Faced with the speechless crowd, Dumbledore steeled himself to continue announcing the details, though he desperately wished the ground would swallow him whole at that moment.
"Unlike the Order of Merlin, the Lawrence Medal will be open to the global wizarding community. Any witch or wizard who makes significant contributions to magical development or security will be eligible for consideration."
Even the Durmstrang students couldn't remain composed at this.
The Order of Merlin's regional limitations were evident in its namesake: despite its prestigious reputation, all recipients had been British wizards, with influence barely extending beyond neighbouring countries.
But the Lawrence Medal suddenly expanded its scope to the entire wizarding world. Winning it would undoubtedly carry far greater prestige than the Order of Merlin.
Grindelwald's mouth twitched.
He'd recently heard Dumbledore mention this matter - how Crouch and some elder Wizengamot members had been lobbying for Wayne. But he hadn't expected even the International Confederation of Wizards to be bought off.
This kid... plays big.
For a moment, Grindelwald felt tempted. Wayne had secured his place in history—should he create something like the Grindelwald Medal?
After consideration, he ultimately dismissed the idea.
Setting aside his notorious reputation, merely copying Wayne would backfire. People only remember the first; any imitation would make him a laughingstock.
Grindelwald shook his head regretfully.
What a shame.
Wayne listened to Dumbledore's explanation with a smile, while voices echoed in his mind:
[Ding! Congratulations, host, for... an utterly shameless method of permanently etching your name into magical history.]
Even the system seemed to hesitate, apparently unprepared for such brazen manipulation from its host.
Truly... the right person was chosen.
[Given this event's monumental impact as a long-term occurrence, reward the host with 20,000 points and a critical hit package. For every Lawrence Medal awarded, the host will receive corresponding point rewards.]
[Rules as follows: Third Class - 2,000 points, Second Class - 4,000 points, First Class - 10,000 points. Host cannot alter rules or interfere with the selection process.]
Another long-term income stream secured.
The system's prohibition on interference thwarted Wayne's plans to exploit bugs.
But globally, numerous qualified candidates existed. While First Class might be rare, several Second and Third Class medals could be awarded annually.
Wayne's gaze unconsciously drifted to Snape.
The old codger hoarded precious potion techniques and formulas - any one could earn him a medal.
'Unacceptable to keep such knowledge hidden,' Wayne thought. 'Time for a serious chat with Snape.'
Feeling Wayne's stare, Snape shifted uncomfortably, bewildered why he'd drawn attention again.
Finally, Dumbledore finished speaking.
Amid applause, the term's closing ceremony concluded. Dumbledore bolted from the castle, summoning Fawkes for immediate departure - clearly intending to avoid Hogwarts, and especially Wayne, for the foreseeable future.
...
In the Hufflepuff common room, lights burned all night as seventh-years gathered to discuss their future paths.
This year's graduating class consisted of thirty-three students in total, with most entering the Ministry of Magic and securing rather decent departments—none of those low-level positions like the Logistics Office or Cleaning Division.
The majority of the remaining graduates also found jobs they were happy with.
Everyone raised a glass to Wayne, knowing full well who the key contributor was.
The world has never lacked capable people; besides, most positions in the wizarding world don't require much ability—just knowing how to get by is enough.
Therefore, having influential support is what truly makes the difference in getting ahead.
Only one person looked miserable.
His roommate Cedric couldn't help but grumble, "You've been accepted as a trainee Auror—what more could you possibly be dissatisfied with? You're the only one from our year to get early admission, aren't you?"
"But I don't want to be an Auror," Cedric sighed. "I'd rather join the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad—the work there is far more interesting than what Aurors do."
"What's the rush?" Wayne said indifferently, munching on garlic chicken wings. "If you join now, you'll just be doing odd jobs. It's better to train for a couple of years first—then you can transfer directly into a permanent position."
"You'll learn a lot of practical skills with Moody around. Others would kill for an opportunity like this."
Several boys who had once aspired to become Aurors nodded enviously. Their exam results hadn't met the standards for direct entry as probationary Aurors.
They could only become Hit Wizards first, with just one annual assessment opportunity—an extremely difficult one at that, with only three to five spots available each year.
Only Cedric felt bitter inside.
It was precisely because of Moody that he was afraid. Rumour had it that Moody wasn't nearly as 'gentle' with Auror trainees as he was with students—ending up in St Mungo's was a common occurrence.
"Alright, let's not talk about this anymore," he shook his head helplessly. "I heard Smith is graduating directly?"
As soon as he said this, all eyes turned towards a certain fifth-year Headmaster.
Wayne was taken aback. "Why are you all looking at me? You don't think I'm the one making him leave, do you?"
"Not at all," a girl shook her head. "It's just that you're the Headmaster now, Wayne. Making things difficult for him would be all too easy. We're just feeling a bit sentimental about it."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Smith and Wayne had originally been in the same year, and there was no conflict between them. If they had just gotten along well—even if not as close as Norman and Toby—at least securing a decent job after graduation wouldn't have been a problem.
But because of some inexplicable jealousy, Smith couldn't even properly finish his education. These days, even shop assistants outside have several NEWT certificates—graduating in the fifth year is practically equivalent to being illiterate.
Wayne smiled without saying anything.
