The match raged on fiercely. Hogwarts had four Firebolts on the field, while Mahoutokoro only had Sakura's, with the rest riding Nimbus 2000s or 2001s.
Yet this did nothing to dampen Mahoutokoro's fighting spirit. Their players charged forward with relentless energy, overwhelming Hogwarts in sheer momentum.
Ginny, playing in her first match—and such a crucial one at that—was initially nervous, but she adjusted quickly.
The Weasley children were practically born for the big moments, excelling when it mattered most.
Two precise strikes from the twins stalled Mahoutokoro's offensive, gradually turning the tide back in Hogwarts' favour.
Supporters from both sides were cheering loudly for their teams, the roars and clamour momentarily scattering even the clouds in the sky.
Yet Wayne's attention wasn't on the pitch, but fixed firmly on the staff stands.
Fudge was speaking anxiously about something, while Dumbledore's face bore an expression of anger.
Soon, the other headmasters' expressions changed too. Professor McGonagall looked utterly shocked, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief.
What on earth had happened?
Wayne didn't remain puzzled for long.
A feather drifted down from above, transforming before his eyes into letters formed from ash: "Please come to the Headmaster's Office"
When Wayne looked back, Fudge and Dumbledore had already disappeared.
Professor McGonagall remained deep in thought, visibly restless, unable to focus even on her beloved Quidditch.
After some consideration, Wayne excused himself to Astoria and left the pitch.
...
Ten minutes later.
Wayne entered the Headmaster's Office to find only Fudge and Dumbledore inside.
Seeing his arrival, Fudge forced a strained smile. "Mr Lawrence, you've finally come."
Wayne nodded in greeting before asking, "Professor, Mr Fudge, what exactly has happened?"
Dumbledore's expression was grave. Though outwardly composed, the oppressive atmosphere made it clear the old wizard was deeply troubled.
"Mr Lawrence, last night over ten attacks occurred across Britain. All victims were magical children aged six to ten."
No wonder.
As shock registered, understanding dawned on Wayne.
No wonder everyone had lost their composure earlier. Any matter involving children was deadly serious.
The wizarding population was already small. Over ten attacks in one night, all targeting magical families - this was catastrophic.
No wonder Fudge looked like he'd lost both parents.
No, this was worse than losing parents. Mishandle this, and his tenure as Minister would be over.
Losing parents might even earn him sympathy votes.
But over ten children dead in one night...
Wayne's gaze at Fudge now held pity. He hadn't even lasted till next year before facing downfall.
Recognising Wayne's unspoken meaning, Fudge's smile grew more pained. "Mr Lawrence, it's not quite the worst case. The children weren't killed - they were all bitten."
"That's why I came specifically to you. Without your help, my days in office may truly be numbered."
Wayne frowned. "Explain properly."
"The attacker was Fenrir Greyback," Dumbledore answered for Fudge. "Cornelius suspects this rampage is retaliation for your newly improved Wolfsbane Potion."
Fudge grew visibly agitated at the name. "That born monster - leader of those vile werewolves."
"Mr Lawrence, Greyback takes pride in being a werewolf. His favourite pastime is attacking children during full moons, turning them."
"Damnable bastard must be terrified your potion will make werewolves extinct."
Fudge unleashed a string of curses, revealing the depth of his hatred for Greyback.
Hearing the name, Wayne understood the situation completely.
Just as Fudge had said, Greyback never resisted his identity as a werewolf.
Unlike other werewolves, he was born one—never bitten—and firmly believed werewolves should revel in bloodlust.
Lupin had been bitten by Greyback one night when the latter smashed through his window, all because Lupin's father had once offended him.
"Wayne, you're likely one of the people in this world who understands werewolves best," said Dumbledore. "Though last night wasn't a full moon, those children still bear irreversible curses."
"They need your help."
"Where are they?" Wayne didn't refuse.
These children had suffered unjustly, caught in the crossfire between him and Greyback. If he could save them, he would.
Fudge was overjoyed.
