Two vials of Ho-Oh's tears and a pouch of phoenix ashes. Wayne even gave Snape a 10-year bottle of the Elixir of Life.
Seeing Wayne so generous for the first time, the old bat felt rather unsettled. In an unprecedented gesture of gratitude, he actually saw Wayne to the door.
Is this the intimidating power of being a supplier... daddy?
...
The school term began again. Students who'd run wild all holiday boarded the Hogwarts Express, bound for the Scottish Highlands.
Having learned from last time, no foolish Dementors stopped the train for inspections this journey.
By evening, the train arrived without incident.
Treading through snow, the students entered the castle, enjoyed a lavish feast, then followed their respective house Prefects back to common rooms.
The moment they returned, the previously chattering badgers perked up immediately.
"Third-year Transfiguration notes! Will trade for Defence Against the Dark Arts, anyone?"
"Fifth-year Potions notes going cheap! Just one Astronomy or History of Magic set and they're yours!"
"I haven't written anything myself, but I can copy some for you. Anyone want to hire me? Only for third years and below, must provide standard answers."
The common room had turned into a marketplace, with young wizards using their homework as bargaining chips.
Hannah dashed back to her dorm and returned with her homemade lamb pies, exchanging them with Wayne for Defence Against the Dark Arts and Herbology assignments (Hermione's).
Tonight would likely see many burning the midnight oil – even Cedric was frantically copying his roommate's Divination homework.
"You can't copy this directly," his roommate finally protested as Cedric began replicating even his fabricated prophecies. "There's no such thing as identical prophecies! Professor Trelawney would spot it immediately."
"Then what should I do?" Cedric rubbed his temples. "I'm afraid my own versions won't sound convincing enough."
"Just make it sufficiently tragic," his roommate offered sagely. "Whether it sounds authentic or not, you'll score high marks."
"Makes sense. I'll just predict my own death next year then." Cedric nodded approvingly before resuming his furious scribbling.
Wayne: "..."
Watching little Cedric now reminded him of an old general performing in a theatre.
...
The scene wasn't unique to Hufflepuff – every common room buzzed with similar frenetic energy.
When Harry and Ron learned Hermione's completed assignments were all with Wayne, they simultaneously emitted despairing groans.
Hermione eyed Harry curiously. "You've been at school all holiday... finishing all your work would only take two days..."
"If you couldn't even spare that time, what exactly were you doing?"
Harry lowered his head awkwardly.
Could he admit he'd spent days wallowing in melancholy until Lupin's counselling pulled him out?
This Christmas, Harry had learned that Lupin was actually his father and Black's former classmate.
Lupin shared many stories about his father's school days.
And advised him not to let hatred consume him – his parents wouldn't want him living solely for revenge.
Harry took some advice to heart, not forgetting but burying the hatred deeper.
Then came several tutoring sessions with Lupin on the Patronus Charm, until suddenly... term had begun.
"Easy for you to say," Ron grumbled. "You're the only one who could finish in two days. The rest of us need at least four."
Hermione smiled sweetly. "Then I'm afraid you've got less than twenty-four hours now."
Ron shuddered and immediately dragged Harry off to find Lavender Brown.
...
On the first morning of term, over half the students appeared in the Great Hall sporting dark circles.
Toby and Norman seemed practically ethereal, as if moments away from meeting Merlin.
They'd pulled an all-nighter – not just catching up on homework, but practising the Charging Charm Wayne taught them.
"I've drained an entire pack of AA batteries..." Toby said faintly, mechanically stuffing bread into his mouth. "Wayne, couldn't you design simpler spells?"
"If this continues, I won't even afford replacement batteries."
"It's already simplified enough," Wayne shrugged. "With more practice, you'll master it."
"And can't you just use the Mending Charm on dead batteries? Why the fuss?"
Toby stiffened abruptly, exchanging stunned looks with Norman before they exclaimed in unison: "Why didn't you tell us last night!"
"I was asleep at the time," Wayne yawned. "You didn't throw away the damaged batteries, did you?"
Toby and Norman exchanged glances, on the verge of tears.
Even during Divination class, they were still mourning their lost pocket money.
"Children, please don't look so glum," Professor Trelawney said with concern. "Sorrow will only bring greater misfortune upon you."
Norman gulped. "Professor, do you mean..."
