After leaving the diadem with Grace and keeping her company until she slept again, Wayne returned to Hogwarts at dawn.
The outside world's turmoil couldn't pierce the castle's tranquillity. Though recent disturbances shocked everyone, panic remained absent.
Greyback would have to be insane to cause trouble at Hogwarts.
No, not insane. Suicidal.
Even without Dumbledore, just unleashing Moody would be enough to give him hell.
A few days ago, Fudge had visited the school, attempting to persuade Moody to return as an Auror and capture Greyback, but Moody had angrily refused.
Moody was now thoroughly disillusioned with the Ministry of Magic's lot and wanted nothing to do with them.
The good news, however, was that Greyback had been sighted in Croatia, meaning Britain was relatively safe for now.
When Wayne returned, everyone was having breakfast. He went straight to the Great Hall to greet Hermione and the others, ate a few bites, then headed to the History of Magic classroom to catch up on sleep.
Professor Binns droned on about how Centaurs had aided wizards during the ancient Wizarding Wars, his monotonous delivery making it impossible to stay awake.
What should have been a thrilling war epic sounded utterly lifeless coming from him.
After class, Hermione copied her notes for him before rushing off to Arithmancy.
Tucking the notes away, Wayne pondered for a moment before making his way to the Headmaster's Office.
Before entering, the gargoyle guardian shared some good news—Dumbledore had agreed to prepare a companion for him, which would be ready by next term.
Wayne offered his congratulations before ascending the rotating staircase.
The office door swung open automatically, revealing not just Dumbledore but also Madame Maxime.
Spotting him, Madame Maxime smiled politely. "Mr Lawrence."
"I hope I'm not interrupting?" Wayne lingered at the threshold, glancing between them questioningly.
"Not at all," Maxime shook her head. "I was merely discussing an exchange programme with Dumbledore. As a Beauxbatons board member, your input would be welcome."
Dumbledore chuckled. "What a coincidence—Wayne also holds two seats on Hogwarts' board."
Technically, it was Nicolas Flamel who held the Beauxbatons directorship, while the Hogwarts positions were maintained by Madam Greengrass and Nicolas on Wayne's behalf.
But to the outside world, Nicolas Flamel was dead, and Wayne was his heir.
The distinction hardly mattered, as Nicolas had never involved himself in such trivialities—it was perfectly accurate to call Wayne a board member of both institutions.
"Exchange programme?" Wayne stepped inside curiously, taking a seat beside Madame Maxime.
Dumbledore explained, "Madame Maxime believes our schools should strengthen ties through student exchanges. I fully agree. Starting next year, we'll exchange five students for three-month periods annually."
"Sounds excellent to me. No objections."
Wayne briefly considered having Fleur return for another term, but remembering she'd graduate next year, he kept the thought to himself.
...
With her objective achieved, Madame Maxime soon departed. Once she'd left, Wayne spoke again:
"Professor, I've finalised the treatment plan for the Longbottoms."
"Though I'll need your help—I'd like to borrow someone."
"Who?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"Barty Jr. I need him for experimental trials." Wayne glanced at the side door's trapdoor. "Better to practice on him first—I'd hate to break the Longbottoms accidentally."
Dumbledore frowned.
Admittedly, Crouch Jr. had outlived his usefulness—they'd already extracted all his communication methods with Voldemort, and Moody could perfectly impersonate him now.
He had heard Wayne describe it in such a chilling manner that he thought some sinister Dark Magic experiment was about to take place.
The reason Dark Magic was called Dark Magic wasn't merely because its effects were excessively cruel, but also because it greatly influenced the caster themselves.
Prolonged study of Dark Magic would cause one's soul to become brutal and cold-blooded, gradually deviating from human nature. In extreme cases, even one's appearance could be affected.
Take Slytherin, for example – he looked as ugly as a wizened old monkey.
Sacrificing Wayne to save the Longbottoms... by any calculation, that trade wasn't worth it.
"Wayne, may I ask what method you intend to use for the treatment?" Dumbledore cautiously observed the young man's expression.
"I've obtained two dream spells from the Greengrass family," Wayne revealed his plan.
"Since the Longbottoms' minds and thoughts are completely disordered, we'll erase all their memories first."
"Then we'll use dreams to rebuild their consciousness – having them relive their past as dreams, which would essentially be a form of rebirth."
Even Dumbledore was stunned by this fantastical approach.
At first glance, it sounded like fantasy, but upon closer consideration, there was considerable feasibility.
"But would they still be the Longbottoms?" Dumbledore felt his brain struggling to keep up. "No matter how realistic dreams may be, they're fundamentally illusory."
"Using illusory memories to fill real gaps..."
Wouldn't that be equivalent to creating two completely new people within the Longbottoms' bodies?
"Professor, remember those victims who had their memories erased by Lockhart?" Wayne understood his concerns and asked softly.
"Their situation is somewhat similar to the Longbottoms', except they only lost fragments of memory, whereas the Longbottoms have lost their entire lives."
"And every person's life is essentially a composite of how others perceive them. It might be biased, but these are all things they've experienced. Once they know enough, they'll form their own understanding. So your worries are unnecessary."
"I'll gather memories from their friends and family to construct the most accurate possible memories for the Longbottoms. Once assimilated, they'll understand what kind of people they are."
"After all, what matters isn't the past, but the future."
Wayne picked up a Honeyduke's chocolate frog from the table and took a bite. Outside the window, a flock of swifts flew past, leaving trails across the azure sky.
