Due to Sirius Black's situation, the castle had undergone two large-scale searches.
Filch sealed all the secret passages he'd discovered.
This caused significant inconvenience for many young wizards who enjoyed nighttime excursions.
But with the Marauder's Map in hand, Wayne could still find several passages leading outside the castle. He'd shared these with the girls, so they remained unaffected.
Late at night, passing Hagrid's hut, Wayne reached the Forbidden Forest's edge where Penelope waited on a tree stump.
Their meeting began with an enthusiastic embrace.
Inhaling her floral scent, Wayne nodded solemnly. "This feels rather clandestine."
Penelope gave the boy a coquettish look. "I don't feel that way at all. If someone were a few years older, perhaps it might."
"Then you'll have to wait a few years – I promise it'll be worth it."
The prefect covered her mouth, laughing softly.
Truthfully, Wayne's physique was already impressive – nearly six feet tall with handsome features that let him blend in seamlessly with the fifth and sixth years.
But knowing his real age gave Penelope a lingering sense of guilt.
Am I robbing the cradle?
Though remembering Nagini... she felt slightly better.
"Why the urgent summons?" Wayne asked.
As the snowstorm intensified around them, he conjured a gust to clear the snow and erected a barrier to muffle the noise.
"I'm thinking of not returning to school next year. What do you think?" Penelope said quietly.
"Not coming back?" Wayne showed brief surprise before understanding. "For an internship?"
"Exactly," Penelope confirmed.
"That's great. Would you like me to help arrange an internship for you? Or were you planning to return to the Firebolt boutique?"
By the seventh year at Hogwarts, students had generally learned all they could, with most of the academic year devoted to revision and preparing for the final NEWTs exams.
It wasn't uncommon for exceptional students who'd secured post-graduation employment to apply for internships beforehand. Wayne had once heard Cedric mention a particularly talented Hufflepuff prefect who'd been recruited by the Auror Office in her sixth year for specialised training.
Come seventh year, however - since Aurors required at least an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Potions - she'd been forced to return to Snape's classroom, a situation that nearly drove her mad.
"Do you really not want to see me?" The prefect gave the boy a mournful look.
Women's emotions could be perplexing. Though she'd wanted Wayne to support her decision, his immediate agreement had inexplicably stirred resentment.
"Of course not." Wayne pulled her into an embrace. "If you stayed at school, you'd probably be elected Head Girl next term. Between that and Astoria's crowd, I wouldn't have much time for you anyway."
"Wouldn't it be better this way? I'll visit during the holidays. The distance would keep things fresh, don't you think?"
With Penelope, Wayne made no pretence about his roguish tendencies - an unspoken understanding between them. Aside from Nagini, she likely knew him better than anyone.
"Silver-tongued devil." The prefect rolled her eyes, letting the matter drop. Upon reflection, his proposal did carry a certain thrill.
"I don't want to intern at the Firebolt boutique anymore," Penelope murmured against Wayne's chest. "There's too little meaningful work there - no real challenge."
With Firebolt being a monopoly product, her role differed little from any shop assistant. Having absorbed all there was to learn, she'd lost interest.
"Is that so..." Wayne pondered briefly. "What about the Ministry? You could intern in the Department of Magical Transportation or International Magical Cooperation."
"Never mind International Cooperation."
Considering Percy Weasley would later work there, coupled with Mr Crouch's notoriously stern disposition, he deemed the Greengrass matriarch's department preferable.
"I'll take your advice - Magical Transportation then," Penelope acquiesced softly.
Most would consider Ministry employment itself a privilege, let alone the luxury of choosing departments. Magical Transportation was particularly coveted.
"I'll approach Professor Flitwick next week about internship approval."
"Mmm."
Wayne toyed with Penelope's pale fingers. "Don't neglect your magical studies, even while working. I'll be checking your progress regularly."
Penelope nodded earnestly. "I understand. Competence is fundamental."
Before meeting Wayne, she'd never truly appreciated this perspective.
If anything, she'd believed blood status dictated one's standing in wizarding society - that Muggle-borns, however free from overt discrimination, would never advance beyond certain limits.
Look at the current upper echelons of the Ministry of Magic. Fudge may not be from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but he's still pure-blood.
