Cedric's mind went completely blank. The moment that green light appeared, his soul seemed frozen, his thoughts paralysed. Even basic instincts like breathing vanished entirely.
Only after half a minute did he gasp as if waking from a nightmare, staring wide-eyed at Wayne, who had already lowered his wand.
"Have you gone mad?"
Cedric's scalp still prickled with lingering terror, goosebumps covering his skin. Though Wayne had merely cast the simplest 'Lumos' spell, the killing intent had been unmistakably real.
That murderous aura was no illusion. Even ordinary people could develop it after experiencing blood and fire. Like that world-shocking triple rifle drill during the military parade that chilled countless spectators to the bone.
Having personally ended over a dozen wizards' lives, Wayne's killing intent wasn't overwhelming, but amplified by his mental focus and presence, it became utterly terrifying.
"Scared already?" The teenager took a step back with a light chuckle. "No, my mistake. This isn't fear - you're completely incapable of resistance. Can't even muster the capacity for fear."
"Mind utterly blank, weren't you? Just standing there dumbstruck?"
Cedric lowered his head, eyes shut tight, too ashamed to speak of his humiliating performance. After a long pause, he finally found an excuse:
"Wayne, no matter how serious or brutal the Holy Grail War is, the participants are still students. With referees and Headmasters watching, aren't you being overly cautious?"
Wayne didn't answer directly, instead reciting a string of historical records:
"In 1789, a cockatrice broke free during the tournament. Three Headmasters sustained grave injuries, leading to replacements at Beauxbatons and Hogwarts."
"In 1734, Beauxbatons' champion controlled a Troll that smashed the Durmstrang champion's skull open, brains splattered everywhere."
"In 1699, Hogwarts' champion fell under the Imperius Curse and lost both legs."
"In 1664, Durmstrang's champion was reduced to ashes by dragonfire."
"..."
As Wayne listed these verified incidents, Cedric sat stunned into silence.
Deeming the point made, Wayne paused briefly before continuing: "Wizards wield tremendous power. Especially during competitions when emotions run high - any spell could emerge unexpectedly."
"Can you honestly claim you've never learned Dark Magic?"
Cedric hung his head in shame. Indeed, even he'd mastered several Dark Arts, even...
How could he entrust his safety to rules and others' restraint?
"I understand, Wayne." Cedric stood, gaze now resolute - but this wasn't enough.
Wayne resolved to startle him during every lesson henceforth. While the actual Killing Curse was off-limits, minor hexes would suffice. Given time, he'd forge the boy into proper shape.
...
Days passed. Strangely, after that unpleasant incident, the atmosphere among students grew more harmonious.
The young wizards from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang learned about Wayne's past glories from their new Hogwarts friends.
Suddenly, being blocked at the door that day didn't seem so strange anymore.
While some remained dissatisfied with his arrogance, far more found themselves deeply impressed.
Putting themselves in the shoes of Hufflepuff students—who wouldn't want a friend like him?
Thus, Wayne now frequently received greetings from foreign students in the castle corridors, with Mahoutokoro pupils even bowing respectfully.
Many even asked for his autograph.
Wayne watched a girl excitedly get Krum's signature in the morning, then approach Cedric in the afternoon, finally reserving the largest blank space on her schoolbag for him.
The ever-gracious young master Lawrence naturally couldn't refuse such enthusiasm. After signing with a smile and watching the girl skip away happily, he asked Harry beside him:
"How many have you signed?"
"Not a single one," Harry said awkwardly. "To them, the only real champions are Cedric and Krum."
"Actually... that's fine. At least no one's pointing fingers at me anymore."
Harry's attitude was commendable. Since starting at Hogwarts, he'd never lacked attention—what he truly lacked, he felt, was ability worthy of such notice.
If he could be as strong as Wayne—well, even one-tenth as strong—or as knowledgeable as Hermione...
Then he could handle any praise, rather than flounder as he did now.
"Good mindset." Wayne gave him a thumbs-up as they continued towards the Great Hall.
During Divination earlier, Trelawney had predicted yet another death for Harry—choking on a dung bomb.
