In the blink of an eye, the physically and mentally enjoyable summer holiday came to an end.
On 1 September, young witches and wizards from across the country hurried to King's Cross Station, accompanied by their parents. Every year at this time, the Ministry of Magic would deploy a large number of personnel to prevent Muggles from noticing anything unusual.
Over a thousand people disappearing after colliding with a pillar would inevitably attract the attention of observant Muggles, but they were quickly dealt with by nearby wizards casting Confundus Charms and Memory Charms in quick succession.
This year, the wizards responsible for maintaining order were particularly tense.
Those from the Anti-Corruption Department were also secretly monitoring them, observing whether law enforcers were using magic roughly or mistreating Muggles.
In the past, wizards' attitude towards casting spells on Muggles had been rather casual, without concern for whether their spells might be too forceful and cause unnecessary harm.
Every year, there were incidents of wizards misusing Confundus Charms and turning Muggles into complete idiots.
But not anymore. With strict procedures established by Wayne, anyone who didn't comply could expect to be made an example of.
...
Grimmauld Place.
After some chaotic scrambling, Harry and the others finally packed their luggage and set off.
The location was very close to King's Cross Station, requiring only a twenty-minute walk.
Harry had no objections to walking to the station. The only thing that annoyed him was the entourage:
"Do we need guards just to go to King's Cross?"
"Not us, just you, dear," Molly corrected.
"Why?" Harry's eyebrows drooped. "Do you think You-Know-Who will jump out of a rubbish bin to ambush me?"
"It's Mad-Eye's orders," Tonks said with a yawn. Today, her hair was curly and gradient purple, looking like 'those drug-addled rock chicks.'
"Mad-Eye's worried Death Eaters might target you to curry favour with You-Know-Who, so it's better to be cautious."
"Don't complain, Harry. You've no idea how important you are now."
"Oh, thanks, I really don't know," Harry said with a pout. "If Voldemort's any kind of man, he should be going after Wayne and Dumbledore, not some student who isn't even a Prefect."
Ron looked flustered and at a loss.
He was also surprised that Harry hadn't become Gryffindor's Prefect, while he had been made the new Gryffindor Prefect.
Soon, the large group arrived at King's Cross Station.
"Inform me immediately if anything happens. Don't act rashly," Sirius said seriously, gripping Harry's shoulders. "Listen to Dumbledore, listen to Wayne. Tell me if you need more money."
"I know," Harry nodded. "Nothing will happen at school."
"As for money... I brought plenty."
Having a friend who got things done with money was always reassuring, and luckily, he was relatively well-off.
Sirius still didn't relax. "Better safe than sorry. Voldemort's schemes are terrifying. No one knows what he's plotting in the shadows."
"I will."
Just then, five strikingly different beautiful girls emerged from a small car.
"Wow," Fred exclaimed, then asked quietly as Hermione and the others approached: "Where's Wayne? It's just you lot?"
"He'll return to Hogwarts later by himself, not taking the train," Hermione replied, then waved at Ginny: "We'll go in first, then."
Penelope nodded at Arthur. She was now a full Ministry of Magic employee, managing the Portkey Office, making her Arthur's colleague.
"OK, we'll cover for you."
Tonks made a gesture, blocking the busier side of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters while her body suddenly grew taller and broader.
Seeing this ability, the girls were intensely envious.
If only this could be used for...
Just imagine how much Wayne would like that.
Everyone cast envious glances at Tonks as they entered, leaving her utterly baffled.
"Harry, pass a message to Wayne for me," Sirius suddenly said. "He should also pay attention to security for his loved ones."
"The Dark Lord is capable of anything for revenge."
"Right."
Sirius had only thought of this upon seeing the girls arriving alone. He reckoned Voldemort's hatred for Wayne wasn't much less than his hatred for Harry.
If anything happened to these girls, wouldn't Wayne go berserk?
What he didn't know was that aside from Cho and the others being armed to the teeth with various protective and escape tools...
Wayne's suitcase was also currently in Astoria's possession.
Gardevoir, Unicorns, Thunderbird, Zouwu, and Norberta are the final trump cards.
This force could easily handle a whole group of Death Eaters.
Soon, Harry and the others passed through the wall onto the platform. Sirius was about to leave when Arthur stopped him.
"Wait a moment."
"What is it?" Sirius looked at him curiously.
"Come to the Ministry with me. Barty says imprisoning you in Azkaban without trial violated procedure, so you're owed compensation."
Hearing it was such a trivial matter, Sirius lost interest, waving dismissively:
"No need for compensation. I'm doing fine now."
"Don't be like that. Barty and Bones are waiting for you. Don't make this difficult for me, Sirius."
With that, Arthur dragged him away despite his protests.
The train departed on time. Many noticed the Hogwarts Express had two extra carriages added.
Even so, nearly every compartment was full.
Harry originally wanted to find a spot with Ron, but seeing Ron pin the Prefect badge to his chest, he awkwardly went to find a seat alone.
"Sorry, Harry, I'll come find you later," Ron said, noticing his friend's discomfort. But there was no helping it—prefect meetings upon boarding were tradition.
After comforting Harry, Ron hurried towards the prefects' carriage near the front.
In the carriage closest to the engine, over a dozen prefects had already gathered.
Seeing Ron, this year's new Head Boy, Cedric, nodded at him, gesturing for him to take any seat.
After a while, Cho and Hermione arrived, followed by Norman.
Cedric looked puzzled but didn't ask directly, instead glancing at the girls—the meaning clear: Where's your Wayne?
Hermione understood and explained, "Wayne hasn't arrived yet. He'll go straight to school later."
"He said being Prefect was too troublesome, so he had me give the badge to Norman. From now on, Norman's Hufflepuff's Prefect."
