Realising his slip, Hagrid turned ashen and remained utterly silent for the rest of their visit.
Having gotten what he wanted, Harry didn't press further. After sitting for another half hour, the group took its leave.
Before departing, Wayne handed Hagrid some Mooncalf dung, asking him to fertilise the Chomping Cabbages with it.
Hagrid's composure shattered again. "Wayne! Yeh went inter the Forbidden Forest?!"
Mooncalf dung had to be collected the same night and preserved using special methods.
So not only had Wayne entered the Forbidden Forest—he'd done it during a nighttime excursion. Hagrid looked close to tears.
First, he'd had to deal with those twins, and now Wayne. Life was hard!
Hermione and Cho exchanged glances, their cheeks briefly flushing.
"Don't be mad, Hagrid," Wayne said, standing on tiptoe to pat the half-giant's shoulder. "The creatures in the Forbidden Forest are so charming, and every part of them is useful—I just couldn't help myself.
"You don't tell, I don't tell—who'd know I went in?"
"But—" The half-giant tried to protest, only for Wayne to deploy his ultimate skill.
"Hagrid, you wouldn't want anyone finding out about Aragog, would you?"
Hagrid's eyes bulged as he stared at Wayne's ever-gentle smile, rendered completely speechless.
"What's Aragog?" Cho whispered as they walked back.
Wayne pondered for two seconds. "A good guy, provides me with lots of materials."
"Liar." Cho wasn't buying it. If Aragog was truly a good person, why had Hagrid been so rattled that he'd even let Wayne's forest trip slide?
"I swear on Hufflepuff's name, I'm not lying," Wayne declared solemnly.
And he wasn't—he'd simply chosen to highlight Aragog's better qualities. This truly reflected the kindness of a genuine Hufflepuff.
Seeing how earnest he was, Cho didn't dwell on the matter further. The two turned their conversation to the upcoming Quidditch Match.
Next week will see the match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Although Cedric's suspension had significantly increased Ravenclaw's chances of winning, Cho felt somewhat regretful. She wanted a fair and square match, not a victory earned through the opponent's weakened line-up.
Wayne mused, "Perhaps our reserve player is quite good?"
"Don't joke about that," Cho said dismissively. "Isaiah Geller already said Hufflepuff doesn't even have a reserve Seeker."
"You'll see when the time comes."
The group parted ways at the castle entrance.
Ron was excited about going to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall that afternoon to buy a new wand. At the same time, Hermione and Harry planned to visit the library to research who Nicolas Flamel was.
Wayne wouldn't interfere with Hermione's friendships. Since the young witch was so invested in the Philosopher's Stone business, he'd let her have her fun.
...
Back in the Common Room, Wayne sought out Wotley, Hufflepuff's Quidditch Captain. The sixth year was borrowing homework from his Ravenclaw girlfriend, using a Plagiarism-Proof Quill for 'reference'.
Wayne got straight to the point: "Wotley, does the team not have a reserve Seeker anymore?"
"Don't worry about it."
Wotley assumed Wayne felt guilty about Cedric's punishment and smiled reassuringly: "Our Chasers are much better than Ravenclaw's. We won't lose by too many points."
"No..." Wayne shook his head slowly and pointed at himself. "What do you think of me? Could I substitute for one match?"
"You?" Wotley looked startled. "How's your flying, Wayne?"
"Not bad, probably about as good as Harry's," Wayne said modestly.
Flying requires talent, mindset, and physical conditioning. Wayne wasn't afraid of heights; his body had been enhanced, and he possessed the observational skills a Seeker needed. Filling in temporarily wouldn't be a problem.
Cedric had been suspended for standing up for him, and nearly every Hufflepuff student had joined the fight to help. Wayne might trick others, but never his own people.
Even though he had no genuine interest in Quidditch and nobody blamed him, he had the ability to fix the consequences he'd caused. Plus, he wanted to see Cho's expression when he suddenly appeared as her opponent.
"Really?" Wotley grew excited. "Let's test you this afternoon! If you're anywhere near as good as Potter—no, just better than Cresswell will do!"
Cresswell, playing Wizard's Chess nearby, pulled a face.
"Wotley, you dragged me into being a reserve! Don't complain now."
"It's not complaining," Wotley waved a hand. "It's honesty!"
Laughter erupted around them. Cresswell cursed him good-naturedly, taking no real offence.
...
The cheerful atmosphere in Hufflepuff starkly contrasted with the heavy silence in the Slytherin Common Room at the far end of the castle.