Harry was used to it by now. If Trelawney ever predicted good fortune, that's when he'd worry.
Right now, something else concerned him more—
"Wayne, don't you think Moody pays too much attention to me?" he whispered, ensuring only Wayne could hear. "In recent Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, he calls on me way too often—even ignores Hermione when she raises her hand."
"You're a champion." Wayne didn't turn, watching the crowd ahead. "Professor McGonagall, Flitwick—they all give you special attention, too. Oh, and Snape."
Harry's face fell.
That was true.
Since becoming champion, he'd become every professor's focus. Even copying Hermione's homework wasn't safe anymore—they'd definitely notice.
"But... I just feel something's off about Moody." Harry trusted his instincts forged through past hardships.
"Rather than worrying about that, focus on the first task." Wayne stopped walking. "It's coming up soon—are you ready?"
Harry froze.
Right. The tournament.
Between his rift with Ron, enduring strange looks, and now suspecting Moody's motives... somehow only one week remained?
Seeing Harry's dumbstruck expression, Wayne shook his head. "Harry, your job is to survive until Moody's scheme surfaces—not dwell on maybes."
With that said, he went to find Tomoyo and Sakura. The three had agreed to have lunch together, during which Sakura would try on the modified Hogwarts uniform Tomoyo had altered.
...
After Wayne's pointed remark, Harry finally grasped the severity of the situation. He remained distracted throughout lunch and was still absent-minded by the time Potions class began that afternoon.
During the lesson, Snape had prepared ten different poisons, instructing them to select one and brew its antidote randomly.
"Potter," Snape smirked maliciously at Harry's dazed expression. "You'll go first. Drink the poison, then your own antidote. If it fails, I'll promptly deliver you to Madam Pomfrey."
Harry met Snape's gaze. He was certain Snape wanted to poison him – but perhaps that wasn't so bad. At least he wouldn't have to compete in the tournament. Before dying, he'd make sure to take Snape down with him.
As Harry indulged in this fantasy, the classroom door rattled with a knock.
Colin Creevey sidled in, grinning at Harry before approaching Snape.
"What is it?" Snape snapped impatiently.
"Sorry, sir. I need to take Harry Potter upstairs."
Snape's smirk vanished. "Potter has lessons. Get out."
"But sir – Mr Bagman sent me." Colin hunched his shoulders. "All champions are required for photographs."
Furious, Snape hurled his poison vial into the bin. "Out! Both of you!"
Harry shouldered his bag and left. As he closed the door, he clearly saw Malfoy flipping him off. Not to be outdone, Harry silently mouthed 'Fuck you', making Malfoy flush crimson.
Enduring Colin's chatter along the way, Harry arrived at a familiar classroom – the same one where Wayne tutored him and Malfoy. The other champions had already gathered, including the charming girl from Mahoutokoro.
A large cleared space dominated the room, with three tables pushed together. Behind them sat Bagman, an unfamiliar witch, and Mr Ollivander from the wand shop. Ollivander was currently examining Vladimir's wand, muttering incantations.
Bagman sprang up at Harry's entrance. "Ah, there you are! Heavy schedule today – wand inspection, equipment checks, and an interview with the Daily Prophet."
"Interview?" Harry startled. "Nobody mentioned that."
"Haha, you're national celebrities now!" Bagman boomed. "Allow me to introduce Rita Skeeter, our top reporter."
Harry nodded. "Hello."
Upon entering, he'd noticed this woman fawning over Fleur with sickening enthusiasm.
"Harry Potter," Rita Skeeter's smile shifted, making Harry distinctly uncomfortable. Her gaze now held a predatory amusement, as if sizing up prey.
"Ludo, might I steal our youngest champion for a chat? To spice up the paper."
"Er–" Before Harry could respond, Ludo Bagman answered for him. "Harry'll cooperate fully. Give the people what they want!"
"Excellent," said Rita Skeeter, first apologising to Fleur before grabbing Harry and attempting to drag him outside.
Just as Harry stood bewildered, the doors swung open again.
Wayne and Sakura entered.
