A line of tiny script appeared on Snape's broom.
"Professor, surely you wouldn't want to end up like Potter in the last match?"
The ink gradually faded, as if transferring onto Snape's face, leaving it ashen.
Potter in the last match—wasn't that when he'd nearly fallen to his death? This brat dared to threaten a professor!
Snape's fury burned white-hot. He stopped refereeing altogether, glaring fixedly at Wayne in the Hufflepuff stands. Then, noticing Wayne's smirking lips, his anger abruptly cooled.
Fine. He was a professor. He couldn't stoop to a student's level. He had to be the bigger person. Who knew if this brat would dare go through with it?
Last match, he'd been the one protecting Potter. Now, no one would protect him... Snape suddenly felt a pang of self-pity.
From then on, the match finally returned to some semblance of fairness.
Though Snape didn't dare push things too far, his bias against Gryffindor remained obvious, just within tolerable limits.
"Wayne, that worked!" Norman exclaimed, thrilled by the results. "Who knew the professor could be so easily scared?"
Wayne chuckled but said nothing.
Snape was afraid because he knew Wayne had the ability to follow through. Try that with any other young wizard and see what happens...
...
On the pitch...
Cedric kept Wayne's advice firmly in mind, resisting the urge to chase the Golden Snitch immediately and instead sticking to Harry like glue.
The two were inseparable, never more than three metres apart.
While Harry was undoubtedly a Quidditch prodigy, Cedric's flying skills weren't poor either, and both were on equally matched brooms.
This unsettled Harry, who spotted the Golden Snitch twice but hesitated to pursue it, fearing Cedric might reach it first.
To make matters worse, the Beater, Henderson, kept harassing him intermittently.
And then there was Snape, the unofficial eighth player. Gradually, Harry's composure crumbled.
Fifteen minutes later, he suddenly accelerated violently, shooting straight upwards. But this time, Cedric didn't follow—he sensed Harry's frustration, recognising it as a pointless outburst.
While Harry was disoriented, Cedric scanned for the Snitch.
There it was—right above Snape's head!
Cedric's eyes lit up as he dove.
Harry saw it too, but he was too high up—even at top speed, he couldn't close the gap. Helpless, he watched Cedric seize the Golden Snitch, raising his arm triumphantly to the roaring crowd.
210:40.
Hufflepuff wins.
The Gryffindor team landed in utter dejection, leaving the pitch without a word, heads bowed.
Snape shot Wayne a venomous glare before flying off. What should've been an easy victory had turned into a humiliating ordeal.
Commentator Lee Jordan was still grumbling about the referee's bias, though Professor McGonagall had silenced him—no one could hear a word.
After the match, young witches and wizards rated the players' performances.
Gryffindor:
[Chasers: Angelina Johnson, Spinnet, Spinnet, Katie Bell.][8/10: You did your best, girls. It's not you—it's the world that's wrong.]
[Keeper: Oliver Wood][6/10: Lost your wits? Why only guard the middle lane?]
[Beaters: The Weasley Twins.][5/10: Weren't you the 'human Bludgers'? Why not knock the referee off his broom?]
[Seeker: Harry Potter][3/10: Seriously? Throwing a tantrum already? Go take a cold shower.]
Hufflepuff:
[Chasers: Carlos Valdez Wotley, Lisanna Tott, Sean O'Fleming][6/10: The win had nothing to do with you. Good job staying out of the way.]
[Beaters: Devin Henderson, Zoey Mphila.][5/10: Couldn't even figure out who to target. Pathetic.]
[Seeker: Cedric Diggory][8/10: Five for the Snitch, two for the Nimbus 2000, one for yourself. Potter gets zero.]
Man of the Match: Snape
[10/10: Refereeing is beneath you. The Wizengamot needs you—Azkaban could use an expansion.][0/10: Someone stop this fraud! Since when are referees allowed to play?]
The Quidditch Match ended under peculiar circumstances that left no one satisfied. Hufflepuff's victory felt awkward; Gryffindor's defeat was frustrating. Snape, having been threatened by some little brat, didn't get his fill of enjoyment either. Even the spectators found the fragmented match painful to watch.
Honestly, only you could manage this, Snape—making everyone feel thoroughly disgusted.
Truly unmatched.
...
When the anonymously circulated ratings spread, players from both teams exploded in outrage!
"What do you mean I only got a 1? I caught the Golden Snitch, for Merlin's sake!" Cedric's face flushed red as he shouted.
A few nearby girls glanced at him, then seemed to recall something, quickly lowering their heads with blushing cheeks.
"Relax," Wayne said impassively. "A win's a win. Why fuss over the details?"
"Just don't lose too badly next time, and the House Cup will be ours."
As the two entered the Great Hall, the young witches and wizards of Gryffindor shot icy glares at Cedric before hurrying away.
