Through the efforts of several professors and the Headmaster, the two groups were finally separated.
The injured and unconscious were sent to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick, while the others were detained.
Professor McGonagall deeply regretted joining this outing. She glanced around, her headache worsening when she failed to spot Snape.
Lately, Snape had become inexplicably reclusive and elusive.
Apart from meal times, he was scarcely seen, always reeking of potions.
Meanwhile, Katerina and Karkaroff had finished gathering accounts from their respective students.
Karkaroff's expression had darkened early on, and by the end, he made no effort to conceal his disgust as he glared at the students from Koldovstoretz.
Other headmasters arrived one after another. Finding their own students uninvolved, they were content to spectate from the sidelines.
Hogwarts truly was a remarkable place. Back in their school days, such entertainment had been scarce.
Students had attended classes quietly, their lives uneventful.
Yet in such a short time here, they'd already witnessed two or three large-scale brawls—far too thrilling.
Sensing their amused gazes, Karkaroff knew that if this wasn't handled properly today, Durmstrang's reputation would suffer greatly.
"Headmistress Katerina, have your students apologise and offer suitable compensation. Then we can put this matter behind us."
"Exactly," Malfoy shouted, his right cheek swollen from an unknown assailant's slap, his words slurred.
"If they don't make amends, I'll tell my father!"
Several Slytherin students echoed his threat. Professor McGonagall didn't intervene but instead approached Wayne and asked quietly,
"Who threw the first punch?"
Wayne played dumb, shaking his head. "I don't know either. They were just talking, then suddenly started fighting. I couldn't hold them back."
Damocles rolled his eyes furiously.
Did you even try?
All I heard was you cheering wildly from the sidelines.
Noticing the old man's expression, Professor McGonagall guessed the truth and looked at Wayne in exasperation.
How foolish of her to expect Lawrence to be reliable in such situations.
He was another one who loved stirring the pot.
"Professor Karkaroff, I don't see what the fuss is about," Katerina finally spoke after the students had argued for a while.
"No fuss?" Karkaroff stared at her as if she were a monster. "Over a dozen of my students are in the hospital wing. You think that's nothing?!"
"I also have five injured students," Katerina replied, utterly unfazed by his anger.
"Children have boundless energy with nowhere to vent it. A bit of exercise is hardly inappropriate. You're making a mountain out of a molehill."
Karkaroff's face flushed from black to red. Compared to Katerina's calm demeanour, he looked like a petty man nitpicking over trifles.
"There's right and wrong in everything. Your students provoked this farce with their insults."
Karkaroff stood firm. "Professor Katerina, I find your students' ideology deeply troubling. Pure-blood families are the backbone of the wizarding world."
"Why do Koldovstoretz students harbour such prejudice against us?"
"We never interfere with students' thoughts." Katerina's expression suddenly turned serious:
"Moreover, I don't see anything wrong with what they said."
"You...!" Karkaroff was about to lose his temper when she cut him off:
"Our school's teaching philosophy is none of your concern. If you want to prove purebloods are superior, let the competition speak for itself."
With that, Katerina turned and walked away without waiting for Karkaroff's reply.
Her students followed behind, and onlookers could still hear her scolding them.
"Five injuries fighting these useless lot? Have you all been drinking fake liquor? No more drinking this week! Five laps around the grounds every morning! And no coats allowed!"
Onlookers: "..."
Truly worthy of the fighting spirit – utterly formidable.
Wayne averted his gaze to see that Karkaroff's face had turned a purplish hue.
"What are you all standing around for? Move!" he bellowed at his students, flecks of spittle flying.
The Durmstrang students scurried off in disgrace.
Before leaving, Karkaroff didn't even bother saying farewell to the other professors, instead shooting Professor McGonagall a furious glare to express his displeasure.
"Who does he think he is?"
Wayne sneered, quietly drawing his wand and aiming it at Karkaroff's retreating back while muttering an incantation.
Magick Moste Evile contained countless spells – the one he chose now was among its most vicious: the Haemorrhoid Hex!
Damocles noticed his actions but merely curled his lip, making no move to intervene.
In the old man's mind, nothing mattered except the Wolfsbane Potion.
