Since his escape from Azkaban, Black had finally left a concrete trail.
The person who discovered him wasn't a wizard, but a Muggle.
It happened in a small Muggle town. According to the informant, Mr Benjamin, he spotted Black outside a convenience store.
At first, he didn't recognise him—he just thought it odd to see a dishevelled man sitting on a bench devouring bread ravenously, so he took a few extra glances.
But because of this, the man seemed to grow wary and hurried off with the bread.
This made Mr Benjamin even more suspicious.
Only later did Mr Benjamin suddenly realise this man bore a striking resemblance to the wanted criminal featured on the morning news, so he rushed to the police station to report it.
After some comparisons, the police confirmed this was indeed the vicious fugitive who'd been wanted for over a month—'Sirius' Black.
And that town wasn't too far from Hogwarts, both located within Argyll and Bute.
The Daily Prophet even published a photo of the ecstatic Muggle receiving his £100,000 reward.
Now, even a fool could guess Black's destination.
...
Ron looked at Harry with concern: "He must be coming for you."
"Obviously," Malfoy said, appearing behind them unexpectedly with a smirk.
"Potter, if I were you, I wouldn't be so calm right now."
"Then what should I do? Put on a 'baby's scared' face?" Harry retorted without hesitation, pretending to tremble. Ron burst out laughing, and Neville tried to join in but choked on his soup instead.
Malfoy's already pale face drained of all colour, leaving only a faint redness on his nose.
But he quickly regained his composure, even managing a mocking smile. "I truly don't understand how you can laugh about this, Potter."
"If I were you, I wouldn't be lounging around at school so casually—eating grilled fish, no less."
"I'd go after Black and capture him myself."
"Are you trying to get me killed?" Harry stared at him in bewilderment. "Could you at least try a less obvious provocation? If Black can't find me, that's his problem, not mine."
"Is that so?" Malfoy smiled cryptically. "Sometimes ignorance really is bliss."
Without waiting for Harry's reaction, Malfoy turned and strode back to the Slytherin table.
"What did he mean by that?" Harry turned to Ron with a puzzled expression.
"Do I look that stupid? Why does everyone think I'd go looking for Black?"
Minister Fudge had advised against it, Mr Weasley had warned him, and now even Malfoy was saying the same thing.
"Maybe it's because of the ten thousand Galleon reward?" Ron said uncertainly. "I heard whoever finds Black gets not just a huge pile of gold from the Ministry, but loads of pounds from the Muggles too."
"That is a lot..." Harry paused.
Now that he thought about it, he was actually tempted.
Ten thousand Galleons.
With that much money, he could pay Wayne for extra lessons and still have plenty left over.
Honestly, if he had Wayne's skills right now, he'd actively hunt down Black to claim that reward.
Harry had come to deeply understand just how important Galleons were to a wizard.
With ten thousand Galleons, Wayne could probably have Snape delivered to his coffin tonight!
But alas, he had neither the gold nor the ability.
Best to stay put at school like a good boy.
...
While Harry remained indifferent, news of Black had put both the Ministry and Hogwarts staff on high alert.
By the next morning, dozens more Dementors had arrived at Hogwarts, with regular patrols extending to Hogsmeade every evening.
At lunch, Professor McGonagall issued stern warnings to everyone.
No wandering off. No provoking the Dementors.
Anyone caught disobeying would immediately have letters sent to their parents.
The entire student body felt their bottoms twinge at this threat – Seamus and several others were still eating standing up and sleeping face-down from their last punishment.
Filch showed no mercy either, assigning them to scrub every boy's bathroom in the castle that evening – without magic.
After delivering her warning, Professor McGonagall departed.
Wayne took Hermione's hand, heading for their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.
"Wait up, Wayne!" Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan limped after them.
"Got any more of those badges? I'll take two."
"Same here."
"I do, but you have to promise not to do anything stupid again," Wayne said warily.
Another incident would surely make Professor McGonagall ban his Patronus badge sales, and without protection, no student would dare misbehave.
"You couldn't pay me to try again," Macmillan said, rubbing his sore backside gingerly.
It wasn't the Dementors he feared, but his father's wand-turned-birching cane...
...
In the classroom, Wayne distributed the badges.
Initially disappointed by their short duration, the students changed their minds upon hearing the extended version cost ten Galleons.
