The feast hadn't yet begun.
The Great Hall buzzed with chatter as students debated the House Cup's outcome and their holiday plans.
The Ravenclaws were the loudest, their voices brimming with barely contained excitement.
The Hall was decked in sky-blue and eagle motifs, and a massive blue banner hung behind the staff table, signalling that the House Cup seemed destined for Ravenclaw this year.
The Badgers were a little downcast. They had won the Quidditch Cup, earning their House an extra 150 points, but they still trailed Ravenclaw by a small margin.
Still, it wasn't too bad.
As long as Slytherin didn't win, everything was fine.
Wayne arrived with his two roommates, his gaze drifting to Snape at the staff table.
The old bat wore a sour expression. The seat beside him, once occupied by Quirrell, stood empty. To his right, Professor Sprout and McGonagall chatted animatedly, both smiling.
Only Snape seemed out of place in the cheerful atmosphere.
Seeing Wayne dare to smirk at him only fuelled Snape's anger.
If not for this brat's meddling, Slytherin wouldn't have lost so badly, not only forfeiting the Quidditch Cup but also losing countless points throughout the year.
No matter how shamelessly he favoured Slytherin, he couldn't make up for the deficit.
The side door swung open, and Dumbledore strode in with a brisk pace, his face beaming with a smile.
The clamour in the Great Hall gradually subsided.
"Another year has passed!" Dumbledore declared cheerfully. "Before we indulge in this delicious feast, there are a few necessary matters to address.
"First, the awarding of the House Cup. The final standings are as follows:
"Fourth place, Gryffindor, with 201 points.
"Third place, Slytherin, with 250 points.
"Second place, Hufflepuff, with 346 points.
"And in first place, Ravenclaw, with 361 points."
A thunderous roar of cheers and clinking goblets erupted from the Ravenclaw table. Even Gryffindor and Hufflepuff joined in, applauding to offer their congratulations.
This was truly a case of the fisherman profiting from the quarrel between the snipe and the clam.
The top contenders, Slytherin and Hufflepuff, had fought fiercely, leaving both sides battered. Gryffindor had lost two hundred points directly due to Harry and Ron, with Malfoy also contributing to the deduction.
Hufflepuff had held high hopes this year, but Snape had set his sights on Wayne, deducting points from him daily as if it were a compulsion.
Ravenclaw had only been caught up in the chaos when Snape's portrait of a pig's head caused some collateral damage, costing them a few points. Otherwise, they had remained uninvolved in the competition.
Yet, despite this, they had still won the House Cup—it was practically a victory by default.
Professor Flitwick stood gleefully on his chair, raising his goblet in celebration with his students.
"Indeed, Ravenclaw has performed admirably," Dumbledore said. "However, recent events must also be taken into account."
The Great Hall fell into deep silence. The smiles on the Ravenclaws' faces faded slightly, replaced by a sense of foreboding.
"There are still a few final points to award," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Mr Ron Weasley!
"For winning the most thrilling game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points!"
Ron's face turned bright red as cheers engulfed him. Percy loudly informed everyone that this was his younger brother, who had successfully navigated Professor McGonagall's giant chessboard.
Wayne also joined in the applause. He had played chess with Ron before and could attest to his skill.
Had Wayne not enchanted his king with a 'god mode' spell, allowing it to single-handedly defeat all of Ron's pieces, he might have lost.
But ever since then, Ron had refused to play chess with him, depriving Wayne of a worthy opponent.
"Second—
"Miss Hermione Granger!
"For her calm and logical reasoning in the face of raging flames, I award Gryffindor House fifty points!"
Hermione buried her face in her arms, embarrassed. She felt she had only solved a simple logic puzzle and didn't deserve so many points.
But the other Gryffindors paid no heed—many even leapt onto the tables, eagerly watching Dumbledore.
More, just a little more!
"Third," Dumbledore continued, as if granting their wish. "Harry Potter!
"For displaying tremendous courage and bravery in protecting a valuable school possession, I award Gryffindor House sixty points!"
The uproar was deafening. The Gryffindors had gone wild.
They were tied!
They were now tied with Ravenclaw!
Though it was rare for the House Cup to be shared, it wasn't entirely unprecedented.
Harry managed a strained smile. That was hardly bravery... it was Wayne forcibly using him as a human weapon, tying him to Quirrell and making them stick together.
"This is practically handing out points wholesale."
Wayne could even hear the Ravenclaws grumbling.
Well, who would want to share an honour they could have all to themselves?
Dumbledore raised a hand, and the Great Hall gradually fell into silence.
