"How is the stone slab research going?"
Wayne returned to his home in London, where Grace was lying on the sofa watching a soap opera, clutching a bag of potato chips without any regard for her image.
"Basically done. Some slabs are fragments—we might need to excavate a few more pyramids. Huh? Astoria's here, too? Come here, let your big sister hug you."
Grace only turned her head halfway through her sentence, finally noticing Astoria, who was holding Wayne's hand, and beckoned to her.
"Senior Grace." The wealthy little girl greeted timidly but didn't approach; instead, shrinking further behind Wayne.
She knew Grace, too. Back when she hadn't recovered her health and was frail, Grace would always treat her like a doll to tease. The memory still frightened her.
"Big sister?" Wayne's mouth twitched.
'You've even taught Astoria's ancestors.'
"What, do you have a problem with that?" Grace's eyes suddenly turned dangerous.
Even someone as wise as Rowena Ravenclaw was still a woman, and any woman would be sensitive about age issues.
Strictly speaking, she was indeed over a thousand years old.
"No, why would I have any problem with that?" Wayne shook his head vigorously, leading Astoria to sit on the sofa before revealing a mischievous smile:
"But according to the Lawrence family rules, whoever enters first is the elder sister, so you're the one who should be calling her 'big sister'."
To Wayne's surprise, instead of getting angry, Grace looked delighted after hearing this and sweetly called Astoria 'big sister', leaving both of them stunned.
"Wayne." Astoria said with a slightly tearful voice, "Can we change this rule? I don't want to become that old..."
Wayne: "..."
...
After dinner, while Astoria was watching cartoons on television, Wayne and Grace went to the study.
"Any discoveries?"
"Yes, and quite a few." Grace placed her notebook in front of Wayne for him to browse while pacing around the room excitedly:
"The connection between ancient Egypt and wizards is much closer than I imagined. I can now confirm that the legendary sun god 'Ra' was a powerful being who emerged from the ruins. His descendants became the royal family, and Ramesses II was likely quite a powerful wizard too, possibly even experiencing bloodline reversion—otherwise he wouldn't have called himself the son of the sun god."
"Did you find the entrance to the ruins?" Wayne asked while flipping through Grace's notes.
"Not that easy." Grace pouted. "Back then, that place was called the Divine Realm. Even the pharaohs could only be admitted on important dates, and by Ramesses II's time, they had already lost contact with the Divine Realm."
"So that means... the ruins might have started having problems from that time onward."
"This magic..." Wayne's hand stopped turning pages. This page recorded two spells that looked somewhat peculiar when translated into English.
"No names. I've named the first one the Quicksand Charm—should be quite effective in the desert." Grace walked over and stood by the chair.
"As for the second one... It's for mummification."
The pharaohs didn't mummify themselves for amusement—they genuinely sought resurrection.
To be frank, with Wayne's current perspective and knowledge, this spell seemed like utter rubbish, completely fraudulent.
But just in case, in the remote possibility there was some profound aspect he'd overlooked, what if Rameses II actually revived?
Out of caution, he decided to make time to visit, wanting to ensure Rameses II rested more peacefully.
Soon, he finished flipping through the notebook, finding little about divine realms. Wayne looked up and took Grace's hand:
"Let's visit the Department of Mysteries again tomorrow."
"Alright," Grace readily agreed. "I was planning to go myself if you hadn't mentioned it. We left in such a hurry last time; many areas remained uninvestigated."
Wayne gave an awkward smile. "Those Unspeakables are too eccentric. Dealing with them took some time."
It turned out that while Lawrence's reputation carried weight nowadays, it couldn't intimidate everyone.
Shortly after returning to Britain, he'd had Crouch arrange Department of Mysteries access, only to be firmly rejected by several Unspeakables.
They reasoned that the Department had no obligation to open to outsiders, as they researched highly dangerous and enviable magic unsuitable for other wizards' exposure - unless one became an Unspeakable themselves.
This nearly made Wayne laugh in frustration.
The world has always had people who overestimate their position, believing that special roles make them special and granting them the license to look down on others.
But in truth, when others ignore you, it simply means you lack worth to be acknowledged.
Did they really think he was powerless against them?
Lawrence was furious, and the consequences would be severe.
Sensing Wayne's anger, Crouch had recently been targeting the Unspeakables, even putting pressure on the Goblins on hold.
Finding reasons to trouble them was simple - Death Eater Rookwood was a former Unspeakable, and there had been consecutive invasions involving both the Basilisk and Grace.
Crouch accused them of colluding with outsiders and suspended all Unspeakables for investigation.
Even if they were eventually proven innocent, the process could drag on for two to three years, after which they'd be dismissed for negligence.
With authority in hand, dealing with employees was all too easy.