With Lupin yet to arrive, students took out parchment and quills, chatting in small groups with little enthusiasm.
After two consecutive years of disastrous Defence professors, expectations were low – they'd settle for anyone less troublesome than Lockhart.
But Wayne knew their opinion of Lupin would soon transform completely.
The man had real talent. Like gold, his worth would be recognised... and inevitably stolen.
The classroom bell rang as Lupin entered, still carrying his old suitcase and wearing the same clothes, though his complexion looked healthier than before—clearly he'd been eating well lately.
"Good afternoon," said Lupin cheerfully, a smile on his face.
Noticing the paper and quills laid out before the students, he waved a hand. "Put those away. Today's a practical lesson—all you'll need are your wands."
The students stowed their textbooks, exchanging doubtful glances.
Last year's first lesson had also been practical, and Lockhart had nearly been tormented to death by Cornish Pixies.
Surely Lupin wasn't planning something similar?
Lupin noticed their distrust but didn't seem bothered.
After discussing his two predecessors with Professor McGonagall these past few days, he'd expected nothing less.
"Right then, today's activity isn't in this classroom. Follow me."
They trailed after him down corridors, turning twice, when suddenly shrieking laughter echoed ahead.
Peeves hung upside down mid-air, stuffing chewing gum into a keyhole.
Spotting Lupin, Peeves showed neither fear nor shame at being caught, but instead burst into song:
"Loony, loopy Lupin, daft as a blithering bludger!"
Several students looked startled.
Peeves was always rude and uncontrollable, yet he usually showed professors some respect. They watched Lupin curiously, wondering how he'd react.
Furious outburst or impotent rage?
To everyone's surprise, Lupin continued smiling gently.
"If I were you, I wouldn't do that. Mr Filch can't go in to fetch the brooms now."
Yet Peeves didn't care in the slightest, even spitting provocatively.
Lupin sighed and drew his wand.
"This is a rather useful little charm," he said, turning back to the young wizards. "Pay attention, you might find frequent use for it later."
As he raised his wand high, Peeves caught sight of the youth at the very end of the line. His expression instantly turned terrified, his body stiffening as he bowed deeply.
"Y-young Master Lawrence!"
"My mistake, I'll leave at once!"
Before Lupin could utter the incantation, Peeves yanked out the chewing gum and fled like lightning through the thick wall.
Lupin: "..."
Now this was awkward.
He'd intended to put on a small demonstration, but before he could act, Peeves had already fled, leaving everyone's attention fixed on Wayne.
Even Lupin's.
"Mr Lawrence," Lupin couldn't help asking curiously, "what exactly did you do to Peeves that he fears you so?"
"There was a minor altercation in the first year," Wayne mused. "The little charm I used happens to be particularly effective against ghosts."
Harry's eyes gleamed.
A charm even Peeves feared—he really wanted to learn that.
"Is that so? How remarkable."
Lupin offered a polite yet slightly strained smile of praise before continuing to lead the students forward, arriving at the staff room.
"Go on in," Lupin said, opening the door for everyone.
The staff room was a long chamber filled with old chairs. The fireplace roared fiercely, making the space both dry and relatively warm.
Only one teacher was present. Snape sat in a chair, turning his head as the students entered. He set down his newspaper, a cold smile curling his lips.
When Lupin—bringing up the rear—entered and moved to close the door, Snape stood and spoke.
"Did the school fail to assign you a classroom, Lupin? That you'd bring an entire crowd here for lessons."
Lupin raised his eyebrows.
"Classrooms are better suited for note-taking, but the first lesson ought to be rather special, don't you think? This place has what the children need."
"I do hope you won't make a dreadful mess of it. I'd hate to find no place to rest next time."
Their gazes locked, sparks nearly flying between them.
"Ah, yes," Snape said suddenly. "You're new here, so you might not be familiar with these students yet."
"As someone more experienced, I feel obliged to offer some advice."
"In this class, there's one Neville Longbottom. I'd suggest you don't entrust him with anything remotely complex unless Miss Know-It-All is willing to provide guidance."
Neville's face turned beet red. Hermione glared furiously at Snape, but the old bat continued as if oblivious.
"And if you truly wish to make this first lesson exceed expectations, you might enlist Mr Lawrence's assistance. He is, after all, the famously brilliant genius who improved the Wolfsbane Potion. Surely he could be of tremendous help to you, no?"
