The role came quietly, the way most things did at Hogwarts when they mattered.
Professor McGonagall had spoken to him that morning, her tone formal but not rigid, as if she had already decided the outcome before asking the question.
"We require additional supervision on the grounds," she had said. "Evening hours, particularly near the lake and along the forest boundary. You are available, I presume."
Wayne had understood immediately.
Not a title. Not a position.But responsibility.
By the time dusk settled, the castle had drawn most of its students back inside. The energy of the day softened into something quieter, more contained. The lake reflected the fading sky in long, muted streaks, while the edge of the Forbidden Forest remained still, its darkness layered and patient.
Wayne moved along the outer path at an unhurried pace.
He wasn't watching in the usual sense. His awareness extended outward, controlled and deliberate, brushing lightly against the surroundings. It picked up movement, the presence of magic, the faint disturbances left behind by people who had passed through moments earlier.
Students appeared as scattered signals, uneven and restless. A pair lingering too long near the far benches. Another group returning toward the castle, their energy fading with the day. Nothing unusual.
Until something held.
Wayne slowed slightly, not stopping, just adjusting.
Near the lake's edge, where the grass thinned and the ground dipped toward darker soil, two figures stood close enough to be speaking, but far enough from the main path to avoid notice.
They did not move like students.
Their presence was steady, controlled. Not loud, not careless.
Wayne narrowed his awareness, filtering out everything else until only those two remained clear.
The first man stood with his back angled toward the water, posture relaxed but deliberate. He was tall, thin in a way that suggested endurance rather than weakness, dressed in dark robes that had seen use but were well-maintained. His hair fell loosely to his shoulders, slightly unkempt, and his face carried the kind of calm that came from familiarity with risk rather than ignorance of it.
The second was younger.
Not a child, but not fully settled either. Likely a senior student, a seventh year maybe. His build was broader, shoulders tight with tension, his movements sharper and less certain. His uniform was worn properly, though the way he held himself made it clear he was out of place here. His eyes moved too often, checking surrounding as if someone was watching him, well he wasn't wrong though.
Wayne adjusted his path, angling closer without changing pace.
The sound of the lake covered what little noise he made. The evening air carried their voices just enough.
"…only for a short time," the older man said, his tone low but firm. "You understand that."
The younger one nodded quickly. "I do. I just need it once."
The older man studied him for a moment, then reached into his coat.
Wayne's focus sharpened.
The object that emerged was small, a vial no longer than a finger, filled with a dark liquid that seemed heavier than it should have been. It did not reflect light naturally. Instead, it absorbed it, holding it in a way that felt… compressed.
The younger man's attention fixed on it immediately.
"Use it only if you have to," the old man said. "And never twice in the same day."
The younger one swallowed, then took it, his grip tighter than necessary. In exchange, he handed over a pouch, the weight of it clear in the way it shifted between them.
Wayne watched closely.
There was no hesitation in the exchange, no wasted motion. It carried the quiet efficiency of something repeated enough times to lose its novelty.
The younger man slipped the vial into his coat, adjusting it carefully, almost instinctively protecting it.
"Don't get careless," the older man said.
"I won't," the student replied readily.
For a moment, they stood in silence.
Then they separated.
The older man turned toward the forest, his steps measured, unhurried, disappearing gradually into the darker line of trees. The younger one took the opposite direction, heading back toward the castle, his pace faster now, tension settling deeper into his posture.
Wayne remained where he was for a breath longer.
Then he moved.
Not abruptly. Not with urgency that would draw attention. Just enough to follow, closing the distance at a pace that matched the natural rhythm of the grounds.
His focus remained fixed.
The vial had already begun to affect the student's presence, not actively, not in any visible way, but subtly. His magic felt denser now, less fluid, as if something foreign had been introduced and was waiting for the right moment to take hold.
Wayne's expression did not change.
This was not an accident.
This was distribution.
And inside Hogwarts, that meant something far larger than a single exchange, maybe it was already rooted within the student populace.
The student slowed as he neared the main path, glancing back once, not enough to notice Wayne, but enough to confirm his own unease.
Wayne adjusted his approach again, closing in.
Close enough now that distance no longer mattered.
His hand lifted slightly, controlled, precise, not drawing attention, not threatening, simply aligning intent with action.
The boy stepped into the shadow of the castle wall.
And in that moment, just before awareness could catch up—
Wayne moved in to take what he needed.