"They've all been transferred to St Mungo's. We can go directly via the Floo Network."
"Headmaster, are you coming?" Wayne asked.
Dumbledore nodded and stood as well. "They'll be my future students, after all. Let's go together."
"Who says you'll still be Headmaster by then?" Wayne muttered under his breath as he stepped toward the fireplace.
But the office was small, and despite his lowered voice, the other two heard every word.
Dumbledore stiffened. Fudge nearly laughed but thought better of it, stifling the urge with visible effort.
Once the three vanished into the flames, the office erupted in uproarious laughter.
The portraits of former Headmasters, who'd been pretending to sleep, suddenly sprang to life.
The big-nosed Headmaster of Hufflepuff was bent double with mirth. "Young Wayne is absolutely priceless! Did you see Dumbledore's face just now?"
"I'd wager he's already plotting how to expel young Wayne."
Phineas was grinning from ear to ear. "No, no—if he's expelled, how will I get to see Dumbledore squirm? That lad ought to be Headmaster. He'd do a far better job than this old softie!"
The office rang with laughter.
...
St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
The only large-scale comprehensive hospital in Britain, founded in the late 16th century by Mungo Bonham, it offered a wide range of medical services to witches, wizards, and beyond.
Here, one might occasionally encounter Vampires, Trolls, Werewolves—even Muggles.
Of course, Muggles were only admitted for magical injuries, and their memories were wiped clean before discharge, leaving no trace of what they'd witnessed.
The hospital was always filled with patients of every description, arriving for reasons as varied as they were bizarre.
Normally, entry to St Mungo's required passing through a shabby department store, but this was an emergency. The trio stepped directly into the hospital's ground-floor atrium via the Floo Network.
"The patients are all in the Creature-Induced Injuries ward on the second floor."
Fudge had a blonde witch escort them to the ward. When the door opened, they saw over a dozen children lying in beds, their parents crowding the room, making the space feel cramped.
"Professor Dumbledore, Minister Fudge," the parents greeted them, their faces drawn with exhaustion.
One young woman pleaded desperately, "Professor Dumbledore, please save Edward. He's only six years old."
Dumbledore gave a gentle nod of reassurance. "We'll do everything we can, rest assured."
"For now, we need to conduct some examinations. Please give us some space."
At his persuasion, the parents temporarily left the room. Fortunately, all the children were in a comatose state—otherwise, it wouldn't have been so easy.
Wayne approached the nearest child.
It was a curly-haired boy of about seven or eight, his face pale and his brow furrowed even in unconsciousness. Wayne noticed the bandage on his arm, stained with seeping blood.
He then moved on to the others.
Each child bore injuries in different places—some on their arms, others on their necks.
The two most severe cases had large patches of red rash spreading across their faces, accompanied by a foul odour.
"Tsk tsk."
By the time he reached the last one, even Wayne couldn't help but exclaim in surprise—this child had been bitten on the buttocks.
Staring at the ring of massive teeth marks, Wayne shook his head.
"This isn't just biting a child's backside—it's practically slapping the Ministry of Magic in the face."
At his remark, Dumbledore's expression turned peculiar, while Fudge looked as though he wished the ground would swallow him whole.
Wayne turned back. "Minister Fudge, you mentioned earlier that Greyback was the only one behind these attacks, correct?"
Fudge nodded blankly.
"So where is he now? In a single night, he managed to assault so many wizarding families. The Ministry has dozens of Aurors and hundreds of Hit Wizards—yet you can't even catch one werewolf?"
"I—well—Dawlish has already assembled a task force, and the Ministry will issue a wanted notice..."
Fudge stammered for a long while, spouting a stream of nonsense that left both Wayne and Dumbledore shaking their heads.
In peacetime, having such a spineless Minister might actually be a good thing—he wouldn't stir up trouble, and for ordinary citizens, a quiet life was the best they could hope for.
But when something like this happened, such woeful crisis management was downright infuriating.
"Can Ho-Oh eradicate the curses on these children?" Dumbledore changed the subject, sparing Fudge further interrogation before he turned red with embarrassment again.
