Around the arena, most students had left, though some remained as their parents or relatives were among the spectators.
Taking this rare opportunity to enjoy some family time.
Harry stood with Cedric, surrounded by the Weasleys and Diggorys, along with Sirius and Lupin.
Molly hugged Harry tightly, trembling: "I can't imagine what those people were thinking - using dragons for the trial! Have their brains been gnawed by Ghouls?"
"Were they trying to kill you?"
"Mum, Harry did brilliantly, he passed the first round," Fred boomed. "With our Dungbombs!"
Harry's face fell even as he basked in Molly's attention.
"I could've passed without Dungbombs! That was just an accident!"
"Who cares," George said cheerfully, throwing an arm around Charlie. "Harry scored higher than Krum, that's what matters."
Charlie gave a pained smile - they'd have trouble later. He'd just checked on the dragons who'd suffered severe fright, sneezing constantly with runny noses and terrible tempers.
The dragon keepers had no choice but to stun them into submission.
No need to share that with the family, though. He gave Harry an encouraging pat - the boy had done well indeed.
"Mr Diggory," Harry said hesitantly after greeting everyone, addressing Cedric's father.
To his surprise, Mr Diggory showed no trace of the anger Harry expected; instead, he warmly advised him to stay safe and not take unnecessary risks.
Noticing Harry's confusion, Mr Diggory smiled and explained:
"At first, when I heard you'd become champion, I was furious - Cedric had worked so hard for this chance to prove himself."
"But after learning about the tournament events and seeing your performance today, I finally understand."
Mr Diggory shook his head with a touched expression. "I don't know what happened that led to you being chosen as champion, but judging by today's performance alone, you'd have qualified even in fair competition."
"Since everything's already happened, just do your best."
Harry's nose stung as a wave of regret suddenly surged through him.
If... if he'd chosen Hufflepuff back then, would things have been better?
There, perhaps, he would have met more, better friends.
Before leaving, Molly repeatedly reminded Harry to properly prepare for the next tournament task. After the fifth reminder, Arthur finally managed to pull her away.
Charlie also went with the other dragon handlers to deal with the aftermath, leaving only Harry and the other young wizards returning to the castle.
On the way, Harry and Cedric kept discussing the golden egg's purpose.
"By the way, where's Wayne?" George suddenly said, looking around. "I wanted to talk to him about expanding Dungbomb production. He seems to have disappeared after the match?"
"Oh, I just saw him. Wayne said he was going to meet some old friends," Harry replied while holding the golden egg.
"Old friends?" Fred looked utterly confused.
...
"You don't look old at all now. Standing together, one would think Nicolas was your father."
At the Hog's Head, several 'old friends' had gathered.
The downstairs area was too noisy, so Wayne simply took charge and sent Aberforth downstairs to serve the wizards who'd come for a drink after watching the tournament.
Meanwhile, he occupied the upstairs with Nicolas, Newt and others for a simple dinner.
Women were truly strange creatures. Perenelle had previously refused Wayne's help to restore her youthful appearance. Still, after accepting it and seeing Tina looking like she was in her twenties, she felt her own restoration wasn't thorough enough.
Nicolas's coming to watch the tournament was incidental - his main purpose was getting Wayne to persuade Perenelle.
He'd grown accustomed to his wife's previous elderly appearance. The current forty-to-fifty-year-old version wasn't much different, but returning to twenty years old? That just felt utterly bizarre.
Unable to persuade her himself, he could only ask Wayne for help.
Indeed, when it came to comforting women, Wayne was a master across all age groups.
He quickly found the perfect reasoning - that her current appearance was equally beautiful, with an added kindly aura that made people feel warm.
Immediately, Perenelle stopped obsessing over it.
Nicolas secretly gave Wayne a thumbs-up. Had he known it would work so well, he'd have come sooner.
The conversation then turned to the ongoing Holy Grail War.
"Command Seals are truly remarkable," Nicolas said with puzzlement in his eyes. "Such vast magical power, multiplying spell effects several times over... yet how do young wizards control it so precisely?"
