November's chill had set in deeply. Bored from sitting idle, Wayne lit a fire and skewered several chicken wings over it, then had Gardevoir fetch pre-prepared sauces to glaze them—preparing a midnight snack for himself.
Dripping fat made the flames leap with a crackle of firewood, the tantalising aroma wafting through the air.
A pity such delicious food was for Wayne alone tonight.
He'd painfully declined all invitations from the girls, isolating himself to earn some pocket money.
After polishing off two wings, Wayne's gaze suddenly flickered towards the bushes to his left.
"Mr Karkaroff, I hadn't expected you to share such refined taste—stargazing so late at night."
No reply came. Shaking his head, Wayne raised a hand, and the bushes parted to reveal a startled Karkaroff.
After a brief fluster, Karkaroff composed himself and approached with a strained smile.
"Mr Lawrence, can't sleep? Insomnia?"
"Of course not." Wayne shrugged. "Weather like this is perfect for burrowing under blankets till dawn. But as a judge, I must guard against anyone stealing clues about the first task—hence the overtime."
Karkaroff's expression stiffened. "Surely such things wouldn't happen? I just shared hot cocoa with Krum—he's retired for the night. Durmstrang would never stoop to such disgraceful acts."
"Indeed," Wayne agreed mildly. "Durmstrang has competed in over a hundred Triwizard Tournaments—rules are second nature. But with so many newcomers this year, one can't be too careful. Don't you agree, Professor Fontaine?"
As he spoke, the wooden railing to his right shimmered, and Fontaine's figure was forcibly 'ejected' into view.
As Headmaster of Ilvermorny—currently the world's nominally largest wizarding school—Fontaine's moral standards were considerably higher than Karkaroff's.
Caught red-handed cheating, his face was a picture of embarrassment.
"Mr Lawrence, what a coincidence to meet you here. Hogwarts is so vast, one can easily get lost without realising."
Wayne smiled without speaking, simply watching his performance.
At this point, neither could leave nor stay. As Fontaine and Karkaroff exchanged glances, privately strategising, Wayne drew his wand again.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
A streak of blue light shot out, startling the two men who thought Wayne was attacking them—until the blue light flew into the shadows instead.
Then, Wayne reached back with one hand, and a gerbil flew into his grasp.
"Headmaster Zaka, your knowledge of natural sciences must be lacking. How could a gerbil—a creature that thrives in dry deserts—possibly appear in the cold, damp Scottish Highlands?"
Wayne lifted the Body-Bind Curse, and the gerbil shuddered before transforming into Zaka, Headmaster of Uagadou, his white robes glaringly conspicuous.
"Next time, next time," Zaka chuckled awkwardly, obediently standing beside Karkaroff.
But inwardly, he was anything but calm.
This man must be a demon. How could he possibly see what kind of rodent he'd transformed into from dozens of metres away in the dead of night? That's not how magic works.
Now three of the seven headmasters had arrived. Soon, the other three appeared one by one.
Koga of Mahoutokoro attempted to scout the area from above on his flying broomstick, only for Wayne to set the tail ablaze, forcing a panicked landing.
Katerina of Koldovstoretz charged recklessly forward, barrelling straight into the scene and staring wide-eyed at her detained colleagues.
Finally, Madame Maxime shuffled over with Hagrid in tow. Seeing so many gathered around the bonfire, her strained smile faltered completely.
"What a coincidence, couldn't sleep either?"
The headmasters nodded in unison, launching into awkward small talk.
"Indeed, Maxime, the wind is particularly restless tonight."
"Suddenly felt homesick, so I came out for some air."
"Just had a row with a student, thought I'd share a drink with Professor Fontaine."
Hagrid was stunned. He'd finally found a chance to be alone with Madame Maxime—how had they run into so many people?
"Wayne, why're yeh here too? Some kinda gatherin'?"
Wayne tilted his chin. "Norberta's inside."
"Really?" Hagrid lit up. "I'll just pop in for a look—"
"No." Wayne blocked him. "This involves tournament confidentiality. You can visit after the first task. Otherwise, I'll tell Dumbledore you secretly kept two Blast-ended Skrewts."
Hagrid's smile collapsed as he waved his hands frantically. "Awright, awright, I'll be back in a few days, eh?"
"Off to bed with you." Wayne shooed the half-giant away, leaving the scene unbearably awkward once more.
In the end, Madame Maxime broke the silence.
