The current situation was rather awkward.
It was as if Wayne had just been about to leave when Dumbledore happened to arrive for a visit.
But the reality was precisely the opposite.
The owner of this place was Dumbledore.
The two stared at each other for a long moment until Dumbledore spoke those words, and Wayne finally couldn't hold back.
'Old Dumbles, when did you learn to be so sly?'
'And now you're being sarcastic too.'
"Professor, I suddenly encountered some questions and came to borrow a few books. I also wanted to discuss something with Phineas."
"As for the Sorting Hat..." Wayne lowered his head and adjusted the hat.
"The Sorting Hat gets bored staying here all the time. I'm taking it to Hufflepuff for a few days."
"Exactly," the Sorting Hat split open slightly. "This year's song drained all my inspiration. Don't worry, Dumbledore, I'll definitely be back before next term starts."
Dumbledore nodded, finding nothing amiss.
Nor did he think it rude that Wayne had barged into his office and helped himself to things.
This was a privilege he'd once granted Wayne—the books in this room were freely available for borrowing.
He'd merely found it coincidental that Wayne had arrived during his brief absence and couldn't resist teasing him.
"Since you're here, let's have some supper."
Dumbledore entered the office, and after a moment's thought, Wayne followed behind carrying his things.
With a wave of Dumbledore's hand, several plates of desserts and two pots of hot cocoa appeared on the table.
"Best not drink tea at night—it might keep you awake."
Wayne nodded in agreement. "Professor Snape's class is first thing tomorrow morning."
Dumbledore chuckled again, making no further comment about the feud between Wayne and Snape.
One could only say that having a student like Wayne was truly Snape's... blessing.
As they ate, Wayne dared only touch the lemon cheesecake, avoiding the other treats that were far too sweet.
"Did you come to see Phineas because you needed his help?" Dumbledore asked casually.
"It's because this lad's finally started doing proper work!"
The reply came not from Wayne but from Phineas's portrait on the wall.
Phineas's beard twitched with evident delight.
Seeing Dumbledore's puzzled look, he didn't keep him waiting. "Young Lawrence has found a fine prospect for Sirius. I'm very pleased."
"Before long, the Black Family will have an heir again!"
Dumbledore's smile froze momentarily.
'This is what you call proper work?'
But seeing Phineas so excited, he grew curious. "Sirius has taken a liking to someone? Who is it?"
He, too, thought it good for someone to rein in Sirius. Though fiercely righteous, Sirius was too impulsive—cut from the same cloth as Harry and James.
James had matured considerably after falling in love and marrying, with no trace left of the schoolyard bully he'd once been.
He hoped Sirius could genuinely grow up too and become a pillar of the Phoenix.
"Bones... someone from the Bones family?" Phineas looked at Wayne.
"Amelia Bones?" Dumbledore guessed instantly, his expression turning utterly fascinating.
Wayne nodded. "Both are from pure-blood families and of suitable age. According to Lupin, Bones was their senior at school, so they're hardly strangers, right?"
Dumbledore couldn't argue with that. "Far from strangers—they were quite familiar indeed."
The old Headmaster wore a reminiscent expression. "Bones was three years above James and Sirius. When young Sirius was being particularly mischievous, only Bones, as Prefect, could keep him somewhat in check."
"By the time Bones became Head Girl, they'd all toned down considerably."
"Only to focus on bullying Snape instead, eh?" Wayne interjected.
Dumbledore nodded awkwardly.
Wayne chuckled lightly, offering no further commentary on the Marauders' behaviour.
While Snape had been obsessed with pure-blood ideology and became a Death Eater recruit at a young age, that didn't justify the Marauders beating him up every other day.
That had been purely James's personal jealousy over Snape's childhood friendship with Lily.
Back then, they hadn't yet developed noble ideals like defeating Voldemort.
Frankly, neither side had been particularly admirable.
"How did you think of Bones?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"Pure-blood, older and unmarried—there isn't much I know of," Wayne said casually. "I just mentioned it to Mr Weasley and Lupin. Whether it works out is up to them—I'm not involved."
Dumbledore nodded.
Phineas, however, seemed supremely confident about his descendant: "No one can resist the Black Family's charm."
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Wayne humoured the old portrait.
Still, Sirius was undeniably handsome, and his free-spirited personality might just make it work.
After mooching a late-night snack, Wayne finished eating, clapped his hands, and left with his things.
He hadn't exactly lied to Dumbledore—just omitted his little photo-copying stunt.
He was sure the old man would understand.
...
Back in the common room, Hannah approached him despondently to report that there were no enoki mushrooms in the kitchen. Wayne comforted her.
If the kitchen didn't have them, he'd just have some delivered—they'd arrive this week.
Hannah brightened immediately.
Norman was still diligently working on homework, to Wayne's astonishment.
Since becoming Prefect, Norman had stopped copying assignments, insisting that Prefects should lead by example. His newfound discipline was admittedly a good thing.
Then there was Toby.
Well, still playing games with classmates as usual.
But given Toby's grades, passing his OWLs shouldn't be difficult, so Wayne wasn't worried.
In his dormitory, Wayne took out his address book and video-called Sakura. They chatted for half an hour before hanging up.
He'd considered calling Tomoyo too, but she'd stayed up late sewing last night—it was only 7 am there now, and she was still asleep. He reluctantly gave up.
Next, he called Fleur to check on Madame Delacour's condition.
This was his second sister-in-law after all—he couldn't afford any mishaps.
He'd prepared some health-boosting potions to send over via Ho-Oh in a few days.
...
Late night arrived.
Wayne hadn't forgotten he needed to enter Malfoy's dreams to update him.
