Lupin had underestimated just how notorious Wayne had become among Dementor circles.
Three times. Three whole times!
The first two instances were manageable – he'd merely beaten them up. But the third time? He'd nearly wiped them out entirely!
Amid Wayne's indignant muttering, he was 'escorted' out of the Great Hall, with Hermione and Cho doubled over in laughter.
What Lupin hadn't anticipated was that when he reopened the trunk, the Dementor inside absolutely refused to come out.
Thus, the open class ended in an anticlimactic whimper.
No one had predicted this turn of events.
Still, it wasn't without its lessons. At the very least, everyone now understood the Patronus Charm's formidable difficulty – incomparable to any spell they'd learned before.
Even the Weasley twins, who'd initially preened over being the first to successfully cast a Patronus, sobered up quickly.
Conjuring a Patronus alone was entirely different from facing a Dementor. Under that soul-sucking despair where all happiness drained away, they couldn't summon a single joyful memory.
...
In the following days, a Patronus Charm craze swept through the castle.
Everywhere you went, young wizards could be heard reciting incantations, driving Filch into such a rage that he patrolled the corridors daily, catching rule-breakers and doling out day-long detentions on the spot.
Due to popular demand, Professor Lupin's open classes became a fortnightly fixture.
Harry sought Lupin privately, hoping to confront his Dementor-induced terror head-on.
Instead, his fear intensified. He fainted outright, requiring two large chocolate bars to recover upon waking.
Baffled by others' milder reactions, Harry approached Wayne.
"Because your past is... particularly grim," Wayne said between bites of bread. "When ordinary people have their happiness sucked out, they just feel chest tightness, depression, or recall trivial unpleasantries."
"But you..." Wayne studied him. "You saw Voldemort, didn't you?"
"I..." Harry stared at his shoes. "I saw my mum begging Voldemort to spare me. Dad tried holding him off so we could escape... but failed."
Wayne gave a sympathetic shoulder pat. "There's your root problem."
"Mastering the Patronus requires more concentrated joy and firmer conviction from you than most. Hence the greater difficulty."
"The upside? Once mastered, your Patronus will far surpass ordinary wizards'."
"Keep at it, Harry."
Harry met his gaze. "How much for a crash course?"
He knew Wayne too well... where galleons paved the way, nothing was impossible.
"That's no small sum," Wayne shook his head. "Beyond your current means."
He could teach Harry the simplified Meditation Technique. Mastering it wouldn't just accelerate Patronus learning – Occlumency and general spellwork would improve dramatically.
Unwavering focus and mental discipline were spellcasting cornerstones, the very foundation sustaining pure-blood dynasties through generations.
Harry trudged away, dejected.
He loathed his own weakness, and... poverty.
If only he had enough money, he could have been many times stronger than he was now—why fear Dementors then?
Wayne finished his breakfast unhurriedly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the table.
At the Ravenclaw table, words appeared on Luna's plate.
"Meet me after class. The usual place."
Luna blinked, and the words vanished.
In the afternoon, after History of Magic, Ginny and Luna left the classroom together.
"Fancy a walk by the Black Lake?" Ginny asked. "It's starting to freeze over—we could go skating."
"Not today, Ginny," Luna shook her head. "I've got something to do. Maybe another time."
"Alright," Ginny replied dejectedly.
She watched Luna hurry away, suspicion gnawing at her.
Was her best friend seeing someone? Lately, Luna had been turning down her invitations more often and disappearing without explanation.
...
Inside the suitcase world, in a dimly lit basement.
Wayne bustled about preparing for his work while Luna sat quietly on a small chair, watching him.
After a while, Wayne approached with a vial of potion.
"Drink this. It'll protect your mind."
Without hesitation, Luna downed it in one gulp, her face scrunching up.
"So bitter."
"That's normal. It's got runespoor bile in it—if it weren't bitter, I'd be worried."
"Couldn't you add some sugar?" Luna's tone held more emotion around Wayne, carrying a hint of complaint.
Perhaps only in their peculiar relationship could she show glimpses of being an ordinary girl.
After all, no twelve-year-old could remain unaffected after being marked as someone else's property.
"Who's the Potions Master here, you or me?" Wayne said with mock seriousness. "Sugar might affect the efficacy. This is for your own good."