...
The next day.
Astoria had stayed up late watching television, so Wayne didn't wake her, going to the Ministry with Grace after breakfast.
Ninth level underground.
Wayne and Grace stood in the empty circular chamber, where everything—ceiling and floor alike—was black. Twelve identical doors were set into the circular walls, blue candles illuminating the general contours while making the entire room appear colder.
"Twelve rooms, corresponding to the zodiac signs?"
Wayne keenly noticed that the patterns on the black doors were not identical.
"Correct, I noticed that last time too," Grace said, observing one door briefly before pushing it open.
The room inside was church-high, filled with tall shelves holding numerous prophecy orbs.
Each orb was magically protected - anyone besides those involved in the prophecy would suffer immense mental agony trying to lift one. This was why Voldemort hadn't come personally, instead sending a snake.
His soul and mind were his vulnerabilities.
There was nothing they wanted to find here. Wayne merely circled around before exiting and entering the adjacent Time Room, which contained clocks of all kinds, their constant ticking filling the room. At the far end of the room stood a tall bell-shaped crystal dome.
"So much Sand of Time..."
Wayne's eyes gleamed as he moved forward through the narrow gaps between tables, arriving at the crystal dome where peculiar air currents swirled.
A hummingbird appeared, lifted to the top of the dome, but upon encountering those currents, its feathers became filthy, and when it returned to the bottom, it was enveloped back into its eggshell.
Facing the bell jar that resembled a work of art, Wayne ultimately refrained from touching it. However, the dozens of Time-Turners here weren't so fortunate—he extracted materials from all but five of them...
"What do you need so much Sand of Time for?" Grace asked, puzzled.
"My recent progress in studying magic has slowed down. I plan to create a Time Chamber to alter the flow of time."
As they spoke, they returned to the circular Great Hall. Each time they exited, the doors on the hall would spin rapidly, making it impossible to tell which room they had entered. But Wayne had already left marks on them, saving them from taking many wrong turns.
After taking all the files from the office, Wayne visited several other secret chambers that housed the Department of Mysteries' research achievements over the past few centuries.
Numerous contents and items related to ancient magic were stored in various hidden corners, with the most eye-catching being the glowing brain in the Brain Room.
"Emotions," Grace saw at a glance through the brain's nature. "A type of magic that collects emotions—quite intriguing."
"Somewhat unorthodox," Wayne shook his head. "Leaving it here will inevitably cause trouble someday."
As he spoke, he stored the cabinet containing the brain away, intending to seal it completely later.
This thing was highly damaging to human thought, much like the mental contamination of Cthulhu.
Yet, if utilised properly, channelling all the emotions within into a single spell would yield unparalleled power.
Exiting the Brain Room, the only remaining places were a room that could never be opened and the final Death Chamber.
Wayne knew what was inside that unopenable room—similarly, it was the power of emotions, but only love resided within. The protective magic on Harry was connected to that room, though it held no use for him.
The two walked directly into the Death Chamber.
This room was empty, lacking the clutter of the other chambers. At its centre was a massive stone pit surrounded by steps, with a dilapidated stone archway at the very bottom.
Hanging from the archway was an equally tattered black veil. Though there was no wind in the room, the veil fluttered ceaselessly on its own, drifting in the air.
Through the torn gaps, Wayne could see a milky-white light within, with shadowy figures flickering.
"That's just an illusion," Grace reminded him, still somewhat concerned. "You've seen true death—keep your wits about you."
"That kind of allure is nothing," Wayne smiled, walking in circles around the stone arch.
Clearly, this stone arch—indeed, the entire room—had been moved intact by the Ministry of Magic from somewhere else.
According to the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy, the Ministry of Magic was founded around 1696. Three hundred years have passed, yet people remain utterly baffled by this doorway, having paid with the lives of many witches and wizards. Thus, this place came to be named the Death Chamber.
Grace drew her wand and gently traced it through the air. A golden mist emerged from the stains upon the veil.
"This is Helga's magical power," she murmured.
Perhaps the stains upon it were the blood Hufflepuff had once left here.
"You can't see anything from out here. Let's go in."
Grace turned pale and hastily grabbed his arm. "Wayne, don't be reckless. That white light gives me a very dangerous feeling."
"Don't worry, I'm not going in myself. I came prepared."
Wayne smiled as he produced an alchemical puppet, holding a communication book in its hand and turning to the final page.
The puppet strode resolutely into the archway. In an instant, the metallic form grew indistinct, then gradually faded until it vanished completely.
From the puppet's perspective on the page, Wayne could see only a blanket of mist. He couldn't control the puppet either, and he found himself drifting helplessly.
Three seconds later, a fragment of iridescent colour flashed past.
The puppet had disappeared.