"I've been researching it too," Wayne said, taking a bite of salted fish before responding. "The magical power within the Command Seals exists in a superimposed state. It doesn't directly enhance one's magical power but acts upon the spell itself at the instant of casting."
"So there's no need for control at all."
Hearing this, Nicolas's eyes lit up, his interest in the principles of Command Seals growing even stronger.
"My expertise in spell research doesn't match yours, so I won't waste effort. Just share the method of creating Command Seals with me once you've figured it out."
Wayne's expression turned bitter as he set down his fork.
"Researching the principles of Command Seals isn't the real issue. With enough dedication, success is certain."
"But creating them... I still haven't found a sufficiently vast source of pure energy to use as material."
That was the greatest challenge of Command Seals.
The Holy Grail was a crystallisation of high-purity magical power, which was why it could grant everyone the ability to use Command Seals.
If he used his own magical power—never mind the difficulty of extraction—the versatility alone would be significantly inferior.
Take Fleur, for example. Even if she drained every last drop of her magical power, it still wouldn't be enough to create a single Command Seal.
Yet Nicolas looked at him in confusion. "Wouldn't the Philosopher's Stone work?"
Wayne froze abruptly, slapping his forehead in frustration.
Of course! How could he have forgotten about the Philosopher's Stone?
His thinking had been trapped in a rut, fixated on how to purify magical power, never considering the Philosopher's Stone.
He couldn't really be blamed for this oversight. After all, the two primary functions of the Philosopher's Stone were utterly useless to him, so over time, he'd forgotten about this massive power source.
"I'll let you know once I've finished researching it," Wayne said with a wave, taking full responsibility for the task.
"Have you used up the Philosopher's Stone I gave you?" Nicolas asked with concern. "Do you need a couple more?"
"No need. There's more than enough energy in it."
He had even obtained another Philosopher's Stone himself, which was currently gathering dust inside his Niffler's pouch.
Newt wasn't particularly interested in their discussion about Command Seals. He was far more curious about Norberta's condition.
In truth, Norberta was now unlike any other dragon species in the world. He cautiously inquired whether Norberta needed someone to care for him, offering his assistance.
Tina promptly grabbed him by the ear and scolded, "Isn't the Nundu and the Chimaera enough for you to handle at home? Add a Norwegian Ridgeback to the mix, and do you even want to live a normal life?"
Newt begged for mercy repeatedly, while Wayne and the Flamels couldn't help but laugh.
...
Gatherings with old friends were always relaxed and joyful, and before long, evening arrived.
The meal lasted nearly four hours, with most of that time spent chatting.
Before leaving, Tina handed Wayne a package containing sweets and a cake she had made—one portion for him to keep and another to pass along to Rolf.
Newt also left something for Wayne: premium catnip he had specially gathered from Spain, brought along for the little Zouwu.
Wayne accepted everything without hesitation.
Watching the two Apparate away, Wayne assumed Nicolas and Perenelle were about to leave as well. But instead, Nicolas produced Ravenclaw's Diadem.
"After studying it for so long, I've finally made some discoveries."
The young man perked up instantly. "You've uncovered its secret?"
"Sort of." Nicolas smiled smugly. "Just an accidental discovery. I wouldn't presume to call this the correct way to use Ravenclaw's Diadem, but it's certainly far more effective than before."
Wayne rolled his eyes. "Stop being so cryptic."
Nicolas pointed at him and produced another potion vial.
"Felix Felicis?" Wayne recognised it immediately.
"Indeed, Felix Felicis." He handed the potion to Wayne. "Pour this onto the diadem, and it will absorb the potion, producing a dramatically enhanced effect."
His expression turned wistful. "Within a week, I solved a research problem that had eluded me for ten years. If you didn't need it more, I'd be reluctant to return it."
Wayne gaped. "That's how it works? How long does one vial last?"
"About three days, depending on the potion's quality. I tried an expired one that only worked for a few hours."
Examining the diadem in his hand, Wayne realised it was quite the gold sink...
