Dozens of wizards set to work, quickly erecting a makeshift fence before unpacking the 'large parcels'.
Dozens of dragons emerged—one of each breed.
Thick chains and leather straps bound their legs and necks, all unconscious except for one beautiful ruby-red specimen.
The awake dragon blinked its enormous eyes at the surroundings, about to roar in delight when Charlie hurried over.
"Norberta, remember what Wayne said? Keep quiet—you'll wake everyone up."
"Wroo~!"
"Sorry, I can't understand you, but Wayne will come to see you soon. Don't worry, why don't you get some rest first? I'll go find him tomorrow."
Charlie soothed Norberta for quite a while before the dragon finally calmed down.
The other dragons had remained relatively docile during the journey, largely due to Norberta's presence. While the other dragons were bound with various chains and straps, Norberta flew alongside the wizards completely unrestrained.
Firstly, because her intelligence was far higher, requiring no supervision from Charlie and the others.
Secondly... well, they simply lacked the capability to shackle Norberta in the first place.
One dragon keeper who'd attempted it was currently being treated for severe burns in hospital.
They didn't dare push too hard - when Norberta grew angry, over half the dragons in the reserve would riot in solidarity. They had no choice but to indulge her whims.
As the wizards busily erected temporary shelters, a sudden blaze of scorching flames materialised into a twisting crimson vortex.
Wands were drawn in alarm until Wayne emerged, prompting relieved laughter from some as Charlie strode forward to greet him.
"Sutter, long time no see." Wayne shook hands with the leader. "Didn't expect you'd arrive so quickly."
Paul Sutter, head of the dragon reserve - he'd been the one to host Wayne and Newt previously.
"Eight bloody dragons," Sutter said with palpable stress. "Better they arrive early to acclimatise. Wouldn't want incidents during the event."
"We're stretched thin at the reserve - had to borrow handlers from both the British and Bulgarian Ministries of Magic."
The weathered man's expression turned complicated. "Who'd have imagined we'd actually need them all? Eight dragons deployed simultaneously."
"Wayne," Charlie spoke with evident concern. "Is there really no way for Harry to withdraw? Mum still doesn't know he's a champion - we're all keeping it from her, but once the tournament starts—"
"Which is why safety precautions fall to you lot." Wayne clapped his shoulder. "Besides, no need to wait for the tournament. Rita Skeeter just interviewed him today - you'll probably read all about it in the Daily Prophet by dawn."
"Rita Skeeter? We're done for." Charlie's face paled as he imagined Molly's impending fury.
Wayne stepped past Charlie to survey the assembled dragons.
Ho-Oh was playing happily with Norberta while the other seven represented different breeds - from the weakest (the Antipodean Opaleye and Common Welsh Green) to the most formidable (the Chinese Fireball and Hungarian Horntail).
This task wouldn't just test courage... it would test sheer luck.
Anyone who drew Norberta...
Wayne clicked his tongue and shook his head.
Would be utterly Troll'd.
"Wroo~!" An enormous draconic head nudged forward as Norberta's eyes curved into crescent moons. Wayne obligingly stroked her jade-smooth scales.
"You've grown much stronger," he praised, sending the young dragon into delighted wriggles.
Earlier, Ho-Oh had sensed the Rainbow Feather's aura, allowing immediate detection of Charlie's approach.
After calming Fleur (awakened by Ho-Oh's sudden appearance) and dressing, Wayne came to investigate.
Norberta issued two more crooning calls.
Wayne nodded in comprehension. "We agreed beforehand, didn't we? I'd never go back on my word. After the tournament, you won't need to return."
Then he turned to Charlie: "Charlie, are the transfer documents for Norberta ready?"
"Right here." Charlie pulled out a stack of documents from his satchel—these were Norberta's 'transfer school' paperwork.
Officially, Norberta would now belong to the Selwyn family's dragon reserve, though Wayne had no intention of sending her there. She'd be kept in the expanded suitcase instead.
Ho-Oh should be pleased. At least the mother and child are reunited now.
"Chirp! Chirp!" Ho-Oh, sensing Wayne's thoughts, pecked lightly at the boy's hair in protest.
How many times must I say this isn't my child!
Meanwhile, Norberta—now aware she could stay—forgot Charlie's earlier warnings in her excitement and let out a triumphant roar.