He wouldn't tell them that not only was Smith leaving Hogwarts, but his entire family was preparing to flee altogether.
Smith's father, who had originally been the director of the Apparate Test Centre, had been transferred to sweeping floors—the same job once held by Umbridge's father.
Wayne had never taken direct action himself, but those who had received his favour, along with those trying to curry favour with him, wouldn't let this opportunity slip by.
Heard they were planning to move to North America—not even planning to stay in Europe. That alone showed how carefully they'd been living recently.
After they'd drunk their fill, Wayne said his goodbyes and returned to his room to sleep.
The night passed without incident.
The next day, Hogwarts students boarded the train back home. As the train's long whistle sounded and it headed into the distance, it marked the official end of the school year.
Wayne didn't choose any other way to return home, instead boarding the train with everyone else.
He walked through the entire train, observing the occupants of each compartment, and finally concluded that by next semester, the Hogwarts Express would need to add several more carriages.
By the time he checked the list of new students in the Book of Admittance this morning, the number had already surpassed three hundred, with this coming year's intake now equivalent to three past year groups combined.
Having digested a vast amount of the Dragon King's inheritance, Wayne understood perfectly well what this phenomenon meant - the world was ascending dimensions.
The moment he obtained the inheritance, this world had gained a glance from a great existence, and dimensional ascension had already begun. Even though he had now broken through to Legend status, this process was far from over.
Perhaps, when complete success was achieved and the world entered a higher energy level, the wizarding population increasing several times over wouldn't be problematic at all.
At exactly six o'clock, the train arrived punctually at the station.
Harry waved to Wayne before heading towards Sirius, who already had his arms open wide. The two embraced fiercely for several seconds.
With Voldemort dead, Harry no longer needed to continue living with the Dursleys.
From now on, 12 Grimmauld Place would be his home, and Sirius would be his family.
"Wayne, remember to visit during the summer holiday!" Fred shouted. Wayne waved his hand to indicate he'd heard, then led Hermione and the other girls out of the station.
...
"Brother Wayne, I'm here!"
Early morning, a youthful, energetic girl's voice echoed through Lawrence Manor.
After Fawkes set Ariana down, he flew towards the backyard to find his companion, while the girl eagerly rushed into the Great Hall.
"Gardevoir!"
"Hello, Gardevoir," Ariana greeted with a beaming smile. Gardevoir, dressed in a maid's outfit, returned the smile.
"Where's Brother Wayne? Hasn't he gotten up yet?" Ariana asked again.
Gardevoir gently shook her head. Grace had returned from Egypt last night and had been communicating with her master throughout the night. Neither of them had risen yet.
She pointed towards the dining table, where a simple breakfast lay prepared - something she had just procured upon hearing Ariana's voice.
Ariana appreciated Gardevoir's thoughtfulness and thanked her before eating breakfast.
Not long after she finished eating, Wayne came downstairs wearing his pyjamas.
It was already late June. According to the original plan, he and Hermione should have been abroad by now, but after returning home, Hermione's nervous tendencies had resurfaced. She had no interest in going out to have fun before receiving her OWL results.
Results were typically announced in early July, so Wayne had no choice but to wait a few more days.
With little to do during these days, he had invited Ariana over to help suppress and tame the Obscurial while teaching her some magic along the way.
"Brother Wayne, look."
Black threads emerged from Ariana's fingertips, tangling into a mass that moved irregularly.
"I can already control the Obscurial simply now."
"Very good," Wayne praised, ruffling her little head and making the young girl beam with delight.
The Obscurial was essentially a magical creature, just somewhat special.
It grew by absorbing a wizard's magical power, and when that wasn't enough, it fed on life force instead. This was why Obscurial hosts never survived beyond childhood—they were drained dry too early.
Through powerful sealing magic, Wayne had essentially severed the connection between Ariana and the Obscurus, leaving only a small opening that allowed the Obscurus to continuously absorb magical power for growth without placing too much burden on Ariana.
Once it reached adulthood and could no longer absorb more, the Obscurial would be fully formed, and Ariana's magical power would reach a terrifying level.
After finishing a sandwich in two or three bites, Wayne took Ariana to the back garden.
Unicorns and a Phoenix played together; a Zouwu teased a giant panda like a ball of yarn; the Niffler Jerry lay sunbathing on a pile of gold coins—a scene of utter tranquillity.
The two found a clear patch of grassy lawn. With a casual lift of his hand, Wayne swiftly formed several earthen puppets, arranging them irregularly.
Ariana blinked her large eyes, wondering what magic Wayne would teach her today.
"Ariana, the Obscurus is undoubtedly powerful, but it remains an external force. Your little nephew once tried to rely on the Obscurus's power to challenge Dumbledore and ended up being beaten so badly that he questioned his entire existence.
"You can make use of the Obscurus's power, but you must never treat it as your trump card.
"Only your own magic is the most reliable foundation."
Ariana nodded seriously.
Wayne drew out his wand, which he rarely used anymore, and aimed it at the nearest puppet.
"The spell I'm teaching you today is a variant of the Killing Curse—
"Avada Chain Lightning!"
As the words left his mouth, green light zigzagged between the puppets like lightning. When the glow faded, the puppets had been blasted into nothingness.