As it turned out, assigning Wayne to patrol duty was Professor McGonagall's grave mistake.
He completely forgot his duty to maintain order, striking up lively conversations wherever he went.
Some asked about his earlier whereabouts, and others wondered why he was patrolling. He could spin a topic from anything.
Marietta and several Ravenclaw girls even engaged him in discussion about how Black might have infiltrated the school...
Percy, who'd been running around putting out fires all evening, finally had enough. Striding across rows of sleeping bags, he moved to reprimand Wayne.
As he passed the twins, they wordlessly raised their wands in perfect sync, whispering in unison:
"Stupefy!"
Caught completely off guard, Percy's eyes rolled back as he collapsed.
Harry and Ron, who witnessed everything, were stunned.
The twins' audacity knew no bounds!
"Oh dear," George feigned concern. "Percy must be exhausted! Fell right asleep, did he?"
"Let's get him a sleeping bag," Fred offered cheerfully.
"No sleeping bags left. A sack will have to do."
The two of them worked in perfect tandem to rope Percy into their scheme. As for the sack, it was kindly provided by Ginny. The young girl excelled at Transfiguration – she'd turned a sleeping bag into a burlap sack. How thoughtful.
With Percy, the attention-seeker, gone, everyone completely relaxed. The other female Head Student also chose to slack off, sitting on the floor chatting with a few close friends.
It was like a massive late-night gathering around a fire. The novelty of the experience left many too excited to sleep.
After all, tomorrow was Sunday – they could afford to indulge for another day.
Professor Flitwick dropped by at one point, but seeing everyone in such high spirits, he didn't disturb them.
It wasn't until deep into the night—perhaps two or three in the morning—that the Great Hall finally fell silent.
Well, not entirely silent. Many had a habit of snoring, especially Crabbe and Goyle, who seemed to be competing, each louder than the other.
Trapped between them, Malfoy wore an expression of utter despair. In the end, Wayne couldn't take it anymore and cast a Silencing Charm on the pair, finally freeing him.
...
For the next few days, the entire school had only one topic of discussion: how on earth had Sirius Black slipped past the Dementors' tight security and infiltrated the castle?
Theories were broadly divided into several schools of thought.
The first was the spell theory. Fred and George believed Black had mastered an advanced Disillusionment Charm, one even Dementors couldn't detect.
The second was the potion theory. The Slytherins argued that Black must have used Polyjuice Potion or something similar to disguise himself as another student and sneak into the castle.
Even Wayne's Flying Potion was a possibility—after all, Dementors couldn't possibly scour the entire sky.
The third was the traditional secret passage theory. Perhaps Black had discovered a brand-new tunnel leading into the castle from somewhere far, far away.
There wasn't much the professors could do about the speculation except wait for the excitement to die down.
The Fat Lady was eventually found hiding in a portrait on the seventh floor, depicting a noblewoman on a countryside outing. She refused to leave, no matter what.
Left with no choice, Filch had to temporarily remove her portrait frame and search the castle for another painting willing to take over her duties.
In the end, Sir Cadogan accepted the task.
Any student who had taken Divination knew him well.
His portrait hung on the floor below the Divination tower. Every time students passed by, he would brandish his knight's lance and bellow challenges to duels, forever brimming with energy.
This proved troublesome for Gryffindor students. Sir Cadogan changed the password twice daily, and many often found themselves locked out after forgetting the new one.
Neville suffered the most—even when he wrote the passwords down, his poor memory often led to mix-ups.
As for the Ministry of Magic, the two Aurors kept their word, not mentioning Wayne's arrogant attitude at all. They placed the entire blame on the Dementors.
Due to their negligence, Black had managed to infiltrate the school. Fortunately, no harm was done, but the professors were still furious. It was only natural that they refused to let the Dementors in for further searches.
Fudge accepted this reasoning, but Scrimgeour remained dissatisfied.
Even with its many flaws, the Ministry was the governing body of the wizarding world. What right did a school have to obstruct law enforcement?
Even though those so-called 'law enforcers' were Dementors, they still represented the will of the Ministry of Magic.
But as 'merely' the head of the Auror Office, with even the Minister for Magic unwilling to pursue the matter, he could only suppress his dissatisfaction.
Another person having a hard time was Harry.
