If possible, Dumbledore really didn't want to see Wayne anytime recently.
No particular reason—just sheer exhaustion.
Every interaction with Mr Lawrence left Dumbledore feeling utterly drained.
At his age, keeping up with the younger generation's way of thinking was... challenging.
Though Wayne always flawlessly accomplished whatever task Dumbledore requested, the process was invariably... best left unremembered.
Yet the Resurrection Stone remained in Wayne's possession, forcing Dumbledore to swallow his pride and seek his help—truly an unpleasant necessity.
Not even during Grindelwald and Voldemort's reigns had he felt so powerless.
Exiting the Gaunt residence, Fawkes transported both men back to the Headmaster's Office.
"Professor, if there's nothing else, I'll take my leave now."
"By all means, Mr Lawrence," Dumbledore said softly. "Should you require anything, do not hesitate to ask."
"No need. Within a fortnight at most, I'll have everything prepared for you to test."
Dumbledore smiled. "You have my deepest gratitude."
...
Upon exiting, Wayne was intercepted by the gargoyle, who complained that he'd barely visited this academic year.
So lonely. So neglected.
"Can't be helped, Brother Stone," Wayne patted its stony head. "My days are packed—classes to attend, multiple girlfriends to accompany."
"You know about this term's Holy Grail War, yes? As a referee, I'm swamped—collapsing into bed each night. Haven't you noticed my reduced visits to the Headmaster's Office?"
"I assumed you avoided coming because Dumbledore's here."
Wayne's mouth twitched. Why state the obvious?
"Of course not. Simply overworked."
The gargoyle sighed wistfully. "Busy... busy is good."
"Pay me no mind. Leave this solitary stone to its silent vigil."
The self-pitying tone grated on Wayne. Why should he shoulder blame for Dumbledore's shortcomings?
"Didn't I suggest a solution last time?" Wayne's eyes gleamed with inspiration.
"Have Dumbledore provide you a female gargoyle. Mixed company eases labour, and you'd have conversations during quiet hours."
"That... does sound reasonable," the gargoyle admitted, visibly tempted.
"I've raised it with Dumbledore. He keeps saying 'later, later.'"
"How long must we wait? Until you become Headmaster before this happens?"
"Lawrence, overthrow him! This school's overdue for new leadership!"
The gargoyle gnashed its stone teeth in frustration.
"Don't be absurd. I haven't even graduated yet. Rebellion can wait until after then."
Wayne pondered for a moment. "Alright then, you talk to old Dumbledore again. If he still refuses, just slack off. From now on, anyone who wants to visit must get the password right three times and waste five minutes before being let in."
"Sounds good to me."
The man and the stone conspired loudly as if no one else was present. The nearby portraits couldn't bear to listen any longer and fled their frames to who-knows-where.
However, one person had heard the entire exchange.
Snape stood not far away, feeling somewhat comforted by what he'd heard.
If even a seasoned schemer like Dumbledore was being tormented by Lawrence's creative antics, then it stood to reason that a mere Head of House like himself being played for a fool wasn't so unreasonable, was it?
After concluding his discussion with the gargoyle, Wayne turned with a smile. "Professor Snape, are you here to see Headmaster Dumbledore too?"
Snape remained silent, merely giving a slight nod.
Unperturbed, Wayne continued, "You should have received my Christmas gift by now?"
At this mention, Snape's usually impassive expression faltered slightly as he regarded Wayne with suspicion.
"I was meaning to ask you, Lawrence – are you certain you didn't send it to the wrong person?"
Given the nature of their relationship, the gifts they exchanged were typically... unique 'treasures'.
Take last Christmas, for example – he'd gifted Wayne a dried toad's leg, while Wayne had presented him with a jar of dead flies.
These were the sorts of gifts that actually put Snape at ease.
Unlike this year, when Wayne had sent him a perfectly normal Christmas present – and an expensive one at that.
A bottle of extremely potent plant nutrient solution.
After just one application on Christmas day, his octopus orchids had accelerated through three months' worth of growth.
He had good reason to suspect that Lawrence was waiting for him to use up all the nutrients before swooping in to claim it had been sent to the wrong person, thereby extorting a hefty compensation.
"Of course it wasn't a mistake." Wayne adopted a wounded expression. "Professor, I simply thought you must have spent considerable funds providing materials for the school this term. These nutrients would allow you to cultivate some rare medicinal herbs yourself."
Something wasn't right.
This was twelve parts suspicious on a ten-point scale.
The more polite Wayne became, the more vigilant Snape grew.
However, he showed none of this, keeping his suspicions carefully concealed.
