Every student present had lived in Hogwarts Castle for at least a year, making them intimately familiar with its appearance.
Yet today, after two and a half months away, they returned to find an entirely new structure standing on the grounds.
They'd stopped before the oak front doors. A climb up the stone steps would take them into the castle proper.
To the east stood the Whomping Willow, with Professor Sprout's greenhouses slightly westwards – where most Herbology classes were held.
Further west lay the rear grounds, formerly an empty stretch of lawn. Now, a five-storey Gothic building rose there, connected to the main castle by an aerial walkway.
Though less than half the size of the castle, its numerous windows hinted at many subdivided rooms inside.
"New classrooms?" a student exclaimed excitedly.
"Or maybe new dormitories?"
"Really? I've been wanting to change roommates – bloody Michael's got foot odour!"
"That's bollocks! It's Levi's stinking feet!"
"Shut it, all of you! We're about to eat – no disgusting talk."
The young wizards buzzed with curiosity about the mysterious new building, though the relentless rain drove them scurrying inside.
Wayne, thoroughly weary of the endless downpour, deliberately lingered until everyone had entered. As the last student disappeared through the doors, a streak of light shot from his trunk into the stormy sky.
Thunder rolled instantly, brilliant lightning fracturing the heavens.
When Wayne finally stepped into the Entrance Hall, an angry voice greeted him:
"Peeves! Get down here this instant!"
A large red water balloon fell from the ceiling and exploded right above Ron's head, drenching him completely – though he was already soaked to begin with. More water balloons followed as young wizards around them shrieked, while Peeves cackled gleefully overhead.
Professor McGonagall came storming over in fury, but the floor was too wet – she slipped, only to be caught by Hermione's quick reflexes before she could fall.
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
"No problem, Professor."
"Peeves! Get down here this instant!" Professor McGonagall bellowed, her glasses barely containing the fire in her eyes.
"I haven't done anything," Peeves giggled. "They're already wet anyway, aren't they?"
As he prepared to drop the remaining water balloons in his hands, he suddenly spotted Wayne entering the scene, watching him with an amused smirk. With a shriek, Peeves fled through the wall in panic.
"Thank Merlin," Professor McGonagall muttered, her frown deepening as she glanced at Wayne. "Alright, everyone into the Great Hall now."
The students shuffled carefully across the slippery entrance hall into the Great Hall on the right, but Professor McGonagall held Wayne back.
"Mr Lawrence, might I ask why Peeves is so afraid of you?"
Under normal circumstances, she might have been curious but would never have stooped to asking Wayne directly. But this year was different.
If visitors from other schools saw that Hogwarts couldn't even control its own poltergeist, where would that leave Minerva McGonagall's dignity?
No matter what, Peeves had to be dealt with before the other schools arrived – or at least kept in line for the entire academic year.
"It's quite simple, really," Wayne said with a pleasant smile. "I've mastered a mental attack spell. Peeves suffered from it twice, so he's rather wary of me now."
"If you'd like, I can write down the spell for you tomorrow."
Asking a student for a spell made Professor McGonagall slightly uncomfortable, but for the greater good, she nodded awkwardly.
"I've had some new insights into Transfiguration recently. You might find them useful too."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Go on inside," Professor McGonagall said with a smile, watching Wayne's retreating figure as he entered the Great Hall, feeling another pang of envy towards Professor Sprout.
What a fine young man.
Inside the Great Hall, most students looked somewhat dishevelled. Many were using their wands to evaporate rainwater from their clothes, though some had mishaps – like Seamus, who nearly set himself on fire.
As Wayne passed the Slytherin table, almost everyone instinctively lowered their heads. Malfoy's two dim-witted cronies practically buried their faces in the table, and even Malfoy himself dared not meet Wayne's gaze.
He knew full well his father had participated in that night's rally.
Thank Merlin, they'd escaped before being caught, otherwise...
The thought of Pansy's father's gruesome fate still made him nauseous.
As for Pansy Parkinson – now fatherless – she didn't dare harbour resentment towards Wayne. Her uncle had made it clear: survival was paramount now. The Parkinson bloodline must continue. Only with sufficient power could revenge even be considered.