Compared to forgetting passwords, he was now under strict surveillance. Teachers found various excuses to accompany him through corridors, and Percy was so busy hovering around him during free periods that he neglected his girlfriend.
Harry suspected it was Mrs Weasley's doing.
Even Professor McGonagall wanted to forbid him from attending recent Quidditch training sessions.
It was only after Harry and Wood argued vehemently that she granted permission, though she still requested Madam Hooch to supervise the training.
When Wayne heard about this from Hermione, he scoffed.
Madam Hooch's skills... were best left unmentioned. She couldn't compare to upper-year students like the twins or Wood.
During their first year, when Neville fell from his broom, she hadn't even thought to use a Cushioning Charm.
Aside from refereeing Quidditch matches, this teacher had no redeeming qualities whatsoever.
Wait, no.
Even her foul-calling standards were widely criticised by young wizards. Slytherin's violent fouls never received proper punishment.
...
As the date of the first Quidditch match approached, the weather grew increasingly foul.
During their final training session before the match, Wood gathered the team together and gleefully shared some good news.
"Slytherin tried using the same excuse as last year to postpone the match, but they failed."
"Lawrence summoned the Phoenix directly. Said if anyone were ill, it would heal them immediately. You should've seen Snape's face – as yellow as wallpaper."
The team burst into laughter.
George said with schadenfreude, "They've really bitten off more than they can chew by crossing Wayne. With the Headmaster away, no one can rein him in."
George suddenly shook his head and sighed, "Since when did Slytherin become the weakest team?"
At his words, everyone seemed to realise it too.
In the past, Slytherin had been the team they least wanted to face, having won the championship several times.
But ever since Harry joined the team, they had achieved a complete winning streak against Slytherin, making them the most certain victory.
"Harry," Wood said solemnly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "We need your cooperation for this match's tactics."
"Go on," Harry replied firmly, gripping his broom.
"You won't lose to Malfoy, right? That rich brat who only got onto the team by spending money."
"Of course," Harry declared loudly. He could lose to anyone—but even if he died, he would never lose to Malfoy.
"I believe in you." Wood smiled in relief. "What if you kept using your Nimbus?"
Harry looked at him in confusion, and Wood explained:
"Malfoy's skill is inferior to yours, and his broom isn't much better. I want Angelina to use Hermione's Firebolt to widen our lead as much as possible. What do you think?"
"No problem," Harry agreed immediately. Angelina was overjoyed and promised to score plenty of goals.
...
The next day.
On the day of the match, the weather had deteriorated to an extreme.
Though it was morning, sunlight was nearly invisible. A howling gale and torrential rain battered the thousand-year-old castle.
During breakfast, the Slytherin team's expressions were as gloomy as the weather outside.
They had long anticipated the dreadful conditions, which was why they had tried to reschedule the match.
But Wayne Lawrence had completely shattered their scheme, leaving even Snape speechless.
Braving the storm, the young wizards trudged to the pitch in raincoats and under umbrellas.
Wayne gazed at the sky, tempted to dispel the awful weather. But since neither Cho nor Hufflepuff were playing, he refrained.
He raised a hand, and a transparent barrier enveloped the Hufflepuff stands, shielding them from the rain. Astoria grinned and pulled her sister over to Wayne's side.
For a moment, the other houses looked enviously at the badgers, all sharing the same thought:
If only Wayne were in their house, then they wouldn't have to get drenched either.
On the pitch, the players' robes were already soaked through within minutes of the match starting, and they shivered violently from the cold.
At first, Lee Jordan enthusiastically listed off the Firebolt's specifications, earning repeated warnings from Professor McGonagall. But each time, he inevitably veered off-topic again—he simply adored that broom.
As the storm worsened, his commentary grew increasingly listless.
"Thank Merlin, it's not us playing today," Cedric remarked. He could barely make out the players on the pitch, only distinguishing them by their uniforms and builds.
Flying steadily in such weather was hard enough—catching the Golden Snitch would be nearly impossible.
"I can see just fine," Wayne said without blinking. "Harry and Malfoy are fighting."
"What?!"
BANG!
High above, red and green figures clashed—Harry's fist connected squarely with Malfoy's face.
Madam Hooch wouldn't notice their movements in this situation.
