Under Ho-Oh's large-scale Apparition, Wayne arrived at the Scamander Estate in Dorset in near-record time.
Newt, who had been watering flowers with a watering can, froze momentarily at the sudden appearance of the gloomy-faced youth radiating terrifying pressure before him.
"Why have you come today?"
Sensing the tranquil atmosphere and Newt's leisurely demeanour, Wayne realised something was amiss.
He seemed to have misunderstood the situation.
"Dumbledore said you were in some trouble. I thought someone might be threatening you or Grandma Tina," he explained.
Then he frowned at Newt. "What do you mean, 'why have I come today'?"
Newt, now grasping the situation, laughed until his wrinkles deepened. "I am indeed in trouble, but not personal trouble. This matter actually concerns you greatly."
Wayne grew even more puzzled. Seeing his bewildered expression only amused Newt further.
Without haste to explain, Newt led Wayne to the backyard, where Tina, busy grooming a Kneazle, looked up in surprise.
"What brings you here?"
"A misunderstanding. The lad thought I was being targeted," Newt chuckled.
"Since you're here, stay for dinner. Tina, prepare extra meat dishes tonight."
Tina nodded, set down the brush, shooed away three Kneazles, and returned inside to prepare supper.
Only during the meal did Newt finally recount the whole story.
"When I say you're the cause of my troubles, I'm not wronging you in the slightest."
Wayne put on an aggrieved expression, looking pleadingly at Tina for support.
He'd been behaving as a model student at school lately—when would he have had time to bother Newt?
Tina shook her head with a smile. "I can't help you there. Newt's telling the truth."
"Dumbledore mentioned this Holy Grail War was your doing?" Newt pressed.
"Correct," Wayne admitted. "Is this related?"
"Extremely," Newt said irritably. "A major tournament across seven schools requires extensive preparation. One of their designed challenges involves dragons."
"Romania's dragon reserve does have sufficient numbers, but far too few are properly tamed for safe use."
"So the Ministry of Magic approached me to help tame additional dragons and resolve some... larger issues there."
Newt's expression turned grave. "Rumour has it... a 'Dragon King' has appeared in the reserve. Its presence has made the other dragons unruly."
"Recently, conflicts with dragon handlers have escalated, resulting in serious injuries."
"Dragon King?" Wayne's eyebrow arched.
The kind that smirks sideways?
"I'm not entirely clear on the specifics myself. The depths of the reserve have been cordoned off for now." Newt shook his head. "That's why I spoke to Dumbledore about having you accompany me if possible."
"Clean up your own mess. I can't handle that many dragons."
"You're being modest." Wayne wagged his head, not buying Newt's nonsense for a second. "With your case, you could handle ten dragons easily."
Newt served the boy another portion of steak. "We're going to befriend magical creatures, not collect ingredients. Avoiding conflict is preferable."
"Understood." Wayne grinned. "Physical communication first, emotional bonding later then."
Newt facepalmed while Tina couldn't help laughing.
This kid...
...
After dinner, Wayne didn't linger. Having arranged to return to the manor next Monday for their trip to the Romanian Dragon Reserve with Newt, he had Ho-Oh transport him straight back to school.
Watching the vanishing flames, Newt and Tina exchanged fond smiles.
Though it had been a misunderstanding, Wayne had rushed over the moment he thought they were in danger, radiating murderous intent.
They hadn't spoiled this child for nothing.
Back at Hogwarts Castle, Wayne immediately went to settle scores with Dumbledore.
Sitting in the Headmaster's Office, Wayne complained, "Could you not be so dramatic next time? You made me look like a complete fool."
Dumbledore remained cheerfully unperturbed. "Mr Lawrence, that was your own impatience. You left before I could even explain the situation."
His feelings mirrored Newt's exactly.
Wayne's behaviour only reinforced his belief that Hufflepuff truly raised the best children.
Loyal to a fault, unlikely to stray down dark paths.
"Boy, show some respect when speaking to the Headmaster as a student!" Phineas jumped in again to assert his presence.
Wayne glanced at this most detestable Headmaster and asked abruptly:
"Professor, does becoming Headmaster mean you can command portraits of former Headmasters?"
Dumbledore hesitated before nodding: "In principle, yes. Upon becoming Headmaster, one signs a contract with the school. Portraits of past Headmasters are obliged to assist the current one as much as possible."
