In the office, Dumbledore still couldn't quite comprehend.
"You want Fudge to realise the severity of the situation? That's certainly necessary, but once Harry returns and recounts everything, won't Fudge know what to do?"
After hearing the old Headmaster's question, Wayne smiled—a smile that made Dumbledore somewhat uncomfortable.
It felt... odd.
That gaze was all too familiar. It was the same smile he himself wore when explaining things to confused students or professors.
It was the smile of intellectual superiority!
Seeing Dumbledore's glare that suggested imminent explosion, Wayne quickly restrained his smile and began explaining:
"Professor, you're brilliant. No one would question your intelligence. But that doesn't mean you understand Fudge's thinking."
"Because in your eyes, there's only right and wrong. You understand neither politics nor politicians."
Dumbledore frowned but didn't argue, instead asking humbly:
"Then how do you think a politician would think? Or rather, how is Fudge thinking?"
"Simple—damage control." Wayne leaned back tactically, beginning Dumbledore's political education.
"If Fudge hasn't seen it with his own eyes, he'll absolutely refuse to believe Voldemort has returned. That's the ostrich mentality of politicians—they won't repent until death's at their doorstep."
"This same mistake has happened repeatedly throughout human history. Like fifty-seven years ago, when Chamberlain proudly declared he'd brought 'peace for our time', believing those Germanic fellows would keep their word."
"Yet within two years, London was nearly bombed to rubble." Wayne spread his hands helplessly.
"That's how politicians are. They instinctively avoid any factor threatening their position—unless you shove the facts or irrefutable evidence in their face."
"Low-level politicians like Fudge are all cast from the same mould. Believe me, unless he actually sees Voldemort, he'll think you're manufacturing panic to seize his power."
"Impossible!" Dumbledore blurted out.
Over a decade ago, many had asked him to become Minister for Magic, which he'd refused. Why would he be power-hungry at this age?
Yet even as he spoke, doubts crept in.
Judging by his decade-long acquaintance with Fudge... the man was even more foolish than Wayne described, with extraordinary lust for power.
These past two years, he'd sensed Fudge's wariness towards him.
Though superficially they got along splendidly—with Fudge even showing him deference—ever since Dementors were stationed near the school, he'd noticed the Minister's need to assert authority.
As for the ostrich mentality Wayne mentioned, he was familiar with it.
When Grindelwald was rising, many European nations behaved similarly—refusing to believe he'd invade unless he literally attacked their Ministries.
By the time he reached their doorsteps, finding resistance impossible, they surrendered en masse, allowing the ranks of Grindelwald's followers to swell until they engulfed the continent.
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore understood Wayne's well-intentioned strategy. Offering sincere thanks, he said lightly, "Fortunately, we have your plan. Now, Cornelius can't escape this."
Wayne shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I think the two of you will still part on bad terms in the end."
Dumbledore was puzzled. "But he's already seen Voldemort resurrected."
"But when he fled, Voldemort died again." Wayne spread his hands in a bear-like gesture. "Now he's even more convinced Voldemort won't return."
Dumbledore: "..."
He didn't continue speaking, but judging by his expression, he still didn't quite believe Wayne's prediction.
"Let's talk about Grindelwald and Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "You brought Grindelwald out?"
Wayne briefly explained what had happened.
Dumbledore didn't dwell on it too long. From the looks of it, half a year had passed without Harry being led astray, so perhaps having Grindelwald as his teacher wasn't so bad.
Still, he reminded Wayne that while Grindelwald's consciousness could be brought out, the man himself... was better off remaining in Nurmengard.
Wayne simply nodded without comment.
He left Moody's components behind and exited the office.
...
Hufflepuff common room.
Even though it was late at night, a large group of young wizards remained in the common area discussing the night's events—there were simply too many mysteries.
Some curious souls had even tried sneaking out to Gryffindor Tower to see if Potter had returned, only to be chased back by patrolling Prefects before they'd gone far.
When Wayne appeared, nearly everyone rushed forward, surrounding him completely.
"Wayne, what actually happened? Has Potter returned? Why did Professor Moody attack him?"
"Was it the Defence Against the Dark Arts curse that made Moody go mad?"
"Why was the Minister for Magic taken away by Portkey? Why did he keep arresting Crouch?"
"Vladimir was ambushed—so who gets the Holy Grail War championship?"
This last question brought instant silence.
All eyes turned to Cedric, who stood among the crowd.
According to the professors, Cedric had witnessed the fake Vladimir being taken away by the Holy Grail.
"Don't look at me," Cedric shook his head vigorously. "I don't care about the championship now—I just want to know what happened afterwards."
Making it to the final round was already more than enough for Cedric. Though not winning the Grail was disappointing, considering everything that followed, he suddenly felt quite fortunate.
At least he hadn't been caught up in some conspiracy.
Judging by Fudge and Dumbledore's reactions, it was clearly nothing good.
Wayne studied Cedric and nodded upon seeing no trace of insincerity.
"The championship outcome isn't clear yet. We'll probably get an answer tomorrow before the other schools leave. As for the other questions..."
The young badgers stared at Wayne eagerly, as if they wanted to crawl into his brain to find the answers themselves.
"Potter's back. He's in the hospital wing now."
Cedric exhaled in relief.
Good that he'd returned.
"But where were they taken? What about Professor Moody?" someone else pressed.
Wayne looked around and said quietly, "What if I told you Vol... You-Know-Who has returned? Would you believe me?"
The large room fell utterly silent.
Every face showed shock, disbelief, and utter incredulity as they stared at Wayne.
"Ha ha ha." Ernie Macmillan suddenly burst out laughing. "W-Wayne, April Fool's was ages ago. Why make such a joke now?"
