next morning.
With Nagini severely "injured", she naturally couldn't go to work - not that Wayne would allow it.
They spent the morning cuddled together watching television. After lunch, Nagini dozed off again while Wayne retreated into his suitcase to brew the antidote.
"Norberta, I need some blood," Wayne said, flying into the dragon valley where she resided and patting her head.
"Wuuu~"
Hearing the request for bloodletting, Norberta swung her tail towards Wayne while covering her eyes with both front claws, as if pleading for gentleness.
Wayne smacked her large head. "Afraid of a little bloodletting? What a coward for such a big creature."
"Wuu~!" Norberta grew even more aggrieved.
At the reserve, she'd enjoyed the finest food and drink, and no dragon dared bully her after she grew up.
The last time her blood was drawn had been shortly after birth.
By this very same cruel master!
The more Norberta thought about it, the more wronged she felt, eventually covering her head entirely with her wings to avoid looking at him.
Ignoring her tantrum, Wayne made a small incision on her tail, collecting about two pints of Dragon blood before healing the wound.
"Alright then," he relented. "How about two cattle as compensation?"
At the promise of beef, Norberta immediately perked up, pushing her head forward for Wayne to pet.
Truthfully, Wayne still possessed considerable reserves of Dragon blood - at least seventeen or eighteen barrels' worth.
But Norberta's blood was special, having merged with the Rainbow Feather.
Ordinary Dragon blood proved too potent and corrosive for children, with dosage issues likely causing side effects.
Norberta's current blood was far more precious - gentler in nature and easier to formulate.
...
Arriving at St Mungo's with the prepared potions, Wayne needed little persuasion to administer the medicine to the children.
His reputation in Britain's wizarding community had now reached the point where his mere presence commanded trust.
Most of these parents came from pure-blood or half-blood families, having long kept up with wizarding news. They were well aware of Wayne's power and status, harbouring no distrust whatsoever. On the contrary, they cooperated fully.
The potion took effect within ten minutes of consumption.
"Stephen, look! The red patches on our son's face are fading," a mother exclaimed. Others soon noticed similar changes and erupted in joyous gratitude towards Wayne.
"This is only the first step of detoxification," Wayne cautioned without premature celebration. "It'll take several more days to fully purge the toxins before we can eradicate the werewolf's influence. They'll need to remain at St Mungo's a while longer."
The parents naturally complied, while the children piped up with sweet thanks to Wayne.
Two of the girls even wept with happiness.
Girls of any age cherished their appearance – these two had cried themselves swollen-eyed over their facial blemishes these past days.
Without further delay, Wayne instructed the healers to record patients' conditions every two hours before returning home.
The following days followed this pattern.
Mornings were spent with Nagini at home, afternoons at St Mungo's, while evenings alternated between home and visits to Grace.
Meanwhile, the purification potion to neutralise werewolf afflictions was successfully developed.
Tonight found Wayne at home.
After perusing some notes, just as he prepared to transform into a heroic vagabond, Nagini stopped him.
"Wayne, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."
"No discussion needed – I agree." Wayne sprawled languidly, enjoying the serpent-woman's massage.
Nagini's cheeks flushed pink. "How can you agree when I haven't even said what it is?"
"Would I ever refuse your requests?"
"Oh, stop teasing."
With a playful slap, she composed herself and softly outlined her plan.
"I'd like to open another Celia Store branch in Hogsmeade. Though visitor numbers can't match Diagon Alley's, the regular open days still make it decently profitable, plus rents are cheaper. What do you think?"
"Sounds excellent." Wayne traced circles on her smooth back. "Hogsmeade's ideal – more wizards have relocated there recently, and I hear expansion plans are underway."
"If we're opening shop, let's not bother renting. We'll buy two properties outright – either existing shops or convert residential spaces."
Delighted by his immediate approval, Nagini beamed.
Expanding Celia Store's reach was one motive, but chiefly, she wanted proximity to someone special.
The serpent-woman's eyes gleamed as her smooth legs shifted, transforming suddenly into a serpent's tail.
Wayne's gaze locked onto the sight.
So that's how she wants to play?
Hiss...
...
St Mungo's.
"Full recovery confirmed – discharge approved."
On the final day, all children's systems were toxin-free. After administering the purification potion, even their stubborn wounds began to heal gradually. The remainder of their recuperation could continue at home.
Several healers conducted final examinations before nodding agreement with Wayne's assessment.
Relief washed over both the assembled parents and Minister Fudge alike.
He'd narrowly avoided another crisis.
These days, the Daily Prophet was filled with reports of werewolf attacks, leaving the entire British wizarding community on edge.
Who didn't have children at home? And who could guarantee they'd watch over them twenty-four hours a day?
A werewolf lurking in the shadows, intent only on ambush, would undoubtedly become countless people's worst nightmare.
Fudge was under immense pressure. Nearly all the Aurors and Hit Wizards from the Ministry had been dispatched, scouring the world for Greyback.
Hundreds of Howlers were being destroyed daily. If those children truly couldn't be saved, the situation would escalate even further.
"Mr Lawrence, we owe you a great deal this time." Fudge enthusiastically sidled up to Wayne, flattering him. "Saving over ten people at once, plus the latest version of the Wolfsbane Potion – your Order of Merlin, First Class is practically guaranteed."
"Hmm."
