Facing Dumbledore's veiled implications, Snape felt his breath constrict.
Like a man who'd just surfaced, only to be plunged underwater again.
Fate. Prophecy.
Overwhelming guilt crashed over him. How had Harry's mother Lily died?
Because he'd reported the stolen prophecy to the Dark Lord. Two families had matched the description.
Harry's... and Neville's. Voldemort's eventual choice spoke for itself.
Snape's agony was boundless – he'd caused Lily's death.
Two purposes sustained him: to destroy the Dark Lord completely, avenging Lily and atoning for his sins.
The other... was protecting those eyes.
He'd willingly die to achieve these ends. And Dumbledore, understanding this perfectly, granted Snape his fullest trust despite his moral ambiguities and past misdeeds.
Before the greater good, concepts like right and wrong, light and dark, good and evil... mattered not at all.
...
"Lawrence, are you openly wandering the corridors at night now?"
Snape, who had just emerged from the Headmaster's Office looking utterly dejected, happened to encounter Wayne descending from Gryffindor Tower. His despondent expression immediately cleared.
"Professor, it's not curfew yet," Wayne reminded him.
"Talking back to a professor. Five points from Hufflepuff."
Having deducted points from Wayne, Snape felt considerably better, though it was a shame the boy didn't care about house points.
Or rather, the entire Hufflepuff house seemed rather indifferent to them. This at least halved his satisfaction.
Wayne said nothing further, merely looking at Snape's torn trouser leg with amusement, where specks of blood were still visible.
"Did a dog chase you?"
"Tsk. The illustrious Head of Slytherin House can't even handle a Three-Headed Dog? Shall I teach you some defensive spells?"
Snape's smirk froze instantly as he scrutinised Wayne. "You've been to the fourth-floor corridor?"
"Don't make accusations without evidence."
Wayne spread his hands innocently. "I'm a law-abiding model student. How could I possibly violate the Headmaster's prohibition?"
Snape walked ahead, pretending not to hear Wayne's nonsense.
Yet privately, he'd reached a conclusion.
The one who'd beaten the Three-Headed Dog so badly last time was undoubtedly Wayne. What a bloody little monster.
Looking at Wayne, Snape saw what appeared to be a rising... Dark Lord.
Slytherins produced Dark Lords. Gryffindors produced white knights. But what did Hufflepuffs spawn?
The pair continued in silence until reaching the first-floor junction. Wayne turned towards the Great Hall and the dormitories while Snape headed for the Potions Office.
Ahem!
Snape finally couldn't resist clearing his throat pointedly, holding up two fingers.
Wayne appeared to have an epiphany. "Apologies, Professor, I nearly forgot."
After rummaging extensively through his dragon-hide pouch, he produced two thimble-sized glass vials containing Acromantula venom.
"Professor, as promised earlier."
Snape's expression plainly said: Are you fucking joking?
The combined contents wouldn't fill an ounce!
Wayne innocently pressed the vials into Snape's palm. "You can't deny these are two bottles."
"But I meant—"
He'd wanted the large flask Wayne had produced last time!
"Honestly, what's the issue? Two bottles are two bottles. Don't be such a nag, Professor. Goodbye!"
With this verbal barrage, Wayne scarpered.
Snape stood dumbfounded before fury overtook him.
"LAWRENCE YOU LITTLE SH—"
...
Hogwarts has no secrets.
Especially when one of the participants in the events happens to be a loudmouth. Ron had five dazzlingly brilliant older brothers above him and a beloved younger sister doted on by the entire family below.
As the sixth child, he was largely overlooked.
After coming to school, his academic performance was middling at best, and with Hermione—a little witch who frequently stole the spotlight—around, and his best friend being the so-called 'Chosen One', he became even more of a background figure.
Which was why, when presented with an opportunity to assert his presence, Ron simply couldn't let it pass.
Still, he had some scruples. He mostly stuck to the facts, with the biggest alteration being the omission of his sulking episode in the bathroom.
And so, by the next day, the entire school knew.
Gryffindors weren't the originators of gossip—they were merely its enthusiastic spreaders.
The Weasley twins deliberately waited for Wayne at the entrance of the Great Hall. The moment he stepped through the doorway, they conjured a shower of petals with magic and cheered: "Here comes the hero who defeated the Troll!"
Thunderous applause erupted from the Gryffindor table. A young wizard single-handedly taking on a Troll and becoming the saviour of the school—this sort of attention-grabbing spectacle was exactly what the lions adored.
Wayne's face burned crimson. This was social suicide of the highest order.
The entire Great Hall, including the professors at the High Table, was staring at him. Wayne shot a glare at Ron, who was sitting beside Harry, before addressing the twins:
"Let's make a deal. Rough up Ron a bit, and I'll give you a vial of Wit-Sharpening Potion."