Had Wayne known Pansy's thoughts, he'd likely have scoffed.
Looking like that and still thinking about continuing the bloodline?
Couldn't even get it up!
Sitting at the familiar dining table, Wayne propped his chin on his hand, waiting idly for the meal to begin.
Toby and Norman were discussing the new purpose of that building and even asked for his opinion.
"Probably preparations for the increasing student numbers," Wayne mused. "Haven't you noticed? There are even more first-years this year than last – already fifty per cent more than our year."
"That does seem about right," Toby said belatedly.
Justin Finch-Fletchley perked up nearby: "Definitely. All the compartments were full today – I had to squeeze in with some Gryffindors after searching forever."
Cedric nodded in agreement: "Even the Prefects' carriage was given up for the first-years."
Mentioning this, Wayne paused. "Come to think of it, Cho became a Prefect this year, too, but she didn't use the Prefects' carriage either."
"Don't tell me you only just found out?" Cedric gave him an odd look.
"I only noticed when she put on her school robes," Wayne shook his head. "No trouble from the two head honchos?"
He was referring to this year's Head Boy and Girl.
Cedric chuckled: "Not everyone's like Percy, desperate to hold three meetings a day. This year's heads are both Ravenclaws – they don't interfere at all. Relax."
"Good."
Listening to Wayne and Cedric's conversation, some young badgers couldn't resist their curiosity and edged closer.
They were still eager to hear about the Quidditch World Cup, but Wayne brushed them off with the excuse that the Ministry had sworn him to secrecy.
Wayne glanced at the staff table – old Dumbledore was absent, Snape too, though everyone else had arrived.
Soon, the doors of the Great Hall opened, and Dumbledore strode in, taking his seat at the head table with a smile that suggested decent spirits.
The ever-gloomy Snape followed behind, sweeping a glance over Harry at the Gryffindor table without a word.
Ever since Sirius Black was proven innocent, Snape had found himself disliking Harry even more – not even Lily's eyes could shield against this resentment.
Then Professor McGonagall led a group of drenched first-years into the hall, several so thoroughly soaked one might suspect they'd just fallen into the Black Lake.
One scrawny boy wore Hagrid's moleskin coat, looking tremendously distraught.
Upon learning they'd have to wear some bizarre hat to determine which house they'd spend the next seven years in, the first-years' expressions grew even more distressed.
This pleased many second-years immensely.
They felt much better about things now.
Truth be told, Professor McGonagall had proposed restoring the Sorting Hat to its original state more than once.
Even a tattered old hat would be better than its current 'flamboyant' state, but with both Dumbledore and the hat itself objecting, the matter had been dropped.
Now the Sorting Hat began its song – still praising the four founders, but with added rap elements that earned applause from many students.
"I helped with the lyrics," Norman said excitedly as he clapped. "He actually included them!"
"I'll bring the Sorting Hat out another day – you can have a proper chat," Wayne smiled, applauding.
"Stewart Ackerley!"
Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment scroll and called the name loudly.
A boy stepped forward reluctantly and placed the hat on his head.
"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting Hat shouted.
Immediately, the Ravenclaw table erupted into enthusiastic applause once more, welcoming the first new student of the year.
The sorting of subsequent students proceeded just as swiftly, but with the increased number of newcomers, it still took nearly half an hour to approach the end.
Many were already ravenous, their attention entirely fixed on the empty plates.
Finally, as Kevin Whitby was sorted into Hufflepuff, all four house tables burst into thunderous applause, and everyone turned expectant eyes towards Dumbledore as he rose to his feet.
He beamed at the assembled students, spreading his arms in a gesture of welcome.
"I have just two words for you," his rich voice echoed through the Great Hall. "Tuck in!"
The empty plates suddenly piled high with food, and the feast began in earnest.
Traditionally, one of the most lavish banquets of the year, the house-elves usually pulled out all stops to showcase their finest culinary skills. This year, however, was different.
While the food tasted decent enough, the variety was noticeably reduced.
