Bang!
Cho slammed Wayne against the castle's oak door with a strength that even surprised him.
"Have you lost your mind, Wayne!"
Gone was her usual gentleness; now Cho resembled a bristling cat, her face alight with anger and impatience.
"Why did you have to show off like this? Even if you wanted to report it, you could've done it alone!
"Why drag others into it?"
Cho was genuinely furious, incensed by Wayne's recklessness. Having received some Eastern education, she understood subtleties that many British missed.
Once something escalated, those in power would see it differently. Even if you were entirely in the right with valid reasons, rallying others was seen as disrupting harmony, undermining stability, and disregarding the bigger picture.
How would Dumbledore view Wayne then?
Wayne could see the glimmer of tears in Cho's eyes. His heart clenched.
Without speaking, he raised his arm, transforming a fallen leaf into a tissue and gently dabbing at Cho's eyes.
The boy's tender gesture brought a faint blush to Cho's cheeks, but she quickly composed herself.
"Don't change the subject—what are we going to do now?"
Wayne smiled. "Don't worry, Cho. I understand your concerns. With any other Headmaster, I wouldn't have done this."
He looked up, gazing through the night towards the towers.
"But the Headmaster now is Dumbledore. He won't be angry."
In this world, Wayne was the second person who understood Dumbledore best—the first was locked away in Nurmengard Tower.
Seeing his confidence, Cho was at a loss for words. Glancing around, she asked, "Where's Hermione? With something this big, she hasn't blown up at you?"
"Oh, she has," Wayne said ruefully, rubbing his side. "It took me an entire class to calm Miss Granger down. It still hurts a bit."
Watching Wayne's movements, Cho couldn't help but giggle. Just as she was about to chide him, flames appeared in the air.
This time, it wasn't Ho-Oh that flew in, but Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes. After circling once, Fawkes landed on Wayne's shoulder.
"Chirp chirp!"
"You say the Headmaster wants to see me?" Wayne nodded, noticing Cho's pale face. He reassured her: "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Nothing will happen."
...
Headmaster's office.
The large desk was already piled high with various envelopes. Dumbledore was holding a letter, reading it with great interest:
"It says I accepted Quirrell's bribe to let him become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
"Heaven knows, this old man hasn't fallen to such depths yet."
Snape, sitting on the other side, sneered: "If a few Galleons could make you change your mind, I'd gladly fill your office with gold Galleons anytime."
Truth be told, Snape was feeling rather smug at the moment.
He had been applying for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for years, especially since Harry arrived this year—his desire for the post had grown even stronger.
Yet Dumbledore had given it to Quirrell instead. And now look—the students are practically rebelling!
"I'm sorry, Severus." Dumbledore finished one letter and opened another. "Your Defence Against the Dark Arts is equally outstanding, but Hogwarts needs you more for Potions class."
"Hmm, this letter makes a good point. Quirrell deceived me by some means, but why would it be a Love Potion?"
Dumbledore set down the letter with a pleased smile. "Fortunately, no one sent a Howler. My old bones couldn't withstand that volume."
"Enough of this nonsense," Snape interrupted irritably. Every conversation with Dumbledore left him mentally exhausted, as the man never got to the point. "What do you plan to do about it?"
Dumbledore looked puzzled. "Do about what? About whom?"
"Wayne Lawrence, of course!" Snape raised his voice. "Didn't you hear what the Fat Friar said? That kind of charisma, influence, and his terrifying magical talent—aren't you afraid he might become the next—" Snape took a deep breath. "The next Voldemort?!"
The portraits, which had been feigning death, suddenly sprang to life. Phineas Black, in particular, bellowed, "Exactly! I stand with Snape!"
"Daring to complain about professors and inciting so many to join him—utter insolence!"
"Expulsion! He must be expelled!"
"If I were still Headmaster, I'd have expelled every last Hufflepuff!"
A red-nosed former Hufflepuff Headmaster couldn't take it anymore. He leapt into Phineas's portrait and threw a punch.
"Shut your mouth, you fool!"
The daily ritual of beating up Phineas had begun.
To avoid further disturbance, Dumbledore waved his hand, and red drapes covered all the portraits, finally silencing the clamour.
"Severus." Dumbledore clasped his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. The series of imposing gestures made Snape's breath hitch.
"Do not assume malice in our students. He is only a first-year."
