Over the years, Wayne had gained a thorough understanding of how many points could be earned through mischievous antics.
Unless he managed to infuriate Snape to death, the points he obtained from various professors were actually quite meagre.
Hogwarts' teachers were all quite decent—well, mostly decent.
Wayne sneakily glanced at Snape, then at Trelawney, before averting his gaze.
While points were crucial for boosting his abilities, he wouldn't harm those who genuinely cared for him just to earn them.
Wayne had his principles, after all. He only occasionally teased the professors, earning some extra points while keeping things light-hearted. The professors never got truly angry—after all, he was just a child, and a bit of liveliness was perfectly normal.
In the past, his main source of points had always been the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors each term.
Take Lockhart, for instance. Or Quirrell.
Lupin was too dull—no real profit there. Moody had close ties to Astoria and was also carrying out Dumbledore's mission, so he wasn't a viable target either.
All in all, it had been two years since he'd last toyed with a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
But no matter. After holding back for two years, he'd now hit the jackpot—Fudge had delivered Umbridge straight to him.
This time, he could finally grind points to his heart's content.
With the double-points event active, even a mere cough could net him forty-something points.
Wayne could already see the next pseudo-divine-tier reward beckoning to him.
After droning on for half an hour, Umbridge finally wrapped up her speech with evident reluctance:
"Let us march forward under the leadership of the Ministry of Magic, advancing into a new era of enlightenment, efficiency, and reason."
As Umbridge sat down, Dumbledore began clapping, and the other professors followed half-heartedly.
The students also wore genuine smiles as they offered their applause.
Bloody hell, it's finally over.
But soon, the applause took an odd turn.
The badgers noticed Wayne hadn't moved at all—he was just impatiently checking the time. Instinctively, they followed his lead and stopped clapping.
Next came Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, who reacted just as swiftly. Only the Slytherins remained clapping.
Suddenly, Wayne turned his head towards the Slytherin table, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion.
A large group immediately froze and dropped their hands, even those who had been sneering at him moments earlier.
Though they now had backing, they couldn't exactly expect the Ministry to storm Hogwarts on the spot, could they?
Best to bide their time.
Thus, a farcical scene unfolded.
The applause went from thunderous to dead silence in mere seconds—unnervingly abrupt.
Excellent.
Wayne glanced at his panel—another hundred points deposited.
Not counting achievement rewards, just from this one feast, he'd already fleeced Umbridge for what would normally take a week's effort.
Umbridge suffered another critical hit, her plastered-on smile crumbling beyond repair.
Dumbledore blinked, then stood as if nothing had happened. "Quidditch trials will be held—"
Having been delayed too long, he kept it brief, hurriedly announcing the previously interrupted notices before concluding the feast.
As everyone rose to leave the Great Hall, Wayne flicked his fingers, and a small note materialised in Newt's hand.
After reading it, Newt smiled and followed Dumbledore out.
...
Back in the common room, paying respects had become a Hufflepuff tradition.
New first-years were all brought before Wayne to listen to his words of wisdom, after which they were treated to snacks by enthusiastic older students.
"Rolf, come here."
Wayne beckoned to Rolf.
With a face full of freckles, Rolf ran over.
"Rolf." Wayne lowered his voice. "Did you know your grandfather was coming?"
Rolf shook his head blankly. "No idea."
"Then how did you get back to London?"
"Mum and Dad picked me up from North America and put me on the train. I didn't know Grandpa was in Britain." Rolf sounded quite frustrated—he hadn't known his grandfather was coming to teach.
"Keeping it so mysterious." Wayne rubbed his chin. Rolf didn't dare interrupt his thoughts and stood quietly to one side.
After a moment's consideration, Wayne said to Rolf, "Don't go to bed yet. Wait for me in the common room after midnight—I'll take you out."
"To see Grandpa?" Rolf perked up.
"Yeah. I really want to know why Grandma Tina hasn't killed him yet."
...
Midnight.
Wayne had miscalculated—he'd forgotten it was the first day of term.
At midnight, the common room was still brightly lit, with every little badger wishing they had eight arms to finish all their homework at once.
Cedric stood with his hands on his hips, exasperated. "Sid, you've copied it wrong."
"Where?"
"You messed up from the third line."
"Bloody hell, why didn't you say so earlier? I've nearly finished this page!"
"I just checked Bixby—he copied my name too."
Cedric was exhausted. As Head Boy, lending out his homework for copying was practically leading by example in breaking school rules.
But he was used to it. Let them copy—just don't sell him out.
Just then, Wayne emerged.
Cedric looked surprised. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Going for a walk."
With a meaningful glance at Rolf, Wayne strode out first.
Cedric assumed he was heading to the kitchens and didn't think much of it, turning back to keep an eye on Sid.
"Rolf, ever been out at night before?"
"Yeah, a few times. But never left the castle."
"That won't do. You're a Scamander—how can you not visit the Forbidden Forest? Go explore when you get the chance."
"I was planning to this term." Rolf scratched his head sheepishly. "But then Grandpa suddenly showed up."
He'd wanted to visit the forest before, but the more he learned about magical creatures, the more he understood its dangers. Only this year did he feel confident enough to ensure his safety.
"Don't worry. The prefects won't care about small stuff like that. Go ahead—if anything happens, I'll cover for you."
"Thanks, Wayne."
The castle was eerily quiet at night. Filch and his cat were lying in wait by the Gryffindor entrance, so Wayne swaggered right out the front doors with Rolf, heading straight for the Forbidden Forest.