"What are you saying!?" George feigned outrage. "Ron's our brother—our flesh and blood!"
"Two vials!" Wayne swiftly upped the offer.
"Deal," Fred agreed instantly. "How well-done do you want him?"
"Use your judgment. Just don't kill him."
"Right you are!"
Having shaken off the twins, Wayne was immediately swarmed by the Hufflepuff badgers. None of them knew what had happened the previous night, only that Wayne had returned much later.
They bombarded him with questions.
"The Orb of Water Charm?" Cedric mused. "I've heard of that incantation. It's a very advanced piece of magic, requiring exceptional skill in both Transfiguration and Charms."
"Ah, once you've mastered triple transfiguration, you'll be able to cast it," Wayne said offhandedly. "You're in the top of third year—surely it'll be a breeze for you."
Cedric's face turned ashen.
Listen to that. Was that even humanly possible? Triple transfiguration?
He was barely managing to transfigure living creatures into other living creatures—he was still miles away from even double transfiguration.
...
Although Halloween was a significant holiday, most countries outside Ireland didn't observe the day as a public holiday.
So, classes proceeded as usual.
To Wayne's surprise, Quirrell truly embodied the spirit of 'the show must go on'. Despite having his head nearly crushed the night before, he still insisted on teaching today, though he'd swapped his turban for a fresh one.
Whether Voldemort had 'passed on' remained unclear.
The students weren't led to their usual classroom but instead to a larger one on the third floor.
"T-today, free practice. The—the Full Body-Bind Curse," Quirrell stammered out before retreating to a corner to close his eyes and rest.
Today's version was 'Nervous' Quirrell, not 'Divine' Quirrell.
But the prospect of a practical lesson where they could cast spells freely delighted the young witches and wizards.
"Professor Quirrell, you're not… deceased, are you?"
Wayne approached Quirrell and asked with faux concern.
Quirrell opened his eyes and forced a weak smile. "N-no, nothing serious."
"How's your Phoenix been lately? Has the conjunctivitis cleared up?"
"Not yet." Wayne shook his head regretfully, then changed the subject. "Though I have collected quite a few of Fawkes' tears. Would you like some?"
"Certainly." Quirrell gritted his teeth inwardly but didn't refuse.
Even the smallest advantage was worth taking—after the intense recent lessons, Voldemort was nearly at his limit.
"And what spell will you trade for it?" Wayne dangled a small vial before Quirrell's eyes.
Quirrell hesitated.
Then Voldemort awoke and took control of his body. "How about Fiendfyre?"
Still using Quirrell's voice, Voldemort whispered, "Don't be afraid. Though Fiendfyre is Dark Magic, at its core, it's just fire."
He tempted Wayne: "If you'd used Fiendfyre last night, that Troll would have been reduced to ashes. Why waste so much magical power on something like the Orb of Water Charm?"
Voldemort wanted to see how Dumbledore would react if he corrupted Wayne into becoming a Dark Wizard.
As for any previous thoughts of recruiting Wayne due to his exceptional talent...
He'd once entertained the idea. But after being stepped on twice by Wayne yesterday, then subsequently used as a doormat by young wizards, all he wanted now was to eliminate this menace!
"Fiendfyre..." Wayne's expression turned cold, making Voldemort's heart sink. Did Lawrence despise Dark Magic? How then could he lure Wayne into corruption?
Rubbing his temples, Wayne said irritably, "Professor, you dare offer such a commonplace spell? At least ten books in the Restricted Section detail the Fiendfyre curse. You're hardly being sincere."
Voldemort's breath hitched, his worldview shaken.
Fiendfyre was an immensely powerful offensive Dark Magic—low magical cost, vast area of effect. And it could still be scorned?
"What do you want, then?" Voldemort asked helplessly.
"Last time's Lightning Net was decent." Wayne toyed idly with his fingers. "Lightning-based spells would be preferable. Otherwise, other lost spells would do."
After some thought, Voldemort finally gritted out, "Come see me after class."
Satisfied with the answer, Wayne left contentedly.
When class ended, Voldemort handed him a piece of parchment.
"These are my insights on continuous spellcasting. Surely this suffices?"
There was no fixed cooldown for spells, but repeatedly casting the same magic would lead to diminishing returns, even failure.
It was somewhat akin to the saying: "The first blow is as strong as twice."
Wayne skimmed the parchment, finding no immediate issues, though he planned to show it to Dumbledore later.
He'd also mention giving Quirrell the Phoenix tears.
In serious matters, Wayne knew better than to fool around.
He had Dumbledore's temperament pegged—so long as he showcased his merits, the old man would indulge him greatly.
Clutching the small vial, Voldemort glared icily at Wayne's retreating figure. No one had ever extorted him twice.
Once he obtained the Philosopher's Stone and was resurrected, his first act would be to kill Harry, then Wayne Lawrence!
