After exam week ended, the students finally relaxed completely.
No classes, no homework, sleeping in as late as they pleased—then wandering about the common rooms or some corner of the castle, playing thrilling rounds of Hogwarts: Magic Awakened with friends.
Of course, they could also look forward to the final two Quidditch matches...
This year's competition for the Quidditch championship was particularly fierce, with three teams tied at one win and one loss each.
In the previous match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, Cho had caught the Golden Snitch, but her team had been losing by too many points—a staggering 190, with the gap still widening.
To prevent the match from becoming a complete humiliation, Cho had no choice but to catch the Snitch and end the game prematurely.
Thus, these last two matches became crucial, with any team still in contention for the title.
First up was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.
The stadium roared with excitement. Cedric and his teammates watched the intense clash on the pitch, feeling even more nervous than during their own matches.
The current score was 60-10, with Gryffindor in the lead.
The outcome of this match didn't matter much—but the point differential did.
If the gap became too large, then for Hufflepuff to claim the championship in their upcoming match against Slytherin, they wouldn't just need to win—they'd need a landslide victory.
So Cedric alternated between cheering for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, making himself seem almost schizophrenic.
Wayne grew so exasperated by his muttering that he simply moved to the Slytherin stands, settling in to watch the match with Astoria in his arms.
Harry was putting in extra effort on the pitch because Sirius had come to watch his match.
Still unable to appear in human form, Sirius attended in his Animagus form, lurking in the shadows of the players' tunnel.
Looking up at Harry soaring above, he kept remembering James from years past.
And Harry kept glancing down at Sirius between plays.
In the past, the sight of a black dog would always make Harry's heart race, but now he felt an endless surge of power as he zigzagged through the air on his Firebolt.
Cho knew about Sirius and understood why Harry was so exhilarated.
But she couldn't just concede defeat. She had to catch the Golden Snitch quickly—any further delay, and once the point gap exceeded 150, Ravenclaw would have virtually no chance of winning.
Cho felt utterly hopeless. She finally understood what Wayne meant by "one god carrying four noobs."
In her case, it wasn't just four noobs—it was practically five!
Apart from Roger Davies, who was at least competent, the other five players seemed to have been chosen just to make up the numbers for the match.
Yet, in the end, Cho still failed.
She did spot the Golden Snitch before Harry, but he wasn't far behind.
Fred happened to be right in Cho's path, and his interference slowed her just enough for Harry to overtake her and seize the Snitch.
240 to 20—Gryffindor won the final match.
Back in the common room, Cedric gathered several teammates to calculate the scores, but after much deliberation, they still couldn't make sense of it. Eventually, Wayne, unable to bear it any longer, glanced at the results and declared:
"Gryffindor's net score is 250. Ours is 220. That means as long as we don't trail by more than 120 points, catching the Golden Snitch will secure our victory."
"It's that simple?" Cedric exclaimed joyfully.
"Wayne, about the other Firebolt..."
Cedric stared at him with puppy-dog eyes, making Wayne cringe.
"It's already been borrowed for you. You'll see it tomorrow morning."
...
The final match was a foregone conclusion—Hufflepuff won effortlessly, claiming this year's Quidditch Cup.
Wood watched mournfully as the Hufflepuff players celebrated wildly on the pitch, his school career ending in disappointment.
Apart from him, Snape was also thoroughly displeased.
Though Snape had no love for Quidditch, the 150-point bonus for the Quidditch champions had pushed Hufflepuff past Slytherin, ensuring they would win the Quidditch Cup this year.
Three consecutive years of losing to Hufflepuff—it was no wonder he was in a foul mood.
He wanted to take his frustration out on Hufflepuff, but considering they were his suppliers—and Wayne's presence—Snape wisely redirected his anger.
The next day, the news that Lupin was a werewolf 'accidentally' slipped from his lips, just as Malfoy 'happened' to be passing by.
If Malfoy heard it, it meant Slytherin heard it. And if Slytherin knew, it might as well be common knowledge across the entire school.
By the time Harry and Ron rushed to Lupin's office, they found him packing his belongings.
"Professor, are you leaving?" Harry asked anxiously.
"Of course," Lupin smiled. "My task here is complete. I'll always cherish these wonderful memories."
"Can't you stay, Professor?" Harry said angrily. "Snape leaked it on purpose. He's getting back at you and Sirius."