After further instructions, Nicolas departed.
Wayne returned to school, where the Hufflepuff common room had become a sea of celebration.
The table groaned under mountains of food, with Cedric's golden egg crowning the central dessert tower. Still peckish, Wayne joined the feast, devouring several chicken legs and a steak before stopping.
After clearing the leftovers, everyone gathered around the egg, finally turning serious.
"What is this thing?"
Toby rapped it, producing a clear metallic ring. "Definitely hollow," he declared.
"Is it solid gold?" asked a young witch.
"No," Wayne yawned. "Magical alloy."
"Should we open it?" suggested Cedric's roommate, Gerard, drawing enthusiastic agreement.
Cedric didn't hesitate. The badgers retreated, wands at the ready as if expecting monsters to emerge. Timid Hannah and Susan hid behind Wayne, peeking over his shoulders.
Cedric's fingers found the groove. With slight pressure, the egg opened.
Empty inside – but the moment it parted, an ear-splitting, horrific shriek filled the room. Nearby students' eyes rolled back as they nearly fainted.
Fortunately, Cedric snapped it shut instantly.
"What was that?!" someone yelled, ears ringing.
"No idea..." Cedric looked utterly bewildered.
Wayne, having preemptively cast the Ear-Filling Spell, barely suppressed laughter at everyone's pained expressions.
"Plenty of time to study it – three months left, no rush."
Patting Cedric's shoulder, he headed to his dorm. Once Beauxbatons' celebrations concluded, he'd fetch Fleur for some well-deserved rewards.
...
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's Office...
Dumbledore and Moody sat facing each other in heavy silence.
"I believe our plans require some adjustments," Dumbledore said.
Moody nodded. "I've been meaning to tell you – Potter guards against me like I'm some thief. Even answering questions in class makes him act like I'm plotting against him."
"Thank goodness Weasley helped him solve the riddle this time, or I genuinely feared he'd die in the first task."
Moody rubbed his temples in frustration.
Potter had been thoroughly traumatised by previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professors.
Whenever misfortune struck, his first thought was that the Defence professor wanted him dead, followed immediately by suspecting Snape.
The boy was like a startled bird.
Couldn't it possibly be your own fault for once?
"It's not just that," Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Truthfully, I hadn't anticipated the champions this year would be so... exceptional."
"Harry himself has shown remarkable courage and perseverance, but alas... I simply can't see any path to victory for him."
Dumbledore sounded resigned.
Mahoutokoro and Uagadou had delivered quite the 'surprise'.
Who could have imagined underage wizards capable of facing dragons head-on?
Excluding a monster like Wayne, such that he hadn't encountered in decades, it was unprecedented.
Forcing Harry's victory would be an immensely difficult task, even with Moody's help.
And far too easily detected by other schools.
Rather than take such risks, it was better to let the tournament proceed fairly, decided by true capability.
Moody asked gravely, "So what's your plan?"
"I'll maintain contact with Voldemort using Barty Crouch Jr's methods, updating him on developments," Dumbledore had already formulated his strategy.
"Best case, we uncover his location. Failing that, we must convince him to abandon this scheme and change tactics."
Voldemort's movements were elusive – his communications with Barty Jr came via coded messages in the Daily Prophet's classifieds.
Dumbledore had observed that after dying once, the Dark Lord had grown exponentially more cautious.
Unless fully restored to power, he'd continue hiding like a frightened rat.
"Understood." Moody picked up his walking stick. "And don't assign me to mentor Potter anymore. At this rate, he'll report me to the Ministry for harassment."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Rest assured, I've found a more suitable candidate."
"Wayne?"
"No, Mr Lawrence seems more interested in expanding his family tree than teaching. Someone even more qualified."
Ignoring the headmaster's deliberate mystery, Moody stalked out.
Dumbledore returned to his desk, composing a letter. Five minutes later, Fawkes soared through the window.
The envelope bore a single address: 12 Grimauld Place
To prevent complications, he'd need external assistance – time to enlist a certain graduate's expertise.