You can never wake someone who's pretending to sleep.
Or perhaps it's better said that those who walk different paths cannot work together.
Just as Wayne had described, Dumbledore didn't understand politicians' obsession with power at all.
Consider Fudge's experiences during his years in office.
The first two years passed uneventfully, but back then, everyone said he'd only become Minister for Magic by riding on Dumbledore's coattails. His presence was practically the weakest in history, with nobody taking him seriously.
After two or three years of painstaking effort cultivating loyalists, his voice within the Ministry of Magic gradually grew louder.
But then what?
Immediately afterwards, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, plunging him into another crisis of confidence.
Then came the World Cup riots. Though Wayne suppressed them, Fudge's incompetence still faced widespread criticism.
If Voldemort truly returned, what would happen to him?
Quite clearly, he'd be ousted immediately.
In wartime, people need a strong Minister who can provide security.
Even if only appearing so, certainly not an incompetent fool.
Moreover, public panic needs an outlet. What could be more satisfying for the masses than holding their Minister accountable?
Therefore, even if he actually witnessed Voldemort's resurrection and subsequent departure, he'd most likely choose to suppress the incident, clinging to power day by day.
Dumbledore's visit was destined to end in discord. Had he not come, Fudge might not have turned against him.
Voldemort was completely pushed from Fudge's mind—his only perceived enemy now was Dumbledore, the greatest threat, trying to force him from office.
...
Hogwarts.
Harry awoke to find Ron, who'd been checking every half hour, rushing in immediately.
Without hesitation, Harry poured out everything to him, desperately needing someone to confide in.
Then the entire school exploded.
Thanks to Wayne's advance warning yesterday, most Hufflepuff students were prepared, though a significant minority still couldn't believe it.
Two Voldemorts—one young, one old.
How could this possibly be true?
Thus, when Harry appeared before the feast that evening, wherever he went, people would secretly glance at him before quickly moving away, whispering.
Apart from Ron and Neville, only Malfoy dared approach him.
Outside the entrance hall.
"Potter, heard you've gone mad. The Dark Lord's return? Is this your year-long script?" Malfoy's face was practically pressed against Harry's, wearing a sneer. "Must say you've succeeded—now everyone's talking about your delusions.
"Two Dark Lords? You really know how to amuse me."
"Happy, Malfoy?" Unexpectedly, Harry remained perfectly calm. "You and your father can find two masters now."
Instantly, Malfoy's face turned from white to red. "How—how dare you! I'll tell my father!"
"Go ahead. Your master's returned, but what good does it do? Still got half-killed by Wayne, didn't he?"
Harry patted Malfoy's cheek, just as Mr G had taught him; his magical power was restrained yet palpable, radiating intimidation.
Crabbe and Goyle, about to intervene, froze as if pinned by some predatory beast's gaze, not daring to move a muscle.
Having just faced Voldemort yesterday, the intimidating aura around Harry hadn't completely dissipated yet. Even without fully reverting to his usual self, it was more than enough to overwhelm two students.
Malfoy was also startled by his demeanour, stammering for a long moment before managing, "Anyone can boast. My relationship with Lawrence isn't poor either. Why would he help you?"
Harry smiled. "Because we're on the same side."
Thud!
With that, he punched Malfoy squarely on the bridge of his nose, eliciting a howl of pain before striding off with Ron.
"That was brilliant just now!" Ron couldn't contain his excitement. "Why didn't I think of it? Beating up Malfoy right before holidays—even if Snape gets furious, he can't come after you during summer break."
"Just letting off steam." Harry didn't dwell on what had just happened.
After being bullied so much yesterday, landing that punch on Malfoy had instantly lifted his mood.
As Wayne had said, Malfoy really was his medicine.
...
On the grounds, Hagrid reluctantly handed over the Abraxan horses—one couldn't tell whether he was more attached to the creatures or their owner.
All Beauxbatons students had already boarded their carriage, with Fleur saying her final goodbyes to Wayne.
She produced the Holy Grail War prize money.
"Return this to Diggory. He's the true champion."
"Alright. Then take this as pocket money—Gabrielle's share is included too. Don't be stingy."
Wayne accepted the money pouch without protest, handing Fleur an even heavier one in return.
"Understood." Fleur wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a light kiss before ascending the carriage steps. With a final wave, she called, "Remember to visit during the holidays."
"No problem. I'll come by soon."
Wayne smiled in agreement.
Only when the carriage had risen and vanished into the sky did he turn back towards the castle, arriving just as the feast began.
...
The banquet was as lavish as ever, though students' minds were elsewhere.
Firstly, the term's meals had been consistently good—tonight merely offered more variety, hardly cause for particular excitement.
Secondly, the atmosphere felt... unfamiliar.
With half the Great Hall suddenly empty after the other schools' departures, the space felt cavernously hollow.
Moreover, yesterday's events remained uncorroborated beyond Harry's account—they desperately wanted to hear Dumbledore's version.
Golden decorations adorned the Great Hall, signalling Hufflepuff's yet another House Cup victory. Yet even the badgers paid little attention, their gazes—like those from other houses—repeatedly darting towards the staff table.
Dumbledore's expression was unreadable. Professor McGonagall looked severe, conversing rapidly with Professor Sprout beside her.
Professor Flitwick focused on his meal, while even Snape and Sirius—sworn enemies—sat together without arguing.