The Ravenclaws were on edge.
No way, you're adding more? That's just excessive.
Fortunately, Dumbledore didn't speak further, instead gesturing for everyone to wait a moment while he gazed at the Great Hall's doors, as if expecting someone.
Everyone wondered—who was coming?
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Within minutes, the doors were knocked on and then pushed open.
A middle-aged man entered, followed by four elderly men with greying hair and a middle-aged woman.
The man at the front wore a warm smile and carried a suitcase—none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, whom Wayne had met before.
Many recognised him, murmuring in confusion over why the Minister had come.
And who were those people behind him? They had no idea.
At the Hufflepuff table, Susan Bones gasped softly. "Auntie?"
"Apologies, Albus! We're not late, are we?"
Fudge strode up to the High Table, shaking Dumbledore's hand firmly and nodding politely to the other professors.
"Not at all, Cornelius. You've arrived just in time—this may well be the most anticipated moment of the day."
Fudge's smile widened.
The other five also exchanged warm greetings with Dumbledore. "Long time no see, Albus. The last time we met was eight years ago."
"Miranda, your memory is as sharp as ever. Yes, it was around then."
"Bathilda, still as spry as ever, I see."
"Amelia, I'm surprised you could spare the time despite your busy schedule."
The middle-aged witch smiled. "It's rare for Hufflepuff to produce a prodigy. My niece speaks of him often, so I thought I'd come and see for myself."
Finally, Dumbledore turned to the elderly man who had greeted him quietly, then lowered his head.
"Newt, I didn't expect you to come." Dumbledore's eyes flickered.
He had noticed the change in Newt, his gaze involuntarily darting toward the young Hufflepuff boy.
"Dumbledore," Newt replied nervously, tightening his grip on his suitcase.
The young wizards' curiosity reached its peak, both about their identities and the purpose of their visit.
"Let's proceed with the ceremony quickly—we mustn't delay the children's dinner," Fudge said with a smile. Winning hearts through such small gestures was his speciality.
"As you wish, Cornelius," Dumbledore nodded before addressing the students in a booming voice: "How delightful that tonight's feast is rather more special than usual. Allow me to introduce our distinguished guests..."
"Our Minister for Magic, Mr Cornelius Fudge, under whose leadership the Ministry of Magic remains on the righteous path!"
Fudge doffed his hat and smiled at the assembly.
The young wizards applauded enthusiastically, and Wayne noticed Percy's eyes gleaming as though he'd spotted a breathtaking beauty.
"Madam Amelia Bones! A fair and formidable Head of Magical Law Enforcement!"
"She's your aunt? You never mentioned that," Hannah whispered to Susan during the applause.
Susan ducked her head. "Yes, she's incredibly strict."
Dumbledore continued: "Miranda Goshawk, master of Charms and author of 'The Standard Book of Spells'—one of the world's best-selling books! Bathilda Bagshot, meticulous scholar, author of 'A History of Magic', and chief examiner for both OWLs and NEWTs."
Fifth and seventh years nodded in recognition—they'd all seen her before.
"Damocles Belby! Inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, saviour of countless innocent lives.
"And finally..." Dumbledore paused, gazing at the elderly man who seemed desperate to vanish into the background.
"Newt Scamander, renowned magizoologist and author of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'!"
A roar erupted from the Hufflepuff table. No one had imagined that the unassuming old man was Newt Scamander himself. Thunderous applause followed, many badgers starry-eyed at the prospect of securing an autograph later.
"What joy!" Dumbledore spread his arms. "Such a gathering calls for celebration of an even greater cause."
He announced: "Indeed, our honoured guests are here to present an Order of Merlin!"
Gasps rippled through the hall.
An Order of Merlin—for whom? This was the wizarding world's highest honour, rivalling admission to the Wizengamot. Who could have earned such a distinction?
Students immediately scanned the professors for likely candidates.
"Not Snape, not Snape," Harry prayed fervently. Anyone but Snape—he'd take even Quirrell, who'd long since disappeared!
He saw Snape's smirk, oozing smug certainty—until, in a heartbeat, the professor's triumphant expression collapsed.
Amidst the anticipation, Dumbledore revealed the recipient.
"Mr Wayne Lawrence!" He tapped his throat with his wand, ensuring every syllable carried clearly.
Under a sea of astonished gazes, Wayne straightened his robes and rose gracefully to his feet.
Dumbledore proclaimed the reason for the award: "During the Christmas period, Mr Lawrence thwarted the Scourers' conspiracy in America, protected rare magical creatures, and upheld the peace of the wizarding world...