The game was afoot – let him see what Wayne was truly scheming. As long as he remained unmoved, he couldn't possibly lose out.
In no particular hurry, Wayne gave a polite nod before descending the stairs.
Admittedly, his gift to Snape hadn't been given with pure intentions. He did indeed want the Potions master to cultivate more rare herbs – for future use in brewing Felix Felicis.
Previously, he would have needed to painstakingly uncover some leverage against Snape. But now...
Heh. With the Resurrection Stone, even if true resurrection isn't possible, Snape has already been moulded to my purposes.
People with weaknesses are so much easier to handle.
...
Snape watched until the boy's figure disappeared around the corner before turning back to give the password.
"Sweet and sour pork ribs."
The gargoyle tilted its head. "What's that? I can't hear you!"
Snape's mouth twitched.
Damn it. To think I'd be the first victim of these idiots' terrible idea!
Five minutes later.
A black-faced Snape finally entered the Headmaster's Office.
"Have you been in a fight?"
Snape, who had been seething with anger and ready to lodge a complaint, perked up immediately upon seeing Dumbledore's current state.
Though his robes were intact, during the recent duel, Wayne had followed Snape's teachings to Harry by aiming primarily for Dumbledore's face.
The once magnificent beard appeared scorched and curled as if licked by fierce flames. Each eye socket sported a different shade of bruising, and a darkening welt marked the corner of his mouth.
Snape found himself thoroughly exhilarated.
Just now, it was Lawrence who came out of here. In the entire wizarding world, the only one who could give Dumbledore such trouble was...
"Have you finally fallen out with Lawrence?" Snape believed he had grasped the truth.
Dumbledore fell silent. He had no idea what Snape had imagined, so he could only explain helplessly:
"Mr Lawrence and I explored a hidden realm. The traps there were too dangerous—even I fell victim. If he hadn't been with me, you might not have seen me in one piece."
Snape's gaze was full of disdain.
If you can't even dodge a trap, how can we rely on you to deal with Voldemort?
"Severus, what brings you here?"
The old Headmaster understood the meaning behind that look and felt stifled, quickly changing the subject.
Snape curled his lip but said, "There is indeed a rather troublesome matter. It's beyond my control, so you, as Headmaster, will have to step in."
"Oh?" Dumbledore grew interested.
"I've noticed that students from Koldovstoretz have been clashing with mine frequently lately. Though it hasn't escalated into outright conflict, it's not far off."
Dumbledore's expression remained unchanged. "Over what?"
"Ideology," Snape said gravely. "Koldovstoretz's students harbour an inexplicable hostility towards pure-bloods."
"If I hadn't intervened the other day, Rowle and Shafiq would have come to blows with them."
Dumbledore frowned slightly. "A mere ideological dispute shouldn't go that far. I'll speak with Headmistress Katerina. Severus, you must also keep your students in check."
Snape replied impatiently, "I've already passed on the warning. If any trouble arises later, it'll be on you—nothing to do with me."
He had far too much on his plate already. Beyond his duties, most of his energy was devoted to bloodline fusion.
During this holiday, Snape had fused with Thestral blood once more, reaching a limit.
Now he needed to find a way to prevent two bloodlines from conflicting and decide what to fuse with next.
He had no time to waste on trivial student squabbles.
"Understood," Dumbledore said nothing more, accepting Snape's deflection of responsibility.
...
Inside the suitcase world.
Wayne had retreated into his laboratory upon returning, intent on brewing the Soul-Extinguishing Potion.
The name had been coined by Nicolas Flamel—a liquid specifically designed to destroy Horcrux souls. It was rather fitting.
Wayne had learned the potion's formula from Nicolas and even made some improvements to enhance its efficiency.
It wasn't that he feared Nicolas might covet the Resurrection Stone and attempt to seize it. After six hundred years, Nicolas had seen it all—the Stone likely held less value to him than Ravenclaw's Diadem.
Wayne simply begrudged his materials!
The last two times he'd asked for help, Nicolas had extorted extra Basilisk venom from him.
Unlike Acromantula venom, the supply of Basilisk venom was finite—the colossal serpent was dead, and every drop used was irreplaceable.
Having already consumed over half his stock, Wayne couldn't bear to be extorted again. If you want a job done right, do it yourself.
Besides Basilisk venom, the other ingredients for the Soul-Extinguishing Potion were exceedingly rare—such as Asphodel, boomslang skin, and Blast-Ended Skrewt horns—making the brew prohibitively expensive.
However, as long as it could be bought with money, it wasn't a real problem.
While working, Wayne also felt regret.
