Hearing that Dumbledore intended to take him to Nurmengard, Wayne's pupils constricted sharply.
No way...
Had he pushed Dumbledore too far?
It was just about reviving Tom... Judging by this, was Dumbledore planning to call in reinforcements?
Wasn't this a bit too harsh on poor Tom...
"Professor..." Wayne steadied himself and put on an apologetic smile.
"Wouldn't it be inappropriate for me to tag along? I wouldn't want to intrude on your... quality time."
Dumbledore froze, then let out a helpless chuckle, silently cursing Newt for his lack of discretion—sharing such things with children.
If Wayne knew about his relationship with Grindelwald, how was he supposed to maintain his authority as Headmaster?
With a wry smile, Dumbledore said, "I merely wish for Grindelwald to examine the nature of the Horcrux and speculate on Tom's current state."
"In terms of Dark Magic, perhaps only he in this world can rival Voldemort."
"Grindelwald also possesses formidable prophetic abilities. He might even be able to locate Tom."
"It's nothing like what you're imagining—this isn't about reminiscing."
Wayne nodded in understanding.
He had already guessed Dumbledore's intentions.
This wasn't Dumbledore being modest or placing himself beneath Grindelwald—it was simply that their expertise lay in different areas.
Grindelwald excelled in Dark Magic, while Dumbledore specialised in Transfiguration and Charms.
Of course, this didn't mean Dumbledore lacked talent in Dark Magic. On the contrary, his aptitude was so high that it had once impressed Grindelwald himself.
But after Ariana's tragedy, Dumbledore had lost heart and rarely touched Dark Magic thereafter.
"I understand, Professor," Wayne said. "Just let me know when you plan to depart."
He had long been curious about the original Dark Lord—the one who wasn't the Dark Lord. Even if Dumbledore hadn't invited him, Wayne might have impulsively visited Nurmengard Tower someday to pay his respects.
"Thank you for your assistance. Let's set the time for next Saturday morning," Dumbledore said with a nod before stepping into the Great Hall, Wayne following close behind.
...
The feast began.
Perhaps to celebrate the end of the nightmare, or perhaps to celebrate the revived consciousness of those petrified victims.
Tonight's dinner was exceptionally lavish, almost rivalling the Christmas and start-of-term feasts.
At the Hufflepuff table, Wayne barely needed to lift his cutlery – the surrounding badgers would deliver food straight to his plate.
"Ah~!"
Wayne opened his mouth as Hannah, seated beside him, fed him a neatly cut strip of beef rib.
"Will you explain now?"
Grace glared at him irritably: "You're practically living like a young master, with the entire house's girls serving you dinner."
Wayne pursed his lips, and Grace obediently delivered a forkful of pasta into his mouth.
After swallowing, Wayne sighed contentedly: "If only every day could be like this."
Upon hearing this, Cedric's eyes turned red yet again.
You absolute bastard. Not content with monopolising the prettiest girls across several year groups, you're extending your claws to the others, too.
No regard for your mate's survival whatsoever.
"Enough nonsense. Out with it – how did you actually deal with the Basilisk?" Grace's delicate hand settled on Wayne's waist, causing the boy to stiffen and sit up straight immediately.
"It was Ho-Oh. The Phoenix isn't afraid of the Basilisk's gaze – it gouged out both eyes directly. I just delivered the final two strikes to ensure its death."
"How enviable..." Grace marvelled.
With Ho-Oh, even if Wayne were a Squib, he'd still surpass ordinary wizards.
Not even a full squad of Aurors could guarantee defeating a Basilisk, let alone a thousand-year-old one.
At neighbouring tables, Hermione, Cho, and even Astoria glared teeth-gnashingly at Wayne, surrounded by adoring girls.
That wretched boy really knows how to enjoy himself.
Soon, the students finished their meals, and all remaining food vanished from the tables.
Dumbledore rose, and the Great Hall fell silent as young witches and wizards turned towards him.
"I must say, it feels wonderful to be back among you all." Dumbledore's opening words brought thunderous applause.
Judging by his demeanour, none could guess that an era-defining event had quietly occurred.
After repeatedly gesturing for quiet, Dumbledore continued:
"There are so many joyous matters, I scarcely know where to begin."
"Madam Pince, Crabbe, Goyle, Smith, the Bloody Baron, and Mrs Norris have all recovered fully. They merely require two days' observation in the hospital wing before discharge."