The Weasley Family, the Crouch Family, the Bones Family, the Greengrass Family...
These people still occupy the most privileged resources.
Yet the boy before her, the one she idolised, had shattered her preconceptions step by step.
So what if he was Muggle-born?
He still earned the recognition of professors and the Headmaster. Every Head of House maintained an equal stance when speaking with Wayne—even Dumbledore was no exception.
Didn't Slytherin preach pure-blood supremacy?
But who would dare claim their lineage was superior to Wayne's in his presence?
Since signing the contract with the Round Table, Penelope had clearly felt tremendous improvement in every aspect of herself.
She knew she could never reach Wayne's level, but at the very least, she would become stronger than most pure-bloods. Only then could she properly humiliate them.
After lingering together a while longer, Wayne finally had Gardevoir teleport them back.
If it weren't for the trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow, they probably wouldn't have needed to return tonight.
...
The next day.
As if aware it was visiting day, the snowstorm outside had obligingly lessened.
Third-years and above bundled themselves up tightly, stepping cheerfully out of the castle under the envious gazes of first and second-year "beansprouts".
Astoria had pestered Wayne all morning, begging him to take her along, only to be mercilessly rebuffed.
He was already stretched thin accompanying Cho and Hermione today – no energy left to mind a mischievous child.
Walking along the country lane, Hermione was complaining to Wayne about how Crookshanks had become increasingly difficult to find lately.
Despite being her pet, she felt almost no involvement in its care.
When hungry, it sought out Wayne. Once fed, it would disappear for days on end.
Even petting required the feline's royal approval.
Recently, matters had worsened – Hermione hadn't seen her cat for a whole week.
Though Wayne knew exactly what kept Crookshanks occupied.
The cat had befriended Sirius Black, frequenting the Shrieking Shack regularly.
Not far behind the trio, Norman and Toby had mysteriously gathered a crowd of young badgers.
"I'm telling you, last Hogsmeade visit we met this huge black dog – unbelievably clever!"
"How clever could it be?" Hannah scoffed.
"Does backflips! Hunts rats! Follows commands! Ask Wayne – he fed it loads of treats!"
Toby invoked Wayne's name for credibility.
Now everyone was interested.
Norman declared loudly, "Whoever spots that dog must tell us immediately! This time we're fully prepared – we'll make it pee on command!"
From his backpack emerged a steaming bag.
Inside were steaks procured from the kitchens via house-elves before departure – mouthwateringly tempting.
Such thorough preparation convinced the badgers, who promised to keep watch.
Many others resolved to test the dog's famed intelligence.
As Hufflepuffs, carrying emergency snacks was fundamental. Last time, Toby and Norman's supplies had simply run out before encountering the dog.
Thirty minutes later.
The trio reached Hogsmeade.
With Christmas approaching, the wizarding village had transformed. Thatch-roofed cottages and shops wore thick snow blankets, every door adorned with holly wreaths.
Evergreen trees decorated with enchanted candles and baubles stood outside shops, tiny gift boxes dangling from branches for free collection by passing customers.
Wayne's contained a chocolate ball, Hermione's a sweet, and Cho's a silvery orb.
Though Boxing Day remained weeks away, with this being the students' final village visit this term, shops offered substantial discounts.
Many proprietors puzzled over a curious trend.
For two years now, students' purchasing power has plummeted.
Had parental allowances diminished?
Gazing at the sea of red discount signs lining the streets, Cho and Hermione's shopping urges were thoroughly ignited.
Wayne became their little follower, trailing after them as they darted in and out of various shops.
Hermione spent the most at a small bookshop, while Cho splurged her galleons at the apothecary, which had launched a new line of skincare products.
Though there might be no one in this world with better potion-making skills than Wayne.
Yet if there was even a sliver of hope to become more beautiful, Cho was willing to give it a try.
After two and a half hours, Hermione and Cho finally began to feel weary, their cheeks flushed pink from the cold as they walked along the bustling street.
"Let's find somewhere to sit and have a meal," Cho suggested.
"How about the Three Broomsticks?" Hermione tucked her hands into Wayne's larger ones for warmth. "We didn't get to go last time."