He'd never admit to the blonde that his real amusement came from watching Luna's varied expressions.
Had Astoria been present, she'd have recognised the pattern immediately.
Wasn't this exactly how she'd been when she first met Wayne last year?
Endlessly tormented by this scoundrel.
After closing her eyes to recover for a moment, Luna looked up at the boy with wide eyes:
"Are you starting another experiment?"
"Correct." Wayne took her hand and led her to the bed.
"Trust me, this time it'll work."
"I hope so," the girl murmured, lying down willingly.
Since becoming Wayne's possession, she'd frequently been subjected to his experiments. The boy seemed endlessly fascinated by her body, constantly seeking ways to... penetrate it.
The ordeal had left her thoroughly exhausted.
Knowing resistance was futile, Luna could only endure silently.
"Stay still. Don't resist at all, understand?"
"Understood."
Luna closed her eyes as she replied.
Wayne began chanting softly. Suddenly, a dark beam shot from his wand tip into the girl's forehead.
Luna felt as if her mind were being violently squeezed, but she remembered Wayne's instructions, suppressing her instinct to fight back as the overwhelming force invaded.
The sensation was unbearable—like being the rightful owner of a house, only for Wayne to barge in, shove her into a corner to tremble helplessly, while he claimed the space as his own.
Several minutes later, 'Luna' slowly opened her eyes.
Gazing at the utterly unchanged world before him, a flicker of disappointment flashed through his eyes.
"Still failed, then?"
"You said it would definitely work this time?" A timid voice echoed in his mind.
'Luna's' mouth twitched. Straightening up, she got out of bed and paced about, forcibly justifying,
"Half-success counts, doesn't it? These sensations are completely real. Your body has become mine now."
As she spoke, her hands wandered upwards.
"St-stop moving!" The real Luna, having lost control of her body, could only let out a startled cry, utterly powerless.
"Tch, not much difference from mine anyway," 'Luna' scoffed. "Eat more and drink more milk from now on, got it?"
"I understand."
Luna felt deeply wronged. Who did Wayne think he was, bullying people like this? Taking advantage yet still finding faults.
Indeed, the consciousness currently controlling Luna's body belonged to none other than Wayne.
After discovering the girl's peculiarities, Wayne had grown intensely curious – what did the world look like through Luna's perspective?
Inspired by Voldemort's possession of Quirrell, he'd studied several Dark Magic techniques in an attempt to hijack Luna's body.
Theoretically, he'd succeeded.
The body was now entirely under his control, capable of anything he desired.
Yet his visual perception remained unchanged, as he was still using his own mental energy.
Would he only uncover her secrets after soul fusion?
"You're thinking dangerous thoughts again."
"Bloody hell..." Wayne shook his head and withdrew from Luna's body.
The girl swayed slightly, dizzy, but having taken mind-protecting potions beforehand, she recovered quickly.
"What do you need me to do next?"
"Leave it at this for now. I don't plan to study you further recently." Wayne exited the basement with Luna trailing behind.
Any matter involving souls became troublesome – Horcruxes being a prime example.
Hmm?
Wayne suddenly halted mid-step.
Hadn't he promised Crouch to help locate one of Voldemort's Horcruxes?
The term was nearly over, yet he'd completely forgotten. Good thing he remembered now.
Before leaving school, he needed to secure Ravenclaw's Diadem.
Moreover, it was time to discuss Horcrux ownership with Dumbledore.
Voldemort had a particularly covert hobby – collecting trophies and artefacts of special significance.
Thus, the items he chose for Horcruxes held immense collectable value.
The Resurrection Stone, Slytherin's Locket, Hufflepuff's Cup...
It seemed such a waste for these to be destroyed one by one by Harry and his lot, as in the original timeline.
Far better for him to preserve them – perhaps even organise an exhibition later to swindle some pocket money from young wizards.
As Wayne pondered, Luna stood quietly behind him, never interrupting.
The girl was frightfully clever, always making the most prudent choices. When Wayne finally snapped out of his thoughts, he'd lost track of time.
They dined together that evening. Under his supervision, Luna ate twice her usual portion and drank a glass of milk.
"Maintain this portion size from now on, understood?"
"Also, eat more meat. Don't just stare at those lettuce leaves and carrots all day—you're not a rabbit."