As for Dumbledore... he could simply outlive the old man.
...
In the afternoon, after the final Potions class of the day, under Snape's watchful gaze, Wayne strode briskly towards the Headmaster's Office.
Fortunately, Dumbledore happened to be inside.
"Professor, I have some questions about continuous spellcasting I'd like to ask you," Wayne repeated the same excuse as before, then recited the techniques Voldemort had taught him, awaiting the old man's feedback.
"Professor Quirrell taught you this?" Dumbledore, wise with age, quickly guessed the source.
Wayne answered cheerfully, "That's right. I traded it for Fawkes' tears."
Fawkes, who had been preening his feathers on a perch, was displeased. He landed on Wayne's head and pecked at his neatly combed hair until it was a mess.
"Oi, what's the big idea, Fawkes? Keep this up, and I won't let Ho-Oh play with you anymore." Understanding the threat, Fawkes reluctantly let him go, though not without a final indignant peck.
Dumbledore chuckled warmly. "Professor Quirrell was indeed an outstanding student from Ravenclaw. His insights into continuous spellcasting are quite unique."
"However, do spare Fawkes, won't you? He's nearing his next Burning Day and doesn't have many tears to spare."
Wayne understood Dumbledore's meaning.
This trade was fine, but it would be best not to approach Quirrell again in the future. Wayne promptly agreed.
After the young wizard left, Dumbledore stroked Fawkes' feathers and murmured, "What a clever little wizard."
...
In the library, Hermione and Cho sat in a corner, each working on their assignments. When they grew tired, they whispered to each other, just as long as Madam Pince didn't hear them.
After the Troll incident, Hermione had taken the initiative to reconcile with Cho. Though neither spoke of it outright, their relationship returned to how it had been before.
Hermione asked softly, "Cho, did Wayne tell you what he's planning to do tonight?"
"No," Cho shook her head. "He's being all mysterious—just told me to be ready to leave the tower at exactly ten."
Hermione's curiosity was piqued, and the two girls spent a moment grumbling about the boy's secrecy before dissolving into soft, bell-like laughter.
...
Night fell. Ten o'clock.
Wayne first went to Gryffindor Tower to fetch Hermione, then headed to Ravenclaw Tower to collect Cho.
"Where are we going?"
"The Forbidden Forest."
"Isn't that dangerous?" Hermione rubbed her arms nervously. "The books say there are loads of dangerous magical creatures in there."
"Relax," Wayne reassured her. "I promise I won't do anything to them."
The young witch opened her mouth.
'No—that's not what I meant! The creatures are the danger!'
But in the end, curiosity overcame fear. Hermione had long been fascinated by the mysteries of the Forbidden Forest. Besides, with Wayne around—someone who had effortlessly defeated a Troll—it couldn't be too dangerous.
Wayne didn't use Ho-Oh to Apparate, preferring to explore the forest properly.
"This way."
The trio arrived at a blank portrait frame on the third floor. Wayne tapped it lightly with his wand.
Instantly, a doorknob sprouted from the frame. When pulled open, it revealed a pitch-black passageway.
"Follow me."
Wayne led the way, his wand emitting a soft white light to guide the two young witches through the dark corridor.
When they emerged, they found themselves at the Owlery. To the west lay Hagrid's Hut, and to the east, the Quidditch Pitch.
"We'll need to skirt around Hagrid's Hut," Wayne reminded them.
Cho and Hermione nodded eagerly. It was their first time sneaking out of the castle at night. Looking back, the castle stood quietly under the tranquil night sky, its scattered lights casting a peaceful glow.
The two of them followed closely behind Wayne. Hagrid's hut was lit, and through the window, they could see his enormous figure, seemingly cooking.
To ensure they wouldn't be discovered, Wayne didn't even spare Fang as they passed by, sending the dog into slumber with a Stunning Spell.
The trio finally entered the Forbidden Forest. Watching Wayne head straight in one direction, Hermione couldn't help but ask curiously:
"Where are we going? For—"
"To see my big treasure," Wayne still refused to reveal anything.
The full moon hung high in the sky, and along the way, they encountered many magical creatures—Kneazles, Bowtruckles, Fire Crabs, Diricawls, and Horklumps. The Unicorn habitat was deep in the forest, so to speed things up, Wayne cast a Feather-light Charm on all three of them, allowing them to move swiftly.
They arrived at a clearing where there were no trees, only two small hills. Hermione suddenly pointed to the hill on the right: "Look! Something's coming out!"
Wayne glanced at the moon, realising something, and quickly pulled the three of them into hiding, casting a Disillusionment Charm.
"It's a full moon tonight. We're in for a treat."
Just then, a group of small creatures emerged from a cave within the hill.
Round heads, enormous eyes, long necks, and four stubby little legs.
Cho and Hermione's eyes turned into hearts. "So cute!"