The two had completely forgotten their task of catching the Golden Snitch, their eyes only on each other.
Malfoy cried out in pain, grabbing Harry's hair wildly as a strong gust made their brooms sway violently. He immediately let go to steady himself.
"Potter! You damned orphan, how dare you hit me! I'll tell my father!"
"Shut it, Malfoy, no one can save you now!"
Harry had been bottling up rage since the term started, enduring Malfoy's constant taunts about the Dementors. Steadying himself, he charged at Malfoy again.
Just then, Madam Hooch's whistle blew. A flash of lightning revealed Wood waving frantically, signalling Harry to descend.
"I called a timeout!" Wood bellowed, leading the team under a large umbrella.
"What's the score?" Harry wiped sweat from his face, grateful Hermione had cast the Impervius Charm on his glasses.
"Eighty to ten, we're dominating." Wood punched the air. "But we can't keep this up, Harry. You must catch the Snitch."
"Got it!" Harry responded before they took to the skies again.
Malfoy approached once more, but this time Harry ignored him, scanning patiently for the Golden Snitch.
"Looking for Dementors, Potter?"
Even after countless defeats, Malfoy remained persistent. If Harry wouldn't engage, he'd force the interaction.
Their tussle continued as the sky darkened further.
Wayne looked up.
"Getting colder, isn't it?" Norman sneezed. Many young wizards shared the sentiment.
Another lightning flash revealed hundreds of hooded figures to sharp-eyed students.
"Look at the sky!" someone shrieked.
Hundreds of Dementors clustered together like storm clouds, advancing menacingly from afar.
"Why are Dementors here?" Astoria clung to Wayne's arm.
"Because everyone's too happy." Wayne narrowed his eyes. "Positive emotions are their sustenance. The Quidditch Pitch is a banquet to them."
"No way they'd resist."
Screams multiplied. Though distant, hundreds of Dementors amplified their aura's reach.
Fortunately, silver-white mist emerged from many students' badges, radiating warmth that dispelled the gloom.
The players weren't so lucky.
Many had bought protective badges but wore Quidditch robes instead of their usual attire.
Harry spotted both the Dementors and the Golden Snitch flashing in the downpour - right between him and Malfoy overhead.
"Potter! Your worst nightmare's here! Run along now!"
Malfoy's laughter carried as he accelerated towards the Snitch.
He also detested these creatures, but mocking Harry seemed to give him strength, lessening the Dementors' effect on him. His flying speed increased rather than decreased.
Fear could wait – beating Potter was what mattered most!
Harry bent forward mechanically, accelerating, his eyes narrowed to slits.
The same thought burned in his mind: even with Dementors present, he couldn't lose to Malfoy!
Lightning split the gloomy sky, briefly illuminating the scene as spectators saw both Seekers from opposing teams unexpectedly surging forward, converging from different directions towards the high-flying Golden Snitch.
"Faster! Go faster! You can do it, Harry!"
Wood roared excitedly from below. In the stands, Gryffindor and Slytherin students cheered wildly for their respective champions.
The surge of intense emotions proved too much. The Dementors hovering high above could no longer resist the tantalising 'feast', descending rapidly towards the pitch.
"Harry!"
"Malfoy!"
Both Seekers stretched out their arms as the golden streak vanished between them.
The next instant, Malfoy let out an enraged shout, diving downward without hesitation while Harry's face broke into a victor's smile.
Then icy tendrils of dread seeped into Harry's bones. His mind filled with static – a woman's pleading voice and high-pitched laughter echoing through his skull.
Darkness swallowed Harry's vision as his fingers loosened on the broomstick.
"Merlin's beard!"
"He's falling! Someone help him!"
Chaos erupted across the Quidditch pitch, screams and shouts overlapping in pandemonium.
Professor McGonagall sprang to her feet, wand drawn, her eyes blazing with fury.
The Dementors pursued relentlessly, drifting closer to the stands where feeble silver lights could no longer curb their hunger.
"About time."
Wayne stood, raising his arm high into the sky.
"Aresto Momentum!"
Harry's plummet slowed abruptly. Wayne's gaze had already shifted elsewhere, starlight glimmering in his eyes.
The bait had worked. Now...
Time for slaughter.
"Expecto Patronum!"