Though caught off guard, Wayne managed to defuse the crisis with his thick skin and successfully placated Sakura.
Obtaining the production method of the Dream Card and its embedded incantations had indeed given him some inspiration. He would soon develop an entirely new dream-entering spell.
Ah, this could be considered a form of living off others' kindness, couldn't it?
Poor Young Master Lawrence, having been pampered since childhood with fine silks and delicacies, had developed a weak constitution—only able to digest soft comforts.
Within just one night, he had created his own Dream card.
Activating the card, he pressed it onto Barty Crouch Jr.'s forehead, cast the Nightmare Charm, carefully checked the stability of the dreamscape, and withdrew with satisfaction.
At this intensity, it was sufficient to accommodate the information needed to rewrite Barty's entire life.
But before that, he ought to inform Crouch—after all, this was technically his son.
...
June arrived, bringing a sudden rise in temperature.
The sweltering weather made everyone restless. The constant chirping of birds outside the windows further distracted the young wizards trying to revise.
When they couldn't focus anymore, they leaned against the windowsills, gazing at the now cordoned-off Forbidden Forest.
A twenty-foot-high fence encircled the edge of the grounds, with a massive gap at the front, which was enchanted to appear blurred, making it impossible to see inside.
At night, students sneaking out discovered that Ministry of Magic workers conducted their construction under the cover of darkness.
The twins attempted to sneak in to gather intelligence for Harry and Cedric, only to be caught red-handed by an Auror.
Professor McGonagall turned livid with rage, assigning them the task of cleaning all the boys' bathrooms in Gryffindor until the end of term.
Harry was genuinely touched that the twins would take such risks to scout ahead for him.
Though it was more likely their own curiosity driving them, the gesture was enough.
Cedric found it hilarious, deliberately going over to taunt them, which led to the twins chasing him through the entire castle with dirty scrubbing brushes.
...
That evening, Bagman and Crouch came to inspect the progress.
Crouch meticulously reviewed each prepared obstacle, while Bagman hovered nearby, making idle chatter like a mere placeholder.
As the two examined the placement of the Blast-Ended Skrewts, a swirling vortex of fire appeared in the sky, and Wayne emerged from it.
"Mr Lawrence," Bagman immediately stepped forward with an ingratiating smile, and Crouch paused his work.
"Ah, Ludo." Wayne nodded in acknowledgement, then asked casually, "I hear you've been rather close with Karkaroff lately?"
Bagman paled, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"M-Mr Lawrence, Karkaroff was the one who approached me. I haven't agreed to anything."
"No need to be nervous." Wayne chuckled lightly. "As head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, you're free to associate with whomever you please. I wouldn't interfere."
"Young Master Lawrence, I remain your most loyal subordinate!" Bagman's voice trembled. "Karkaroff only wanted me to reveal details about the third task. I told him nothing!"
Wayne spoke lightly, but Bagman knew exactly how formidable the young man before him was.
If he truly angered him, Bagman would vanish for unknown reasons by tomorrow. Even if he survived, Wayne held enough of his past misdeeds to send him straight to Azkaban.
"If he wants to know, then tell him."
Contrary to Bagman's expectations, Wayne wasn't angry—he was even offering advice: "Don't give it for free. Make him pay. You still owe me a mountain of debt. Time to repay at least some of it."
"How much... do you think I should ask for?" Bagman ventured cautiously.
"Five hundred. He probably won't pay more than that. Just tell him the layout of a few key points."
"Oh, and don't give him the actual map."
"With Krum's skill level, even if he knew, he wouldn't win the championship anyway."
Bagman nodded, committing everything to memory.
Just as Wayne was about to dismiss him, he seemed to remember something: "You're in charge of sports—do you know the owner of the Tornadoes?"
Bagman replied hastily, "Yes, the Tornadoes' owner is Jamal. I met him just two months ago after the league finals."
Wayne instructed, "Go ask him if he's willing to sell the team. If he isn't... make him willing."
Crouch's mouth twitched violently.
The phrase "abuse of power" fits this kid perfectly.
He'd never seen anyone carry out such dealings so brazenly.
Even when Weasley drafted the Muggle Protection Act, he'd only discreetly left himself a backdoor—never daring to profit so openly.
Wayne was outright coercing people—no, scratch that, the bastard hadn't even bothered with the "inducement" part!
Bagman broke into a cold sweat internally. Still, since the boss had finally entrusted him with a task, no matter how difficult, he had to see it through.
Soon, Bagman was shooed away by Wayne to inspect the remaining obstacles alone.
Then he told Crouch about little Barty.
"Such a thing is possible?"
Crouch was astonished. Replacing real memories with dreams to completely alter a person's personality and thoughts...
"I need you to provide some of Barty's old memories, the more detailed the better."
"Understood." Crouch pointed his wand at his forehead, extracting strands of silvery threads into the bottle Wayne had prepared.
Once everything was collected, Wayne didn't linger and returned to the castle.
...
Soon, exam week arrived. Though everyone was looking forward to the final tournament after the exams, grades still took priority now. Poor results would make for an unpleasant holiday.
As usual, Wayne announced rewards to motivate Hufflepuff's badgers - Newt's eternal signature, Celia Store vouchers, and self-selected golden cards from Magic Awakened.
