In many respects, Wayne acknowledged Dumbledore as an exceptionally outstanding individual.
Possessing both high emotional and intellectual intelligence, his meticulous planning had kept two generations of Dark Lords running in circles.
Yet this didn't mean he was without flaws.
Often, Dumbledore was actually quite indecisive.
Despite formulating the best plans, he'd hesitate to execute them for fear of sacrificing too many lives.
Similarly, while he cherished Hogwarts' students—the staff and pupils being his vital emotional support—Dumbledore never truly understood what the students needed.
His approach to education was fundamentally flawed.
Take Harry, for example. For years, Dumbledore had deliberately or otherwise subjected him to numerous trials.
Yet when Voldemort returned and war truly began, Dumbledore distanced himself under the guise of protection, not wanting Voldemort to know how much he cared about Harry.
This superficial protection backfired due to his misunderstanding of teenage rebellion, ultimately leading to Sirius's tragic death.
Far better to have an open conversation.
Harry wasn't unreasonable—when properly explained to, he understood perfectly well.
Like now, with Wayne laying everything out plainly. Harry hadn't thrown any tantrums, diligently following his instructions.
Though... that didn't mean he was willing to learn from a cat.
"You're saying it's my teacher?" Harry pointed incredulously at the languid Wampus Cat.
"Meow~!"
The Wampus batted Harry's hand away with palpable disdain in its eerily human-like eyes.
"The skilled deserve respect—don't you know that?" Wayne said with mock seriousness. "Do you even know what a Wampus is?"
Harry answered honestly: "No."
Wayne sighed in frustration. "Ilvermorny just left, and you've already forgotten everything? Goldfish memory!"
Mention of Ilvermorny made Harry think carefully before exclaiming, "Ah! Ilvermorny has a Wampus house—that's it!"
"Exactly. Wampuses possess Legilimency abilities surpassing most wizards. Charles here is an expert I specially borrowed from Newt for you."
As he spoke, Wayne produced cat treats for the Wampus.
Then he took out a Galleon, reconsidered, and gave Harry a Knut instead.
Bewildered, Harry accepted the coin as Wayne wrapped a rubber band around his wrist.
"Charles will guess which hand holds the coin. Use Occlumency to block his Legilimency Spell. Any questions?"
"One." Harry raised his hand. "You haven't taught me the Occlumency spell yet."
Wayne rolled his eyes. He'd thought Harry was getting smarter, understanding what Occlumency entailed. Still the same clueless boy.
With resigned patience, he explained:
"Occlumency isn't a traditional spell. It's about mental discipline—organising thoughts and emotions to prevent Legilimency from accessing meaningful memories or information."
"You've practised the Meditation Technique, so you should grasp mental control."
"Oh! Then no problem."
Harry immediately grew confident. He'd been diligently practising the simplified Meditation Technique all along.
"By the way, what's the rubber band for?" Harry lowered his head again.
Wayne flashed a devilish grin: "If the cat leopard guesses right, I'll flick you once, just once, very lightly."
As he spoke, Wayne stretched one end of the rubber band to its maximum length. Harry gaped at the five-metre distance between them.
If he got flicked like that...
"C-can we change the punishment?" Harry was nearly in tears.
"Stop whining. Charles, you can begin now."
"Meow~"
Charles responded lazily, still lying on the floor but lifting his head to stare into Harry's eyes.
Harry took a deep breath and reluctantly turned his hands behind his back.
First, hide the coin, then, as Wayne instructed, try to empty his mind completely, thinking of nothing, making his eyes appear vacant and unintelligent.
"Meow!"
The cat leopard tapped the floor twice.
Snap!
"Ah!"
Harry let out a pained cry, his body convulsing violently before twisting about wildly, rubbing his back like an upright prawn.
Pain! So much pain!
"Foul! You put it on your waist."
"Hiss, how did you guess that?" Harry asked in amazement while writhing.
"Continue, don't waste time." Wayne stretched the rubber band again. This time, Harry absolutely refused to let him go so far, settling for three metres maximum.
Wayne agreed.
"Ah!"
"Oh~!"
"Fuc..."
For the next half hour, the room echoed with various versions of Harry's pained cries.
After dozens of rounds, the cat hadn't missed a single guess.
"Wayne, I don't want to learn anymore." By the end, Harry had been flicked into a crumpled, twitching heap on the floor.
"No." Wayne shook his head. "You must learn."
Harry wanted to refuse defiantly, but cowed by Wayne's authority, he could only protest through silence.
Seeing this, Wayne played his trump card: "Did you know Snape is actually a master of the Legilimency Spell?"
Harry's expression changed instantly.
"Really?"
"Of course it's true." Wayne crossed his arms. "If you don't believe me, ask Dumbledore. Snape's favourite thing is using Legilimency Spell to detect whether young wizards have misbehaved."
Now Harry was fully convinced. "No wonder he always catches me when I curse him behind his back and docks points," he growled.
"Wayne, say no more—I'll learn!"
Good, the fighting spirit was ignited.
This trick only worked on fools—anyone with basic intelligence and common sense would know that unauthorised use of Legilimency Spell was illegal.