"Ah..." Trelawney shook her head regretfully. "Face reality with a smile. What you fear will inevitably come to pass."
Hearing this, the two boys grew even more uneasy.
"Sherlock, what are you worried about?" Ron asked curiously.
"P-pocket money," Norman forced out the words. "Professor, are we going to lose a lot of money?"
Trelawney merely gazed at them mysteriously before suddenly widening her eyes. "The rest of you should take note too - a flu outbreak will soon affect many of you."
"But don't worry, I've already informed Madam Pomfrey. She's prepared special remedies."
"Thank you, Professor," Lavender Brown said emotionally.
Many girls looked at Trelawney with admiration, while Wayne subtly rolled his eyes.
Plenty of people caught colds every January and February - it was practically a Hogwarts tradition. Did that really require prophecy?
Thanks to her exceptional bamboozling skills, Trelawney now had a devoted following of young admirers like Lavender Brown and the Patil sisters.
These students frequently visited the North Tower, returning to sigh dramatically over some poor classmate - thoroughly taken in by the charlatan.
Still, Trelawney's classes had one advantage: they were relaxing.
Much like attending a motivational speaker's seminar, as long as you didn't fall for it, you could simply enjoy the entertainment value.
However... adopting such an attitude with Professor McGonagall would be asking for trouble.
With the term just begun, the young witches and wizards were still in holiday mode, struggling to concentrate in lessons - much to McGonagall's fury.
The consequence was today's homework being doubled to fourteen inches long.
And those who hadn't completed their holiday assignments had to finish them in her office after dinner.
"What are you looking at?"
Noticing Wayne's gaze lingering on Ron and Harry, Hermione asked curiously.
Wayne leaned close to whisper in the young witch's ear: "George and Fred replaced Ron's ink with disappearing ink. I'm wondering when it'll take effect."
Hermione's expression became spectacularly horrified.
"But Ron's their actual brother..."
"Precisely why they're using him as a test subject," Wayne said, shaking his head at Ron, who was still laughing obliviously with Harry.
"Even if they get caught, they'll just give him some pocket money and that'll be the end of it."
Hermione began questioning whether she'd been too harsh on Ron.
The poor boy's life was tragic enough already - so much so that even she felt a pang of sympathy.
...
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Potter?"
As Harry followed the crowd into the Entrance Hall, Malfoy 'happened' to arrive with his two cronies.
Spotting Harry quickly, Malfoy's eyes lit up as he directly blocked his path.
"Malfoy, what do you want now?" Harry said, barely containing his anger.
Had he not noticed a greasy figure loitering nearby, his words wouldn't have been nearly this polite.
"Nothing much, just some good news to share," Malfoy said with an insufferable expression, looking down his nose at Harry. "I've mastered the Patronus Charm and can even conjure a corporeal Patronus now."
"Heard you went to Lupin for extra lessons during the holidays. How's that working out for you?"
Harry's body trembled slightly.
Though he'd made significant progress, his Patronus only manifested as much denser mist—still far from achieving corporeal form.
Ever since taking supplementary lessons with Wayne, his performance had consistently surpassed Malfoy's.
But this time, he'd lost completely.
"Judging by that reaction, I take it you haven't managed it?" Malfoy grinned even wider.
"Potter, you're hopeless. Don't drag down my progress. Should I have a word with Wayne about arranging private tutoring for you?"
"No need." Harry raised his head. "I was actually thinking of speaking to Wayne myself. Always learning the Patronus Charm is getting dull."
He suddenly grinned. "It's been ages since we had proper combat training. How about a duel this weekend? What do you say, Malfoy?"
Malfoy's smug expression faltered.
When it came to actual combat, he was no match for Harry.
Ron added salt to the wound: "Your family must be so proud you can cast a Patronus. I heard all Death Eaters are incapable of mastering that spell."
Malfoy turned paper-white. Harry and Ron exchanged satisfied smiles when a familiar, loathsome voice sounded behind them:
"Weasley, why are you causing a disturbance in the corridors? Five points from Gryffindor."
Both boys mentally cursed while maintaining neutral expressions, quickly putting distance between themselves, Malfoy and Snape.
Only when safely out of earshot did Ron complain: "Snape's definitely nursing a wounded ego. Former Death Eater and all – never could manage that spell."
"You'd better master it quickly, then cast it right in his face. That'll really stick in his craw."