"Sounds good," Wayne nodded. "After all, three people at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop would be rather inappropriate."
Both girls rolled their eyes at him in unison.
The trio arrived at the Three Broomsticks. It was still relatively early, so the place wasn't too crowded, with nearly half the seats empty.
Madam Rosmerta was chatting with a wizard behind the bar. Her graceful figure and alluring demeanour were complemented by skin that defied the typical ageing of Western women her age.
Spotting Wayne, Madam Rosmerta's eyes lit up, and she beckoned him over enthusiastically.
"Little Wayne, come sit by your sister here."
With no choice, Wayne led the girls over.
Hermione gritted her teeth and whispered, "You're quite familiar with the landlady?"
"I'm a VIP customer," Wayne replied impassively. "The kind with a membership card."
"You have a card for a pub?" Hermione was even more speechless.
Last time, they'd received special treatment at Honeydukes. Now it seemed the Three Broomsticks was no exception.
Cho stifled a giggle beside them. "He deposited five hundred galleons here last year. No idea how much is left."
"Probably almost gone by now," Wayne tilted his head thoughtfully.
"That fast?" Cho looked surprised.
"Well, we are badgers," Wayne said cryptically.
As Hufflepuffs, late-night snacks were practically a tradition.
And what's a midnight feast without drinks?
Thus, the Three Broomsticks' butterbeer became the obvious choice.
Wayne never ate alone, often treating his roommates and other young badgers, which quickly ran up the tab.
Occasionally, he'd buy proper alcoholic beverages too, though he only shared those with Cedric, never the younger students.
Before Wayne could even speak after they'd settled in, Madam Rosmerta brought over a butterbeer and placed it before him with a smile:
"On the house. Order whatever else you fancy."
"By the way, why didn't you come during the last open day?"
Wayne handed the menu to the girls. "Took my girlfriend to Madam Puddifoot's instead."
Madam Rosmerta arched an eyebrow, giving the girls beside him an amused look before smiling wordlessly.
They ordered some light snacks and drinks. As they waited, the pub gradually filled with more patrons.
"Wayne!" Harry and Ron called out, with Neville also coming over when they spotted Wayne.
"How are you finding it?" Wayne asked with a smile.
"Brilliant," Harry replied cheerfully. "Just as interesting as Diagon Alley."
"Well, we can chat more later. You'd better find seats quickly – it'll be packed soon."
After just a few words, Harry and the others left, making their way to the fireplace where they were partially obscured by a Christmas tree.
A sudden chilly breeze swept in as the door opened again.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick entered, dusted with snowflakes, followed by the towering figure of Hagrid, who was engaged in animated conversation with another man.
Many in the bar recognised the man and greeted him warmly.
"Minister Fudge."
"Good evening, Minister Fudge."
Fudge smiled and acknowledged each greeting, scanning the room. At the bar, several Aurors who had just finished their meals exchanged a few words with him before departing.
The professors and Fudge soon noticed Wayne and his companions and approached.
"Oh, it's brilliant ter see yeh, Wayne!" Hagrid boomed enthusiastically, attempting to sit beside Wayne, but Fudge beat him to it.
"Mr Lawrence, what a delightful coincidence running into you here," Fudge said, his smile more effusive than usual.
"Good evening, Minister," Wayne nodded politely, also greeting the other two professors.
Professor McGonagall glanced at the drinks in front of the trio and finally allowed herself a satisfied smile.
"You're far more sensible than the Weasleys. Last time I saw them here, they ordered a huge glass of Firewhisky. I was absolutely livid."
In this context, 'the Weasleys' could only refer to the twins.
"Now, Minerva, you can't blame me for that. If I refused to serve those two, I might as well close up shop," Madam Rosmerta interjected dramatically.
It was clear the two women were on good terms. Anyone else selling alcohol to underage wizards would have earned Professor McGonagall's wrath long ago.
The group soon placed their orders, with Fudge even inviting Madam Rosmerta to join them for a chat once she'd fetched their drinks.
The landlady happily agreed.
Wayne had no intention of getting drawn into the adults' idle chatter. After exchanging a few words with Hagrid, he planned to finish his meal and leave.
But Fudge wasn't about to let him slip away, persistently engaging him in conversation.