Norman nodded blankly. "Exactly, that's how it is, though I didn't want to be one either."
With his academic performance, becoming a Prefect would just embarrass Professor Sprout, wouldn't it?
Cedric was speechless. This was the first time he'd heard a Prefect position could be transferred.
But considering Wayne's personality, he didn't press the matter.
"Fine, if Wayne thinks you're fit to be Prefect, then there shouldn't be an issue."
Seeing everyone had arrived, Cedric wasted no more time and explained all the duties and privileges of a Prefect.
This included the maximum points deduction limit, which stated that rule violations should be reported to professors and could be handled independently.
Meanwhile, the perks of being a Prefect were decent too—a private compartment, access to the private bathroom, and the staff lounge where even Prefects had entry rights.
...
So what was Wayne doing at this time?
Nurmengard Tower.
"Little G, look at how you're living. Even Albus no longer cares about you. Only I still bring you good food now and then to improve your meals."
"You'd better remember my kindness."
In the small room, the table was laden with delicacies and two bottles of Grindelwald's favourite whisky.
The food remained largely untouched while most of the alcohol was already gone.
After visiting Nicolas in the morning and checking some materials, Wayne came here to drink with Grindelwald.
Slowly draining his glass of whisky, Grindelwald raised his eyes slightly: "I notice you're becoming increasingly audacious, daring to give nicknames to both me and Dumbledore now."
He used to call him 'Old Gellert', and now it was 'Little G'?
If only he had his wand—though even with it, he couldn't win—he'd make this brat understand how he once swept across Europe.
"That's where you're wrong," Wayne feigned displeasure. "Between us, what's in a name? Or would you prefer I call you 'Dark Lord'?"
"I'm no Dark Lord," Grindelwald corrected gracefully while cutting his steak. "Just a failed idealist."
Wayne snorted.
"Was trying to kill a baby part of your so-called ideals, too?"
"For the greater good, that family's sacrifice was necessary," Grindelwald replied impassively. "With both parents dead, do you think he could have lived happily even if I'd spared him?"
Equations make problem-solving faster—everything could be attributed to the greater good.
Between bites, Wayne asked, "Dumbledore knows about you secretly teaching Harry magic at Hogwarts."
Grindelwald's hand paused momentarily before resuming.
"When did he find out?"
"Before last term ended."
Grindelwald's brows knitted together.
Seeing his expression, Wayne teased with a smile: "Puzzled why the Headmaster hasn't come to confront you?"
Grindelwald remained silent.
"Don't worry, he's too busy dealing with your successor to bother with you now."
"Voldemort?" Grindelwald guessed immediately.
"Yes, he's returned. There's also a young Tom planning an alliance with him."
"The Ministry's still obstructing him, afraid he'll use Voldemort's name to seize power."
Having grasped Dumbledore's current predicament, Grindelwald's lips curled in mockery: "After playing the sheep for so many years, has he actually convinced himself he's a herbivore?"
He couldn't understand why Dumbledore had become so timid now, shackled by power and worldly rules, making himself hesitant and overcautious.
If it were him, with enemies at the gates and the Ministry of Magic dragging its feet behind...
The next day, that bloke called Fudge would be found dead at home with multiple curses on his body, ruled a suicide.
"If you're feeling merciful, you could always break out of prison," Wayne whispered mischievously, fanning the flames. "There are things our noble Headmaster can't dirty his hands with. That's where you come in."
"You want me to be your cleaner?" Grindelwald bristled, his beard quivering. "Boy, you've got some nerve. I'm Grindelwald. Not even Dumbledore gets to order me about."
"What about me?"
Grindelwald scoffed, his disdain palpable.
"Lawrence, you can kill me, but you'll never make me do what I don't want to."
"Remember those words," Wayne said, raising his glass to clink against Grindelwald's.
After that, Wayne fell silent. The two made small talk over their meal, mostly with Grindelwald recounting tales of his past while Wayne listened.
When the food was nearly gone, Wayne waved his hand, clearing the table.
Grindelwald didn't rush him, simply watching in silence.
He knew this boy never visited without wanting something.
"I have some questions about Dark Magic I'd like to ask Mr Grindelwald," Wayne said solemnly.
"Weren't you calling me 'Little G' earlier?"
"Fine then, Little G," Wayne drawled, "This young master has some questions. Be a dear and enlighten me."
Grindelwald's eye twitched. He shouldn't have opened his mouth.
But the meal had softened him, and Grindelwald couldn't refuse outright. "What do you want to know?"
"Mr Grindelwald, excessive use of Dark Magic alters one's magical power. You're aware of this, yes?"
Grindelwald nodded. "Common knowledge among Dark Wizards. It's not just Dark Magic—killing changes magical power too."
"But most can't sense it at all. Some notice but don't care."
Wayne pressed on: "I consider myself highly sensitive to magical properties. I've dealt with over a dozen foolish wizards, too, yet I've never felt my magical power change after killing."
"Tell me exactly who you've killed."
Wayne listed his victims—several Scourers, a few Vampires, a dozen or so troublemakers from the World Cup.
Kind-hearted Lawrence has taken only a few lives over all these years.
Truly a worthy heir of Hufflepuff.
Hearing this, Grindelwald immediately understood.
"That wasn't killing."
Wayne: "???"
So those people didn't count as his kills?
What were they then? Suicidal maniacs throwing themselves at curses?
Seeing his confusion, Grindelwald explained: "Magic is subjective. Magical power is subjective. If you and your enemy are already adversaries, even if you kill, your magic will only register it as defeating an opponent.
"But if no such relationship exists, if you're complete strangers... then it's murder."
"Like that baby you killed?"
Grindelwald hesitated, but finally nodded. "Yes."