McGonagall's heart skipped a beat.
Why did that sound so wrong?
A young wizard, trying to reason with the Ministry of Magic?
Even with two Order of Merlin medals, they wouldn't take him seriously, would they?
"Minerva, I'll handle this."
Just as Professor McGonagall was unsure how to continue the conversation, Dumbledore's gentle voice chimed in.
"Albus."
"Headmaster."
"Mr Lawrence, you seem to have grown quite a bit over the summer holiday," Dumbledore remarked with a smile as he observed the young man.
"Two inches," Wayne said softly.
It wasn't just him. By the third year, many young wizards had fully blossomed, both in looks and height, officially entering their prime.
"Minerva, why don't you fetch the Sorting Hat first? The first-years will be arriving shortly. Mr Lawrence and I will handle matters here," Dumbledore repeated.
Professor McGonagall nodded and went to retrieve the Sorting Hat.
Dumbledore led Wayne into a small room.
"Minerva's words earlier were also meant to protect you," Dumbledore said, cutting straight to the point as time was pressing.
"Yes, I know. Professor McGonagall has always been very caring towards me," Wayne nodded.
"I just didn't expect the Ministry of Magic... well... to actually lodge a complaint."
The young man looked genuinely puzzled.
"Is the Ministry that bold? They'd actually cause trouble for me over a few beasts?"
Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly.
The phrasing was rather blunt—certainly not a term his upbringing would permit him to use.
"Regardless, Dementors remain employees of the Ministry. When their leader complained, Fudge had to make a show of defending them," Dumbledore explained on the Ministry's behalf.
"Do Dementors get paid?" Wayne asked curiously.
Dumbledore gave him a complicated look.
Could your focus land somewhere normal for once?
"I've never been Minister for Magic, so I wouldn't know such details."
"Well, when you become Minister, do remember to tell me," Wayne pressed earnestly.
"That's something to consider, I suppose."
Dumbledore chuckled, brushing it off.
He could have taken the post after defeating Grindelwald—the Ministry had even invited him twice afterwards, but he'd refused both times.
So Wayne would never see that day.
Dumbledore continued, "I'll ensure those Dementors stay away from the school and don't approach Miss Granger or Miss Chang. So, for the sake of this lonely old man, please refrain from targeting those poor little creatures."
"They wouldn't survive it."
Wayne stared at him in disbelief. "Poor? Little creatures?"
How does your thirty-seven-degree mouth spew such absurdities?
Dumbledore simply blinked at him wordlessly until Wayne finally relented.
"Fine, I'll give you this one. Let's consider the matter closed."
What else could he do? He was a kind-hearted Hufflepuff, after all.
Dumbledore beamed, looking every bit the mischievous old child.
His earlier promise to Professor McGonagall about handling things properly hadn't referred to the Ministry—it was about placating this young master before him.
Admittedly, Dumbledore had always found his interactions with Wayne rather enjoyable.
Though the boy was lively and occasionally stirred up minor troubles, overall, he greatly appreciated Wayne's character.
But this didn't mean Dumbledore considered Wayne to be the same type of person as himself.
Powerful individuals, especially those of incomparable strength, all possessed their own pride.
It was simply expressed differently.
Grindelwald was flamboyant, scorning all who were weaker.
Dumbledore was restrained, wielding immense power yet bound by constraints, operating within the rules.
Like indulging children in a game of make-believe, this too was a form of arrogance.
And the young man before him had undoubtedly been placed on equal footing.
In Dumbledore's eyes, Wayne was like an impossibly smooth sphere—many would be drawn to it. Still, the moment they reached out to touch it, the surface would instantly invert, revealing countless spikes that would pierce any fool daring enough to offend his dignity.
The Ministry of Magic had undoubtedly crossed such a line. If the two were to clash truly, it would herald the dawn of a third Wizarding War.
That was why Dumbledore had rushed over to placate Wayne's temper, urging the young master to overlook the slight and not hold it against the Dementors.
Fortunately, Wayne was a good boy and had been persuaded.
For a moment, the old headmaster even felt a sense of accomplishment, as though he'd once again saved the wizarding world.
The conversation had gone smoothly, putting Dumbledore in high spirits as he teased with an amused smirk.
"Mr Lawrence, those complaint letters at the end of last term caused me quite the headache."
"What are you talking about? I don't understand," Wayne feigned ignorance.
"I may be getting old, but I can still see through such trivial matters. There's no need for this."
