After a night of celebration, students dragged themselves to classes the next morning.
Harry's grin hadn't faded since the tournament ended... until Snape brought him crashing back to earth in Potions class.
By lesson's end, Gryffindor had lost another dozen points.
Snape wasn't just keeping an eye on Harry; he wouldn't even let Neville off the hook. While deducting points from others required finding the right opportunity, giving Neville trouble was almost too easy.
He only had to stand at the back for two minutes before Neville melted another cauldron.
That made the third one this term.
"Is there any way to get rid of him?" Harry grumbled to Ron after class.
"If you win the tournament and give Wayne the three thousand Galleons, he'd definitely sack Snape," Ron suggested poorly.
Harry shook his head. "Not enough. You think I haven't considered that?"
"Wayne says Snape has outstanding academic credentials and works tirelessly—he's the most suitable Potions professor. If you want him gone... you'd have to pay more."
"Three thousand isn't enough?" Poverty had limited Ron's imagination. It was the first time he'd realised Snape was worth so much.
Harry sighed. "If only Gryffindor had a professor as shameless as him."
Professor McGonagall was perfect in every way—except she wasn't as biased as Snape.
The two left the dungeons and arrived in the entrance hall, finding it already packed. The crowd wasn't heading into the Great Hall but queuing up instead.
Soon, they understood what was happening.
"New cards out already?" Harry perked up. They didn't join the queue but squeezed into a side chamber to see what cards had been released this time.
Quickly, they found their answer on a nearby noticeboard.
"So many updates at once?" Ron was astonished.
The announcement was densely packed, with new card introductions alone taking up half the space.
Eight dragon cards, two character cards, and several skin variants.
No wonder so many people were queuing. Wayne had been waiting for the first task to conclude so he could launch the dragon cards.
The two character cards featured Cassandra and Fleur, both of whom had performed exceptionally well yesterday, gaining a surge of supporters.
"Harry, are you going to buy some?" Ron weighed his purse in his hand, his expression bitter.
He could only afford one 648 purchase, but after that, his pocket money for the term would be completely gone.
If he wanted more money, he'd have to test potions for the twins.
"Ten packs should be enough." Harry eyed the majestic dragons on the display, immediately drawn to the Antipodean Opaleye and the Norwegian Ridgeback.
"Must be nice to have money," Ron said enviously.
...
"So, how do you plan to thank me?"
In the small courtyard garden, seated at a round table, Cassandra looked playfully at the boy across from her.
If it had been anyone else wanting to use her image for a card, Cassandra wouldn't have hesitated for even half a second before refusing.
But when Wayne asked, she had somehow agreed without thinking.
Now it was time to 'settle accounts.'
"How about a share of the endorsement fees?" Wayne took a bite of the macaron Fleur had sent over, frowned slightly, and set it down after one taste.
That cloying sweetness... Did Gabrielle make these?
The little girl adored sugary treats like this.
"No." Cassandra shook her head. "I don't need money. Galleons mean nothing to me."
A standard rich heiress declaration, though Cassandra certainly had the right to say it.
The Worley family was North America's largest supplier of magical creature materials, with long-standing collaborations with the Ministry of Magic and Ilvermorny—practically rolling in gold without lifting a finger.
"Then what do you want? I could make you a couple of magical items?"
"I can buy items if I want them." Cassandra lowered her gaze. "How about this—you owe me one condition. I'll tell you what it is when I've decided."
Wayne agreed without hesitation. "No problem."
Agreeing was easy. If it was something he could manage, he'd do it to repay the favour.
If it was unacceptable or too demanding?
Well, tough luck—agreeing now didn't mean he had to honour it later.
After all, he was a Lawrence, a capitalist through and through. And capitalists didn't bother with morals.
Cassandra had no idea that before she'd even settled on her condition, the boy opposite her had already planned how to weasel out of it. He flashed her a bright smile; his mood noticeably improved.
...
In the evening, just before dinner, all the Prefects and Head Boys suddenly appeared in the common room, instructing every student to be seated in the Great Hall by six o'clock.
"What's going on?" Wayne asked.
"No idea," Cedric said, shaking his head. "I'd just got back to study the golden egg when Professor Sprout called me out."
"Alright." Wayne didn't press further—he'd find out soon enough.