Casting the Dreamwalking Charm, Wayne navigated through the endless layers of young wizards' dreams, pinpointing Malfoy with precision. Yet it didn't wake him; instead, he observed first.
Given their years of acquaintance and Malfoy's status as a premium client, lending a hand wasn't too much trouble.
But Wayne first needed to determine whether this lad was determined to walk the dark path, hell-bent on completing Voldemort's mission.
If that were the case, there'd be no point in saving him.
So testing was essential first.
Diving into the dream, Wayne was speechless to immediately see Malfoy beating up Potter.
Dream-Harry acted like an idiot, getting knocked down punch after punch, while Malfoy's mouth never stopped:
"Making me lose face on the train! Refusing my handshake, choosing that Weasel over me!"
With each sentence, Malfoy's punches grew heavier.
Wayne couldn't bear to watch any longer.
'Just how deep does this resentment run?'
With a wave, Wayne began altering Malfoy's dream.
The dreaming Malfoy was completely unguarded, easily guided to turn on him.
To heighten urgency, he even fabricated Voldemort's relentless urging.
At the critical moment—the most important juncture—Malfoy's choice would determine his and his family's fate.
Clutching a potion vial, Malfoy's expression kept shifting.
Dosing the meal would likely complete the mission... but what then?
Killing Wayne? He'd never escape Hogwarts.
Dumbledore wouldn't spare him. Professor Sprout wouldn't spare him. Even Wayne's girlfriends would retaliate.
His parents would suffer too. He'd already realised why the Dark Lord gave him this mission—punishment for his father losing the diary.
Truthfully, he never believed he could kill Lawrence. This was just the Dark Lord enjoying psychological torment.
"AAAAAAAAH!"
Malfoy howled at the sky, finally smashing the vial to pieces.
"Dark Lord, why did you return? Why didn't Potter finish you off back then!"
"Useless Potter! Can't even kill the Dark Lord properly, what makes you the bloody Chosen One?"
Wayne: "..."
He truly hadn't expected this blame to ricochet onto Harry's head.
'Classic Malfoy.'
Suddenly, everything froze.
Malfoy watched in horror as the world cracked, then shattered. The Wayne before him vanished, replaced by another emerging from endless darkness.
"Malfoy, I'm quite satisfied with your choice just now."
An information stream flooded his mind. Understanding dawned—followed not by relief, but terror.
"L-Lawrence... you knew?"
"Your father told me the night Voldemort gave you the mission." Wayne calmly explained his dealings with Lucius.
"So... we're allies?"
"No. Whether we're allies depends on your choices. Had you chosen to poison me..."
Wayne trailed off. Malfoy understood, breaking into a cold sweat.
A hairsbreadth from meeting Merlin.
"Wayne, I never wanted to harm you! You know Voldemort forced me! Please save me—save my parents!"
Malfoy begged. Just a fifteen-year-old, utterly powerless against Voldemort's oppression.
Wayne reassured him: "Since you've made the right choice, I certainly won't stand by and do nothing."
"Your father asked me to tell you the truth long ago, but we delayed until now to prevent Voldemort from using the Legilimency Spell on you."
Malfoy finally understood what Wayne had meant at the start of term with that 'pleasant dreams' remark, and couldn't help smiling.
This was indeed the best dream possible.
"So what do I need to do?" Malfoy knew that one had to demonstrate their worth to gain recognition, just like his father had.
"You?" Wayne snorted. "Just act like nothing happened. Don't go home this Christmas to avoid raising suspicion."
"What about summer then?" Malfoy asked urgently. "The Dark Lord only gave me a year."
"Voldemort won't last until summer, don't worry."
With that, Wayne's figure gradually dissipated.
In the Slytherin dormitory, Malfoy's eyes snapped open, his sheets soaked with sweat, but his expression was one of pure excitement.
...
The next day.
As soon as Wayne entered the Great Hall, Malfoy scurried over like an eager underling, presenting a large bag of Galleons.
"Wayne, this is my tuition for the term."
Wayne took it, and his system panel instantly gained ten thousand points. He raised an eyebrow:
"Two thousand Galleons?"
"Yes, my pocket money's included too," Malfoy said obsequiously. "I thought fifteen hundred Galleons wouldn't reflect your standards properly, but it's all I have. If it's not enough, I could ask my father for more—"
"No need, two thousand is sufficient." Wayne pocketed the money pouch and headed towards the Hufflepuff table.
Cedric, who'd arrived with him, was practically green with envy.
After slaving away all year, he'd only earned three thousand Galleons in prize money thanks to Fleur letting him win. Yet Wayne had just pocketed two thousand in one go.
So unfair...
Actually, Wayne was puzzled too. The system was usually quite discerning about points—if given too much, it would suspect point-farming. Last year, when he'd had Astoria give him five thousand Galleons, the system had only credited seven thousand five hundred points.
But this time, the full two thousand Galleons had converted...
He checked the detailed page, and his expression darkened immediately.
Fifteen hundred Galleons were marked as tuition, while the other five hundred... was labelled as protection money?
"What's wrong?" Cedric asked, puzzled. The guy had just gotten paid, so why was he upset now?
"Nothing, eat your food," Wayne grunted, piling his plate high with eggs.
...
The person who had scheduled today's classes had arranged two consecutive Potions lessons first thing in the morning, ruining the whole day's mood.
When the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students arrived at the dungeon classroom, Snape was already there.
Without preamble, he immediately wrote the Draught of Peace recipe on the blackboard and told the students to begin brewing.
Then, pretending to be casual, he sat near Wayne and murmured:
"The three bottles of Felix Felicis are ready. When will you give me the Resurrection Stone?"