When gods fight, mortals suffer.
Though this was purely a feud between Wayne and Snape, the ones who ended up suffering were the unlucky students of Slytherin and Lupin.
With old grievances and new grudges combined, even Snape himself found it repulsive – yet he resolutely decided to retaliate in this manner.
Simply adding raw ingredients to the Wolfsbane Potion wouldn't showcase his skills as a Potions Master.
So Snape opted for a more sophisticated approach.
Extraction!
He directly drew his wand, levitating an entire barrel of fertiliser into the air.
Under Crabbe and Goyle's dumbstruck gazes, he addressed them:
"Remember to bathe after finishing your work. Don't return to the dormitory otherwise."
With that, he strode away.
...
Over the following days, the school's atmosphere underwent a complete renewal.
The students' manners improved dramatically overnight. They'd greet every teacher with utmost respect, not daring to move on without receiving a response.
Snape didn't escalate matters by targeting other badgers.
Even as Slytherin's house points dwindled to single digits, he merely observed coldly until Professor Sprout voluntarily ceased her actions.
Previously unaware, after several confrontations, Snape realised he was rather intimidated by this usually amiable Herbology professor.
Better avoid trouble than invite it.
Let it be.
All accounts were settled upon Lupin's head.
Finally, the day of the full moon approached.
With unusual enthusiasm, Snape collected the prepared potion and arrived at Lupin's office.
"Severus?" Lupin appeared genuinely surprised at his appearance. "I never imagined you'd visit my office."
"If not for Dumbledore's orders, who would willingly share a room with you alone?"
Snape sneered. "Your potion is ready. Had I not reminded you, were you planning to unleash your savage nature when the time comes?"
Lupin's expression stiffened. "No, I've simply been too busy lately and forgot. Regardless, thank you."
"Unnecessary." Snape placed the vial on the desk, stepping back slowly but making no move to leave.
Lupin regarded him curiously.
"I must supervise you drinking it. For the students' safety," Snape explained impassively.
Lupin nodded indifferently, uncorking the bottle – then his expression changed.
He hesitated. "This potion... has quite a distinctive aroma?"
Lupin struggled to describe the bizarre odour – like fermented toilet sludge left heating on a stove for days.
Exceeding expectations
Truly exceeding expectations.
"This isn't my brew." Snape deftly shifted topics. "You should be grateful. This is Lawrence's personally improved version – you'll only be weakened for two days."
Lupin's face darkened further. "You told him?"
"No, no." Snape shook his head smugly. "You severely underestimate that prodigy. He likely confirmed your identity the moment he saw you."
"He simply couldn't be bothered to care. This has nothing to do with me."
Snape would deny Wayne's character, but he'd never disparage the boy's talent and aptitude.
If he denied this, then what did that make him, who was far inferior to Wayne?
Moreover, he hadn't actually lied to Lupin just now.
This was indeed a potion brewed by Wayne—he had merely added a few drops of extract to make the potion's taste more tangy.
It was all for Lupin's own good.
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. Lupin hadn't expected his identity as a Werewolf to be so easily uncovered, without him noticing a thing.
Usually, Wayne's behaviour was perfectly polite, never looking at him with even a hint of discrimination.
He didn't seem to know he was a Werewolf at all.
With this thought, Lupin threw his head back and downed the potion in one gulp, his eyes bulging violently.
"Swallow it!" Snape's eyes gleamed with excitement as he barked, "Don't you dare vomit!"
Only when he saw Lupin's throat convulse, drinking every last drop of the potion, did he smile in satisfaction.
"Now you're safe."
"The forty-eight hours following the full moon are your weakened state. If you have Defence Against the Dark Arts classes during those days, I can take over."
"I understand. May you leave now?" Lupin said weakly.
He felt like he was already in that weakened state.
Snape said nothing, slamming the office door shut behind him.
...
The next day, Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
Lupin packed the Grindylow back into its tank, set the homework, then dismissed the class.
"Wayne, a moment, please." Wayne, who'd been about to leave with Hermione, paused.
"Would you care for tea in my office?" Lupin invited.
"Alright." Wayne nodded, then turned to Hermione. "Go ahead to the Great Hall. I'll meet you in the library later."
"Mm." Hermione gave a slight nod, arms full of books, as she left the classroom.