"Good." Wayne smiled. "That's another reason for me to become Headmaster."
"When I become Headmaster, I'll hang Mr Black's portrait above the urinals in the boys' lavatory and forbid him from visiting other frames."
Dumbledore didn't know whether to laugh or cry, baffled by where Wayne got all these mischievous ideas.
Phineas nearly fainted from rage.
"Lawrence boy, you're dreaming! The school would never let you become Headmaster. Do you think the wizarding world belongs to your family?"
To prevent further argument, Dumbledore lowered the curtain, silencing the portrait, and returned to the main topic.
"Since you've met Newt, you must know why I called you here?"
"Mhm."
Wayne nodded. "I'll visit Newt next Monday. Not sure when I'll return, so I'm requesting leave in advance."
"I trust in your and Newt's abilities. It shouldn't take too long." Dumbledore affirmed before adding a reminder.
"But remember, don't share information about the Holy Grail War or the dragons with other students. This involves competition details, and it's next year's event anyway. Revealing it too early would spoil the surprise."
"Understood." Wayne then asked, "Have you mastered the Holy Grail's activation incantation?"
"I've barely grasped it," Dumbledore said modestly. "The spell operates completely differently from our current system. It's been quite enlightening."
"If not for the age restriction, even I'd want to participate in this Holy Grail War and claim the treasure."
Wayne: "..."
Dumbledore in the Holy Grail War... That mental image was too absurd to contemplate.
...
Though Dumbledore temporarily forbade sharing news of the Holy Grail War, Wayne naturally told Hermione and the others his reason for leaving, simply cautioning them not to tell other students.
Upon learning Wayne was going to Romania to see dragons, Hermione was intensely envious.
"Aside from Norbert when he was little, I've never seen a real dragon. Speaking of which, is Norbert at the Romanian dragon reserve now?"
Wayne nodded: "Yes, Charlie Weasley works at that reserve. I might visit Norbert while I'm there."
"Remember to take photos." Hermione reminded him. "Hagrid's pictures are over a year old. The books say dragons grow quickly – I wonder how big Norbert is now."
"No problem." Wayne ruffled her hair.
...
On Friday, Wayne summoned Penelope alone into his suitcase.
"While I'm away, you'll be in charge of game-related matters."
Penelope's internship application had been approved, leaving her with little academic pressure for the remaining term. Moreover, her experience managing the shop made her the most suitable candidate.
Wayne handed the card packs and two hundred gaming consoles to Penelope for safekeeping, instructing her to restock the vending machines when they ran low.
However, fearing his upcoming absence might be prolonged, Wayne separately retrieved a small case and entrusted it to Penelope.
"What's this? Why does it need separate storage?" Penelope asked, puzzled.
"Costume cards." Wayne produced one such card, inserted it into his gaming device, and activated the projection.
The projection showed Wayne's attire transforming—his standard robes shifting into a black tailcoat that lent the young man an air of aristocratic elegance.
"If I haven't returned by Easter, release these costume cards," he instructed.
Penelope stared unblinking for a long moment before murmuring, "Are they all this same style?"
"Of course not." Wayne shook his head. "Three variants for boys, ten for girls. This batch primarily targets female players."
The inspiration had come from Nicolas' enchanted dressing mirror.
Few girls enjoyed duelling games, but if repackaged as a dress-up simulator... he'd wager they'd bite.
Penelope grasped his scheme and silently mourned her classmates' wallets.
She'd assumed the girls might escape unscathed, but now... once these cards launched, those young ladies might outspend the boys in their frenzy.
...
Saturday – Quidditch Match day.
Wayne had delayed leaving school after yesterday's lessons precisely to attend today's game.
By ten o'clock, he departed the common room with his fellow badgers, heading for the pitch.
At the entrance, he encountered Professor Lupin, absent for the past week.
"Professor, are you feeling better?" The youth quickened his pace to catch up, concern evident.
Yet at his words, Lupin paled and retreated two steps. "Wayne, I'm recovered now. Your potion was... effective. Please don't provide more."
Wayne's expression turned sheepish. "The dosage wasn't properly calibrated this time. Rest assured, I've made adjustments. No repeat incidents."
Then he deployed his trump card, voice dropping conspiratorially, "Professor... you don't want to remain a Werewolf forever, do you? This is your only chance to change that fate."