He'd even procured several sets of limited-edition skincare products from Cho, sending the female students into a frenzy of competitive studying.
On the first day of exams, fourth-years faced the most loathsome subject: Potions class.
Snape had set an exceptionally difficult written paper, and for the practical, deliberately mixed in poorly preserved ingredients - whoever drew those was out of luck.
Wayne circled through briefly before leaving. Snape ignored him entirely, simply writing full marks on his score sheet.
During the Transfiguration exam, cross-species switching stumped countless struggling students. Ron emerged pale-faced from the classroom, looking as though he'd been expelled.
That afternoon brought Divination exams.
Wayne arrived full of anticipation, spending the afternoon under a Disillusionment Charm, but Trelawney made no prophecies.
When his turn came, he fabricated several catastrophically tragic predictions.
It wasn't that he couldn't read palms - this was Trelawney's peculiar taste.
To maintain straight full marks until graduation, Wayne could only endure by cursing himself in his prophecies.
"I'll catch flu in July... oh, and suffer a terrible fall in August resulting in fractures... next year we'll get an especially detestable new professor..."
Trelawney's expression showed she was thoroughly pleased, especially when Wayne added that he'd seen Harry suffering serious injuries during the tournament.
Like Snape, she immediately awarded full marks.
Outside, Harry sneezed violently while comparing answers with Ron.
For Defence Against the Dark Arts, Moody scrapped the written exam entirely, testing only practical skills.
Each student had to block two of his jinxes with Shield Charms.
No need to deflect them - just stop the spells.
He wouldn't fail anyone, but if you couldn't block the curses, he wouldn't lift them either - off to Madam Pomfrey you'd go.
Hearing they couldn't fail cheered the students.
Until they saw Crabbe hit with both a Jelly-Legs Jinx and a Leg-Locker Curse, crawling painfully towards the hospital wing.
After that, everyone entered the exam room trembling with dread, faces set in grim determination.
Some emerged with buck teeth, while others had their faces covered in bat wings, hopping their way to the second-floor hospital wing.
The sadistic Moody had deliberately set the exam venue on the eighth floor just to make them walk farther.
When it was Wayne's turn, Moody fired two spells in succession. The blue light struck the Shield Charm, ricocheted at a hundred and eighty degrees, and came rushing back at him.
Fortunately, Moody reacted quickly—otherwise, he would have been the one hit.
Glaring fiercely at Wayne, the old man gruffly told him to piss off.
Wayne smiled. As the two passed each other, he murmured, "Ten o'clock on the final exam night. Come to the Headmaster's Office."
Moody's remaining eye narrowed, his magical eye scrutinising Wayne. He said nothing, only giving a slight nod.
...
On the final day, answering who invented the Heating Charm and writing about its historical significance marked the official end of the term's exams.
Students cheered as they rushed out of the castle, savouring their brief freedom.
Wayne also planned to treat himself to a good meal tonight to celebrate, then take Tomoyo to London tomorrow to make up for the date he owed her.
Leaving the classroom, he had just rounded a corner when he spotted a man conversing with Cassandra. Surprised, he called out, "Mr Worley?"
The man turned, his face lighting up at the sight of Wayne. He strode forward and enveloped him in a hearty embrace.
"Mr Lawrence, it's been far too long since I last saw you."
"Indeed, over two years now. Our last meeting was at Beauxbatons," Wayne said, subtly extricating himself. He much preferred hugs from pretty girls, not old men.
He very much wanted to say to Lafferty—Old man, if you've got the guts, send your daughter instead.
Lafferty laughed heartily, oblivious to any awkwardness, and continued, "How are Newt and Tina these days?"
"They're doing well. Just raising Kneazles and caring for magical creatures—living quite leisurely."
Lafferty smiled wistfully. "I envy their retirement. If I could, I'd resign and spend a year at the Thunderbird reserve."
Watching the two chat like peers, Cassandra grew increasingly displeased.
Getting so chummy with my dad—what, do you want me to call you Uncle?
The mental image of addressing Wayne as "Uncle" made her shudder. She quickly shook her head, banishing the horrifying thought.
No way. I'd rather die than call him that.
After a while, Wayne asked, "The finals are still days away, aren't they? Why are you here so early?"
Traditionally, the finalists' families were invited to spectate during the finals.
But there was still over a week left—Lafferty's arrival was unusually premature.
At this, Lafferty's smile dimmed. He hesitated, reluctant to speak.
Wayne grew even more curious but didn't press him.
Finally, Lafferty made up his mind. He pulled Wayne closer, lowering his voice so even Cassandra couldn't overhear.
Cassandra arched an eyebrow. After a moment's thought, she took two deliberate steps back.
Wayne shot her an approving look, which only made the girl grit her teeth in irritation.
"I'm not just here as Cassandra's parent this time, but also to take over Egbert's duties in escorting the students back to Ilvermorny."
"What about Headmaster Fontaine?" Wayne asked, somewhat puzzled. Thinking back, he realised he hadn't seen the Ilvermorny headmaster around school these past two days.
"He's already returned. There are more pressing matters requiring his attention."
Lafferty sighed, his expression still tinged with anger as he gritted his teeth and muttered:
"The school's snakewood tree has been stolen!"