Some joined in the laughter, but more remained silent. They knew Wayne wasn't the type to joke about such matters.
The young man waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind, you'll find out tomorrow when Dumbledore explains. I'm going to bed now."
With that, he pushed through the crowd and disappeared into the dormitory.
Soon after, Toby and Norman entered, accompanied by Cedric.
After carefully closing the door, Cedric asked with grave concern, "Wayne... has the Dark Lord truly returned?"
"Yes, he's back." Wayne briefly recounted the events that had occurred in the graveyard.
Cedric turned pale, barely able to remain seated, while Toby and Norman took the news far better.
As neither came from pure-blood families—one born to entirely Muggle parents, the other with a mother who'd nearly forgotten her wizarding heritage—they'd had little exposure to wizarding society. They couldn't empathise with the devastation Voldemort had once wrought.
It was like trying to explain to wizards how brutal and evil a failed art student could be—they simply wouldn't comprehend.
Toby instead asked curiously, "Can someone really survive having half their body blown apart?"
"Normal magic couldn't achieve it, but Dark Magic can accomplish pretty much anything—though the process is vile and causes immense suffering."
Norman mused, "From that perspective, Voldemort doesn't seem so formidable. If you and the Headmaster worked together, he wouldn't escape."
Wayne shook his head slightly. "It's not that simple."
He'd observed Harry's duel with Voldemort without immediately intervening precisely to gauge the Dark Lord's capabilities. The man had fought as if possessed—hesitant and restrained.
Too gentle and Harry wouldn't feel threatened; too harsh and he might damage his precious adversary. The spells used were painfully indecisive.
These were Voldemort's Cruciatus Curses—each one stronger than ten of Bellatrix's. Yet Harry merely howled twice before standing up unscathed to continue fighting.
Such cowardice made Voldemort truly one of a kind.
Eventually, Wayne could bear it no longer and intervened personally to test him.
In just two brief exchanges, Wayne discerned Voldemort's power level—had they fought to the end, he could have delivered eighteen different fatal blows.
But stopping him from fleeing was another matter entirely.
Without pre-established anti-Apparition and spatial lockdown spells, killing a Voldemort solely focused on survival proved remarkably difficult.
He'd considered laying traps near the Riddle family graves beforehand, but Voldemort wasn't foolish. Moreover, sealing the space would have prevented Harry's arrival, so he'd abandoned the idea.
Wayne offered vague responses, revealing no further details before sending Cedric off to bed.
Toby and Norman exchanged glances before obediently climbing into their beds and closing their eyes peacefully.
Only after their breathing steadied in sleep did Wayne have Gardevoir teleport him to the new building.
There was definitely something fishy about Vladimir being knocked out midway. With the whole event being live-streamed, if he were to faint, it could only have happened after consuming the Invisibility Grass.
Yet Cedric claimed he was ambushed by an invisible Vladimir...
The coordination was so flawless it didn't seem like an ambush at all—more like the two of them had staged an act.
Familiar with the route, Wayne barged straight into Headmaster Katerina's quarters. A spell shot toward him the moment he entered, striking his shoulder but dissipating against the Protective Enchantment woven into his robes.
The triggered trap jolted Katerina awake from her bed. Before she could utter a word, her entire body froze in place.
"Quite cautious," Wayne remarked, pulling out a vial of Veritaserum and tipping a few drops into her mouth.
Even while residing at Hogwarts, she had set up trap spells in her room. Clearly, deep down, this Headmaster of Koldovstoretz harboured no trust for Hogwarts whatsoever.
The Veritaserum took effect swiftly. Wayne lifted the immobilising spell on Katerina and began his interrogation.
"Do you know Tom Riddle?"
"No."
"Is Corvinus the real name of your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"
"Yes."
"Did he graduate from your school?"
"No. But to strengthen the students' sense of belonging, I forged his records."
"Are you allied with him?"
"We are like-minded individuals, united in our disdain for the corrupt magical world."
"Then what is Corvinus's purpose in participating in the Holy Grail War this time?"
"There is no purpose. He doesn't concern himself with such trivial matters. Professor Corvinus is currently consolidating the Ministry of Magic in our homeland."
Wayne frowned. "Do you know about Vladimir being replaced?"
"No. I suspect it was a trap arranged by Dumbledore to ensure his own student's victory."
Wayne: "..."
Headmaster, you're taking the blame for this one.
After asking a few more questions, Wayne was certain Corvinus was indeed Tom, and Katerina had been thoroughly brainwashed—as Headmaster, she obeyed the professor's every word without question.
With a swift slap, Wayne erased the relevant portion of her memory and restored the trap spell at the entrance.
After a moment's thought, he headed to the hospital wing.
Inside lay three champions: Krum, Harry, and Vladimir.
Just as Wayne was about to cast a deeper sleep on the latter two, hurried footsteps echoed outside the door. In an instant, he flickered under a Disillusionment Charm.
Soon, Karkaroff rushed in, panting, and roughly shook Krum awake.
"Headmaster?" The drowsy Krum was still disoriented.
"Get up. Can you walk?" Karkaroff yanked off his blanket impatiently. "We're leaving Hogwarts. Now. Immediately."
Krum: "..."
"Shut up! Don't ask questions—just follow!"
"If you can't walk, I'll have your parents take you away!"
Krum had never seen Karkaroff speak to him so harshly. Scrambling out of bed, he grabbed his clothes from the footboard and trailed after Karkaroff in his hospital gown.
The commotion roused Harry and Vladimir, who blinked in confusion at the two figures hastily fleeing the room.
Cursing Karkaroff for ruining his plans, Wayne reluctantly revealed himself and levelled his wand at the remaining two.
"Stupefy!"