"I've noticed you have a peculiar talent for turning even the most dreadful situations into something to celebrate," Snape remarked sarcastically, having finished inspecting the Three-Headed Dog's wounds under Dumbledore's watchful presence.
"A student managed to reduce the Three-Headed Dog to this state—who's to say they won't become the next Dark Lord? And yet, here you are, praising them?
"If you hadn't told me it was a student who broke in, I'd have thought it was Quirrell."
A flicker of alarm passed through Snape's eyes. He and Dumbledore had just been discussing Quirrell in the office when a portrait burst in, reporting that yet another student had trespassed into the forbidden area—and that Filch had been lured away.
The two men arrived together at last.
"I don't believe so," Dumbledore said cheerfully as ever. "Tom—"
"Don't speak that name!"
Snape shuddered violently, as though confronted with something utterly horrifying.
"Very well," Dumbledore conceded with some reluctance. "Severus, to truly defeat the Dark Lord, you must learn to face him—at the very least, to regard him as an ordinary man."
"An ordinary man?" Snape sneered.
In all the world, only you would have the audacity to call the Dark Lord ordinary. Well, perhaps one other—that predecessor of yours in Nurmengard.
"Let us return to the matter at hand," Dumbledore said, his spectacles glinting as his expression grew markedly graver.
"The Dark Lord's rise was accompanied by many chance events. A series of misguided choices led him down this path."
Speaking of Voldemort, Dumbledore couldn't help but sigh. "Had I guided him properly from the start, perhaps none of what followed would have come to pass."
Snape scoffed at Dumbledore's perspective. "Some are born rotten. If you had the power, you should have killed him during his school years."
"It has been eighty-two years since I last took a life..." A shadow of sorrow flickered in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Enough dwelling on the past. Who is that young wizard? Don't pretend you don't know—this entire castle is your web of spies."
Snape knew full well that despite this old man's usual hands-off demeanour, there wasn't a secret in Hogwarts he wasn't privy to.
Quirrell was no exception. That fool actually believed he was hiding his tracks well. Yet the moment he appeared, even Snape himself could detect that foul, nauseating stench—let alone Dumbledore.
He must have made contact with that creature!
"In truth, I'm not entirely certain," Dumbledore mused after a brief pause. "I have my suspicions, but it would be irresponsible to draw conclusions prematurely."
"Hmph. Keep shielding them, then."
With that parting remark, Snape had no patience left for further debate. Leaving behind two vials of healing potions, he swept his robes aside and strode away.
The corridor was now empty save for Dumbledore, who remained to mend the Three-Headed Dog's injuries with healing spells.
"Wayne Lawrence... truly a frightening talent."
Snape wasn't wrong—the castle was indeed Dumbledore's network of eyes and ears, referring to the ever-present portraits.
Each painting had been enchanted upon creation to serve the current Headmaster.
Naturally, the movements of Wayne and his companions hadn't gone unnoticed.
Though the specifics of what transpired in the room remained unclear, Dumbledore knew the capabilities of the other three all too well.
Wayne, the newly enrolled young wizard, was the only plausible answer. Perhaps it was time to shift his gaze slightly and pay more attention to other outstanding students.
...
The next morning.
At nine o'clock, Wayne yawned his way to the washroom to freshen up. Only after changing into clean robes did he feel properly awake.
His late-night exploits in the Restricted Section had left him exhausted, so much so that he hadn't realised it was time to leave until the castle roosters began crowing.
This place was a veritable treasure trove.
Every book deemed worthy of the Restricted Section held something extraordinary—or dangerous.
Take the volume Wayne had been poring over, Alchemical Souls: Equivalent Exchange. Its pages detailed numerous perilous methods of crafting artefacts, some even carrying mortal risks.
This was a bit too early for him, as he hadn't mastered much of the required knowledge. Attempting to craft advanced alchemical items without extensive experimentation would be an unwise choice.
However, Wayne hadn't come away empty-handed—one could say the trip had been worthwhile.
Finding one of the school owls, Wayne hastily scribbled down a long list of materials in various quantities, then placed several dozen Galleons in a pouch for the owl to deliver to Diagon Alley.
After completing this task, he headed to the kitchens for breakfast before leaving the castle and making his way towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
By September, the Scottish Highlands had grown chilly. Today was overcast, with heavy humidity and thick fog obscuring the castle, leaving only the tips of its towers visible in the distance.
Skirting the Black Lake, Wayne crossed the grassy grounds until he reached a small hut at the forest's edge.
'Small' might not be quite the right word—the door alone stood three or four metres high, with a rugged style that made it seem like something a child might haphazardly assemble.
Before Wayne could approach, a black dog beside the hut began barking. Soon, a grumbling complaint echoed from inside.
"Fang, is there another student tryin' ter sneak inter the Forbidden Forest? Stop 'em!" This was followed by a chaotic clamour.
Wayne activated his Magical Creature Affinity talent, and Fang's barks instantly softened into submissive whimpers.
This was a little trick he'd discovered—the ability only took effect when he genuinely sought to bond with creatures.
"Step away, young wizard. The Forbidden Forest ain't no place fer yeh," Hagrid finally said, emerging. His wild, tangled hair and beard gave him an unkempt appearance, and at nearly three metres tall with a two-metre breadth, he was every inch the half-giant.
"Hello, I'm Wayne Lawrence. I'm not here for the forest—I came to see you." Wayne flashed his most harmless smile while continuing to scratch Fang's head.
"See me? Don' try yer tricks! Yeh won't fool me!" Hagrid remained thoroughly suspicious. Young wizards would try any scheme to access the forbidden woods.
He beckoned to Fang: "Ere, boy!"
To his astonishment, his dog seemed not to hear, sitting obediently as Wayne continued petting him.
"Actually, I need your help with something," Wayne maintained his smile. "I should mention—I'm a first-year Hufflepuff.
"A Hufflepuff wouldn't lie to you, would they?"