Approaching the familiar troll tapestry, Wayne began pacing in circles, mentally repeating: "I need a place to hide things."
On his third pass, a smooth door materialised abruptly.
Wayne entered, closing it behind him.
Silence enveloped the cavernous space, as vast as the Great Hall with ceilings stretching beyond sight. Before him stood towering walls formed from centuries of abandoned student 'legacies'.
Mouldering textbooks, broken broomsticks, rusted axes...
Nearly a millennium's worth of bizarre artefacts accumulated here – if you could imagine it, you'd find it here.
Wayne even discovered a thoroughly rusted toilet.
He couldn't fathom why anyone would bring or abandon a toilet here. What sane person brought plumbing to school? And if it was school property, why discard it here?
Rather than immediately searching for the diadem, Wayne flicked his wand, sifting through the debris for hidden treasures.
The first Comet broomstick model – mildly collectable.
Last century's Chocolate Frog... featuring an unfamiliar wizard on the card – somewhat valuable.
A wooden ten-pin bowling set – utter rubbish.
Amidst the clutter, books and notebooks dominated. Many items radiated faint Dark Magic signatures – not potent enough to kill, but certainly capable of sickening anyone who handled them.
"So many troublemakers," he mused.
Yet decent finds existed too – like an animated edition of Don Juan, which Wayne solemnly pocketed for... academic review.
After thirty minutes of fruitless searching, the teenager's patience waned. With a wand flourish, he separated keepers from junk.
Venturing deeper past pretentious dwarf statues and rubbish mounds, Wayne left magical markers to avoid retracing steps.
This labyrinthine space concealed the diadem in some forgotten corner. Even knowing its approximate location proved challenging.
Finally taking flight, Wayne's aerial perspective revealed his target – a blistered old display case topped with a hideous wizard bust wearing a tarnished, feminine-styled crown.
The very likeness of Salazar Slytherin himself, identical to the statue in the Chamber of Secrets.
Despite being so ugly, Slytherin had an inexplicable confidence, leaving his statues everywhere—even in the Slytherin Common Room—without worrying about scaring young wizards.
The Diadem floated into the air, spinning in circles around Wayne.
Along its lower edge was inscribed Ravenclaw's most famous motto: "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
Though Wayne was a kind-hearted Hufflepuff, he still considered this saying an undeniable truth.
Compared to Gryffindor's sword, the Diadem appeared far more worn, its surface dotted with rust spots.
This was due to their vastly different preservation histories.
Gryffindor's sword had lain untouched inside the Sorting Hat for a millennium, kept in pristine condition, while Ravenclaw's Diadem had endured a far more turbulent journey.
Legend claimed the Diadem could enhance the wearer's wisdom, granting unparalleled intellect—though no surviving records detailed its actual effects.
In her quest to match her mother's brilliance, Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena, stole the Diadem and fled to the forests of Albania. The Bloody Baron pursued her there and killed her.
From then on, Ravenclaw's Diadem was lost for nearly a thousand years.
It wasn't until the young scoundrel Tom Riddle gained the trust of Helena's ghost, the Grey Lady, that the Diadem was recovered—only to be turned into a Horcrux.
After Tom became Voldemort, he returned to Hogwarts, spoke with Dumbledore, and ultimately hid the Diadem in the Room of Requirement.
Voldemort believed no one could uncover the room's secrets, considering it the perfect hiding place for a Horcrux. So confident was he that he didn't even bother with protective enchantments.
At this, Wayne could only sigh...
Had splitting his soul so many times completely fried his brain?
Mate, just look at all the junk in here.
The fact that so many people used this place as a dumping ground proved that countless students had discovered it long before him—even Dumbledore had apparently used it as a toilet.
What possessed you to leave your lifeline lying around like this?
Still, despite knowing the Diadem lacked protections, Wayne didn't dare touch it carelessly.
Dumbledore's fate was a stark warning. One might think Voldemort was an idiot, but no one could doubt his mastery of Dark Magic. What if there were hidden traps, ones never revealed in the original timeline?
He wouldn't take unnecessary risks.
Currently, only three methods are known to destroy Horcruxes.
First, Basilisk venom—or Gryffindor's sword, having absorbed Basilisk blood. These counted as one category.