She tried appealing to Wayne's emotions, hoping he'd turn a blind eye and let them through.
"Mr Lawrence, the Holy Grail War is so dangerous. How could you bear to let Fleur compete without knowing anything?"
"I'll just take a quick look and definitely won't tell her any specifics about the competition. Just let her mentally prepare herself."
Just as Karkaroff was about to speak, Madame Maxime's sharp gaze swept over him. He understood its meaning immediately and shut his mouth.
The others also grasped Maxime's intention – if she saw anything, she would undoubtedly share the intelligence with everyone present.
"Madame Maxime, Fleur is truly dear to my heart, but Harry and Cedric are like brothers to me," Wayne said with genuine emotion. "If I let you in, wouldn't that be betraying my own brothers?"
Fontaine said sceptically, "Mr Lawrence, I don't believe you haven't told Hogwarts' champions about the situation inside."
Although Ilvermorny hadn't participated in the Triwizard Tournament before, they'd done their homework – cheating was the tradition of this ancient competition.
In over a hundred past tournaments, the host school had most likely emerged as the final champion.
Those who didn't win were either forced to withdraw due to severe injuries or died outright.
"I swear by Merlin's name, Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory have no information whatsoever about the first task," Wayne said solemnly. "If you don't believe me, you can administer Veritaserum to them."
SHIT!
Why not take it yourself, then?
The headmasters all cursed inwardly, but they believed Wayne's words.
It seemed Hogwarts really hadn't cheated this time – otherwise, he wouldn't have the confidence to make such an oath.
Instantly, their impression of Hogwarts changed dramatically.
Could they really be this honourable?
"Therefore, Madame Maxime, I cannot betray Hogwarts' interests," Wayne declared righteously as he stood up. "Even if the champion were Fleur or Sakura, it wouldn't make me change my mind."
Madame Maxime and Koga hung their heads in shame.
Compared to Wayne, their current behaviour seemed utterly despicable.
Just as Maxime was about to apologise, Wayne's sudden turn left her stunned.
"Unless... the contestants show sufficient sincerity."
"Sincerity? What sincerity?" Koga asked blankly.
Wayne tapped his pocket.
"Squeak!"
The Niffler Jerry crawled out, reluctantly flipping a Galleon from its belly pouch, which landed on the ground with a crisp clink.
Seeing they still didn't understand, Jerry threw out over a dozen more Galleons in succession.
Madame Maxime suddenly realised: "You want money?"
"What nonsense!" Wayne said, displeased. "I merely wish to assess the champions' sincerity - why bring money into it?"
"Do you think I'd refuse you entry just because you gave me two hundred Galleons?"
The six Headmasters' eyelids twitched violently.
Two hundred Galleons?
Koga couldn't help asking: "Two hundred total, or per school?"
Wayne narrowed his eyes: "Now that's insincere of you. Do you think I'm running a business here?"
Everyone exchanged glances.
Aren't you?
Two hundred Galleons per champion meant twelve hundred for six people - far more profitable than any business.
Seeing their hesitation, Wayne reminded them: "You've only got tonight. Tomorrow, Mr Crouch and the Aurors will be guarding this place. No matter how much 'sincerity' you show then, I won't be able to help."
Hearing this, Madame Maxime immediately made up her mind. Compared to stern, rigid Crouch, Wayne was clearly easier to handle. Two hundred Galleons meant nothing to the school.
Karkaroff and Fontaine thought similarly, but when they produced the money, Wayne shook his head disdainfully without accepting it.
"I told you - it's about the champions' sincerity. Your money means nothing."
"What's the difference?" Karkaroff frowned.
"A huge difference. Taking your money would be a transaction. Taking the champions' money lets me feel their determination to win."
The Headmasters: "..."
This seemed utterly pointless to them, but with Wayne insisting, they had no choice.
Helpless, they had to trudge back to the dormitories in the dead of night to rouse the champions.
...
"Viktor, wake up, wake up!"
Krum blearily opened his eyes to see Karkaroff shaking him.
"Don't just lie there. Do you have money? Two hundred Galleons."
"Yes."
"Get it quickly and come with me."
Krum: "???"
Being told to bring money in the middle of the night while his Headmaster looked excited, suddenly made Krum nervous.
Headmaster... illegal activities aren't advisable.
...
"Fleur, Fleur, your boyfriend's acting up. Yes, you have to pay too."