Harry had heard plenty from Sirius about their tangled history during their school days and immediately guessed the reason.
"Have you forgotten, Harry?" Lupin fastened his worn-out suitcase and picked it up.
"I said it before—even if Snape hadn't told everyone, I would have confessed voluntarily."
"Why? Wouldn't it be better to keep teaching? You need this job," Ron asked, puzzled.
"Well... that might be difficult," Lupin said wryly. "I'm rather afraid of the curse coming true."
"Surviving this post is already a stroke of luck for me."
Lupin spoke with genuine trepidation. Considering the fates of his two predecessors—both vanished without a trace—he truly felt fortunate to have escaped unscathed.
Given Lupin's safety concerns, neither boy pressed further.
"Where will you go?" Harry asked. "Will I see you again?"
"Absolutely," Lupin said firmly. "I'll stay at Sirius's place first. Once his affairs are settled, we might live together for a while."
"That's brilliant." Harry brightened, then noticed Lupin's suitcase. "Won't you stay for the end-of-term feast?"
"No." Lupin shook his head. "I expect the parents' complaint letters are already en route. I'd prefer to leave with some dignity intact."
"At least I'm resigning rather than being sacked."
"Safe travels," Harry said earnestly.
The two boys, accompanied by a large black dog, saw Lupin off at the gates.
Sure enough, that afternoon, a flock of owls bearing parental fury descended upon the school—many carrying scarlet envelopes—all delivered straight to the Headmaster's Office.
The gargoyle took one look at the pile of complaints, smirked disdainfully, and swallowed them whole with a gaping maw. A muffled rumbling echoed from its belly.
After numerous upgrades, such a paltry number of letters couldn't begin to trouble it.
Dumbledore had no interest in reading them anyway—just the usual tirades against him and Lupin.
He'd rather spend the time writing letters to coax... invite an old friend to cover a few classes.
Meanwhile, the students' report cards had been distributed.
Fifth and seventh years would have to wait—they'd receive their Ministry of Magic notifications during summer holidays.
Wayne opened his envelope with slight trepidation, exhaling in relief at the row of perfect scores.
What worried him most were Muggle Studies and Divination, as these subjects relied heavily on the professors' subjective opinions.
Fortunately, nothing went wrong.
Beside him, Hermione leaned over to peek at Wayne's grades, her lips pursing even tighter.
Wayne quickly tried to console her.
Hermione had underperformed this time. During her Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, the Boggart she faced had transformed into Professor McGonagall, declaring that she had failed all her exams. Hermione had immediately broken down and fled the examination hall.
Even if Lupin had wanted to help, there was nothing he could do. He could only do his best, giving her an 'E'.
This year's end-of-term feast passed without incident—no last-minute point additions either.
The golden decorations signified Hufflepuff's smooth victory in securing the House Cup for the third consecutive year. The applause wasn't overly enthusiastic, as many were experiencing this excitement for the third time already.
Instead, many eyes kept drifting towards Wayne.
"Why are you all looking at me?" Wayne asked, baffled, as he clapped along.
Toby voiced everyone's confusion. "How come you didn't get the Special Award for Services to the School this year?"
Wayne rolled his eyes. "You think the school is my family's property? Awards don't just fall into my lap—I haven't done anything to deserve one."
"What a shame," Cedric sighed. "I thought you'd get one every year until graduation."
"Then the award would lose all its value," Wayne retorted with a laugh. "Just like the Ministry's high-ranking officials—utterly worthless."
Back in the common room, the badgers held their usual grand celebration for the three-peat victory, as well as to bid farewell to the seventh-years.
Another ten graduates had been placed into the Ministry by Wayne, with dozens more entering various other professions.
A few more years of this, and he'd truly have friends everywhere.
...
The next morning, the young wizards boarded the Hogwarts Express, bound for London.
Wayne led the girls to a compartment, discussing holiday plans, when Fred and George showed up with Cedric in tow.
"Wayne, you're not going to miss the World Cup, right?" George said. "Dad's bound to get plenty of tickets—we should all go together."
Cedric chimed in, "Same here."
As if anyone didn't have a father working at the Ministry.
Come to think of it, the Diggorys were something of a political family.
Eldritch Diggory had been the fourth Minister for Magic—the one who established the Auror Office. He'd been wildly popular, only to die of dragon pox while still in office.
Cedric's father was now the Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, frequently dealing with Newt, and wielded no small amount of influence.