Another round of applause followed, though less fervent – most had learnt this when visiting Harry that afternoon.
"Now, regarding the Chamber of Secrets..." Dumbledore paused as students tensed.
"Regrettably, Professor Lockhart fell under the influence of a Dark Artefact, becoming the perpetrator behind all attacks."
"It was he who opened the Chamber and unleashed the Basilisk – paying for this with his life."
"Let this serve as a solemn reminder to all." Dumbledore's expression turned grave as his piercing gaze swept across the four house tables.
"Should you encounter any magical artefacts capable of communication or possessing extraordinary abilities, you must inform your professors and parents, who will provide the safest advice."
"Professor!"
Some young wizards could no longer contain themselves and stood up.
Lockhart's recent performance had won over many. Regardless of magical ability, his earlier deductions alone had shifted people's perceptions of him.
Now, the revelation that he was the culprit was clearly too much for some to accept.
"Professor Dumbledore, when Crabbe and Goyle were attacked, Professor Lockhart was clearly in the Great Hall. How could he be the culprit?"
"Miss Blanco, I understand your confusion."
Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "In fact, he utilised a remarkable magical artefact to create an alibi."
"All evidence has now been submitted to the Ministry of Magic."
"Oh, and our gamekeeper has been proven innocent. He'll return to the school tomorrow."
At this explanation, the Ravenclaw girl sat back down, visibly crestfallen.
"Finally, we come to our heroes."
Dumbledore looked at Wayne, as Harry was still absent, recovering in the hospital wing.
"Mr Potter uncovered the Chamber of Secrets and Lockhart's plot, while Mr Lawrence defeated the Basilisk. I shall award both the Special Award for Services to the School, with two hundred points to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!"
Thunderous applause erupted once more. Over in Gryffindor, several students leapt onto their benches in excitement, while Ron's face flushed crimson with regret that he hadn't accompanied Harry to confront Lockhart.
If he'd gone too, might he have shared in the glory and earned some points?
"You're joking—one person defeating Slytherin's Basilisk?" Marcus Flint muttered.
Many among the Slytherins nodded in agreement, considering it sheer fantasy.
The Basilisk was a creature more terrifying than a dragon, especially with its lethal gaze. Had Dumbledore dealt with it, they might have believed it. But anyone else? Highly suspect.
Even Snape shared their scepticism.
Hearing their doubts, the jubilant badgers glared at their neighbours.
Wayne said nothing, simply tossing out a bag.
BANG!
"AAAAAH! Monster!"
The massive corpse of the Basilisk crashed to the ground, eliciting screams from the students. At the staff table, the other professors rose to their feet.
Snape's eyes gleamed as he stared at the Basilisk's remains, breathing heavily as if under the influence of Amortentia.
This was no monster... the Basilisk was a treasure trove!
"Dumbledore, the Basilisk was left by Slytherin himself. By rights, shouldn't it belong to Slytherin House?" Snape's eyes narrowed as he hatched a scheme.
Before Dumbledore could respond, Sprout retorted sharply:
"Severus, the Basilisk is Wayne's spoils of victory. It has nothing to do with Slytherin. If you want something, negotiate with Wayne. Don't try any underhanded tactics here."
Snape's smile froze. "But—"
Bargaining with Wayne would inevitably lead to another ruthless fleecing.
"Enough." Dumbledore admired the gaping wounds on the Basilisk's body, cutting off Snape's protest.
"Pomona is quite correct. This is Mr Lawrence's rightful trophy."
After giving everyone a good show, Wayne finally put the Basilisk away. He looked up at Snape on the platform, his eyes full of encouragement.
'Come and negotiate with me. If you don't come, how can I fleece you?'
Feeling Wayne's gaze, Snape's mouth twitched as he silently mourned his precious collection.
...
After announcing all the matters, Dumbledore signalled that everyone could leave.
Professor McGonagall quickened her pace and called out to the Weasley twins.
"Professor, we really haven't broken any school rules recently!" George shuddered, speaking almost reflexively while both their minds raced to recall what mischief they'd gotten into that Professor McGonagall might have evidence of.
Their reaction made Professor McGonagall both exasperated and amused. "I'm not here to scold you."
"Then why...?" Fred asked cautiously.