"It can be done," Wayne replied. "But I'd like to study them a bit more first."
Wayne examined the situation carefully once more before reaching a conclusion.
"Since Greyback hasn't been captured, it means the attacks are likely to continue. We can't keep relying on Ho-Oh's power forever, can we?"
He glanced at Fudge before addressing Dumbledore. "So I plan to develop a potion to solve the problem at its root."
Dumbledore considered this and agreed that although Wayne's approach might take more time, it would indeed provide a permanent solution.
"Shall I ask Damocles to come as well?"
"No need, I'll handle it," Wayne waved his hand dismissively. "Just help me arrange a few days' leave."
"Focus on your work. I'll take care of matters at the school," Dumbledore nodded.
With Wayne conducting his examination, Fudge found himself with nothing to do again.
He went out to console the children's parents, partly to prevent them from causing trouble, then returned with Dumbledore to withdraw the remaining Aurors from the scene.
After about an hour, Wayne had gained a basic understanding of the victims' conditions.
Though referred to as a curse, it was actually a combination of toxins and a strange, magical force damaging the children's bodies. Not fatal, but it would leave lifelong aftereffects.
The terrifying red blotches on their faces were caused by toxin accumulation.
Therefore, the first step in treatment was detoxification, followed by the expulsion of that strange, magical energy.
After collecting blood samples from each patient, Wayne left the hospital.
Instead of returning to school, he went straight home.
He planned to stay in London for several days until the patients were cured before going back to Hogwarts.
Estimating that the match must be nearly over, Wayne directly video-called Fleur.
The image soon appeared on the page – apparently in their dormitory.
A small head popped into view as Gabrielle blinked her large eyes. "Brother, where have you been? Gabrielle was just looking for you."
"I've been busy outside," Wayne smiled. "Where's Fleur?"
"Oh, Gabrielle, move aside." Fleur pushed Gabrielle away, her pretty face appearing on screen with a worried expression. "Nothing's wrong, is it?"
"Nothing that concerns us," Wayne shook his head before explaining about the attack.
Even if he didn't tell them, tomorrow's Daily Prophet headline would undoubtedly cover it.
Fleur turned pale upon hearing this, clutching Gabrielle tightly.
Seeing her reaction, Wayne reassured her: "Hogwarts is definitely safe, no need to worry."
"I won't be returning for a few days. I'll come back after everything's settled."
"Mmm," Fleur nodded repeatedly. "I'll go tell Cho later."
"How did the match go?" Wayne asked casually. "Did Hogwarts win?"
"No," Fleur revealed a slight smile. "Sakura got incredibly lucky – the Golden Snitch appeared right above her head. She reached up and caught it before Cho could react."
Wayne chuckled, not expecting that outcome.
Then he thought of something else: "How many goals did Ginny score?"
"You mean the red-haired Chaser from Hogwarts?"
Fleur thought carefully. "The final score was two hundred and thirty to one hundred. That red-haired girl you mentioned probably scored five or six times?"
Wayne grinned even wider. "Then tell her I'll read The Quibbler when I get back."
Fleur looked somewhat puzzled but agreed nonetheless.
After chatting a while longer, Wayne ended the video call and began pondering the formula for the antidote.
...
Time slipped by unnoticed until late at night.
The front door opened as Nagini returned.
She spotted Wayne in the living room immediately and asked in delighted surprise, "You're back today?"
Wayne set down his quill and stretched.
"A deranged werewolf attacked over a dozen children. Fudge asked for my help treating them."
Nagini nodded without much concern.
Those lowly werewolf creatures posed no threat whatsoever to Wayne's safety.
Setting down her bag and removing her coat, she headed towards the kitchen.
"You must be hungry. I'll start cooking."
Watching the sinuous sway of her slender waist, Wayne felt a surge of heat rising within him.
He followed her into the kitchen, embracing the serpentine woman as he whispered:
"I am hungry... but I'd like to taste something else first..."