"Therefore, the Order of Merlin will award him the Order of Merlin, Second Class!"
Fudge wore a cordial smile as he opened the case he had brought, revealing a medal resting inside.
He beckoned to Wayne, "Come here, my boy."
As Wayne made his way past the long dining tables towards the High Table, the students seemed to snap out of their daze.
But many wore blank expressions. What were the Scourers?
"The Scourers are a group unique to America!" Hermione loudly explained for Wayne's sake. "Their goal is to eradicate all witches and wizards, even though they themselves are part of the wizarding community."
She tried to be as detailed as possible, but the students still only half-understood, equating the Scourers with Dark Wizards and Death Eaters.
The Hufflepuff students didn't dwell on such details—their hands were already sore from clapping, wildly cheering for Wayne.
Still think Hufflepuffs are all mediocre? Well, do any of your houses have a student who's earned the Order of Merlin? And a Second Class at that!
"Dumbledore, let me present the award to Wayne," Newt suddenly spoke up, having remained silent until now. The others looked at him in surprise.
Instantly, the socially awkward man lowered his head, stammering, "I just thought... since I was involved in that incident too..."
"Of course, Newt," Dumbledore signalled to Fudge, who was somewhat reluctant to hand this spotlight moment to someone else.
But with Dumbledore's endorsement and Newt's reputation, it wasn't a loss to extend this goodwill.
Toby and Norman jumped onto the table, attempting to conjure a celebratory banner for Wayne with magic. However, their skills were too poor, and they nearly set the tablecloth on fire. In the end, Cedric stepped in to help.
"Congratulations, Wayne."
Newt fastened the medal around Wayne's neck and gave him a light embrace.
Wayne beamed, whispering almost inaudibly into his ear, "Midnight. Forbidden Forest."
Newt gave him an imperceptible glance in return.
Dumbledore clapped delightedly, even dabbing at the corner of his eye.
"As Headmaster, I am overjoyed that our school has produced such an outstanding individual as Mr Lawrence."
"In recognition, I shall award Hufflepuff House two hundred points, along with the Special Award for Services to the School!"
"Now... the decorations here ought to change as well!"
He waved his wand, and the blue representing wisdom faded away, replaced by the yellow-brown of loyalty.
This reignited the students' fervour—two hundred points! An unprecedented award.
Even Gryffindor and Ravenclaw conceded defeat graciously.
With an Order of Merlin and a Special Award for Services to the School, if a house with such a student still couldn't win the House Cup, that would truly be questionable.
Yet the smile on the honouree's face stiffened as he looked at Dumbledore.
The old wizard even winked playfully, as if to say, "Don't mention it—you've earned this."
Wayne didn't want it.
He felt the award carried an ill omen.
The last recipient of the Special Award for Services to the School had been none other than Tom Riddle himself, for solving the Chamber of Secrets crisis and preventing the school's closure.
After pinning on his medal, Wayne stood with Fudge for a few more photographs before finally returning to his seat.
With no further formalities, the feast could now be enjoyed to the fullest.
Throughout the meal, countless heads turned, eyes fixed on the medal adorning Wayne's chest, emotions ranging from awe to envy.
Malfoy stared at Wayne's medal, fantasising about how, if he had one, he could flaunt it in front of Potter every day, crushing him into the ground.
He was already scheming—perhaps he could persuade his father to donate a hefty sum of gold to the Ministry of Magic and see if that could secure him a medal.
Nothing too grand, just a Third Class would do.
After all, a member of the Black Family had done precisely that in the past—and succeeded.
Meanwhile, Ron was muttering to Harry, "This is insane. Eleven—no, Wayne just turned twelve—a twelve-year-old with a Merlin Medal."
"I think he deserves it," Harry said. "With someone like Wayne, nothing he achieves is surprising."
Having witnessed Wayne thrashing Voldemort twice like a pig, Harry was utterly convinced of his peer's prowess.
"You're right. It's just… unbelievable," Ron admitted, shoving another chicken leg into his mouth to soothe his envy.
As the feast ended, the Hufflepuff badgers swarmed around Wayne, eager to return to their common room for one final celebration of the school year.
They had hoped to find Newt first, but before they could even finish dinner, the guest witnesses and award presenters had already slipped away, much to the badgers' disappointment.
Before they could leave the Great Hall, however, Dumbledore called out to Wayne.
"Everyone's quite curious about you. Fancy joining us for tea?"
Wayne nodded and followed Dumbledore into a cosy parlour.