"You still see him as just an ordinary first-year?" Snape stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. "Have you not seen his talent? Multiple Transfiguration, spellwork at a graduate level, even his potions are N.E.W.T.s-standard! And that 'Celia Store' Lawrence has set up—he's swindled hundreds of Galleons out of my students!"
Snape was visibly agitated. "If he's an ordinary first-year, then what's Potter—a preschooler?"
"I'm delighted the school has produced such a gifted young wizard." Dumbledore adjusted his glasses with his middle finger, and Snape couldn't shake the feeling that the old man was subtly mocking him.
"You're right. Mr Lawrence is indeed remarkable—more brilliant than Tom ever was."
"But you cannot crudely compare the two," Dumbledore spoke earnestly, analysing for Snape: "Mr Lawrence was born into a Muggle family, but his family holds high status among Muggles, and his temperament is bright and cheerful. He had—"
Recalling what he'd uncovered about Wayne's primary school antics, Dumbledore struggled to find a positive descriptor. "—a very fulfilling childhood."
"His upbringing, his intellect—none of it would lead him down Tom's path."
"Even within the school, Mr Lawrence has friends across all houses, the very opposite of Tom's pure-blood ideology."
"Frankly, I'm a little envious of such popularity myself."
Snape said nothing, but his expression softened slightly. The office fell into a brief silence until Snape was the first to lose patience.
"So what will you do? Pretend nothing happened?"
"How could I?" Dumbledore looked at Snape in surprise, then pointed at the mountain of letters on the desk.
"Such a volume of complaint letters has never been seen in Hogwarts' history."
"It's highly likely that after this incident, I'll go from being the greatest Headmaster to the most notorious one, surpassing even Phineas."
"Of course, I must handle this carefully."
"Indeed," he suddenly smiled. "But before dealing with Quirrell, I must first seek the opinion of the person involved."
"Fawkes, could you fetch Mr Lawrence for me?"
...
Still the Headmaster's office.
Snape had already disappeared, and in his former seat now sat Wayne.
At this moment, Wayne was grinning from ear to ear, unable to suppress his smile. The reason was simple—the notification sounds in his mind were practically exploding. This major incident had earned him an absolute fortune.
"Mr Lawrence, you seem rather pleased?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"Of course," Wayne replied with a shy smile. "Seeing that you're not angry, Headmaster, suggests my punishment won't be too severe."
"My classmates are innocent too—they were just supporting me. Please don't punish them either."
Dumbledore looked at the young man opposite him with approval:
"Mr Lawrence, you are a true Hufflepuff. I'm very glad the Sorting Hat recognised the admirable qualities in you."
The Sorting Hat, still perched on the stool, desperately wanted to say something.
It genuinely couldn't see any Hufflepuff qualities in him—it was completely bribed.
Most importantly, that promised hat care kit from this young wizard still hadn't arrived.
Infuriating!
"However, I think you've misunderstood," Dumbledore reassured. "I have no intention of punishing you or any other students."
"On the contrary, I owe you all a sincere apology."
Dumbledore spoke with utmost sincerity: "Due to my negligence, everyone's magical progress has been delayed."
"I called you here to ask for your opinion—"
"My opinion?" Wayne said in surprise. "Professor, my opinion was all in the letter."
"Either Professor Quirrell starts teaching useful spells in class, or we get a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"But..." Dumbledore frowned, looking troubled. "The term has already started. Changing teachers so abruptly would be extremely difficult."
"Professor," Wayne continued confidently, "I've heard about the Defence Against the Dark Arts curse. Finding someone willing to... well, teach is difficult."
"But since the academic year has already begun, if you changed teachers at Christmas and found a substitute just for half a year, surely the curse wouldn't take effect?"
Seeing Dumbledore's hesitant expression, he pressed his advantage: "If that doesn't work, you could find a teacher from within the school to cover the class. I recommend Professor Snape, he—"
"Stop, stop, stop."
Dumbledore quickly interrupted Wayne: "Professor Snape is already overworked. Asking him to cover classes isn't realistic."
The old Headmaster wiped cold sweat from his brow internally.
This suggestion would practically send his right-hand man straight to his demise.
These two were quite the pair—one couldn't stand the young wizards and sought every opportunity to punish them, while the other was even more ruthless, directly appointing him as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
Now, a saying had spread throughout the British wizarding world:
If you hate someone, recommend them to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.