In the dim, chilly room, dozens of Slytherin students sat wrapped in bandages, not speaking a word.
"No! Even if that Mudblood doesn't get expelled, I'll make him pay!" A senior student, his head entirely wrapped in bandages, said angrily, "Slytherin always pays back in kind!"
His words were immediately echoed by the others.
"No one's ever laid a hand on me before, damn that Lawrence."
"Keep it measured—contain the situation and don't involve others, or we'll all be in deep trouble."
"Exactly! Dumbledore favours those half-bloods and Mudbloods far too much—he's forgotten the glory of pure-bloods!"
"Avoid getting caught directly by the professors. Have an excuse ready to slip away."
As descendants of pure-blood families, setting aside innate talent, Slytherins were indeed far more mature in mindset than students from the other houses.
From the moment they entered Hogwarts, they were taught ambition and glory—to achieve their goals by any means necessary.
Under the cultivation of such a wolf-like culture, quite a few capable individuals still emerged.
A conspiracy specifically targeting Wayne quickly took shape.
Due to the rumours surrounding Wayne in the past, the lower-year students were excluded. The main operation was carried out by the sixth and seventh-year seniors.
...
Soon, Monday arrived.
In the Great Hall, Snape, who had been absent for two days, finally reappeared, his gaze at Wayne so intense it could have pickled him in formaldehyde.
He had spent those two days brewing medicinal potions for Madam Pomfrey and was utterly exhausted. And all of it was Wayne's fault!
Couldn't he have just beaten Robert to a pulp and left it at that? No one else insulted him.
Wayne paid no heed to the Potions professor's resentment, carelessly devouring his scrambled eggs.
He loved this method of preparation: melting butter in a pan, adding eggs once the oil was hot, stirring while pouring in milk, and continuing to stir until done, then sprinkling some black pepper on top.
The result was eggs with a creamy, smooth, and tender texture.
Preferring sweet and sour flavours, he would also drizzle some ketchup over them, enhancing the taste even further.
People always said the British Empire was a culinary wasteland, but there were still some decent highlights.
After breakfast, Wayne called Hermione and headed towards the History of Magic classroom. Several Slytherins who had been observing his movements subtly followed.
Wayne's steps faltered slightly.
Then, pretending to have noticed nothing, he resumed walking.
Hermione, completely unaware, chattered away, complaining about how unproductive her weekend had been. She had flipped through seven or eight books but found no trace of Nicolas Flamel, which had delayed her progress in revising next month's coursework.
Yes—next month's.
If Toby and Norman, who only started revising the term's material right before exams, heard this, they'd be so ashamed they'd crawl under their desks.
Wayne responded half-heartedly while using his Dynamic Perception to monitor their surroundings. By the time they reached the third floor, the corridor had grown sparse.
From around the corner came the sound of laughter as two boys chased each other, heading straight towards them.
Hermione frowned but moved closer to Wayne to make space.
Wayne continued forward as if oblivious.
Just as they were about to pass each other, the two laughing boys suddenly twisted their faces into snarls. Wands, concealed in their sleeves, slid into their hands as they cast their spells.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Stupefy!"
Hermione froze in shock at the sudden attack. The spells flew towards them at lightning speed.
Only then did Wayne speak calmly: "Protego."
An invisible barrier materialised before them, instantly rebounding the magical energy back at the casters with pinpoint accuracy.
One boy's eyes rolled back as he collapsed unconscious, while the other stared in horror, paralysed.
Bang!
But it wasn't over yet.
A nearby classroom door burst open, revealing two more individuals who immediately fired spells at Wayne.
"Expelliarmus!"
A cold glint flashed in Wayne's eyes.
His anger wasn't due to the repeated ambushes. But because... a spell had gone astray, not flying towards him but straight at Hermione.
Was it deliberate, or simply poor aim? These were questions to consider after subduing them.
Fingers splayed, Wayne pushed his palm forward, completely suppressing two red spells. The students who had launched the sneak attack struggled to hold onto their wands, only to be sent flying backwards under the overwhelming surge of magical power.
It was only then that Hermione snapped out of her daze, letting out a shriek that even made Wayne wince.
"Wayne! They were after you!"
"I say, Miss Granger," Wayne sighed, rubbing the young witch's head helplessly. "By the time you tell me this, I've already dealt with them. Isn't that a bit late?"
Hermione ducked her head like a quail, her face burning with embarrassment.
She knew her reaction had been dreadful—facing the spells like a fool, forgetting not only to cast a counter-spell but even to dodge.