As predicted, Lupin's face twisted with conflicted hesitation.
With a live Werewolf specimen at hand, Wayne intended to capitalise.
His goal wasn't mere monthly suppression through potions, but complete eradication of lycanthropy.
Where disease existed, a cure must be possible. Failure merely indicated insufficient methodology.
Given lycanthropy's unique pathology, his experimental formulae incorporated highly toxic herbs—fighting poison with poison. The potency miscalculation had left Lupin bedridden for a week.
Remembering those days, too weak to lift his wand, Lupin shuddered.
"Can you guarantee no repeat incidents?"
"I can," Wayne stated without hesitation. "At a minimum, the side effects will be less severe. Full recovery may take longer, but you've witnessed the preliminary effects."
Lupin nodded.
This month, during his transformation, his feet had actually maintained their human form—something that had never happened before.
After a moment's contemplation, Lupin couldn't resist the temptation of completely shedding his Werewolf identity and gave a firm nod.
"I'll do it!"
Wayne smiled and was about to say something when a commotion erupted behind them.
Turning around, they saw Gryffindor students gathered around a female student with indescribable expressions.
"We'll talk later," Wayne said to Lupin before joining the group of young lions.
Ginny spotted him and immediately punched him in the arm without hesitation.
"You owe me new eyes!"
Wayne rubbed his temples in exasperation. "How was I supposed to know it would have this effect? Who's going to compensate for my eyes?"
The girl at the centre of attention was Ron, who had taken the Gender-Swap Mint.
Only... the result was rather unfortunate. The features were too rugged—a broad jawline, large facial structure, combined with Ron's prominent nostrils—it was enough to kill anyone's appetite.
Ron currently wore an expression of utter despair. The twins had forced him to take the Gender-Swap Mint that morning.
After seeing the results, the entire Gryffindor team—Harry included—had all excused themselves to warm up, terrified that lingering glances might affect their performance later.
"What's going on here?" Professor McGonagall had come to watch the Quidditch Match. Noticing her students standing idle, she approached curiously.
Upon seeing Ron's condition, she immediately scolded, "Mr Weasley, you're aware Gender-Swap Mint have been classified as contraband?"
"Professor, let me explain," Wayne stepped forward to defend Ron.
The poor boy was miserable enough already. Another dressing-down from McGonagall might send him into prolonged depression.
After hearing the whole story, it was McGonagall's turn to fall silent.
Modern young wizards were getting too creative—she simply couldn't keep up anymore.
"Ten points from Hufflepuff for distributing contraband." Since Wayne was the instigator, McGonagall spared Ron.
Wayne corrected her, "Professor, it wasn't distribution. I gave it to Ron free of charge."
McGonagall glared fiercely at Wayne but didn't respond.
"Enough of this. Get to the pitch—the match is about to start."
She accompanied the students to the Quidditch Pitch entrance. Before heading to the teachers' stand, McGonagall intended to pat Ron's shoulder in appreciation for his sacrifice to Gryffindor.
But after one look at his current appearance, she simply couldn't bring herself to do it.
"You've suffered, Weasley," was all she managed before hastily retreating.
...
At eleven o'clock, both teams entered the pitch.
Wood and Cedric shook hands, both squeezing with all their might until their faces turned red.
They'd have gladly crushed each other's fingers. Wood glared resentfully at Hufflepuff's two Firebolts.
Was money everything? Were connections everything?
Why couldn't he have one?
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and players from both teams shot into the air.
Henderson immediately closed in on Harry as the two Firebolts began their chase, while Cedric calmly took a leisurely lap around the pitch first.
Excited cheers erupted from both stands as supporters rallied for their teams. Ginny approached Ron and pointed her wand at his throat, reminding him:
"Ron, you're still supposed to be leading the cheer squad."
"Traitor," Ron glared at his sister before resigning himself to a high-pitched shout:
"Go, Harry! Go Gryffindor!"
Amplified by the Amplifying Charm, his voice even drowned out Lee Jordan's commentary. The Gryffindor players instinctively turned to look.
Instantly, their flying speed dropped by two notches.
Harry actually rolled twice mid-air before steadying himself on his broom.
Now they understood why Wayne had insisted not only on making Ron eat those Gender-Swap Mints but also on having him cheer during the match.
This was psychological warfare!
We've got a traitor in our midst!