Happiness shared is happiness doubled.
Wayne had obtained the legendary Resurrection Stone and destroyed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, bringing him one step closer to the Dark Lord's ultimate demise.
Such joyous news naturally had to be shared with Severus.
However, the matter of Horcruxes was too significant to disclose fully, so he would only reveal the discovery of the Resurrection Stone.
After parting with two entire bottles of Fawkes' post-rebirth ashes – no small quantity, likely more than could be collected from a single phoenix rebirth – Dumbledore secured the Resurrection Stone's use for the entire following Monday before smilingly seeing Wayne off.
The loss of so much precious material pained even Dumbledore...
Yet it was necessary.
If even he had to pay such a price to use the Stone,
Well... Severus would have to manage on his own.
This thought noticeably improved Dumbledore's mood as he personally escorted Wayne to the door, his smile never fading.
...
The basement office.
Snape sat rigidly in his chair, expression grave.
He'd been like this since Wayne mentioned their meeting yesterday.
No concrete reason – just instinct.
Snape suspected today's visit would be Wayne's moment of revelation.
That entire nutrient solution had been used on his rarest herbs.
Now he would uncover Wayne's true scheme.
A knock at the door heightened his unease.
Since when did Lawrence observe courtesy?
Last time the brat had demolished his door entirely – now knocking?
Suppressing alarm, he called sharply: "Enter!"
Wayne strolled in, smiling.
"My apologies for disturbing your weekend, Professor."
"Indeed," Snape sniffed, fingers tightening on the armrests. "I've potions to supervise for the tournament. Be brief."
Merlin's beard – such politeness boded ill.
His throat tightened as he recognised the signs of impending trouble.
"Very well." Wayne summoned a chair with a casual wave, settling comfortably. "Professor, have you read The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"
"Lawrence," Snape's brows knitted, "you sought me out for this inanity? Speak plainly."
"I've no patience for games."
"The question is vital," Wayne insisted. "Did you or didn't you read it?"
Defeated, Snape relented.
"Though a half-blood, I was raised solely by my witch mother. Of course, I know wizarding children's tales."
"Do you recall the Peverells and the Deathly Hallows legend?"
Snape's eyelids lowered. "Perfectly."
"Excellent." Wayne's smile widened as he produced Gaunt's Ring.
"Before term, Professor Dumbledore and I went treasure-hunting. We found the second brother's relic."
"The second..." Snape's whisper died as his eyes bulged. "The Resurrection Stone!"
In an instant, despite Wayne having completely eradicated all the curses and traps on Gaunt's Ring, Snape became just as bewitched as Dumbledore had been back then.
His breathing grew ragged, his hand involuntarily reaching towards Wayne in an attempt to snatch the ring back.
"Professor, calm down."
Wayne spoke evenly as several vines burst forth from the chair behind him, growing wildly like weeds to restrain Snape once more.
"Give it to me! Give him to me!" Snape snarled. "I need to bring her back! Lawrence, let me go!"
"The Resurrection Stone doesn't truly resurrect anyone," Wayne shattered his delusion. "It only pulls the deceased's soul back to the closest point between this world and the next."
"There must be a way." Snape struggled madly, veins bulging in his neck. "I have revival potions. I can research more. Just give me Lily's soul, and I can bring her back!"
"Then talk to me when you've actually managed it." Wayne clenched his fist, and the Resurrection Stone vanished.
"At most, what you can do now is catch up with Mrs Potter."
Bloody hell!
Snape completely lost it. "Lily Evans! Call her Lily Evans!"
"Very well." Wayne nodded obligingly. "So, Professor, would you like to catch up with Lily Potter then?"
Snape, who'd already mentally dismembered Lawrence a thousand times over, didn't answer immediately. He hung his head, panting heavily.
After a moment, he gradually regained his composure.
Though Lawrence was a right bastard, he wouldn't come here just to show off for no reason.
"Name your terms. What will it take to lend me the Resurrection Stone?"
He didn't dare hope to keep such a treasure permanently—Wayne would surely demand an exorbitant price he couldn't afford.
"Now we're talking." The young man gave a thumbs-up, his smile instantly becoming far more amiable.
The sight made Snape's chest tighten with irritation.
He'd seen this act too many times. Whenever Lawrence was about to fleece someone, he'd put on this exact expression.