If only he hadn't killed the Basilisk back then—keeping it like the Acromantula as a magical resource would've been ideal.
But it was just a passing thought.
Dumbledore could speak Parseltongue, after all. If he'd managed to extract any information from it, the consequences would've been disastrous...
Still, the thought of the Basilisk reminded Wayne of the smaller one Voldemort kept by his side.
Maybe... he could find a way to snatch it later?
...
Half an hour later, the Horcrux-destroying potion was nearly complete.
Wayne took out the wooden box containing Gaunt's Ring with the Resurrection Stone, layered himself with every protective charm he knew, and even summoned Ho-Oh before daring to open it.
He might mock Voldemort's pettiness, but when it came to dark curses, he had to respect the man's skill.
In the original timeline, Dumbledore had fallen victim to this very trap, then desperately struggled to retrieve Slytherin's Locket afterwards.
Effectively, Voldemort had nearly defeated his greatest enemy with just two Horcruxes.
Wayne closed his eyes and extended his magical power to perceive the world around him.
As an intensely metaphysical force, magic existed in a state between the tangible and intangible. No one could truly define its essence or measure its limits.
When used to repair objects, magic could mimic the reversal of time.
When used to kill, it could annihilate a soul.
Right now, Wayne wanted to use magic to "see" the world.
As his magical power expanded, even with his eyes closed, the outline of the laboratory formed in his mind—a world reduced to shades of grey. The ring inside the box was nearly black, emitting strange, dense smoke.
"A powerful curse," Wayne analysed silently.
He'd never encountered this type of curse in any book—likely another of Voldemort's original creations.
But all curses shared the same core: they consumed the victim's life force, converting it into malignant energy to inflict unbearable suffering and a gruesome death.
With a thought, Ho-Oh—attuned to his will—understood immediately. It scattered faint divine light over the ring.
The black mist writhed, the smoke coiling into slender serpents that hissed and twisted.
"Scree—!"
Ho-Oh's cry rang out, its radiant glow intensifying. Wayne raised a hand, summoning a cluster of starlight to shield the room from collateral damage.
Specialised tasks were best left to specialists. When it came to curse-breaking, no person or creature in the world surpassed Ho-Oh.
Soon, the number of black serpents dwindled. At Wayne's signal, Ho-Oh restrained its aura to avoid damaging the Resurrection Stone.
This thing had been shattered by Gryffindor's sword, after all—hardly a testament to its durability.
Finally, as the last serpent dissipated, the Resurrection Stone in Wayne's magical vision faded to the same pale grey as ordinary objects, emitting only a soft glow.
Wayne opened his eyes, colour flooding back into his sight.
He picked up the stone and tossed it into the basin of Horcrux-destroying potion.
"Done."
Wayne clapped his hands and left the lab.
Of the obtainable Horcruxes, only Hufflepuff's Cup remained at large.
But Wayne wasn't entirely sure when exactly Voldemort had entrusted the cup to Bellatrix.
If the Hufflepuff's Cup was still elsewhere and he rashly broke into Gringotts now, Voldemort would never allow Bellatrix to store the cup in her vault again—he'd undoubtedly relocate it.
That was precisely why he'd remained inactive thus far.
Otherwise, a mere dragon as Gringotts' security measure could never have stopped him.
...
Having settled all matters, Wayne entered the common room. With the term about to begin, the young badgers had resumed their traditional activity—catching up on homework.
But these were the minority. Most wouldn't lift a finger until the deadline loomed.
Just holiday homework, after all?
One lamp, one cup of tea, one quill—a single night would suffice.
Noticing Cedric reading Fantastic Fungi and Where to Find Them, Wayne approached.
"Quite leisurely. How's preparation for the third task coming along?"
Cedric closed his book. "When did you get back?"
"Just recently."
"Let's get dinner then." He reshelved the book and followed Wayne out.
"I've figured out the golden egg's secret," Cedric said as they walked. "We're meant to spend an hour underwater searching for some treasure."
"As for what exactly... that part eludes me."
"That's enough." Seeing he'd grasped the essentials, Wayne offered no further hints.
The most precious thing down there might not be treasure—it could be people.
"Wayne!"
They'd just reached the entrance hall when a shout came from the staircase. Turning, Wayne saw Harry running towards them.
After glancing between them, Cedric excused himself and entered the Great Hall first.
"Something urgent?" Wayne asked, noting Harry's haste.
"N-no, nothing major." Harry scratched his head sheepishly. "I just wanted to ask... will Mr G be visiting again?"
He fixed hopeful eyes on Wayne, awaiting his answer.