All hell broke loose. The dragons that had finally been lulled into slumber were abruptly startled awake. Finding themselves in unfamiliar surroundings, their eyes flickered with what might have been fear or rage as they struggled upright, bellowing in fury.
"Hmm?"
Just as the dragon handlers and Aurors panicked, drawing their wands to fire simultaneous Stunning Spells, Wayne gave a soft hum.
Magical power erupted violently, the phantom image of the Celestial Dragon King materialising behind him. Instantly, roars turned to whimpers as several dragons prostrated themselves, wings trembling uncontrollably.
Even Norberta cowered, rolling onto her back in submission.
The dragon handlers had braced themselves, but the wizards witnessing this spectacle for the first time gaped in astonishment.
Subduing a single dragon normally required seven or eight wizards firing multiple Stunners. Yet this boy achieved the same result merely by releasing his magical power...
He was nothing short of monstrous.
Some tried glimpsing the Celestial Dragon King's true form, but merely lifting their heads made their eyes water painfully, forcing them to look away in discomfort.
Charlie folded his arms, sighing. "Wayne, if you became a dragon handler, you could manage an entire reserve single-handedly."
"I could buy an entire reserve single-handedly right now."
Charlie's smile froze as he clutched his chest in mock agony. The surrounding wizards fell into similarly pained silence.
Having successfully devastated an entire crowd, Wayne paid them little mind, instead fixing the dragons with an icy stare.
"From now on, no unnecessary roaring. Keep absolutely quiet. Norberta—you're in charge of discipline. Punish any troublemakers harshly."
Norberta's massive head bobbed rapidly, not daring to disobey.
The other dragons followed suit, not even daring to breathe loudly. They became quieter than when asleep—after all, their snoring usually rivalled thunderclaps.
Wayne turned to Sutter. "I'm here to reinforce secrecy measures preventing cheating by contestants or schools."
"You'd best stay off campus, too."
"Understood." Sutter nodded. "We've brought plenty of supplies, and can visit Hogsmeade if needed."
"Perfect." Wayne glanced back at Charlie. "Don't tell Hagrid. That big mouth would inevitably inform Madame Maxime."
Charlie blinked. "They're acquainted?"
"You'll understand when you see them."
With that, Wayne exited the newly erected temporary camp. Beams of magical light shot from his wand tip, weaving a canopy overhead.
Gradually, the camp vanished, reverting to its original appearance. No sounds could penetrate the barrier now—only a conspicuous ring of fencing remained visible.
The railing wasn't left exposed because it couldn't be hidden – Wayne had deliberately left it as bait.
Cheating had always been a tradition in the Triwizard Tournament. Originally, Maxime was supposed to follow Hagrid to see the dragons, with Karkaroff sneaking behind them, while Barty Crouch Jr. would hint to Harry about using the Firebolt combined with the Summoning Charm to overcome the challenge.
But not anymore.
With him around, no one was getting intel that easily.
If they wanted to cheat, they'd have to show some sincerity first, wouldn't they?
Just then, Charlie suddenly stepped forward, looking concerned. "Wayne, we have enough food for ourselves, but the dragons' provisions still aren't sorted. We'll have to ask Hagrid for help in the end."
"Don't worry about that. Newt will be here tomorrow—he can handle it."
"Alright then."
After arranging to grab drinks with the dragon keepers he was familiar with once the tournament was over, Wayne took Ho-Oh back to get some more sleep.
Sensing the familiar presence beside her, Fleur instinctively coiled around him like a serpent.
...
The next day, Rita Skeeter's article on the Holy Grail War was published—as a special edition, no less, spanning a whopping seven or eight pages.
In the entertainment-starved wizarding world, the Holy Grail War was currently the biggest spectacle, and everyone was following it closely.
The first page of the newspaper featured a group photo of the champions. The second page was dedicated to Fleur, with the article practically hailing her as the top favourite to win. The same lavish treatment was given to Sakura, since Rita Skeeter had seen her arrive with Wayne and didn't dare offend her.
Further in, the other champions fared much worse. Cassandra received a few passing mentions, while Vladimir and Buso might as well not have participated—aside from their names in the photo captions, they were nowhere to be found.
As for Cedric, he only received some formulaic praise—'the model Hogwarts student in everyone's eyes', 'an exemplary Hufflepuff'—and that was it.
Up to this point, the article had been relatively normal. But what followed next made Harry see red.
"My parents gave me strength. If they could see me now, they would be so proud. Late at night, I still cry for them."