Wayne nodded perfunctorily, not taking it to heart.
Some things might bring joy when achieved for the first time, but by the second or third time, it's hard to muster any excitement.
Dumbledore also watched the jubilant children with satisfaction.
"Wayne, we owe this to you."
"Not bad. It wasn't too difficult. Professor Snape could probably cure it in a year if he tried," Wayne quipped, casually taking a dig at Snape as he pulled out two pieces of parchment.
"Here are the formulas for the antidote to the poison and the Purification Potion. Neutralise the poison first, then purify. As long as the bite didn't happen on a full moon, they can be saved."
The elderly man standing beside Dumbledore solemnly accepted the parchments and gave a slight bow. "Mr Lawrence, on behalf of the patients and their families, I thank you for your generosity. The patent fees owed to you will be deposited into your account on time."
For such potions, if the formula were made public, private brewing couldn't be regulated. But any official or commercial organisation using them would have to pay a patent fee.
"Head Augustus, keep the money. Consider it a donation to St Mungo's fund."
Viridian Augustus was the old man's name—and the current Head of St Mungo's.
Upon hearing Wayne's intention to donate, Augustus's stern expression immediately blossomed into a smile as bright as a chrysanthemum.
St Mungo's provided medical treatment free of charge. Apart from purchasing potions, hospital stays or routine consultations cost nothing. All expenses were covered by external donations, including the salaries of the Head and other healers.
Though Wayne's two potions were somewhat niche, they still represented a decent income stream.
Augustus had a feeling more patients bitten by werewolves would be arriving soon.
After all, the Ministry of Magic still hadn't caught the culprit.
The mere mention of it made Wayne laugh in exasperation.
Nearly two weeks had passed, and there was still no sign of Greyback.
And these were supposed to be elites? Aurors, no less?
Leaving the hospital wing, Fudge invited Wayne to his office for a chat, but Dumbledore spoke first.
"Mr Lawrence, I'm about to visit a patient. Would you care to join me?"
...
A few minutes later, after bidding farewell to Fudge, the two arrived on the fifth floor of the hospital.
No sooner had they entered than Wayne spotted a wizard with his foot caught in a trap, his trouser leg soaked in blood, angrily shouting at a healer:
"Can't you see—it's a curse! Vilita sent it to me for my birthday yesterday! Blast it, he must be trying to cripple me so I can't get promoted!"
"I shouldn't have gone easy on him by only sleeping with his wife. Next time, I'll take his daughter too. Now fix this!"
"You'll want the first floor," the healer replied dismissively. "First floor's for Artefact Accidents. This is Spell Damage."
"That's what the first-floor lot said! They claimed curses don't count as Artefact Accidents!"
"Then fill out a form and queue up."
Wayne walked past the arguing pair before remarking, "Sir, that's no curse."
"See the rectangular mechanism beside the trap? Press it, and the trap will release."
"Your friend probably just wanted you to catch rats. Leave his daughter out of it—she's innocent."
With that, Wayne continued onward with Dumbledore.
The wizard hesitated but did as Wayne instructed, and the clip promptly fell off.
"Oh, Merlin, I misjudged you, Vilita," the wizard muttered, limping towards the stairs. "That gentleman was right earlier—your daughter is indeed innocent. I'll just look after your wife instead."
A healer wearing a silver and gold floral wreath emerged from the ward and greeted them with a smile. "Professor Dumbledore, are you here to visit the Longbottoms or Mr Ogden?"
"If it's Ogden, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. His family has already taken him home."
"Thank you, Mafalda."
Dumbledore returned the greeting. "I'm here to see Frank and Alice."
"Please follow me."
Mafalda led the way, taking them to the ward at the very end of the corridor. Entering the room, they passed two empty beds before drawing aside the curtain dividing the space.
This was Wayne's first glimpse of the Longbottoms. Both wore pyjamas, their faces haggard, their frames gaunt, their features aged beyond their years.
Frowning, Wayne studied their faces, which appeared decades older than they should have—resembling those in their fifties or sixties.
He'd heard from Sirius that the Longbottoms were a few years ahead of him and James Potter at school, meaning they couldn't be over forty now. Yet they'd been reduced to this state...
"Frank, Alice," Mafalda bent forward, speaking softly as if to children. "Professor Dumbledore has come to see you."
Frank showed no reaction, his eyes vacant as they stared ahead. Alice responded slightly, lifting her head blankly to glance at them before lowering it again, fixating on the Chocolate Frog card in her hands as though it held some priceless treasure.
"I'm afraid there's no change," Mafalda sighed. "Not even when Mrs Longbottom brought their son to visit."
Here, 'Mrs Longbottom' presumably referred to Neville's grandmother.
"Thank you, Mafalda," Dumbledore said again. "We'll just sit with them awhile."
Mafalda nodded and left, clutching her medical charts.
Dumbledore pulled up a chair for Wayne before taking one himself.
As they sat by the beds, Wayne remained silent while Dumbledore—regardless of whether the couple could hear—chatted about mundane matters, sharing news of Neville's progress at school.
He carefully selected only positive anecdotes: Professor Sprout's praise for the boy, Hagrid's encouragement.
Wayne noticed with sharp interest how Alice's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly when Dumbledore mentioned Neville's name.
Suddenly animated, he nudged the elderly wizard with his elbow.
"Professor, shall I give it a try?"