The Weasley twins witnessed this and could only shrug helplessly, exchanging a look before leaving as well.
The match had further strained relations between the two houses. Even the twins, usually so defiant, dared not go against the collective mood, merely offering Wayne and Cedric a cheerful wave before moving on.
Such was Gryffindor—imposing their will on others. If you didn't comply, you were branded an outcast.
The young witch Hermione knew this all too well.
But she no longer cared. With Wayne by her side, she could endure the isolation. True friends wouldn't treat her this way.
So she continued sticking close to Wayne every day, utterly indifferent to the whispers of the other Gryffindors.
...
In the library, a towering figure stood out conspicuously.
"What's Hagrid doing in the library?" Hermione whispered.
The half-giant's movements were comically exaggerated—his sheer size made stealth impossible, yet he remained blissfully unaware.
Tiptoeing toward a bookshelf, he kept glancing around furtively. Many young witches and wizards stifled their laughter, pretending not to notice.
"What else would he be here for? Reading, obviously," Wayne said dismissively, though he caught the titles of the two books Hagrid had tucked away.
Soon, Hagrid strode out of the library, hands clasped behind his back. Hermione spotted them too.
"'The Species of British and Irish Dragons', 'From Egg to Inferno', 'A Guide to Dragon-Keeping'..."
"That's not right," Hermione frowned. "Why would he borrow so many books about dragons?"
Her inner McGonagall was showing.
"We need to check on him," Hermione insisted, a dreadful suspicion forming in her mind as she urged Wayne.
"Fine." Closing the book he hadn't been reading anyway, Wayne didn't refuse. A walk wouldn't hurt.
...
Half an hour later, they knocked on the wooden cabin door. It creaked open just a crack, revealing one of Hagrid's wary eyes.
"Wayne? Hermione?"
"We came for afternoon tea. You wouldn't turn us away, would you?" Wayne asked.
"'Course not! Come in, quick now."
After a moment's hesitation, Hagrid pushed the door open wider, gesturing for them to hurry inside. The moment they stepped in, he shut the door firmly behind them.
Seeing his behaviour, Hermione's unease only deepened.
The room was stiflingly hot, with all the curtains drawn and the fire in the hearth blazing fiercely, the logs crackling and popping intermittently.
Noticing Wayne's gaze drifting towards the fireplace, Hagrid immediately tensed up, shifting his position to block the view.
"Wha' d'yeh fancy ter drink? I got tea, hot chocolate… oh, an' some chocolate cake I baked up yest'rday."
"Enough." Wayne waved his hand, cutting straight to the chase. "Stop blocking it. I've already seen it. Using the fireplace flames to incubate a dragon egg—only you would think of that."
Hagrid instantly broke into a sweat, flailing his hands and stammering incoherently.
"You've got a dragon?" Hermione's voice was laced with disbelief before turning stern. "Hagrid, keeping a dragon privately is illegal. The Warlocks' Convention of 1709 formally passed a ban on dragon breeding. Ow! Wayne, why did you pinch me?"
Hermione clutched her head in pain, giving the boy a wounded look.
"If you keep talking, Hagrid will end up doing a stint in Azkaban."
At the mention of Azkaban, the half-giant's face turned ashen, his entire body trembling.
"Hagrid isn't a wizard. He was expelled from school and doesn't even have a wand. Strictly speaking, that regulation doesn't apply to him," Wayne reassured. "And don't worry too much—just don't get caught."
"Thank yeh, Wayne." Hagrid said, his expression brightening slightly before turning concerned about the dragon. "Summat wrong with usin' the fireplace ter hatch it?"
"Of course there is. Normally, dragon eggs are incubated by the mother's scorching breath. The fireplace flames are nowhere near hot enough. The hatchling will be stunted, and it's hard to make up for that later."
"Tha' won't do!" Hagrid exclaimed, getting agitated. "I can' let the little one fall behind righ' from the start!"
He hastily retrieved the dragon egg from the fireplace.
Hermione leaned in for a closer look, curious about the egg's appearance, as was Wayne. It was their first time seeing the real thing.
The egg was enormous, requiring both hands to hold. Its black shell was covered in fine scales that shimmered with an odd lustre in the firelight.
"It's beautiful!" Hermione couldn't help but exclaim.
"It is quite striking," Wayne agreed with a nod.
Though it was a shame once it hatched. Adult dragons had a certain majesty—the raw power and grace of an apex predator—but they were too vicious, lacking the noble bearing he preferred.
"Is this a Norwegian Ridgeback?" Wayne asked.
"Exactly," Hagrid said, beaming. "It's an extra rare breed, it is."
"How on earth did you get hold of it?" Hermione frowned. "A dragon like this shouldn't be in Britain."