Second, Fiendfyre, a cursed Dark Magic flame that consumed all physical matter and could sear souls.
Third, the creators themselves—though Wayne wasn't sure about this. Perhaps the Killing Curse would suffice.
The first two methods were easily within Wayne's reach, but he refused to use them.
Whether the wisdom-enhancing properties were real or effective didn't matter; as Ravenclaw's relic, the Diadem deserved preservation.
He needed a way to purge the soul fragment without damaging the Diadem.
Ideally, he'd extract the fragment and have some fun with Voldemort's soul.
"If we could recreate another Tom... that would be hilarious."
Taking out a pre-prepared dragon-hide pouch designed to block spells, Wayne placed the Ravenclaw's Diadem inside. Glancing down at the ugly Slytherin statue, a flicker of disdain passed through his eyes.
With a casual Vanishing Spell, he reduced the statue to nothingness before flying out of the Room of Requirement.
...
Due to the open day event, the usual Saturday remedial class had been moved to Sunday.
At lunch, Ron had excused Harry again, so that evening, only Malfoy turned up for the lesson.
Wayne had expected him to be delighted, perhaps even mocking Harry in passing.
Yet upon learning Harry couldn't attend, Malfoy actually clicked his tongue in disappointment, showing no enthusiasm even for learning new spells.
Harry only reappeared at Monday lunchtime, having missed both Divination and Transfiguration that morning.
"Can you give me a make-up lesson today?"
Astoria, sitting beside Wayne, kept sneaking glances at Harry.
The wealthy young girl noticed Potter seemed different today – gone was his usual simple-minded demeanour, replaced by something darker, almost Slytherin-like.
"No problem," Wayne agreed. "Same classroom after dinner then."
Harry thanked him and left.
"What's wrong with Potter?" Astoria asked curiously.
"Hmm..." Wayne pondered for two seconds. "I suppose you could call it... a blackening?"
"A blackening? Does that mean he's become much stronger?" Astoria gasped, remembering Wayne's frequent sayings about how redemption weakens characters while corruption empowers them.
Would she lose to Potter now?
"That's proper corruption," Wayne chuckled, ruffling the rich girl's hair. "Potter's just having an episode. He'll probably be back to normal after the holidays."
"Oh," Astoria nodded, only half understanding.
...
That evening, Harry arrived early at the classroom. When Wayne appeared, he immediately said:
"I want to duel you."
"Alright," Wayne agreed readily.
Harry drew his wand, gave a warning, then fired off a spell – making Wayne nod almost imperceptibly.
Non-verbal spellcasting, decent speed. Harry's talent was genuinely impressive.
Wayne deftly deflected the spell, understanding what Harry needed, and unusually took the initiative to attack.
He stuck to common wizarding spells, though, keeping the intensity at Harry's level.
Having trained for over a year – weekly duels with Malfoy, occasional sessions as Astoria's sparring partner – Harry had developed considerable combat experience and sharp instincts.
He lasted a full minute before being thoroughly bound by ropes transfigured from chairs.
Harry wasn't surprised by his loss. "Do you think I can beat Black?" he asked urgently.
Wayne chose honesty. "If Black's unarmed, you'd win easily. With a wand and in good condition? You're still poor by comparison."
Sirius was, after all, an enthusiastic duelist with decent skills.
Having survived multiple life-or-death fights with Death Eaters, even years in Azkaban hadn't eroded his abilities enough for the current Harry to match.
"I heard the conversation that day." Harry stared straight into Wayne's eyes. "I want to catch him myself, kill him. Wayne, help me get stronger."
"Don't say that." Wayne offered 'insincere' comfort: "Maybe one day you'll let him go with your own hands."
Harry scoffed. "If that day ever comes, you can have all the gold in my vault."
Click!
"What was that sound?" Harry froze.
"Nothing," Wayne said vaguely, pulling out a metal plate. "Just recording some evidence."
At some point, he'd developed a fondness for recording things.
Recently, he'd even been developing magical video recording equipment, preparing for a technological upgrade.
Harry looked at his serious expression and suddenly choked, his emotional momentum disrupted.
...
The final week before the holidays passed quickly. When Potions class ended, even though Snape hadn't left yet, the students couldn't help cheering.
That evening's feast was exceptionally lavish, with all teachers in attendance.