At six, the students filed into the Great Hall on time, and the staff table was fully occupied.
Dumbledore looked particularly cheerful, chatting with Maxime and Karkaroff and making them laugh heartily.
Surprisingly, even Professor Moody wore a rare smile today, raising his glass to toast the three Heads of House.
Well, three—Snape was conspicuously left out.
People speculated that some announcement might be made today, so dinner was finished unusually quickly. Within half an hour, all plates had returned to their pristine state.
Sure enough, Dumbledore stood up.
He surveyed the room with a smile and asked, "Before sharing this good news, I'd like to ask if anyone has noticed anything different about today?"
Many craned their necks curiously, looking around until Fred's eyes lit up. He stood and declared loudly, "There are two empty seats at the High Table!"
Dumbledore paused, glanced sideways, then said with realisation, "Ah, one belongs to Professor Trelawney, who's currently... maintaining her Inner Eye in the tower."
Light laughter rippled through the hall.
This "maintenance" was clearly Trelawney's excuse for slacking off – she was probably fast asleep with her sherry bottle right now.
"But Mr Weasley isn't wrong – we are indeed welcoming a new professor."
Dumbledore gestured, and the small door behind the High Table swung open.
A man stepped through, smiling and waving.
"Merlin's beard!"
"Is that... Black?"
Many in the Great Hall recognised Sirius Black, sparking murmurs throughout.
Over the holidays, public perception of Sirius had completely reversed – from a notorious escaped convict to a heroic figure who'd endured twelve years of suffering to avenge his best friend.
In this celebrity-obsessed society, Sirius's fame now rivalled Harry's "Boy Who Lived" status.
After a brief stunned silence, Harry leapt up excitedly, waving enthusiastically.
Sirius smiled at his godson before moving to stand beside Dumbledore.
Dumbledore announced cheerfully, "As many seem to recognise, Mr Sirius Black will be joining us for a delightful month."
"On Christmas Eve, we'll traditionally hold the Triwizard Tournament's Yule Ball. To help everyone fully enjoy the occasion, the school will provide special etiquette lessons."
"Mr Black will be your dedicated instructor. Those wishing to enrol should submit applications to your House Prefects by next Monday."
Sirius gave a slight bow, prompting cheers and applause throughout the hall.
Even foreign students unfamiliar with his story found themselves charmed by his refined demeanour.
Truth be told, compared to Snape's perpetually dishevelled appearance, Sirius looked every inch the cultured aristocratic gentleman.
Speaking of Snape...
Wayne couldn't help glancing left along the High Table. Amidst the celebration, Snape's expression stood out spectacularly – utterly foul.
He glared fixedly at Sirius, who was still waving to students, veins bulging at his temples with barely contained fury.
The knife in his hand pointed unconsciously towards Sirius, as if calculating the most satisfying angle for a stab.
How wonderful.
Wayne smiled genuinely and joined the applause.
This promised excellent entertainment.
Bringing Sirius into the school wasn't just slapping Snape in the face...
No, this was a full-force spanking!
When these two came together, it wasn't quite like Mars colliding with Earth, but there would definitely be fierce friction.
The only pity was that there was less than a month until the Yule Ball now. If it had been longer, things would have been even more exciting.
After the introductions, the feast concluded.
"Sirius, care for a drink to celebrate your return to the school?" Professor McGonagall offered as the teachers left their seats.
"Of course." Sirius smiled slightly, then invited Sprout and Professor Flitwick as well, both of whom readily agreed.
With three of the four Heads of House present, and to prevent Snape from feeling excluded, Professor McGonagall extended the invitation to him, too.
"No need."
Snape's voice was icy, his emotionless eyes flicking towards Sirius. "I'm allergic to dog hair." With that, he strode away.
Behind him, Sirius shrugged indifferently, offering no retort.
After all, it was his first day back, and with his former teacher still around, he couldn't very well start cursing outright.
Had they been alone, he'd have already begun reciting the Prince Family genealogy by now.
Professor McGonagall, well aware of the enmity between them, said nothing more and simply led the professors to her office for conversation.
...
The next day.
Wayne hadn't expected the entertainment he'd been hoping for to arrive so soon.
At dawn, Cedric and Harry met in the entrance hall and ducked into an empty room.