Snape wasn't so idle as to constantly use Legilimency Spell to listen to people cursing him.
Before leaving, Wayne instructed Harry to practise emptying his mind more often. If there was no improvement by Saturday, the rubber band would increase from one to two.
"But Saturday's Hogsmeade weekend—can we change the time?" Harry pleaded.
Wayne paused, having completely forgotten about that.
"Then we'll make it Sunday."
Harry sighed in relief and hopped away.
He was thoroughly terrified of Wayne now—the man was like some ancient Greek deity of punishment.
Who could think up such cruel punishments? Absolutely horrifying.
...
Free from Umbridge's harassment and welcoming the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, it was truly a double celebration for the students.
Early Saturday morning, students flocked to Hogsmeade in groups to enjoy their hard-won freedom.
Many couples headed straight for the newly opened couples' café, which was packed before eleven o'clock.
It seemed everyone had grown tired of Madam Puddifoot's cramped tearoom, naturally choosing better alternatives for their dates.
Celia Store was also overcrowded. Being newly opened, its products were 20% cheaper than those sold by Wayne and the twins at school, attracting many shoppers.
Meanwhile, Wayne was having morning tea with Nagini in the café's backyard, discussing recent matters.
Nagini had noticed something suspicious.
"Someone ordered forty sets of protective gear at once. Looked like a pure-blood, but I didn't recognise him. Must be from some family—quite elderly, probably in his seventies or eighties."
"I suspect he's one of Voldemort's people, so I used stock shortage as an excuse to delay the order."
"Good call," Wayne praised. "At this sensitive time, we can't afford careless sales."
Though he considered protective gear trivial, it could determine outcomes in ordinary wizards' duels.
He had no intention of following America's example—arms dealing until your own weapons are turned against you.
"Wait, let me calculate."
Mystical runes flashed in Wayne's eyes as his fingers moved rapidly through calculations, soon reaching his conclusion.
"Ackles..."
The moment this surname appeared, he knew Voldemort must be involved.
"Probably an elder from the Ackles family. Their previous generation was all sent to Azkaban—they were once Voldemort's right-hand men."
"Then I'll find a way to refuse them." Nagini relaxed, glad her judgment had been correct.
"No need." Wayne grinned mischievously. "Why refuse money delivered to our doorstep?"
"You'd really sell to Voldemort?" Nagini looked surprised—this seemed unlike Wayne.
He'd never cared much about money before. Why suddenly...
"Of course, we'll sell—just give them defective products." Wayne chuckled. "I'll make some shoddy gear that looks fine but shatters at the first spell."
"Aren't you afraid they'll demand refunds?" Nagini looked sceptical.
"Don't worry, they won't dare." Wayne waved dismissively. "If they do come complaining, even better—we'll arrest them on the spot. That'll infuriate Voldemort."
"Just stall them for a few more days. I'll deliver the goods soon."
With Wayne's decision made, Nagini dropped the subject.
She was about to change topics and report Celia Store's recent earnings when suddenly she was lifted into the air.
"Discussing work in broad daylight? Come, let me test your Softening Charm instead."
...
With wand in hand, though still confined within his prison walls, Grindelwald seemed to regain the aura of the Dark Lord who once dominated continental Europe.
After prolonged research, Grindelwald finally felt confident he could create a Horcrux with minimal losses.
In the dilapidated cell, three men and two women stood before Grindelwald with reverent expressions, though their eyes betrayed unconcealed terror.
"The moment of your fate has arrived."
Grindelwald toyed with Slytherin's Locket, his tone casual, never once lifting his gaze to meet theirs. "You have half an hour. Find the key, walk out of this tower alive, and congratulations—you may return to your former world and normal life."
A flicker of hope flashed in their eyes.
Yet Grindelwald's next words plunged them into despair.
"But..."
With a snap, he closed the locket, slowly clenched his fist, and extended one finger:
"There's only one key to open the gates. Only the first to exit this tower receives the victor's reward. As for the other failures..."
"Let them sleep here forever."
"Sir!" The eldest man fell to his knees. "I beg you, spare me! I'll give you all my wealth!"
"Lord Grindelwald," a younger man also knelt. "I pledge my loyalty! Combined with my riches, your power could make you king of the world!"
Grindelwald's gaze grew colder. "Had this been decades ago, you'd already be dead."
"What delusion makes you think you're qualified to bargain with me?"
A flick of his wand sent all five crashing onto the stone steps outside, moaning in pain.
Grindelwald stepped out, looking down at them with a mocking smile. "The countdown has begun. Perhaps you might... discuss amongst yourselves who should survive for maximum benefit."
"After all, that's your people's speciality, isn't it?"
Gritting through pain, they staggered down the steps.
Soon, shouting erupted.
"I'm the clan leader! Let me live!"
"Father, you're old! What use is your survival? Let me continue our bloodline!"
"Daniel, I'm your mother!"
"Mother... please... help me one last time?"
Grindelwald absorbed every wretched plea, his smile widening.
Humanity laid bare. Souls corrupted.
Every noble sentiment vanished without a trace.
With such lives as sacrificial offerings... the Horcrux's power would reach its zenith.