"Oh, I'll definitely be going," Wayne said. "But I appreciate the offer—no need for tickets."
"Wait, you already got yours?" Fred asked.
"Nope." Wayne shook his head, then added under their puzzled stares, "I got myself a private box."
"If you lot can't find seats, you're welcome to join me."
The three gaped at him.
"Merlin's beard, an entire box..." Cedric said, awestruck. "Who pulled strings like that?"
"The president of the International Quidditch Association—Hassan Mostafa."
Cedric gave an impressed thumbs-up.
"Only you could pull strings with such important figures," they said.
Actually, these tickets were meant for the Firebolt company, but Wallow and McKay had little interest in watching the match. They preferred designing brooms, so they handed the entire box over to Wayne to manage.
"By the way, would any of you be interested in making some extra money?" Wayne suddenly asked.
At this, not just the twins and Cedric, but even Ginny perked up: "I want in too!"
"Don't be childish, what could you possibly do?" George said dismissively.
Ginny smirked. "Even if I can't do anything, I can always tell Mum what you're up to."
"Don't! I take it back," Fred immediately begged.
"Hmph." Only then did Ginny turn to Wayne with a bright smile. "Wayne, just let me join, won't you?"
The boy shrugged. "I didn't say no. Anyone interested is welcome."
At this, Hermione and Cho also raised their hands.
They wanted some pocket money too.
Luna, seeing Ginny's pleading gaze, also raised her hand.
The wealthy little miss didn't need the money, and Penelope was about to start an internship, so neither was interested.
Wayne's idea was simple: create Quidditch World Cup merchandise.
Things like cheering trumpets, magical fireworks, and national-themed decorations.
"That's actually a brilliant idea," Fred agreed, then raised a question. "But which team's merchandise should we make?"
"We can't wait until the finalists are decided to start preparing—there wouldn't be enough time."
The others nodded in agreement.
Only the final match of the Quidditch World Cup was being held in Britain. For the earlier matches, even if merchandise were made, there'd be nowhere to sell it.
"That's where we take a gamble," Wayne said with a smile. "I'm betting on Bulgaria and Ireland. If you trust me, prepare designs based on these two teams."
"I support England," Cedric said stubbornly. "England has the most star players, the most luxurious lineup."
Before Wayne could retort, Cho snorted. "England has zero chance of winning. Always a star-studded lineup, always out by the quarterfinals."
Cedric flushed red, speechless.
Damn it, it was all true. How could he argue?
After more discussion, they realised Wayne's suggestion was solid.
Bulgaria had a prodigy Seeker, Krum, who was exceptionally strong, while Ireland boasted the most luxurious Chaser team—absolute top-tier players.
These two teams were also in different semi-final brackets, making a final showdown likely.
They decided to take the gamble. After all, the products Wayne suggested wouldn't cost much to make. Betting right on just one team would bring decent profits; hitting both would be a windfall.
If neither made the finals... well, they could always discount the stock at school.
That way, they'd at least recoup costs—just a wasted effort, nothing more.
After ironing out more details, the twins and Cedric left.
Before leaving, George tried to drag Ginny away, only to be shooed out by the girl, leaving him baffled.
Outside the box, he muttered, "Apart from her and Luna, all the other girls have something going on with Wayne. Don't they feel awkward staying there?"
Fred's footsteps faltered as he looked at his brother, his eyes filled with utter disbelief.
The twins shared a mental connection, and George quickly grasped his meaning. In unison, they exclaimed:
"No way!"
"What are you two on about?" Cedric asked, puzzled by their cryptic behaviour.
"Nothing," George replied absentmindedly.
The twins harboured a bold suspicion.
Would Wayne... end up becoming their brother-in-law?
...
At six o'clock sharp, the train arrived at King's Cross Station. After bidding farewell to the girls and arranging dates for the coming days, Wayne exited the station and entered a nearby alleyway.
There stood Crouch, waiting patiently in a bowler hat and swathed in heavy clothing.
"Mr Lawrence."
Upon seeing the young man, he gave a slight bow of greeting.
"Hmm."
Wayne nodded lightly. "How long have you been waiting?"
"I came straight after work."
"You could have waited at home," Wayne said with a smile. "But since you're here, let's head back together."
The boy rubbed his hands together excitedly. "I can't wait to whip your son."
Crouch: "..."