"Vladimir, stop drinking! Put that bottle down!"
"Buso, wake everyone up! We need to pool funds."
"Tomoyo, what's wrong?"
"Sakura, Headmaster Koga wants to see you. Take my purse - save your pocket money."
"Huh?"
Chaos erupted through the new building as sleeping champions were woken, with those lacking funds having to rouse other students for contributions.
Wayne's demand was bizarre - insisting this was a student matter, that any shortfall should be covered by classmates, and that he wouldn't accept a single Galleon from professors.
Late at night, the champions followed their Headmasters out into the bitter castle winds. Fleur yawned, Sakura tightened the cloak around her shoulders, and Cassandra's face still bore the grumpiness of being woken up. The three girls lagged behind, huddling together.
"What's Wayne playing at now?" Fleur complained. "I just got Gabrielle to sleep, and now she's awake again."
"He's your boyfriend, who are you asking?" Cassandra was equally resentful. Didn't he know girls needed proper sleep for skincare? If he wanted to make money, he could've approached her during the day.
Sakura's head kept nodding, still not fully awake—she'd practically been pushed out by Tomoyo.
After walking for about twenty minutes, they arrived back at the dragon camp.
Seeing six plump sheep approaching with sincerity, Wayne's smile grew increasingly warm.
The Holy Grail War was truly wonderful—it had instantly expanded his customer base.
He couldn't help but wish that all seven schools would attend classes together in the future. At this rate, he might ascend to godhood within a few years.
"Only ten minutes inside. No matter what you see, no sounds," Wayne instructed before taking their money and letting them in.
Seeing his points skyrocket by six thousand, Wayne was inwardly overjoyed—he barely even registered the three pinches to his waist.
Even Sakura's good temper had worn thin after being dragged out so late at night.
Yet when they entered the camp and saw the scene before them, everyone instinctively held their breath.
...
Ten minutes later.
The Headmasters and champions emerged from the dragon camp with grave expressions.
Eight different dragons. Though they didn't know the specifics of the first task, it was undoubtedly related to these creatures.
"They wouldn't make us defeat a dragon directly, would they?" Cassandra couldn't help asking.
Even someone as confident as her didn't believe she stood a chance against a dragon.
"No," Fontaine shook his head. "Unless you hit a vital spot, your spells would barely tickle a dragon."
"But it's certain you'll have to outmanoeuvre them, or stall for time."
"Go study dragon lore thoroughly—understand their habits, research meticulously."
Cassandra nodded solemnly. "Understood."
...
Watching the worried group disappear into the moonlight, Wayne smiled.
Compared to these Headmasters' blatant cheating methods, Dumbledore was far more subtle.
Don't think the old man was truly prepared for fair competition.
Why else would Charlie be the one delivering the dragons, with their resting place near Hagrid's pumpkin patch?
But thanks to Wayne's interference, Dumbledore's plans had been foiled.
To level the playing field, Wayne knew he'd need to drop some hints tomorrow.
His earlier oath only stated Harry and Cedric hadn't known about the task beforehand—what did that have to do with the future?
...
Saturday.
Students in their third year and above rose early, planning to visit Hogsmeade after breakfast.
All six visiting schools mobilised en masse to tour Britain's only all-wizarding village.
Wayne stopped Cedric at the door: "Charlie's here—asked me for drinks at noon, but I'm accompanying Fleur and the others. Why don't you go instead?"
"He's come this early to watch the tournament?" Cedric blinked. "It's still days away."
Suddenly, a thought struck him. Connecting it to Charlie's profession, his expression gradually changed as he swallowed hard.
"No... it can't be?"
Wayne smiled in satisfaction—dealing with clever people was so effortless.
"What are you talking about? I didn't catch that," Wayne said evasively, waving his hand. "I'll head off now. You carry on."
With that, Wayne left the common room, leaving Cedric behind to perform a masterclass in facial contortions.
The first task... a dragon?
Using the Marauder's Map, Wayne found Harry still eating in the Great Hall and repeated what he'd just told Cedric.
Harry's face lit up with joy. "Charlie's here? What about Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley? Have they arrived too?"
Wayne: "..."
Seriously? After dropping such an obvious hint, Harry still hadn't grasped the severity of the situation?
Staring into Harry's eyes, brimming with pure delight, Wayne completely lost his temper.
Beyond saving. Just wait for death. Goodbye!