Newt was already waiting by the edge, carrying his case.
"Grandpa," Rolf called out.
Newt nodded, eyeing Wayne curiously. "Why did you bring him?"
"With your sudden appearance, of course, Rolf was curious too."
"Let's go." Wayne strode into the forest.
He needed to milk an Acromantula anyway.
"Senior, why have you suddenly returned? How's Grandma Tina?"
Rolf curiously pricked up his ears. Hearing Wayne's form of address for his grandparents, the corner of his mouth twitched.
'This really feels like they're from different generations,' he thought.
At Wayne's question, Newt sighed, handing his case to Rolf before answering:
"Tina's fine... I've just nearly beaten to death."
Wayne snorted with laughter. "Then how did you agree to Dumbledore's request? No, wait—how could Grandma Tina possibly consent to you coming?"
Whether Newt agreed or not was irrelevant; Tina's permission was the real hurdle.
"Dumbledore brought Lally as a mediator," Newt explained with a smile, recounting the whole story.
Lally Hicks, a former professor at Ilvermorny's Charms department, had fought Grindelwald alongside the Scamander brothers and later became Deputy Headmaster.
None of that mattered.
What did matter was that Lally had once done Tina a tremendous favour, leaving Tina forever in her debt. This time, Dumbledore had leveraged that to persuade her—she had no choice but to relent.
Still, they'd made it clear: Newt would only cover classes, with no involvement in any actions against Voldemort.
Even so, Tina had been furious when Newt left, giving him a thorough thrashing.
Because she'd seen right through him—deep down, Newt wasn't exactly reluctant to return to Hogwarts.
After hearing this, Wayne chuckled dryly.
'Dumbledore's connections are truly vast. He actually found a crack to exploit.'
This little episode would surely make Tina regard him even less favourably.
It left Wayne somewhat puzzled.
'Wasn't a substitute teacher enough? Professor Grubbly-Plank did fine before. Was it really necessary to drag Newt here?'
What Wayne didn't know was that Dumbledore's insistence on bringing Newt wasn't actually about Voldemort—it was about him.
If Snape could spot the brewing conflict between Wayne and Umbridge, the shrewd old Dumbledore certainly could.
He knew Umbridge's fate wouldn't be pleasant, but he couldn't let Wayne run completely wild either. Hence, Newt's presence was meant to keep things in check.
'With an elder around at school, surely you won't go too far?'
One could say Dumbledore was exhausting himself to maintain surface-level stability.
Newt understood his mission, too, smiling wryly inwardly.
'So I'm just here to babysit?'
But he didn't dare say it aloud. If he provoked Wayne into a temper, Dumbledore's old bones might not survive the fallout.
"Wayne, I hear you've skipped all of Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons. But you will attend mine."
"Absolutely," Wayne agreed readily, completely unaware he'd become a key surveillance target.
The trio soon arrived at the Acromantula habitat.
Aragog's condition was even better than when Wayne first met him, his severed leg fully regrown.
Seeing Wayne come to 'collect rent', he obediently ordered all Acromantulas to line up, directing them to spray venom into two wooden barrels.
He personally filled a third halfway—nearly all his remaining stock.
Aragog had realised: so long as he provided venom, staying alive was already a tremendous mercy.
Newt and Wayne moved with practised ease, but Rolf, seeing Acromantulas for the first time, looked distinctly nervous.
After overcoming his fear, they soon caught a smaller one with Newt's help and began studying it.
An hour later, the trio returned to the castle.
Newt reminded the two to get some rest before heading towards his staff quarters, while Wayne and Rolf returned to the common room.
"See you tomorrow, Rolf."
"See you tomorrow, Wayne."
After speaking, Rolf remained standing in place. Wayne found it odd. "Something else?"
"Uh... I still have homework to catch up on. You go ahead."
Wayne: "..."
'Bad move. I should have ratted him out earlier.'
With some regret, Wayne returned to the dormitory, washed up briefly, and lay down on his bed.
There was a lot to deal with after the start of term—the photos Grindelwald wanted, sending dreams to Malfoy, treating the Longbottoms...
'Well, delaying Malfoy's issue by one more day won't hurt.'
He had run around too much today. Though his body wasn't tired, his mind felt drained. He pulled the covers over his chest and fell fast asleep.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, in the Slytherin dormitory...
Wayne should be glad he didn't choose to enter Malfoy's dreams, because Malfoy was still awake.
Voldemort's orders to assassinate Wayne kept replaying in Malfoy's mind, along with their conversation when they had met at the entrance.
He was unbearably agitated.
If his family hadn't been held hostage—if they wouldn't die unless he killed Wayne—Malfoy truly wouldn't have wanted to act against him.
Not out of fear, but because he felt that he and Lawrence...
Were they... barely friends?
From the first year until now, the two had never clashed. Even with Potter in the picture, Wayne had never shown him any prejudice because of it.
Most importantly, Wayne had taught him what it truly meant to be noble.
He had already begun questioning the Malfoy family's way of survival.
'Isn't it just... shameless?'
No matter how wealthy or well-established they were, their reputation would never improve.
But Voldemort's appearance had shattered all his illusions.
"D—"
A long sigh escaped him, drowned out by Crabbe and Goyle's snoring.
After a long pause, Malfoy's resentful voice sounded again:
"Damn Potter. I'll take it out on you tomorrow."