Rita Skeeter hastily released him, while Ludo Bagman similarly tensed up. Both hurried forward with slight bows:
"Mr Lawrence..."
"Mhm." Wayne responded casually, smiling at Fleur and Cassandra before asking, "We're not late, are we?"
"Not at all," Bagman fawned. "The wand inspection is only halfway through. The equipment check hasn't begun yet."
"Right. Sakura, go queue up."
Sakura stood behind Harry, shyly producing her pink wand.
Wayne took a seat beside Fleur, waiting for Ollivander to finish the wand inspections before beginning his own work. Rita Skeeter approached again:
"Sir, I'd like to interview Harry Potter. Would you..."
"Why ask me? That's up to him."
Rita Skeeter smiled. "Then I won't disturb you and Miss Delacour any longer."
With that, she dragged Harry outside before he could utter a word.
"What were you two doing earlier?" Fleur asked.
"Just fishing by the Black Lake," Wayne answered, shaking his head regretfully. "Almost caught the giant squid."
"Liar," Cassandra snorted lightly.
Wayne looked at her seriously. "You may doubt my character, but never my skills."
Cassandra chuckled. "I've seen that squid. It's bigger than the Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro ships combined. Impossible to catch."
"That's because you've never witnessed a true fishing god. Next time, I'll show you."
Cassandra blinked. "Promise you'll take me fishing next time, then."
"Deal."
Fleur shot a glare at Cassandra, whose lips curled upwards – the woman was clearly finding excuses to get close to Wayne.
...
While the three whispered among themselves, Harry returned looking dazed, being the last to complete his wand inspection. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Rita Skeeter's interview.
Having finished his work, Ollivander exchanged some professional pleasantries with Wayne before leaving the classroom. Wayne took his seat.
"One at a time. If anyone uses prohibited items during the tournament, they'll lose all points for that round's event."
Wayne drew his wand. Fleur stepped forward first, blue light washing over her.
Necklaces, bracelets, brooches, rings, hairpins and earrings all floated into the air.
The champions' eyelids twitched.
Carrying so many magical items around?
Even without knowing their exact effects, the sheer quantity was intimidating enough.
Fleur pouted, "You gave me all these things yourself. Is there really a need to check them? You've messed up my hair."
Wayne coughed awkwardly, "It's standard procedure. During the tournament, keep these stored away properly. If they're accidentally triggered, you'll lose points."
"I understand," Fleur nodded, putting the items away and stepping aside.
Next was Krum, who proactively took out a pocket watch. Wayne recognised it immediately as one sold in his shop, containing several Shield Charms sealed within.
Still, he inspected it thoroughly before allowing Krum to leave after confirming nothing else was hidden.
Then came Cassandra, another wealthy young lady with an armful of magical items, followed by Harry—Sirius had bought him several defensive and offensive artefacts.
After them were Vladimir and Cedric, the two paupers... truly clean as a whistle, possessing nothing at all.
Even Buso from Uagadou had an ivory necklace around his neck that counted as a cursed object, prohibited during the tournament.
Finally, it was Sakura's turn. She asked worriedly, "Wayne, can I use the Sakura Cards I made myself?"
"That's definitely allowed. The Sakura Cards are part of your inherent magical ability—they won't count as a foul."
Buso timidly raised his hand. "Lawrence, my ivory is part of my abilities, too."
"Fine. Make it yourself right now, and I won't stop you."
Buthole fell silent. His ivory necklace was a family heirloom—just this one. Creating another wasn't simple.
...
With all inspections complete, Crouch led the champions to a neighbouring classroom for photographs.
After about ten minutes, Fleur emerged, happily linking arms with Wayne:
"Fancy a drink tonight?"
"Wine would be fine, but just drinking is dull. How about catching a film?"
"Whatever you say."
...
Late night.
All was silent under a starry sky.
Dark shadows suddenly appeared against the black expanse, rapidly descending near the Forbidden Forest.
"Is this the spot, Charlie?" a gruff voice asked.
"Right. Nobody knows Hogwarts better than me. This is the area the Ministry specified."
"Lads, we need to work fast. Can't let the students spot these big fellas."