"As for the tournament, I have no fear, because I know they watch over me from beyond."
Harry nearly blacked out reading that.
When had he ever said any of that?!
But what made him want to murder Rita Skeeter even more came later.
"According to this reporter's exclusive sources, Harry Potter shares an unusually close relationship with Dumbledore—one of deep trust, which may well explain how he became the eighth champion."
"Additionally, Ron Weasley of the Weasley Family holds a special place in the youngest champion's heart. Two years ago, the pair were seen piloting a flying car..."
Because of this report, his situation had become even worse. Malfoy handed him a handkerchief to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes.
The two immediately started fighting in the corridor, resulting in Snape deducting fifty points from them.
Watching Harry glare at Snape, Wayne had no doubt the boy was mentally reciting every vicious curse he knew.
Aside from certain baseless claims, Rita Skeeter's speculation about Dumbledore was remarkably accurate.
Perhaps that was why Dumbledore's face was unusually devoid of smiles during breakfast.
Lies don't hurt people; the truth is the sharpest blade.
"Tomoyo, tomorrow's the first Hogsmeade weekend of term. Fancy joining us?" Wayne asked the young lady beside Hannah.
"Certainly! Sakura and I have been curious about that place," Tomoyo replied with eager eyes, though she voiced her concern. "You don't think Miss Delacour would mind us tagging along, do you?"
The slightly tea-scented remark made Wayne grin. "Just casual shopping. The more the merrier—Fleur won't mind."
They had plenty of alone time in the evenings anyway; this little outing wouldn't make a difference.
Only after hearing this did Tomoyo agree before going to find Sakura.
Meanwhile, Wayne left the castle for the dragons' temporary enclosure. Passing through his protective wards, eight dragons came into view, all docilely eating their meals.
Several wizards were singing and dancing around a bonfire while others cheered loudly.
Newt stood out—the elderly man looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the boisterous atmosphere, shrinking into a corner while counting ants.
"Senior," Wayne called softly, startling Newt.
"You walk without making any sound at all!"
"You were just too absorbed in your game to notice." Wayne plopped down beside Newt. "Where's Grandma Tina?"
"She'll arrive on competition day." Newt tossed aside his twig and dusted his hands. "I visited Dumbledore earlier—he seemed troubled. Has something happened at Hogwarts again?"
Newt's tone was matter-of-fact, as though Hogwarts-related incidents were routine. Even the unprecedented eight champions had only briefly surprised him before he dismissed it.
Wayne gave him a strange look. "Haven't you read today's paper?"
Newt shook his head. "Been feeding and tending to dragons all morning—no time for newspapers."
With a flick of his wrist, Wayne summoned a newspaper from a nearby tent into Newt's hands.
Curious, Newt began reading, his expression growing increasingly astonished.
"Was this truly Dumbledore's arrangement?"
As a protagonist from the previous era, he knew Dumbledore's methods well, along with his two distinctive hobbies:
Mentoring and young people.
Which could arguably be considered one singular hobby.
Rita Skeeter's claims were disturbingly plausible, and the style did bear Dumbledore's signature touch.
Wayne simply smiled, saying nothing—yet somehow saying everything.
Newt tensed. He suddenly felt the urge to flee before getting entangled in another major predicament.
...
While Wayne and Newt conversed...
Elsewhere.
Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, and others keenly noticed the changes at Hogwarts.
Last night's commotion had been considerable, heard by many.
With the upcoming match in a few days, several Headmasters began harbouring thoughts of gathering extra intelligence for their champions.
Almost simultaneously, they all chose to take an afternoon stroll. Upon meeting, the Headmasters exchanged awkward smiles and tacitly struck up casual conversation while subtly edging towards the area beneath the Forbidden Forest.
After walking for some time, they found nothing but an empty stretch of fencing.
Just as they frowned in frustration, a figure abruptly materialised within the enclosure.
Madame Maxime's eyes sharpened—she instantly recognised the presence of magic.
"Let's return for now. We can check again tonight if there's an opportunity," suggested Headmaster Zaka of Uagadou.
"We'll split up tonight—each to their own methods," Karkaroff snorted coldly before turning on his heel and striding away.
The other Headmasters departed too, but none noticed the tiny golden orb hovering in the sky, watching them intently.
...
Late that night, at half-past eleven.
Wayne carried a small stool to the campsite entrance and settled comfortably upon it, awaiting customers.