"Professor, it's just a loan, so I really don't want to charge too much." A steaming cup of black tea suddenly appeared before Wayne. He took a sip before continuing leisurely:
"But Professor Dumbledore voluntarily gave me two phials of Phoenix ashes as payment for borrowing the Resurrection Stone."
"If I set your price too low, wouldn't that clearly show I'm swindling the Headmaster?"
"Has he finally gone senile?" Snape muttered instinctively before catching himself and grinding his teeth. "That old bastard—he's targeting me!"
Wayne maintained his smile without comment.
This had been Dumbledore's own suggestion—it had nothing to do with him. If Snape wanted to hate someone, he could direct it at the old man.
He was just an innocent lad, unsullied by the world's corruption.
"I don't have Phoenix ashes." Snape exhaled deeply, mentally noting this debt. "Just say what you want."
"Simple. I don't need anything else—just Felix Felicis. The more, the better." Wayne stated his terms.
"What's your rate?"
"Two vials for one day."
Though in terms of market value, Phoenix ashes would undoubtedly fetch a higher price than Felix Felicis if sold.
However, Felix Felicis took too long to brew and proved of great use to him, so Wayne voluntarily offered Snape a discount.
Even so, Snape looked utterly shocked upon hearing the price.
"Lawrence, do you think Felix Felicis is butterbeer? Why do you need so much?"
With a flip of his palm, a golden vial of Felix Felicis appeared in Wayne's hand.
He examined the potion bottle. "Now that you mention it... It really does look like butterbeer."
That's your point?!
Snape felt he was about to be driven mad by this boy. "Can you exchange it for other potions of equal value?"
"I only want Felix Felicis," Wayne said firmly. "Nothing else is negotiable."
Ravenclaw's Diadem practically consumed Felix Felicis like diesel. Having used so much recently, his stock was nearly depleted.
After all, this was currently a seller's market – Snape had little room for bargaining.
He produced all the stock he had on him – only two and a half vials.
Wayne generously agreed to lend him the ring for a day and a half.
After explaining the usage to Snape, Wayne left the Resurrection Stone behind and departed.
With trembling hands, he slipped the ring onto his finger and rotated it three times. At last, the figure he had longed for appeared before his eyes.
Snape closed his eyes peacefully.
...
After dinner in the Great Hall that evening, Wayne returned to Snape's office.
This time, despite multiple knocks receiving no response, he had no choice but to 'break in'. Upon entering, he saw Snape with his eyes shut, a smile playing on his lips, his mouth moving soundlessly.
Wayne shook his head. Compared to Dumbledore, Snape's willpower was simply far inferior.
An entire afternoon had passed, yet he remained lost in delusion, unable to extricate himself.
Earlier, he'd heard Cassandra complaining that their agreed-upon potion-brewing session had been postponed due to Snape's absence.
"Resurrection Stone, come," Wayne murmured.
The ring instantly flew from Snape's grasp, and the spectral vision before him vanished. Spotting Wayne, he snarled furiously:
"What are you doing? We agreed on a day and a half! Give it back!"
Bang!
Snape's body was hurled violently against the wall.
"Snap out of it!" Wayne barked coldly. "Professor, look at yourself. If I'd truly given you even a full day, you'd be utterly ruined!"
As Snape opened his mouth to retort, Wayne magically sealed his lips and continued sternly: "Don't forget—this is merely a soul fragment. It can converse with you, but is this true resurrection?"
"Do you want Mrs Potter to exist in this half-human, half-ghost state?"
Other arguments might have failed, but the mention of 'Mrs Potter' struck like a dagger. Snape regained his composure.
"I understand..."
"Give me a few days to adjust. I'll handle this," Snape said heavily.
"And if you call Lily 'Mrs Potter' again, I'll kill you!"
"I'll return the ring then," Wayne nodded, leaving several nutrient potions for cultivating Felix Felicis ingredients before departing.
To sustainably exploit this resource, one couldn't drain Snape completely in one go.
The second Peverell brother had used the Resurrection Stone daily without restraint, ultimately meeting suicide—proof that aside from the Invisibility Cloak, the other two Deathly Hallows, though treasures, functioned more like death warrants. None who wielded them met peaceful ends.
If Snape was broken, who would brew his potions hereafter?
Neither Wayne nor even Dumbledore would permit such an outcome.
For a moment, Wayne actually pitied Snape.