Wayne followed Lupin in the opposite direction. It was just after class, so the corridors were crowded with young wizards.
Nearly everyone greeted Lupin warmly – not just out of formality.
Well, except some Slytherins, who looked down on Lupin's shabby appearance.
Pushing open his office door, Lupin turned back with a smile. "Though it's not really a professor's place to say, Slytherin hasn't changed one bit."
"Come in. The place is rather messy – please excuse it."
Wayne entered. This was the third Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's office he'd visited.
Quirrell's office had been utterly ordinary, save for one large floor-length mirror. Lockhart's had been absurdly lavish, plastered with his posters and press clippings.
Lupin's office was indeed as messy as he'd warned. Several cages and tanks containing magical creatures filled the space.
"How about studying Grindylows next lesson?"
After seating Wayne on the sofa, Lupin brewed them some tea.
"Isn't that a bit too easy?" Wayne considered before answering. "Magical creatures of that level should be manageable for everyone by now."
"Quite right." Lupin nodded. "I've been considering whether to increase the difficulty slightly."
Though Defence Against the Dark Arts had suffered two poor years, Hogwarts students hadn't fallen behind in other subjects. Their spellcasting abilities kept improving.
With a competent teacher, this accumulated knowledge could be quickly applied.
This was why Harry's Dumbledore's Army had progressed so smoothly in the future.
"Any suggestions?" Lupin asked again.
"You're the professor." Wayne smiled. "And my opinions probably wouldn't be representative anyway."
"Fair point."
Lupin nodded. If all his students were prodigies like Wayne, he might as well retire on the spot.
"Did you invite me here just to ask that?" Wayne took a sip of tea before setting the cup down.
This tea is far inferior to Dumbledore's, but considering Lupin's financial situation, having any at all is decent enough.
"No," Lupin said with a gentle smile. "Mainly, I wanted to thank you. Without your improvements to the Wolfsbane Potion, I probably wouldn't have secured such a respectable job."
Wayne stared at him in surprise.
Why was Lupin admitting this outright?
"Professor, you—"
"Snape told me," Lupin said. "All those potions I drank were brewed by you."
Then a look of lingering fear crossed his face. "I just wanted to ask... could we possibly improve the taste? It's truly unbearable."
"Is it that bad?" Wayne asked, puzzled. "I remember the flavour should be cooling. There's catmint in the ingredients, so it leaves a chilled sensation. Bloodthorn is slightly sweet, so there should be a hint of sweetness too."
Lupin's expression was indescribable. "You call that taste sweet?"
"Wait." Wayne sensed something amiss. He rummaged through a small pouch for a while before pulling out a vial of the improved Wolfsbane Potion.
"Is this it?" Wayne asked.
He suspected Snape had tampered with it.
Lupin nodded firmly, but when Wayne uncorked the vial, he shook his head.
"Completely different taste."
The two exchanged a glance and fell into silence.
"Well..." Wayne forced a dry chuckle. "I can guarantee this was exactly how the potion was when I handed it to Professor Snape. As for what happened after... perhaps he made further adjustments for better efficacy?"
Lupin offered a hollow laugh in response.
So that's how it is, you slimy git. Using underhanded tricks like this.
After years as a Death Eater, is this all the Dark Lord taught you?
Still, he couldn't exactly lose his temper in front of Wayne.
"Wayne, since you're the one brewing these potions, how about you deliver them to me directly from now on? Saves troubling other professors."
"Sure," Wayne agreed readily. "You can keep this vial—there's enough for next month's dose."
"I'll prepare the rest for you later."
"Thanks," Lupin said gratefully.
...
The grudges of the past had never truly faded, merely grown less distinct beneath the weight of time and distance.
Now, the feud between the Marauders and the Half-Blood Prince had reignited.
Once, it had been four against one. Now, it was one-on-one.
After confirming Snape had sabotaged him, Lupin began his counterattack.
He didn't target students, of course. But during casual conversations, he "accidentally" let slip a few of Snape's old embarrassments.
The Marauders had tormented Snape plenty back in the day—they had no shortage of ammunition.
The more mature Lupin naturally avoided reopening deep wounds, but minor incidents were fair game.
Soon, these "rumours" had spread throughout the castle.
When the man in question found out, he smashed several cauldrons in rage. During the next Potions class, Angelina lost five house points for raising her left hand to answer a question.