"Don't slander me without evidence. I'm just one ordinary student among many who were dissatisfied."
Bantering back and forth, the old man and the young man made their way towards the Great Hall.
"Dumbledore!"
Just then, Professor McGonagall returned, storming over with a hat so bright it could blind someone.
"Professor, Professor McGonagall is looking for you. I'll take my leave."
Wayne's expression shifted, sensing impending disaster, and he immediately bolted.
...
"What did Professor McGonagall want?"
The moment Wayne sat down, Cedric, across from him, eagerly asked, while a crowd of curious badgers turned their gazes towards him.
"The Ministry complained that I was bullying the Dementors. Professor McGonagall told me to be gentler in the future."
The table erupted in laughter. Susan Bones clutched her stomach. "The way you put it, I almost feel sorry for the Dementors. They're just out there hunting Black, and you had to go and bully them."
"Sorry for them?" Hannah grinned mischievously, grabbing Susan's braid. "Why don't you go comfort them, then?"
"No, no, no!" Susan quickly sobered up. "I just thought what Wayne said was funny. I don't actually pity Dementors. Who'd feel sorry for those monsters?"
"No points deducted, I hope?" Cedric asked.
"What, if I lost points, are you going to lecture me as our esteemed Prefect?" Wayne said with exaggerated sarcasm.
"Bullshit," Cedric lowered his voice. "If you lost points, I'd find a way to get them back for you. Prefects have a yearly quota—no point letting it go to waste."
Good, good.
Wayne looked at the model student with approval. Barely in office and already learning to exploit privileges—this lad had a bright future.
"No points deducted. The train doesn't count as a term starting, so nothing happened."
"That's good."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief for Wayne, and the atmosphere became cheerful again.
Thud!
The side doors swung open as this year's new students filed in, and the chatter suddenly quieted.
Looking at the group of terribly nervous first-years, students of every year wore expressions of reminiscence.
They'd all been through this themselves - young wizards from wizarding families frightened by their parents, Muggle-born children intimidated by their peers, every single one terrified out of their wits.
Especially the year before last, when quite a few had reportedly burst into tears.
But as they watched, many began noticing something odd.
"Are there... rather more new students than usual?" Norman said uncertainly. "Even in two lines, the queue's so long?"
Cedric's fingers twitched as he counted silently, quickly arriving at an exact number.
"One hundred and sixty-six, that's quite a few more than usual."
"Our year only had about one hundred and twenty."
"Ours was similar."
The Great Hall grew noisy again until Professor McGonagall frowned and called out, "Silence!"
The young wizards immediately lowered their voices.
Then, when Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the stool, everyone was shocked once more.
"Pfft!"
Those with poor composure burst out laughing, while those who managed to hold it in turned beet red.
The Sorting Hat had completely transformed. Its tattered brim was now adorned with over a dozen feathers from various birds, its body covered in multicoloured metallic sequins, and several gemstones embedded in the middle.
"Are you all amazed by my new look, too?" The Sorting Hat showed no self-awareness as it opened its seam and began singing.
At the staff table, Snape's rigid face twitched. He leaned slightly towards Dumbledore: "What madness have you concocted now?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps you should ask Mr Lawrence about that."
Snape quickly spotted Wayne at the Hufflepuff table. The boy seemed to sense his gaze and flashed him an innocent smile.
But Wayne's smile soon vanished.
Because the Sorting Hat actually betrayed him!
After finishing its usual song about the four founders' great deeds, the hat's tone grew even more exuberant.
"A talented wizard named Lawrence gave me this makeover, and now I'll carry out my ancient duty in splendid new attire."
Whoosh!
Nobody paid attention to the rest of the song. Nearly a thousand pairs of eyes instantly searched for the culprit.
Thud!
Wayne face-planted onto the table, burying his head in his arms.
Damn!
Miscalculation!
Oh, wonderful, just wonderful.
Professor McGonagall's eyes practically spat fire. Dumbledore had been evasive earlier, but now they'd finally caught the mastermind!
Toby gaped at Wayne's dramatic collapse, his mouth opening and closing as if he had much to say, but it all condensed into one word...
"Legend!"
He'd learned this term from Wayne but never found the right occasion to use it.
Now, nothing could be more fitting.
In this bizarre atmosphere, the Sorting Hat quieted down. Though Professor McGonagall dearly wanted to have a "chat" with Mr Lawrence, the Sorting Ceremony took precedence.
She produced the list and called, "Barnes Austin!"