Harry nodded emphatically.
...
That afternoon, Wayne had no classes, so he returned directly to the common room after lunch.
Hermione, meanwhile, followed other students to the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures.
Hagrid's reputation among the students remained favourable these days.
Following Wayne's advice, he'd been selecting perfectly balanced creatures for each lesson – cute enough to engage interest, yet posing minimal danger.
Some male students grumbled privately, having hoped to encounter more formidable beasts like the Hippogriff from their first lesson.
Hagrid had been tempted, but Wayne dissuaded him by citing Neville's injury and bombarding him with legal statutes about liability. The half-giant's safety-conscious approach owed entirely to Wayne's persistent efforts.
Dumbledore really ought to pay him a teaching assistant's stipend.
Today, however, Hagrid seemed distracted. He distributed buckets of Flobberworms for mucus collection and feeding before sinking onto a tree stump, visibly troubled.
Malfoy turned green. "You're having us handle these disgusting things for class?"
"Questionin' teachin' methods costs Slytherin ten points." Hagrid glared briefly before resuming his brooding, leaving Malfoy flushing Weasley-red with anger.
The class gathered around their buckets to begin the unpleasant task. Vigorous squeezing produced globs of viscous mucus – theoretically satisfying to extract, but revolting in practice.
Harry worked while holding his breath, his hands reeking of Flobberworm slime. Noticing Hermione wearing gloves, he gaped.
"Hermione, where'd you get those?"
"I carry all essential equipment with me." With practised efficiency, she squeezed out another glutinous strand.
Harry looked even more puzzled. "I didn't see you carrying anything when you arrived earlier."
"Ask Wayne about it."
Using Undetectable Extension Charms excessively was illegal, so Hermione only vaguely hinted at it.
Harry understood immediately and felt a surge of envy.
How much easier things would be if he had such a bag—at least he wouldn't have to lug around all his gear during Quidditch matches.
But he couldn't bring himself to ask Wayne to buy one for him. Rumour had it they cost dozens of Galleons.
After class, Hermione, Harry, and Ron stayed behind to find out what was troubling Hagrid.
"Hagrid, are you in some kind of trouble?" Harry asked.
"Nah," Hagrid sighed. "An old friend o' mine… ain't been doin' too well lately."
"Do you need potions?"
Hermione offered helpfully, "I can brew some simple ones. If it's complicated, you could always ask Wayne."
"Thank yeh, Hermione," Hagrid forced a weak smile. "But it ain't an illness. Jus' old age. Life an' death… no one can change that."
The trio fell silent, unsure how to comfort Hagrid.
This wasn't something they could help with.
In the end, they just kept Hagrid company for a while, distracting him temporarily.
But seeing Hagrid's low spirits, they didn't stay long before leaving.
...
Meanwhile, Wayne was studying the potion recipe Snape had given him.
Its complexity rivalled that of Felix Felicis, employing multiple techniques of neutralising toxins with other toxins—proof of how much effort Snape had put into it.
After an afternoon of research, Wayne had gained considerable insight.
He was already formulating ideas to modify the recipe into a potion capable of regenerating severed limbs, with a rough framework taking shape.
At dinner, Hermione brought up Hagrid's situation.
"A friend?"
Wayne slowly furrowed his brow.
"Did he say who?"
"No," Hermione replied. "He only mentioned it was an old friend he'd known for over fifty years. We didn't feel it was right to pry further."
Wayne grew even more puzzled.
Fifty years meant someone around Hagrid's age—even for ordinary humans, that wasn't necessarily near death.
Besides, apart from Dumbledore and the school staff, who else would befriend Hagrid outside...
Wait.
Wayne's expression shifted slightly.
Could it be Aragog?
He'd last visited the Forbidden Forest for supplies in October, and Aragog had seemed perfectly fine then.
"Do you know who it is?"
Noticing Wayne's changing expression, Hermione asked quietly.
"I'm not sure yet," Wayne shook his head. "I'll go ask him later."
"Later?" Hermione glanced at the time. "Why the rush? You could go tomorrow."
"Better to find out sooner. Maybe I can help."
If Aragog really was dying, he couldn't just stand by.
That was his designated cash cow—without Aragog, where would he collect so much Acromantula venom?
After dinner, Wayne headed straight out of the castle to Hagrid's hut.