Sirius kept glancing towards the Gryffindor table at Harry, eyes filled with both concern and pride.
Snape frequently clutched his arm as if injured.
Then there was Moody, the protagonist of the recent controversy—his magical eye's intimidating presence made students quickly avert their gazes after brief glances.
Finally, the food vanished from the plates.
Dumbledore stood. Instant silence fell across the Great Hall as all awaited his words.
"Another year has come to an end," Dumbledore said, looking around at everyone. "Tonight, I have much to tell you all.
"First, I must commend the two champions for their outstanding performances in the tournament, demonstrating the qualities befitting an excellent Hogwarts student. Let us raise our glasses to them."
Dumbledore lifted his goblet, and students and professors alike rose to their feet, raising their drinks.
"To Diggory!"
"To Potter!"
Both boys lowered their heads in embarrassment.
After everyone had taken a sip and reseated themselves, Dumbledore continued:
"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this, and some parents may be shocked by my actions—but you have every right to know the truth.
"That's right. Voldemort has returned."
A tense murmur spread through the Great Hall. Many stared at him in horror, searching for any hint that Dumbledore was joking, but his expression remained as unreadable as ever.
"I'm sure you've heard many rumours. I can vouch for everything Harry Potter has said—it all truly happened.
"I tell you this not to spread panic, but to unite us more closely.
"Indeed, Voldemort excels at sowing conflict and enmity. Only by demonstrating equally unbreakable friendship and trust can we minimise losses in the coming war."
The word 'war' made Professor McGonagall's heart pound. She set down her goblet uneasily.
"Hogwarts welcomes every student and will offer them sanctuary. As long as you return here, I give you my word—there will always be a place for you."
With that, Dumbledore sat down.
The feast ended in an eerie atmosphere, devoid of the usual joy that marks the start of holidays. Even the House Cup ceremony was omitted.
Students returned to their common rooms in a daze, packing their belongings.
...
By the next day, as they boarded the train, shock still lingered.
Wayne and the girls found a compartment, which Fred and George shamelessly squeezed into, followed by Cedric, Ron, and Harry.
They had more pressing questions, ignoring their status as third wheels.
"So, Voldemort had half his body wrecked by Wayne. Even if he's not dead, he won't be causing trouble anytime soon, right?"
Fred analysed: "I still can't believe Fudge broke with Dumbledore. Does he not know why he became Minister? Because of his big belly?"
The compartment erupted in laughter, lightening the mood.
"Maybe it's his never-ending cocktail parties?" George added. "Dad says Fudge gets invited by those pure-blood Slytherins every night."
"These aren't your concerns. Just stay vigilant," Wayne said without elaboration.
What Dumbledore couldn't figure out would be useless to share with children.
He tossed Cedric a money pouch containing three thousand Galleons. "Fleur asked me to give this to you. She says you're the real champion."
"I can't accept this. Please return it to Miss Delacour," Cedric refused hastily.
"Take it. He's right—if it weren't for Tom's interference, you'd be the real champion," Wayne said. "Though you'd probably have been eliminated the moment you Apparated there."
"What elimination?" Cedric asked curiously.
After Wayne explained, everyone fell into stunned silence.
Harry considered the scenario. If Fudge hadn't been Minister for Magic, he'd have been dealt with immediately. Looking at it that way, Wayne's prediction was quite accurate.
Cedric had essentially been given a second life at death's door.
After several polite refusals, Cedric finally relented and accepted the money from Wayne.
Fred and George watched enviously while Ron's eyes turned red with jealousy.
Three thousand Galleons—with that amount, he could live comfortably for five years without working.
After finishing the snacks prepared by Gardevoir, the train soon arrived at King's Cross Station. Before disembarking, Cedric stopped Wayne again and returned the money.
Seeing Wayne frown with displeasure, he quickly explained: "I'm not giving it back. I want to buy a Firebolt—ordering through you should be faster, right?"
"That money won't be enough," Wayne said, though he still pocketed the cash, planning to give him a discount.
Cedric smiled unconcernedly. "Then I'll borrow the rest. I borrowed from you last time I bought a broom, too—help me out again."
Wayne scoffed.
"You're graduating soon. Even if you buy it, you'll only use it for a year."
"One year of fun is still worth it. Always borrowing your broom isn't ideal."
As they stepped off the train into the surging crowd, Cedric smiled: "After I graduate, I'll leave the broom to Hufflepuff—do something good for the house."
"See you. My parents are here," Cedric waved excitedly before merging into the crowd towards the Diggorys.
The perfect Hufflepuff template everyone spoke of—eternally loyal and kind.
"Good thing I'm slightly better," Wayne muttered. "Otherwise, the title of Hufflepuff's heir would've gone to him."
Hermione, who'd been following them: "..."
After handing several girls to their parents, Wayne exited the station under Mr Lovegood's thief-wary gaze. Instead of Apparating directly, he entered an alleyway.
"Minister Fudge, you've been following me long enough. Care to state your purpose?"
No response came from the alley, but Wayne waited patiently, staring at a spot near the rubbish bins.
Like a chameleon, Fudge materialised, wrapped head-to-toe. "Seems my Disillusionment Charm remains poor," he said bitterly.
Wayne smiled without replying.
Fudge took a deep breath. "Mr Lawrence, we've known each other this long, yet you've never visited my home. Would you accompany me today?"
"The honour is mine."