"Won it off a strange bloke playin' cards las' night," Hagrid said proudly. "Feller was odd, but tha's nothin' new at the Hog's Head—place is full o' odd folk."
Wayne's eyes narrowed slightly.
The Hog's Head...
That pub was run by Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth Dumbledore, wasn't it?
And that mysterious stranger was undoubtedly Quirrell.
Every move was being calculated by Dumbledore, all under his watchful eye.
Wayne didn't pursue the topic, instead saying, "If you want the dragon to hatch properly without any complications, you'll need to find a heat source with sufficient temperature."
Hagrid scratched his head. "Could you be a bit more specific?"
Wayne raised a finger. "For example, find a female dragon. It could help with the hatching and then serve as the mother afterwards. That'd be much better than you taking care of it alone."
Hagrid gave an awkward chuckle.
If he could get hold of a female dragon, would he even be struggling with this dilemma?
"Then use Fiendfyre," Wayne said with keen interest. "The temperature of Fiendfyre is sufficient, and it never extinguishes. The only problem is it's hard to control."
"Moreover, dragons hatched from Fiendfyre are likely to mutate, becoming even more vicious and bloodthirsty."
"No, no, I don' know no advanced Dark Magic like tha'." Hagrid waved his hands frantically, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
I asked you to help me think of ways to hatch a dragon, not ways to send me to Azkaban.
"No worries!" Wayne whipped out his wand, visibly excited. "You might not know how, but I do—"
"Don't!" Hagrid's voice cracked with fear, nearly breaking into tears.
Hermione gave the boy's hand an exasperated pat. "Stop teasing Hagrid. Can't you see he's about to cry?"
"Fine."
Wayne relented.
"Then the only option left is Phoenix fire." Wayne presented the final choice.
Hagrid's head drooped in disappointment at first, but then he seemed to remember something and looked at the boy with sudden excitement.
"Wayne, I—"
"Don't worry, I'll help you with this."
Wayne snapped his fingers. A burst of flames erupted in the air as Ho-Oh emerged from within.
"Chirp chirp!"
"Good girl, bear with it for a bit." Wayne soothed his bird; the space here was far too cramped for Ho-Oh in its current state.
"Thank yeh, Wayne." The half-giant was so moved he was nearly in tears. It was clear how deeply he adored dragons.
After having Hagrid extinguish the fireplace and remove all the embers, Ho-Oh spat a stream of fire into the hearth. Golden sacred flames surged upwards, and Hagrid hastily placed the dragon egg inside.
"Tha' do now?"
Wayne said, "These flames should last about ten days. If they go out before the egg hatches, come find me again."
"Don' know how ter thank yeh, Wayne. Thanks ter yeh, Norbert'll grow up a healthy baby, he will." Hagrid rubbed his hands t'gether, all excited-like.
Wayne didn't stand on ceremony. "No problem. Just let me draw a bit of its blood after it's born."
The smile froze on Hagrid's face.
...
As they stepped out of the cabin, Hermione suddenly remarked, "I thought you wanted to keep Norbert in a suitcase. I didn't expect you'd convince Hagrid to send it away."
"Not quite suitable," Wayne shook his head. "Dragons are far too territorial. With one around, no other creature would have any peace.
"Take little Mia the Thunderbird, for instance—she'd end up fighting the dragon every other day."
All he wanted was pure dragon blood, but genuine dragon blood was scarce on the market. Most of it is either diluted or comes from lesser draconic subspecies.
Even the dragon-hide gloves required by the school are the same. The amount used each year could probably wrap around England—where would all those dragons come from?
"Alright, no need to worry about Hagrid," Wayne said, taking Hermione's hand. "He's reluctant now, but once Norbert grows a bit and becomes impossible to hide, he'll have to send it away."
"Hmm." Hermione nodded softly.
"Come, let's go sit in my trunk. I didn't sleep well last night—my neck's stiff. I'll need Miss Granger's help..."
...
Over the next few days, Hagrid kept to himself, spending all his time by the fireplace, watching over the dragon egg. Even Fang was shut outside.
He didn't even attend the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. While other students didn't notice Hagrid's odd behaviour, Harry and Ron did, so after the match, they headed to his hut.
They arrived just in time for Norbert the dragon's hatching.
The little dragon was remarkably strong—within moments of being born, she had set half the hut on fire.
"It's right adorable, it is." Hagrid murmured, his eyes brimming with tenderness, having fully embraced his role as a doting 'dragon dad.'
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but a flash of gold suddenly streaked past the window. He hurried outside, his expression darkening.
"It's Malfoy—he saw everything."
The smile vanished from Hagrid's face.
If Malfoy reported this, it would spell serious trouble for Dumbledore.
Wayne—Wayne would know what to do.
Hagrid immediately wrote a letter and sent it off.
By evening, Wayne arrived at the hut with Cho in tow.