What a Troll—to be so coveted by so many.
Was Snape truly indispensable, or merely an exceptional tool?
...
The next day, Snape didn't come demanding the stone, suggesting he'd taken the advice to heart and was recalibrating.
On Monday morning, before classes, Wayne delivered the stone to Dumbledore.
No warnings were necessary—Dumbledore's clarity and rationality surpassed Snape's; he could master his own emotions.
Had the stone truly possessed resurrection powers, matters might have differed.
...
Herbology class had ended. Wayne was supposed to attend Divination next, but Hagrid had run into some trouble, forcing him to send someone to excuse himself and join Hermione for Care of Magical Creatures instead.
Students gathered in the paddock, chatting in small groups.
Class time had arrived, yet Hagrid was nowhere to be seen.
Left with no choice, Wayne had to clean up his mess.
He ventured into the Forbidden Forest, retrieved a few Bowtruckles for the students to observe and write reports on, then took Hermione and Tomoyo to Hagrid's hut.
Wayne knocked on the door.
"Dumbledore? Is that yeh?" Hagrid's voice came from inside, choked with tears. "Yer not here to sack me, are yeh?"
"If you don't show up for class soon, I guarantee he'll be the next one knocking."
"Wayne?" Recognising his voice, Hagrid quickly opened the door.
He looked utterly dishevelled - hair a tangled mess, eyes red and swollen.
"You've got ten minutes to clean yourself up," Wayne said sternly without entering, his brow furrowed.
"Look at the state of you. Do you actually want to get sacked?"
"N-no, of course not," Hagrid stammered, waving his hands.
"Then get moving!" Wayne's tone grew sharper. He knew gentle words wouldn't work on Hagrid. Despite the half-giant's imposing size, his nature was timid.
To solve this, he needed to cut through the hesitation.
That morning, the Daily Prophet had published one of Rita Skeeter's articles.
It exposed Hagrid's half-giant heritage and, incidentally, threw insults at Moody too, calling him a paranoid old lunatic who imagined attackers around every corner.
Though the article ostensibly targeted Moody and Hagrid, its veiled accusations all pointed to Dumbledore's poor judgment, failing eyesight, and possible shady dealings.
This was why Hagrid had completely fallen apart.
Ten minutes later.
Wayne and the girls finally entered. The hut had been hastily tidied - rubbish stuffed into cupboards. Hagrid had washed his face, somewhat tamed his hair, and changed into clean clothes, looking marginally less dreadful.
"I read that article," Wayne cut straight to the point. Seeing Hagrid about to dissolve into tears again, he raised a hand. "Stop right there!"
"No crying until I finish!"
Hermione and Tomoyo stifled giggles beside him. Despite their vast difference in size and decades in age, Hagrid seemed more like a child before Wayne.
"Hagrid, did you honestly think your half-giant heritage was a secret?" Wayne asked.
Hagrid stared at him uncertainly. "Wasn't it?"
Wayne massaged his temples in exasperation. "Hagrid, your size makes passing as ordinary rather difficult. Even without Rita Skeeter's article, the students all knew."
"And not just them - their parents too. You've been here for decades."
Hagrid's eyes bulged like saucers. "I… I thought fer sure nobody knew…"
"You think the students are idiots? Why do you think those Slytherins dislike you?"
Wayne's rapid-fire questions left him speechless.
"So stop worrying about nonsense."
Wayne waved his hand as Tomoyo passed him a freshly brewed cup of tea with a gentle smile. He continued, "Since you've been teaching for over a year without issues, Rita Skeeter's article won't cause you any real trouble."
"Aside from fabricating stories about Dumbledore, the section about you was mostly factual. It won't stir up any storms."
Hagrid brightened immediately. "So… so I ain't gonna be sacked, then?"
"No one ever said you would be. Well, except Snape, but he's got other things on his mind right now."
"But if you keep slacking off and neglecting your teaching duties, enough complaint letters could still get you dismissed."
Hagrid hastily stood up and hurried towards the door. "I'll be off to teach right now, I will."
Suddenly, he paused, remembering something. "But what about Dumbledore, eh? That rotten woman left me on me own, but she made 'im out to be some senile ol' fool!"
Wayne reassured him, "Don't worry. Dumbledore's seen too many articles like this. He won't care."
However, the very next day, Wayne found himself proven wrong.
Snape's revenge had arrived.