They needed to discuss Quidditch academy team selections and position assignments.
The matches wouldn't begin this term but would be held next semester instead, with seven teams participating for a total of twenty-one games.
Though the exact schedule hadn't been finalised, preparations needed to start now.
Today, Harry and Cedric would decide the team roster.
"You should remain Seeker," Cedric said first. "I've trained as a Chaser before and can fly decently enough."
Harry felt he'd already taken Cedric's tournament spot and now his Quidditch position too. Uncomfortable, he shook his head in refusal.
"No, you be Seeker. The tournament doesn't require all players to participate. You're just as skilled as me—I shouldn't even be playing."
"That won't do," Cedric countered. "This rare chance to compete against other schools—it'd be a shame to miss it."
"But..." Harry tried to protest, only for Cedric to raise a hand.
"Harry, do you care about those twenty points?"
"Of course not," Harry said sincerely. "I never planned to join this tournament anyway. The points don't matter—I just don't want to inconvenience you."
"I don't care either." Cedric leaned back. "Twenty points—even if we got them, it wouldn't help me much. Participation is what counts."
"Besides, if we really wanted those twenty points, neither of us should be Seeker. We should get Wayne to invite Cho instead."
Harry blinked.
Right. Last term, Cho had been unstoppable—slaying gods and buddhas alike.
Ravenclaw might have lost disastrously, but Cho had caught the Golden Snitch every single match.
"Did you invite her then?"
"I asked Wayne to help me inquire, but Cho only agreed to be a substitute. She'll only play in the match against Mahoutokoro because she wants to compete against Sakura Kinomoto."
Harry thought it over and eventually agreed.
He would be the Seeker, Cedric would be a Chaser, and the rest of the team would be decided by the two of them.
"Fred and George should still be Beaters," Harry suggested.
Cedric had the same idea. He added, "I was thinking the same. For the remaining Chasers, let's go with Angelina and Spinnet. They're highly skilled."
"As for the Keeper, we'll put Brooke in."
Harry had no doubts about the Keeper position. Wood had graduated, and the team was supposed to select a new Keeper this year, but the Quidditch matches had been cancelled.
His concern lay elsewhere.
"With only two of you from Hufflepuff, won't that be unfair?"
"It's fine," Cedric said with a smile. "This was a collective decision. We discussed it beforehand, and everyone agreed to this arrangement."
Harry felt another pang of envy.
Hufflepuff's camaraderie was truly something else.
The two quickly finalised the plan, and Harry prepared to head back to discuss it with the twins and Angelina.
Before leaving, Cedric extended his hand for a handshake.
"I believe this lineup of ours has a real shot at the championship, Harry. I'm looking forward to seeing you compete against Krum."
Suddenly, a mocking voice came from outside the door.
"Like Potter could ever defeat Krum?"
"Bet he wouldn't even spot the Golden Snitch before the match was over!"
Without turning around, Harry knew exactly who was speaking.
"Relax, Malfoy." Harry shot him a disdainful look. "Even if we lose, it'll be to world-class players like Krum – not to a Seeker who's never even caught the Golden Snitch. Otherwise, I'd be furious to death."
Malfoy's face turned even paler.
He knew how to get under Harry's skin, just as Harry knew how to get under his.
Since becoming Seeker in their second year, Malfoy had never once caught the Golden Snitch – an eternal sore point for him.
"Scarhead! Why didn't that dragon roast you alive!"
"Pasty face, why don't you get your mummy to send some blood-replenishing potions? I'd hate for you to faint here and blame me for it."
As they spoke, both had already drawn their wands.
Cedric, standing between them: "..."
But what Harry didn't expect was another detested figure appearing at the doorway.
Snape made a disapproving click of his tongue, eyeing Harry's wand with clear malice.
"Attacking another student in front of a professor, Potter. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
Harry exploded immediately: "Which eye saw me attack anyone?"
"Oh?"
Snape looked even more pleased. "Insolence towards a professor. Clearly, points deduction isn't enough – two days' detention!"
Sirius, who'd just finished breakfast, noticed the commotion. Hearing Snape's words, he immediately countered angrily:
"Absolute rubbish, Snivellus! All I saw was Malfoy about to ambush Harry! Thirty points from Slytherin!"