Snape emphasised "Wolfsbane Potion" pointedly. Lupin's expression shifted slightly, his gaze unconsciously darting to Wayne.
The youth was currently comforting Hermione, paying no attention to the confrontation between the two men.
"That's most unfortunate." Lupin exhaled slightly in relief, meeting Snape's glowering gaze directly:
"Gifted students don't require my assistance. Someone like Neville better suits my teaching style - he happens to be the assistant I've selected."
Snape's lips twitched twice. "We'll see about that."
With that, he left, slamming the door shut with a resounding bang.
The students exchanged glances, communicating frantically through eye contact.
Susan's eyebrows nearly flew off her forehead. She'd long suspected tension between Lupin and Snape, but seeing this today... what juicy gossip!
Were they former love rivals?
Exchanging a look with Hannah, the two teenage girls immediately conjured an elaborate backstory of romantic entanglements in their minds.
"Let's make haste - we've rather a full class today."
Unaware that stories were already being fabricated about him and Snape, Lupin led the young witches and wizards to the far end of the room where an old wardrobe stood.
As he approached it, the wardrobe suddenly rattled violently, emitting loud banging noises.
The class collectively jumped backwards.
"No need for alarm. How fortunate - I won't need to prepare teaching aids as we've got ourselves a Boggart right here."
Lupin looked around expectantly. "Can anyone describe a Boggart's characteristics?"
Hermione's hand shot up.
"Miss Granger." Lupin acknowledged her.
"Boggarts are shape-shifters that prefer dark, enclosed spaces - wardrobes, gaps beneath beds, that sort of thing," she recited.
"They can perceive our fears and transform into whatever frightens us most."
"I couldn't have put it better myself," Professor Lupin praised, making the young witch beam with pleasure.
"Today's lesson will focus on mastering the Boggart-banishing spell. Form a line, please. Neville, you're up first."
True to his earlier statement, Lupin had indeed called Neville forward for a demonstration.
The students quickly queued as instructed, while Neville approached the trembling wardrobe with visible trepidation.
"First, let's practise the incantation. Repeat after me: Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class chorused.
"Simple enough, yes? But when casting, you must concentrate on something amusing - conviction and incantation are equally vital. Understood?"
"Understood!"
The students were now fully engaged, recognising the differences in Lupin's teaching compared to Lockhart or Quirrell.
His methodology was logical, progressive, and accessible to all.
"Neville, the stage is yours." Lupin gave him an encouraging smile. "First, tell us what frightens you most?"
Neville answered in a whisper: "Professor Snape."
"Snape, eh?" Lupin nodded sympathetically. "I can appreciate that."
The class erupted in laughter, Ron and Harry's guffaws loudest of all. Fortunately, no Slytherins were present, or they'd have faced a week of retaliation.
Lupin continued guiding Neville, deliberately shaping the boy's mental image into something comical.
Wayne quietly produced a camera, startling Hermione.
"Where did you get that?"
"Borrowed it from Colin before lunch. Price was letting him take my photo later." Wayne had been anticipating this moment, his enthusiasm palpable.
Opportunities to spite Snape were rare - missing this would leave him thoroughly miserable.
Wayne took a photo of Hermione first.
Click!
The flash went off. Lupin noticed but said nothing, continuing to explain the technique to Neville.
"How does it look?" Wayne handed the photo to Hermione.
"Average. You made my head look too big. We're in class now, stop messing around." Hermione confiscated the photo with a stern expression.
Wayne shrugged.
Such a tsundere woman.
Finally, Professor Lupin finished his instructions and had Neville prepare.
Harry, in the queue, felt somewhat lost.
What was he most afraid of?
Voldemort?
That image had appeared once before vanishing, replaced by a hooded figure. Harry shivered involuntarily.
"Three! Two! One!"
Lupin stepped back from Neville, pointing his wand at the wardrobe. A shower of sparks unlocked it.
Snape, with his hooked nose, strode out menacingly, glaring viciously at Neville.
"Say the spell! Neville, you can do it!" Lupin encouraged loudly.
"R-Riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.
With a sharp crack, Snape's steps became unsteady, his form twisting. His clothes transformed—a tall hat with a vulture specimen perched atop it, clutching a large red handbag.
The class erupted in laughter. Wayne had somehow moved to the side, snapping rapid shots of the Boggart.
The school's headlines for the next week were secured!