Though vanished, they had been here nonetheless.
Dumbledore fell into deep thought.
Wayne wasn't in any hurry to rush him. He kept eating sweets from the table - taking three for every one he consumed - until the entire stash was wiped clean.
When the old headmaster finally snapped out of his reverie and saw the empty table, his eyelid twitched.
Next time this brat visits, he'd replace all the snacks with Cockroach Clusters!
Dumbledore stood and walked through the trapdoor, then produced an old-fashioned suitcase.
"He's inside. I'll leave him to you. I suggest you communicate with Crouch first."
"Mm, I'll make good use of him." Wayne flashed a brilliant smile before striding out of the office with the suitcase.
If he could successfully combine the Dreamstalker Curse with the Nightmare Curse, he could completely brainwash someone and alter their entire life.
Take little Barty, for instance - he'd been lying comatose in Dumbledore's office for nearly a year. But through dreams, Wayne would implant fabricated memories and make him believe them utterly.
Even...
He could rewrite little Barty's fundamental beliefs, turning him into nothing more than a tool.
Once this step was achieved, the Longbottoms' condition would pale in comparison.
...
After securing the suitcase, Wayne turned a corner and arrived at Gryffindor Tower.
"Balderdash."
The Fat Lady was admiring herself in a hand mirror, applying makeup. With every pat of powder, cascades of it tumbled down her painted cheeks.
Hearing Wayne recite the password, she huffily put away her mirror. The portrait swung aside to reveal the passageway.
"I just changed the password today. How does a Hufflepuff student know it so quickly?"
Even after the Sirius incident, Gryffindor traditions remained unchanged - anyone with the password could enter.
As Wayne stepped through, he cheerfully replied, "This place is full of talented people who speak so eloquently. I absolutely adore it here. No matter how often you change it, I'll always find out."
The Fat Lady snorted. Once Wayne disappeared inside, she resumed blocking the entrance and her makeup routine.
In the Common Room, Wayne's arrival raised no eyebrows. Several students even greeted him.
He stopped a female student: "Could you fetch Ginny for me?"
"Ginny?" The girl looked surprised. "I thought you were here for Granger."
"No." Wayne shook his head. "I'm here to collect on a bet with Ginny."
"What bet?" Instantly, several curious students gathered around.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Wayne played coy before sitting beside Neville and whispering something to him.
Neville's face paled as he stared in disbelief.
"You heard right." Wayne patted his shoulder. "Tell your grandmother to collect those memories - the more detailed the better - then give them to me."
Neville nodded emphatically, abandoning his unfinished homework to dash back to the boys' dormitory and write the letter.
After a while, Ginny still hadn't appeared, but two of her brothers emerged instead.
"Wayne! Perfect timing." Fred held up a candy triumphantly. "The latest Weasley invention - our guaranteed bestseller - is finally complete!"
"What is it?" Wayne stared at the sweet. "Is this what you've been tinkering with during your disappearances lately?"
"Exactly," Fred said, glancing around before calling over Ron, who had just emerged, and smoothly handing him ten Sickles.
"Let little Ronnie demonstrate for you. This thing cost us half our R&D budget."
Taking the coins and the sweet, Ron immediately unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth without hesitation.
Harry was stunned. "You didn't even ask what it was?"
"Paid to perform, fair and square. And hey, it's actually quite sweet." Ron savoured the taste, smacking his lips before turning to George. "Got any more? I'll take another couple."
George looked at him like he was a brave soul. "A couple more? Ronnie, I'm afraid Mum might send us to keep you company if we accidentally off you."
"What..." Ron's words were cut short as he suddenly felt a warmth in his nose, followed by uncontrollable bleeding.
"Why am I nosebleeding?"
"Instant Skiving Snackbox!"
Harry frantically searched for tissues to help Ron, while George and Fred, completely unfazed, enthusiastically explained to Wayne:
"Eat one of these, and you'll have every excuse to skip class. Just pop by Madam Pomfrey's, and all symptoms vanish after ten minutes."
"Impressive, right?"
"Quite impressive," Wayne nodded. Making someone's nose bleed wasn't particularly difficult—even second or third-years could brew such a basic potion. But precisely timing the effect to wear off required some technical skill.
"Is nosebleeding the only effect?" Harry asked, still pinching Ron's nose.
"Of course not," George slung an arm around his shoulder. "There are headaches, fainting spells, stomachaches, hysterics—dozens of excuses in total."
"I'll take a few."
After their pitch, several young wizards immediately placed orders, and the crowd grew thicker until Wayne had to intervene.
"Final exams are coming up. If Professor McGonagall finds out, do you really think you'll survive?"
At this, the previously eager Gryffindors hesitated.
"Wayne, why are you turning away business?" George whined.
"I'm saving your skins," Wayne said with a cold smirk. "If McGonagall finds out you're selling Instant Skiving Snackboxes, do you think she'll call Molly over?"
The twins exchanged glances, shuddering at the thought. They were too young, with bright futures ahead—they couldn't afford to throw it all away for a few skipping sweets.
"So all that R&D money was wasted?"
The thought of their burned-through budget made them wince, and they nearly lunged to reclaim the ten Sickles they'd given Ron.
Wayne pondered. "Just lay low until after exams. Next term, Celia Store is opening a branch in Hogsmeade—you can sell the Snackboxes there on consignment."
Hearing this solution, George and Fred brightened again.
Just then, Ginny emerged from the girls' dormitory corridor, clutching a magazine and glaring furiously at Wayne.