Dumbledore raised his glass in a toast to the entire school. Professor McGonagall wore a rare smile as the Great Hall buzzed with a joyous atmosphere.
After the feast concluded and the plates emptied themselves, Dumbledore stood again to announce:
"Next, we shall hold the second annual Hufflepuff Culinary Championship here. Interested students may stay to watch."
"What's that?" George called out loudly. "I've never heard of such a competition in Hufflepuff."
"You should ask Mr Lawrence." Dumbledore chuckled. "It was his impromptu creation last year, also held the day before holidays, and tremendously successful."
He briefly explained the rules to curious students, many of whom chose to stay, finding the concept intriguing.
"Truly brilliant creativity." George sat down marvelling. "Fred, we can't fall behind. What competition would suit Gryffindor?"
"How about a Prank Championship?" Fred grinned mischievously.
"Don't even think about mischief," Percy warned darkly. "If you two mess around, I'll tell Mum."
George affected exaggerated mockery. "Oh, who knew our Head Boy was still tied to Mummy's apron strings?"
The little lions burst into laughter, leaving Percy red-faced and practically steaming with anger.
It wasn't just the twins either. Seeing Hufflepuff host such an interesting event, many students began wondering what their own houses could do.
Ravenclaw could hold a quiz competition, while Slytherin... perhaps a contest of who had the noblest bloodline?
Neither sounded as fun as Hufflepuff's idea.
...
The competition began swiftly. Earlier, Hufflepuff had already held preliminary rounds, selecting ten finalists.
To Wayne's surprise, Rolf had actually made it through the selection, his cooking proving quite decent.
"I often help Grandpa prepare food for magical creatures. Human food... can't be that different, right?"
After hearing this, Wayne fell silent for two seconds and decided never to eat anything Rolf made again.
Otherwise, he'd feel like livestock.
Cedric had come fully prepared this year, determined to redeem himself after last year's humiliation.
He'd played it safe with steak during preliminaries, but for the finals, he stubbornly brought out his beloved stargazy pie again.
When those lifeless fish eyes stared up at him, Snape's face turned green, memories of last year's traumatic experience flooding back.
"Don't worry, Professor," Cedric said confidently. "I tasted it before serving. Got the seasoning right this time."
Snape didn't move until others had taken their bites first. The flavour was... acceptable at first, but after a few mouthfuls, the overwhelming fishiness combined with cloying cream became unbearable.
The bizarre flavour combination left Snape's expression still decidedly grim.
Ultimately, the dish's appearance and peculiar taste landed Cedric in last place, dealing a heavy blow to his confidence.
First place went to little chef Hannah once more. The Iron Hat Princess's skills kept improving - Wayne had been sneaking extra portions from her all term, making her victory well-deserved.
Second place went to a fifth-year girl, with Rolf taking third.
As the results were announced, thunderous applause filled the Great Hall. Beaming with joy, Hannah shared her extra dishes with fellow students.
Wayne presented this year's prizes too.
Hannah received a protective artefact, while the second-place winner got a hundred Galleon voucher for Celia Store, valid both at school and the Diagon Alley branch.
For Rolf, Wayne promised to procure a pair of Fwoopers.
With the competition over, everyone returned contentedly to their common rooms, ready for the approaching holidays.
Wayne, however, intercepted Dumbledore in the corridor.
"Professor, have you reached a decision about that matter?"
The old wizard had possessed the Holy Grail for some time now, yet remained undecided.
Wayne needed an answer before the term ended.
Organising a seven-school tournament would be a massive undertaking - waiting until next term would leave things dangerously rushed.
"Let's discuss this in my office."
Dumbledore glanced at passing students and spoke softly.
Nodding, Wayne followed behind him.
At the gargoyle, Dumbledore gave the password.
"Mapo tofu."
Wayne's mouth twitched.
"Professor, that password..."
"Newly set. Rather good, don't you think?" Dumbledore said cheerfully.
"I've been reading some Muggle books recently and discovered that spiciness is actually a form of pain perception. To be honest, I've grown quite fond of that sensation..."
"Especially when drinking rich honey water after eating spicy food. It's truly enjoyable."
Wayne silently took two steps back.
All he wanted to ask was...
How can your hundred-year-old stomach handle this?