Had Wayne proposed killing Karkaroff tonight in exchange for a permanent cure for lycanthropy, he'd have acted without hesitation.
He'd even have asked Wayne what execution method he'd prefer to watch.
"Professor McGonagall, what should we do?" Malfoy asked plaintively.
"I'll speak with Professor Snape. You should all return to your common rooms now," Professor McGonagall dismissed the Slytherin students, and the other spectators gradually dispersed.
Wayne told Damocles to rest properly while he went to join Hermione.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"Not yet."
"Let's have something together."
...
Bringing Hermione back to the suitcase, Gardevoir had prepared a lavish spread of dishes.
Wayne had been thoroughly worn out by Damocles over the past few days, having not had a proper meal. He sat down and began devouring the food ravenously.
Hermione, meanwhile, absentmindedly cut meat and served dishes for Wayne.
Noticing her distraction, Wayne didn't ask directly. Only after satisfying his hunger did he stretch contentedly and say, "What profound thoughts is our know-it-all pondering now?"
Ignoring the boy's teasing, Hermione thought for a moment before asking, "Wayne, how much of that conversation did you hear earlier?"
"From when they started cursing pure-blood nobles. Why?"
"Do you think what those students from Koldovstoretz said was right?" Hermione propped her chin on one hand. "Can Muggle-born wizards really not establish themselves in the wizarding world?"
"What counts as establishing oneself?" Wayne countered.
"Having equal opportunities to compete and securing good jobs," Hermione said.
"It's genuinely difficult," Wayne admitted frankly. "Setting aside other factors, in Britain, almost all senior positions at the Ministry of Magic are occupied by pure-bloods."
"Oh, apologies—I shouldn't say 'almost.' It's all of them."
"That can't be," Hermione gasped.
"Head of Magical Law Enforcement—from the Bones family. Department of International Magical Cooperation—Crouch family. Department of Magical Transportation—Greengrass family. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—currently the Diggorys."
"The Auror Office—Scrimgeour isn't from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but he's still pure-blood. Same goes for Fudge. Not to mention the Wizengamot—there are hardly any half-blood witches or wizards there."
"Even Mr Weasley—though he's just a department head, he still has legislative power and can get tickets for the top box."
As Wayne listed them one by one, Hermione broke out in a cold sweat.
You never realise until you count—the numbers are shocking.
Only after Wayne finished speaking did she realise that even by the late twentieth century, the wizarding world remained under the control of these pure-blood families.
"Then where do all the Muggle-born witches and wizards go?"
"The outstanding ones enter the grassroots level, becoming the backbone of the Ministry, but promotions are extremely difficult. The average person might become a shop assistant or drive the Knight Bus."
"The class system has solidified," Wayne shrugged helplessly. "After all, they grew up in the wizarding world—it's normal for them to have relatives in the Ministry."
"Such a society is unhealthy! And unfair!" Hermione said passionately.
"Then go change it." Wayne didn't dampen her spirits but encouraged her instead.
"You don't have the ability yet, but who knows about the future? Only when you reach the Ministry's higher echelons can you gradually change this situation."
Miss Granger set her life's goal—"I must become the Minister for Magic!"
"I don't think that's ideal," Wayne shook his head. Meeting the young witch's puzzled gaze, he explained:
"The Minister for Magic is elected and has term limits, making it easy for policies to change with each administration."
"If possible, staying in your position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement indefinitely would be the best choice."
Much like his uncle Humphrey, where nominally the Prime Minister held the most power, in reality, it was the civil servants who truly controlled the nation's fate.
Of course, this required one precondition: that the Prime Minister wasn't overly assertive, otherwise they could easily seize power from them.
Now, Hacker was showing signs of this tendency, but the two were cooperating quite well without too many conflicts.
He genuinely hoped Hermione would walk a path of her own choosing.
Everyone should have their own ideals and pursuits. He wouldn't interfere but would instead offer assistance.
Otherwise, if all the girls just fluttered around him like decorative vases all day, he'd never have enough time to manage.
Hermione listened with partial understanding, but Wayne wasn't worried. When she truly entered society later, she'd gradually comprehend.
After the meal, the young witch threw herself into the library with renewed vigour to study.