A slightly chubby boy shuffled forward reluctantly. "Professor, do I have to wear that hat?"
"Yes," Professor McGonagall said through gritted teeth. "Don't waste everyone's time, Mr Austin."
Glancing between the hat and the professor, who looked ready to explode, he chose the lesser of two evils and donned the hat with an expression of utter despair.
Within seconds, the Sorting Hat bellowed:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The lions erupted in enthusiastic applause, welcoming their first new member of the year.
Anyone daring enough to question Professor McGonagall clearly belonged there – no mistake about that.
The Sorting proceeded swiftly after that, the hat making its decisions in mere seconds as the queue rapidly diminished.
"Rolf Goldstein!"
Wayne stopped pretending to be dead and looked towards the Sorting Hat.
A freckled boy approached the hat, head bowed the entire way. He nearly tripped over his own feet, clearly nervous.
It was none other than Newt's grandson, Rolf Scamander.
Goldstein was Tina's original surname, and Newt had hoped Rolf wouldn't draw unnecessary attention due to his own reputation.
Thus, with Dumbledore's consent and assistance, Rolf Goldstein was freshly minted.
The Sorting Hat barely touched Rolf's hair before eagerly announcing the result:
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Clap clap clap!
Wayne led the applause. The little badgers, though puzzled by his enthusiasm, followed suit out of politeness.
The cheers were far louder than for the previous few students.
Rolf grew even more flustered. In his haste to leave, he nearly forgot to return the hat—only when Professor McGonagall called him back did he realise and hurriedly hand it over.
Soon, after the last student was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat and the stool and left the Great Hall through the side door, not wishing to linger a moment longer.
Dumbledore rose to his feet.
"Welcome! Another splendid school year is about to begin!" He beamed at the children, his spirits visibly lifted.
"I trust you're all ravenous, eager to fill your bellies with a sumptuous feast. But alas, while your attention is still sharp, there are a few announcements I must make—to ensure they stick in your minds."
Dumbledore's expression grew solemn.
"First, and most importantly." He paused. "Our school has welcomed several Dementors. I believe you've already encountered them—on the train. They were conducting a search under the Ministry of Magic's orders, hunting for an escaped fugitive."
"They are stationed at every entrance to the school. Remember: no one is to leave the grounds without permission. No trickery or disguise will fool a Dementor—not even an Invisibility Cloak."
At the mention of the Invisibility Cloak, Dumbledore glanced pointedly at Harry before continuing.
"I expect the Head Boy and Girl to ensure no young witch or wizard provokes the Dementors, lest harm befall either party."
Percy puffed out his chest, scanning the room to assert his presence. But Dumbledore paid him no mind, instead fixing his gaze on Wayne. Only when Wayne gave a slight nod did Dumbledore smile.
"However, there's no need for undue concern. The Dementors will not enter the school. So long as you abide by the rules, your lives will remain unchanged."
Click!
A crisp sound came from Wayne's hand, audible only to those nearby.
"What are you doing?" Toby whispered.
Wayne murmured, "Recording..."
Toby: "???"
What was there to record?!
Next, Dumbledore turned his attention to the staff table, his smile widening.
"Now for more pleasant news."
"I am delighted to announce that two new teachers have joined our ranks."
"Over the summer, Professor Kettleburn tendered his resignation. Your Care of Magical Creatures teacher has chosen to see the world. Thus, Rubeus Hagrid will be taking his place!"
"At the same time, he will retain his duties as gamekeeper, safeguarding our Forbidden Forest."
The announcement stunned everyone. Harry and Ron exchanged bewildered looks.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Wayne led the applause once more, the Hufflepuffs swiftly following suit. Then came Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and finally, even Slytherin contributed a respectable round of cheers.
Just kidding, when Lawrence has already shown his stance, how dare you not give him face?
Hagrid excitedly stood up to acknowledge the gesture, while Professor Sprout swiftly grabbed the table to prevent it from toppling over.
Once Hagrid had sat back down, Dumbledore continued.
"As for the second appointment, Professor Lupin has kindly agreed to take up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, for which I am enormously grateful." Dumbledore exhaled dramatically.
"I'm aware that many of you had... differing opinions about my previous choices for this position, and for that I must apologise."
Dumbledore gave a slight bow. "Please forgive an old man's failing eyesight."
"But I assure you, Professor Lupin will be an outstanding teacher. No one could be better suited for this role!"
To Dumbledore's right, Snape's face darkened completely as he glared fixedly at Lupin at the far end.
What an unfortunate coincidence!