Nearly Headless Nick provided the explanation. "It's Peeves causing trouble. He wanted to attend the feast, which was quite impossible."
"He threw a tantrum, smashing and breaking things, frightening all the house-elves in the kitchens. We're lucky to have anything to eat at all."
Hermione's expression froze momentarily. "Hogwarts has house-elves, too?"
Since witnessing Winky's mistreatment at the Quidditch World Cup, she'd grown increasingly dissatisfied with house-elves' living conditions.
"Of course!" Nick looked at her in astonishment. "There isn't another place in Britain with more house-elves than here - over a hundred of them."
"Who did you think prepared all this food and maintained the castle daily? Us ghosts?"
Ron listened with envy. He'd love to have a house-elf - then Molly wouldn't make him do tedious chores like weeding or chasing gnomes away.
Hermione found herself momentarily speechless but persisted. "But I've never seen them."
"They usually only come out at night, cleaning and tending the fires... The mark of a good house-elf is being unnoticed, isn't it?"
Hermione glared at him indignantly before returning to her meal.
Outside, the rain had ceased unnoticed, leaving only the sounds of eating and casual conversation in the Great Hall.
Eventually, the food remnants vanished from plates, replaced by desserts.
Another ten minutes passed before everyone ate their fill. As the tables cleared themselves, Dumbledore rose once more.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore smiled at the assembled students. "Now that we're all fed and watered, I have several announcements to make."
"Mr Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to inform you that several more items have been added to the list of prohibited objects within the castle this year. These include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, Gender-Swap Mints and Itching Powder. The complete list comprises four hundred and thirty-nine items, and interested parties may consult it in Mr Filch's office."
Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly as he discreetly glanced at Wayne, who was staring down at his plate, before settling his gaze meaningfully on the twins.
To his surprise, neither George nor Fred showed any fear. Instead, they flashed him utterly innocent grins, making his lips twitch even more violently.
Two more corrupted by Wayne...
That smile was all too familiar to him.
Dumbledore continued listing the notices, still warning everyone not to enter the Forbidden Forest.
Then, he smiled:
"Now let me share some joyous news."
He extended his hand and announced loudly, "At the end of last term, Mr Lawrence demonstrated exceptional wisdom and remarkable skill by uncovering hidden truths in a case from over a decade ago."
"Together with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, he successfully apprehended the true culprit, clearing Sirius Black's name."
"In recognition of Mr Lawrence's tremendous contribution to the Ministry of Magic's judicial fairness, the Wizengamot awarded him the Order of Merlin, First Class, during the summer holidays!"
A wave of murmurs swept through the Great Hall, followed by thunderous applause.
Seizing the moment, Dumbledore declared, "In light of this, the school will also present him with a Special Award for Services to the School!"
Wayne rose with a smile, acknowledging the applause, though he noticed many Slytherin students wore expressions as if they'd just lost their fathers while still clapping reluctantly.
Finally, his gaze drifted to the High Table, where Snape's face was dark with displeasure. Their eyes met.
Snape understood the unspoken question.
Why aren't you smiling?
Creak! Creak!
Snape's fists clenched audibly, barely restraining the urge to flip the table as he lowered his head.
Once the applause faded and Wayne had retaken his seat, Dumbledore continued:
"I must regrettably inform you all that the Quidditch House Cup will not take place this year."
"What?" Harry gasped in disbelief. Many stared at Dumbledore in shock, the Weasley twins glaring silently, though Dumbledore appeared oblivious as he pressed on:
"This is due to a major event commencing in October, which will occupy the entire school year. It gives me great pleasure to announce that this year at Hogwarts—"
At that moment, the Great Hall's doors burst open with a crash, drawing every eye.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long walking stick, his figure shrouded in a black travelling cloak.
The bright candlelight illuminated him as he drew back his hood, revealing a grotesquely scarred face. Limping towards the High Table, his footsteps echoed hollowly.
Wayne's gaze sharpened instantly, piercing the man like a physical force.
Sensing it, the man's large, vivid blue eye swivelled towards him. Three eyes locked in silent confrontation.
Though barely perceptible, Wayne detected the faintest tremor in the man's frame.