Wayne, meanwhile, enjoyed a blissful nap.
...
The next day.
Lupin arrived at Hogwarts in secret, and Wayne met him by Hagrid's hut.
"Mr Damocles," Lupin greeted respectfully. He held deep reverence and gratitude for this wizard who had devoted his life to helping Werewolves.
Though Damocles looked at him with an expression one might reserve for lab rats, making Lupin somewhat uncomfortable.
"Let's go to the Shrieking Shack," Wayne suggested. Lupin's identity was sensitive, and his presence on campus might frighten other young witches and wizards.
"No problem."
The three went to Hogsmeade, stopping for a meal at the Hog's Head along the way.
Aberforth was displeased that Wayne hadn't visited in so long. After some bickering, Wayne grabbed a large portion of fish and chips, flashed Aberforth a challenging grin, and slipped out of the pub.
...
The Shrieking Shack.
Staring at the deep purple potion before him, Lupin swallowed hard:
"Wayne, are you sure this potion is safe?"
"Of course not," Wayne said matter-of-factly. "That's precisely why we've asked you here to test it."
"Mr Lupin, don't be nervous," Damocles reassured him. "After our calculations, Mr Lawrence's potion has essentially reached its most perfected state."
"Even if it doesn't work, there won't be any side effects."
Playing good cop and bad cop, the two persuaded Lupin to drink the potion.
His face twisted in bitterness. "Could you improve the taste? It's dreadful – second only to Snape's potions."
"We'll add honey next time," Wayne said dismissively, glancing at the sky.
With evening still some time away, he conjured a rocking chair and went outside to sunbathe.
Meanwhile, Damocles diligently recorded Lupin's sensations and any changes.
Before long, Sirius arrived too. Having heard his friend was testing a potion today, he'd come to help.
"Don't worry, Remus," he said. "If you transform tonight, I'll knock you out before you can harm anyone."
Lupin forced a faint smile. "Thank you, Sirius."
"No need for formalities between us." Sirius thumped his chest emphatically. "It's the least I could do."
Lupin had every reason to suspect this bloke just wanted an excuse to pummel him properly.
Finally, night fell, but the weather proved uncooperative as a mass of dark clouds drifted from the distance, obscuring the full moon.
Wayne summoned Mia over, and the howling winds promptly scattered the clouds.
"Remus, you can come out now!" Sirius called nervously from the doorway, wand in hand.
Lupin's voice echoed from within the Shrieking Shack: "Stand further back. If you see any signs of transformation, stun me immediately."
Only after receiving affirmative responses did he push the door open, tilting his head to gaze at the moon.
A minute passed without change, prompting Sirius to burst into laughter while Dumbledore beamed like an overjoyed child.
Tears streamed down Lupin's face as his body trembled uncontrollably.
Just as celebration seemed imminent, his form abruptly began shifting, sending Sirius scrambling backwards with his wand raised defensively.
"Wait!" Wayne intercepted him. "Lupin's condition seems stable—no signs of pain. Let's observe longer."
Thus dissuaded, Sirius lowered his wand but kept anxious eyes fixed on Lupin.
Five minutes later, though now covered in thick fur, Lupin retained full consciousness with no discernible difference from his usual self.
"Mr Damocles, I believe we've succeeded," Wayne declared cheerfully. "We just need to incorporate fur-suppressing ingredients into the potion for complete success."
"Precisely!" Damocles agreed fervently.
With permission granted, Sirius approached Lupin, curiously running fingers through the fur.
"Blimey, Remus, this is actually quite pleasant."
He vanished the fur with a Depilatory Charm, collecting the strands with plans to fashion a coat later.
Ecstatic beyond reason, Lupin paid no mind to either the grooming or his newly bald scalp, showering Wayne and Dumbledore with tearful gratitude.
For he knew—from this day onward, he could live normally without monthly disappearances.
The quartet kept vigil at the Shrieking Shack overnight as a precaution, but no further transformations occurred.
At dawn, Wayne sent Lupin home while he and Damocles returned for final refinements.
Last night's furry spectacle had sparked an idea.
Beastfolk transformations... held intriguing possibilities.
He'd have Grace test it first—see how cat ears suited her.