In preparation for a grand feast, Vincent Wayne had practically searched the entire length of Oxford Street.
Hoot, after efficiently pecking through a field mouse’s artery and elegantly completing the skinning process, opened its little beak wide and enjoyed the hard-earned meal.
“Oh…
too cruel…”
That was what Vincent said.
But the speed at which he handed over more mice suggested otherwise.
“When I get the chance, I’ll take you to visit my grandfather’s place.”
“The air there is cleaner and less polluted.”
“Even the mice are bigger than these.”
After finishing its feast, Hoot nodded happily in his arms.
Grandpa lived in Surrey.
A truly wonderful place blessed with good people and good land.
Lower prices.
Larger living spaces.
And far less pressure than nearby London.
Vincent deeply suspected that Eric had been eyeing those Oxford Street properties for years.
After all— running a gun shop didn’t exactly make someone rich these days.
“My grandpa loves little animals.”
“He even keeps lots of dogs.”
“Don’t worry, they’re just a little enthusiastic.”
Smacking its beak happily, Hoot rolled over and leaned against Vincent’s shoulder with a look of complete satisfaction.
This fresh, juicy, perfectly tender feast had clearly surpassed Hogwarts food by several levels.
What proper owl wanted biscuits?
Birds of prey earned that title for a reason.
“Whoo—!”
A tiny beetle suddenly jumped out of roadside grass, instantly drawing Hoot’s attention.
“What’s wrong?”
“Still not full?”
Vincent turned around, confused.
“It just has weird patterns on its eyes.”
“And you don’t even eat bugs.”
Losing interest immediately, he continued walking.
One more turn— and Wayne Department Store appeared ahead.
“WHOO!”
Hoot suddenly struggled in his arms as if trying to escape.
“Behave.”
“Moving around isn’t good for digestion.”
Vincent gently rubbed its tiny head.
Hoot rolled its round eyes upward.
Its owl face somehow displayed several emotions at once.
“Oh?
Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking!”
Under the relentless assault of giant hands rubbing its head, Hoot instantly went limp.
Wearing the smile of a victorious champion, Vincent slowly walked into the store.
Eric, currently maintaining one of his firearms, looked up.
His face immediately darkened.
Looking toward Evelyn behind the counter, who held a certain fantasy series book in her hands, he asked:
“What was that thing you mentioned before?”
“Merlin was some kind of Druid or something?”
“Merlin was an Animagus.”
Vincent answered immediately.
“Right.”
“Kid.”
“Where exactly did you find this weird beetle?”
“Huh?”
Confused, Vincent turned around— only to discover the little beetle from earlier perched directly on the doorframe.
According to A History of Magic, Druids were ordinary scholars.
They couldn’t transform into animals.
Nor could they communicate with them.
Hoot had come to deliver letters.
Professor McGonagall had come for a home visit.
So what exactly was this beetle doing following him home?
Under the close observation of four enormous eyes, the insect suddenly spread its tiny wings in apparent panic and flew outside.
“Something’s wrong.”
Eric delivered his conclusion confidently.
Drawing upon years of military experience— combined with the fact that wizards always possessed weird magic— this beetle had absolutely been sent ahead as reconnaissance.
“When the timing is right, the Daily Prophet will definitely send senior reporters to conduct an exclusive interview with me~”
“Mom, what are we having for lunch?”
“Sandwiches and fruit salad.”
The gradually departing mother and son had long grown tired of Eric’s increasingly inflated ego.
After lunch, Vincent went upstairs to practice spells.
Evelyn returned to reading her fantasy books.
As for Eric— fully convinced an exclusive interview would arrive sooner or later— he maintained perfect posture even while washing dishes.
So when the beetle unexpectedly returned— he even offered it an extremely gentlemanly smile.
…
…
The following morning.
“WHAT THE—?!”
At the breakfast table, Vincent suddenly sprayed egg everywhere after reading the newspaper.
That headline…
was absolutely terrifying.
The Elegant Gentleman: Mr.
Wayne’s True Identity
“Eric Wayne, the man who successfully conquered the Gamp Ale challenge, is secretly Europe’s largest Muggle arms dealer…”
Vincent slowly lowered the newspaper.
Pulling out two napkins, he wiped his mouth and looked toward Eric.
“Dad…”
“You’ve finally awakened.”
Eric calmly rolled up his sleeves and continued reading the article.
The reporter who had secretly infiltrated their home had even included a complete list of Muggle weapons.
From handguns and daggers— all the way up to giant steel birds and mushroom bombs— the Wayne family had apparently dabbled in everything.
Evelyn leaned over curiously.
“Dear…
can you actually get fighter jets?”
The smile on Eric’s face widened.
“Of course.”
“I still have a few connections.”
“Wow, amazing~”
Vincent curled his lips.
Getting his hands on World War relics alone would already be nightmare difficulty.
As for mushroom bombs?
Even having connections with the Queen wouldn’t help.
The Daily Prophet was filled with complete nonsense.
The only truthful thing in the article was probably their family name.
“That little beetle came back yesterday, didn’t it?”
Eric calmly nodded.
“Yeah.”
“It only left through the window before dinner.”
Thinking back to Hoot’s strange behavior, Vincent became increasingly certain:
That tiny thing wasn’t normal.
Beetles belonged to the order Coleoptera.
A group of complete metamorphosis insects.
Yet after rushing upstairs to check Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Vincent couldn’t find a single magical creature resembling yesterday’s beetle.
“Only seven officially registered Animagi exist this century…”
According to Modern Magical History, none of those seven transformed into beetles.
Vincent and Evelyn slowly turned and stared at Eric with shock.
If a reporter had truly infiltrated their house— the number one suspect could only be yesterday’s beetle.
Either it had been controlled by someone— or it was a wizard.
“There are still several possibilities.”
Vincent carefully put away Professor McGonagall’s letter.
The moment she saw this morning’s newspaper, she’d immediately thought of multiple methods for secretly infiltrating homes and quickly sent a warning to the Wayne family.
Conventional methods:
Disillusionment Charms.
Potions.
Unconventional methods:
Magical creatures.
Most of them could be guarded against simply through extra caution.
For example— infrared alarms.
Thermal imaging equipment.
As long as the intruder didn’t know about preparations beforehand— there was a very good chance of catching them.
Eric calmly picked up the world’s first GSM mobile phone—the TPU900.
“It’s me.”
“Prepare a few things.”
“I’ll fax details shortly.”
After hanging up with absurd brevity, he calmly began cleaning the dining table as if nothing had happened.
“Mom…
our family…”
“Shhh.”
“Watch out for that weird beetle.”
Vincent immediately headed upstairs.
Whether it was human or not— if that little thing came back— it wasn’t leaving.
“The next few days around our house are probably going to get pretty bloody.”
Half-lying on the bed, Hoot showed absolutely no fear.
Instead, the owl excitedly flapped its tiny wings.
“How about making another trip to Hogwarts?”
“I need to ask Professor McGonagall for a few self-defense spells.”
Congratulations to the adorable and charming owl Hoot— for once again earning an unlimited field mouse buffet.