Then, in Defence Against the Dark Arts, she gained five points for arriving early.
The other professors watched this back-and-forth with weary eyes.
The other Heads of House had taught both men in their youth and knew their history. As long as things didn't go too far, they saw no reason to intervene.
...
That day, Wayne returned to the Hufflepuff common room.
In the warm room, a large group of little badgers gathered around the central round table, which held not delicious food but the Sorting Hat, dazzling enough to blind one's eyes.
"Back when I still followed Gryffindor around, I knew that without Ravenclaw, this school would fall apart sooner or later."
The Sorting Hat's brim parted slightly as it spoke with great pomp.
"Why's that?" asked one little badger curiously.
"You wouldn't know this, would you?" With an eager audience, the Sorting Hat grew even more animated.
"Gryffindor's a hothead. Though he had the idea to found the school, all he had was passion—he couldn't do anything properly and often caused trouble."
"Slytherin's clever, but his head's full of strange magic, likely to lead young ones astray."
"As for your Head of House, Hufflepuff—to quote Lawrence boy, Helga's a homebody. Aside from cooking, she wouldn't step outside even to sleep."
"Only Ravenclaw, that brilliant, beautiful witch." The Sorting Hat sighed dreamily. "She could command the other three. That's how Hogwarts came to be."
"Oh, and most importantly, she had this stunning blue hat."
Frequently taken out of the Headmaster's Office by Wayne, the Sorting Hat often shared secrets and amusing tales it knew, always drawing crowds of young witches and wizards.
And every time it heard their admiration and gasps of wonder, it felt its hat-life had reached its peak.
Now this was living.
Back in the Headmaster's Office, it faced nothing but dreadful old men who never spoke to it, with only one chance a year to make an appearance.
Nothing like now, with young witches and wizards to chat with daily, even offering suggestions for the songs it made up.
It hardly wanted to go back.
Sticking with Lawrence boy was far more comfortable.
"That can't be right?" Hannah voiced doubts about the Sorting Hat's claims. "The four founders' relationship should've been equal. Why would the others listen to Ravenclaw?"
"Exactly," another student agreed. "None of the founders ever served as Headmaster, so there couldn't have been any hierarchy."
"What do you lot know?" The Sorting Hat swayed. "It wasn't just about hierarchy. You could say those four came together entirely because of Ravenclaw's personal charm."
It suddenly lowered its voice mysteriously. "Gryffindor had a crush on Ravenclaw, always chasing after her. Slytherin fancied Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff was Ravenclaw's closest friend—they were often seen together. I suspect there was something... unusual between those two women."
"Don't you see? Ravenclaw was the most important."
"This is so scandalous!" A group of girls flushed with excitement, their minds conjuring all sorts of indecent imagery.
Wayne, who had just returned, overheard the Sorting Hat's words and immediately felt a headache coming on.
Whether these wild tales were true didn't matter—they were wild enough.
He walked to the table and lifted the Sorting Hat by its tip.
"Hey, hey, hey, Lawrence boy, you're back already?"
Pinched by its fateful peak, the Sorting Hat screeched.
"I came back to listen to your nonsense. Right, you've had enough fun today. Continue your wild history lessons tomorrow."
With that, he prepared to take the hat back to his dorm.
"Wayne, wait." Cedric quickly grabbed his arm.
"We've got Quidditch training this weekend, just join the team," Cedric pleaded. "Help me out, we're seriously short on players."
With three key team members graduating last term, Cedric couldn't help but feel a headache coming on whenever he looked at Hufflepuff's current lineup.
Two new Chasers and a rookie Keeper.
Though these three had been training with the team all last year, their skill and experience still fell far short of Wotley and the others.
There wasn't a shred of hope for winning the championship.
So Cedric had turned his attention back to Wayne again.
If Wayne became Seeker while he played as Chaser, there'd be absolutely no issues.
"Cedric, do you really think I have time for that?" Wayne patted his shoulder resignedly. "You've got to believe in yourself. As long as you catch the Golden Snitch quickly every match, we'll win."
"Alright, train hard. I'm off now."
With that, Wayne disappeared into the dormitory corridor, eager to video call Nagini.
"As if I'm riding a Firebolt," Cedric muttered at his retreating back before sinking back into gloom.