Thin and scrawny, rough and unappealing—the current Luna held little interest for him.
Since she was his possession, she ought to be properly refined and shaped into her most beautiful form.
After dinner, considering how well-behaved Luna had been recently, Wayne generously said:
"Any spell you want to learn, or any magical creature you'd like – just name your request."
Luna tilted her head. "I want a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."
Wayne's mouth twitched. "Name something that actually exists."
"But Crumple-Horned Snorkacks do exist," Luna countered earnestly. "Dad says they originate from Sweden."
"Tell you what," Wayne said, meeting the girl's stubborn gaze as an idea struck him.
"I'll sponsor Mr Lovegood's expedition to Sweden to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. There'll be a bonus if he succeeds. How does that sound?"
Luna shook her head. "Dad couldn't handle it alone."
The girl instinctively felt that if she agreed, her father would face terrible misfortune...
In the end, she changed her wish to learning the Patronus Charm.
"That's simple enough," Wayne clapped his hands, and the leftover food vanished from the table.
He took Luna to the lakeside. Even as snow began falling in the outside world, here it remained perpetually spring-like, utterly refreshing.
"Show me your attempt first," Wayne instructed.
Luna drew her wand and conjured a wisp of mist, which immediately dissipated in the gentle breeze.
Barely beginner-level, but no matter – he had special teaching methods.
Wayne placed a hand on her shoulder, silvery light transferring into the girl's body. Luna instantly felt different, her spirits lifting noticeably.
"Try again now."
Luna nodded softly.
"Expecto Patronum!"
This time, the mist coalesced into threads. Though still far from fully formed, the progress was remarkable.
"Remember this feeling. I'll guide you weekly – you'll master it soon."
"Thank you," Luna blinked her large eyes.
Wayne smiled without reply.
...
December brought several days of heavy snowfall to Hogwarts.
People gradually forgot the Dementors' unpleasantness, with many seen having snowball fights on the grounds or skating on the Black Lake.
With two weeks until the term ended, fewer than ten students remained for the Christmas holidays – Harry being the only Gryffindor staying.
Neville hadn't planned to return either, but the day after submitting his stay request, his grandmother sent a Howler.
Every Christmas, Neville visited his parents at St Mungo's – his grandmother wouldn't hear of him skipping this year.
He'd probably get a thrashing when he returned.
Wayne watched sympathetically. At least this proved his prophetic talents weren't bad, right?
He kindly provided a vial of wound-healing potion, moving Neville to tears.
The term's second Hogsmeade visit was scheduled for the last weekend before the holidays.
Professor McGonagall initially wanted to keep Harry at school, but Dumbledore overruled her.
"Minerva, with you all present and an entire Auror squad, Black wouldn't be foolish enough to appear. Harry will be perfectly safe."
"Under these circumstances, we shouldn't restrict students' freedom."
After consideration, Professor McGonagall reluctantly agreed.
Harry had been so excited these days that he couldn't focus properly on training, his mind filled with thoughts of the fascinating shops in Hogsmeade.
...
"Sss..."
"Why is this so spicy?!"
At the feast the night before the Hogsmeade trip, Norman stuck out his tongue, gulping down his lemon water in one go, yet his lips still burned fiercely.
Unnoticed by most, a spicy food trend had quietly taken hold at Hogwarts.
The British actually had a tradition of eating spicy food – popular curries, Mexican dishes with their heat, and various styles of hot sauces.
But recently, the dishes had adopted a numbing-spicy flavour profile, far more direct than the spice masked by other seasonings, leaving many unable to handle it.
"If it's too spicy, just don't eat it," Wayne said, watching Norman and Toby devour chicken wings while complaining about the heat, utterly exasperated.
Their lips were swollen like sausages.
"Because it's delicious," Norman mumbled through a full mouth, still grabbing more wings for his plate. "The school's finally developed new dishes – gotta eat more."
Many young wizards shared their sentiment, persisting through the burning sensation with loud exclamations.
Wayne couldn't help glancing at old Dumbledore at the head table, convinced the headmaster was the root cause of this culinary upheaval.
After dinner, as Wayne headed back to the common room, Penelope secretly passed him a note.
"Midnight, the forest edge. I'll be waiting."