"It's a normal reaction," Wayne reassured her, though he resolved to train the young witch in combat experience later.
He didn't expect her to develop formidable fighting prowess—just to cultivate the mindset and courage Harry had in battle.
Seeing the two who had been blasted away stagger to their feet and attempt to flee, Wayne merely reached out, pulled them back, and pressed down.
The two dropped to their knees before him, powerless to resist.
By then, several other students had arrived in the empty corridor—some confused onlookers from different houses, and others from Slytherin.
Their expressions darkened when they saw their plan had failed.
"Hermione, go to class first," Wayne said to her.
"No! I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall! They ambushed you in the corridor!" Hermione shook her head furiously, her anger palpable.
"No need. The professors will find out soon enough," Wayne soothed the ruffled young witch before turning his attention to the captives on the ground.
"Ennervate."
The student who had been hit with the Stunning Spell quickly woke up, only to kneel alongside the other three before he could even grasp the situation.
"Lawrence, let them go!" one of the watching Slytherins snapped.
"Piss off," Wayne waved dismissively. "Since none of you acted today, I won't bother dealing with you. Don't go looking for trouble."
The student gritted his teeth but ultimately didn't dare to make a move.
If four of them had failed in a sneak attack, what chance did he stand alone against Wayne?
Slytherins were known for holding grudges—but they were also experts in self-preservation.
"Travers, Rosier, Selwyn, Nott… Tsk, all high-born young masters, aren't you?"
Wayne listed their surnames one by one, finally settling his gaze on Selwyn—the one whose Disarming Charm had veered toward Hermione.
With a flicker of Legilimency, a mere glance was enough for Wayne to discern the thoughts in Selwyn's mind.
He looked at him with disdain.
"You can't even aim a spell properly, and you still had the nerve to ambush me?"
That's right.
This idiot hadn't done it on purpose—he was just that dreadful.
Faced with such incompetence, the cold fury Wayne had felt earlier gave way to exasperation.
"If you're outmatched, then accept your defeat gracefully." With a wave of his hand, all four were hoisted up to the ceiling.
"You're welcome to ambush me anytime, but if you dare lay a finger on my friends... I'll make sure the Daily Prophet publishes your cowardice for a whole month, naming and shaming you daily."
Wayne grinned with genuine delight, as though anticipating that very scenario. "Tell me, wouldn't other pure-blood families consider it disgraceful to be associated with such cowards?"
"Lawrence!" Selwyn spat venomously. "You're despicable! My spell just went wide!"
He looked on the verge of tears.
If this were to make the papers, his family's honour would be utterly ruined.
A sixth-year unable to confront a first-year, resorting to bullying his friends instead—the mere rumour would have his father breaking his legs.
Permanently!
The other Slytherins regarded Wayne with horrified expressions, as though he were the devil incarnate.
Though many pure-blood families had shady dealings behind closed doors—bullying the weak, ganging up on individuals—they all maintained a veneer of respectability.
Wayne's tactic struck at the very root of their pride.
"I believe it was unintentional," Wayne said with apparent sincerity, which both relieved and oddly moved Selwyn.
'He understands me!'
"I'm delighted by your challenge. Feel free to ambush me anytime." Wayne waved cheerfully at the other Slytherins. "That goes for all of you, too—don't hold back."
Dead silence filled the corridor.
As more students gathered to watch the commotion, not a single Slytherin stepped forward. Eventually, Wayne, looking thoroughly bored, left for class with Hermione.
The four dangling students grew desperate.
"Lawrence! Get us down!"
Wayne waved without turning. "Sorry, haven't learned the counter-spell. Hang around for half a day and you'll drop on your own."
With that, the pair disappeared around the corner, leaving Selwyn's group utterly wretched. Other Slytherins attempted to free them, but predictably failed.
Until Snape came sweeping down the corridor. "What's the meaning of this!?"
The sight of four students hanging upside down ignited fury in Snape's dark eyes.
With a flick of his wand, he released the spell, freeing Selwyn's group.
"It was Lawrence!" Rosier spat bitterly. "He did this to us."
Snape's face twisted as though he'd bitten into a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean tasting of dung. "He attacked you? Why?"
The Levitation Spell was his invention, and now Wayne had used it against his students!
Wasn't this precisely what James Potter had done to him years ago? Snape nearly exploded with rage.
Travers avoided Snape's gaze, but under that murderous glare, he confessed: "We... we tried to get revenge on him. It backfired."
Snape saw black.
Useless fools!