"I'm here to apologise," Professor McGonagall said solemnly. "Those roosters that died last time were Lockhart's doing—their crowing is the natural enemy of the Basilisk."
"But I wrongly accused you for so long. For that, I apologise."
With that, Professor McGonagall bowed formally, making the twins jump aside to avoid it.
"Professor, don't say that," Fred said, uncharacteristically blushing from embarrassment at her apology. "Given how often George and I cause trouble, it's only natural you'd think that way."
"One thing doesn't cancel out another. When you're wrong, you must admit it—not just students, but teachers especially should lead by example," Professor McGonagall insisted stubbornly, shaking her head.
"The fifty points deducted will be returned, but the points for sneaking into the Forbidden Forest will still stand."
"Try to be less mischievous in future and focus more on your studies. Understood?"
The twins exchanged glances and simultaneously broke into identical grins, speaking in unison:
"Understood!"
Any lingering petty grievances evaporated instantly, replaced by newfound respect for Professor McGonagall.
That said...
Expecting them to abandon mischief and pranks was utterly impossible.
They just wouldn't get caught, simple as that~
...
The gloom that had shrouded the castle for months finally lifted, and school life returned to normal.
The next day, nearly everyone ventured outside the castle to enjoy their long-awaited freedom.
Wayne first visited the hospital wing that morning to check on Harry.
Harry's first question upon seeing him was: "Wayne, has Voldemort... no, Tom Riddle really been resurrected? Is Lockhard alive?"
He'd dreamt all night of Lockhart transforming into Tom, the nightmare replaying endlessly.
"Of course not." Wayne shook his head, reciting Dumbledore's official explanation: "It was an advanced form of Dark Magic. The diary drew upon Lockhart's life to restore a fragment of Tom Riddle. Once the diary's magic was spent, Lockhart… was gone."
"That's a relief." Harry exhaled before requesting to purchase protective equipment.
This time, he'd suffered from not investing in premium features, leaving him vulnerable to Lockhart's ambush.
Wayne naturally agreed, even offering Harry a fifty per cent discount.
The generous offer shocked Harry, who looked at Wayne as if meeting him for the first time.
...
By afternoon, Hagrid had returned from the Ministry of Magic.
Wayne brought Hermione and Astoria to the gamekeeper's hut.
Fang immediately bounded towards Wayne in excitement as Hagrid warmly served tea and an assortment of pastries.
His stay at the Ministry had clearly treated Hagrid well—his already massive frame had expanded further.
As they ate, Hagrid announced cheerfully:
"My legal troubles… they're over—not jus' this time, but from fifty years ago too!" Hagrid said, grin spread wide like a giant weight'd been lifted off his shoulders.
"An' the Ministry's lettin' me have a proper wand again! Bloody brilliant, it is!"
"You didn't have a wand before?" Hermione frowned. "But Harry said you gave his cousin a pig's tail when you first met."
Hagrid went pale and waved his hands frantically. "Hermione, please, don' go tellin' anyone that!"
He cast a nervous glance at the umbrella by the door, whispering, "I mended me snapped wand wiv Spellotape. Ministry never knew."
"That's incredibly reckless." Hermione's brow furrowed deeper.
"All's well that ends well," Hagrid chuckled, then looked gratefully at Wayne. "Say, Wayne, I owe yeh for this. Wouldn' fancy spendin' years in that hellhole Azkaban."
"Don't mention it," Wayne shrugged. "You were framed either way. Azkaban was excessive punishment."
"Is Azkaban really that terrible? It's just a prison," Hermione asked curiously.
"It's different," Astoria said gravely, a flicker of fear in her eyes. "Dementors guard it. Even one day inside could drive you mad."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, though the concept remained abstract. She knew of Dementors, but their true horror could only be understood through direct experience.
"Anyway, ye won't be seein' those ghostly fellows—they're all locked up in Azkaban, so no need ter dwell on it," Hagrid said with a laugh, steering clear of the unpleasant topic.
Wayne's eyelid twitched at that.
What a jinx…
If Hagrid hadn't brought it up, he'd have completely forgotten. Unless something unexpected happened, the Dementors would be arriving at Hogwarts next term.
To be honest, apart from noticing Scabbers at the start of term and trying to borrow him from Ron for research, he'd completely put the matter out of his mind.
Was Hermione not adorable enough? Or was Cho not soft enough?
Who'd waste time obsessing over a rat?