"Very well, Mr Lawrence," Dumbledore said softly. "Thank you for your earlier suggestion—it was quite enlightening."
"However, dismissing a teacher is no simple matter. It requires the approval of the school governors."
"Usually, teachers in this position... resign of their own accord."
Wayne's lips twitched slightly.
'Resign of their own accord. What a bloody novel approach.'
"I shall speak with Quirrell first before deciding on the best course of action." Dumbledore placated Wayne for a moment before dismissing him. "For your unity and courage, I shall award Hufflepuff fifty points."
...
No sooner had Wayne stepped out of the Headmaster's office than Snape emerged from behind an invisible door, his expression terrifyingly dark.
He had overheard their entire conversation.
Though he, too, longed to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, it was clear Wayne hadn't been acting to fulfil his wish. That brat...
Snape racked his brain before landing on a term even more offensive than 'bastard.'
'Bloody wanker!'
...
Leaving the office, Wayne bounded down the stairs with light steps, moving swiftly. Cho was still waiting for news in the Great Hall.
The hall remained packed.
Word of Wayne being taken away by the Phoenix had spread, and everyone was anxiously awaiting updates.
As he pushed open the doors, countless eyes immediately fixed on him. The Great Hall fell silent—even the professors couldn't hide their curiosity.
Wayne didn't beat around the bush. With a broad grin, he announced what everyone was eager to hear:
"Professor Dumbledore said he'll seriously consider our suggestions—and he's awarded Hufflepuff fifty points!"
Boom!
Thunderous applause and excited cheers erupted, shaking the very stars painted on the ceiling.
Students embraced each other in exhilaration.
Cho, finally relieved, beamed at Wayne like a blossoming flower.
Hermione huffed, snapped her thick textbook shut, and turned to leave—completely unaware she'd been holding it upside down.
"So cool!" Ron clapped until his hands were red, watching as Wayne was swarmed by jubilant Badgers. "So reporting actually works!"
"Harry, let's file a complaint against Snape!" he bellowed. "Get rid of the old bat, and our lives will be so much better!"
The surrounding Gryffindors perked up at Ron's words.
Right!
If complaining about Quirrell worked, wouldn't the same apply to Snape? No more favouring Slytherin or docking points from Gryffindor at every turn. With Snape gone, they might stand a chance at winning the House Cup!
Now it wasn't just Harry who was tempted—the other lions were itching to follow Hufflepuff's example and flood the Headmaster's office first thing tomorrow.
With the crowd pressing in, Wayne couldn't easily slip away.
After exchanging a few quick words with Cho and arranging to meet by the Black Lake after classes tomorrow, he was promptly dragged back to the common room by his roommates.
Today's efforts hadn't just spared Wayne punishment—they'd also earned the house fifty points. This called for a proper celebration. And as a Hufflepuff, celebrating was far too easy. The kitchen was right at their doorstep.
A few senior students went in and ordered a heap of snacks and cakes, even asking the House-elves to fetch some Butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks.
"Wayne, a toast to you!"
Pierre, the seventh-year Prefect, raised his glass and clinked it against Wayne's. "If it weren't for your bravery, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have said what he did."
"Finally, we can get rid of that fake professor, Quirrell! To—"
Pierre's face flushed with excitement.
Wayne chuckled and chimed in, though privately, he held little hope of actually driving Quirrell away.
Sacrificing a year of the young wizards' progress in Defence Against the Dark Arts, or keeping an eye on Voldemort's movements right under their noses—Dumbledore's choice was obvious. It fit perfectly with that infamous phrase of his.
'For the greater good.'
Still, Wayne wasn't about to ruin the mood by voicing his thoughts.
At the very least, Quirrell would have to make some changes in the coming days—otherwise, even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to justify keeping him.
...
The celebration lasted until eleven before everyone gradually dispersed. Wayne returned to his dormitory.
Toby and Norman kept pestering him for details about his conversation with Dumbledore, and Wayne didn't hold back.
When they heard he'd recommended Snape for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, the two quickly caught on.
"Wayne, how could you?" Toby said sternly.
"Exactly," Norman chimed in, equally displeased. "Our Professor Snape can't just be a substitute—he has to teach the whole term!"
"I propose we all keep signing petitions next term, recommending Snape for Defence Against the Dark Arts!"
Wayne: 'Damn, you lot are ruthless.'