Fleur and Cassandra were equally baffled by Wayne's whimsical suggestion.
"Is there any connection between clothing and magic?" Fleur asked, perplexed. She'd expected some profound insight from Wayne.
"More aesthetically pleasing, perhaps." Wayne shrugged. "Just a hunch. Don't mind me."
Fleur: "..."
Except for Sakura, both girls quickly dismissed this odd exchange. As their host, Fleur led the trio through nearby sights, primarily explaining things to Sakura.
Having visited most places before, Wayne and Cassandra found the tour repetitive. Wayne borrowed Sakura's Wind Card to examine it instead.
Cassandra peered over curiously.
The card's surface was exquisitely crafted, its layered textures discernible beneath fingertips.
"Gemstone sand, gold, mithril, cherry wood..."
Wayne identified each material accurately, making even Sakura—who was listening to Fleur ahead—freeze mid-step.
'He got everything right?'
"Hmm?" Wayne made a small sound of surprise. "What's this peculiar potion ingredient?"
An unusual magical barrier blocked his analysis.
As he brought the card closer, attempting to identify scents, Sakura leapt forward, snatched the card away, and hid behind Fleur like a startled fawn.
"P-please stop analysing," Sakura pleaded, eyeing Wayne fearfully. "These are my family's secret spells. You've nearly uncovered everything."
The half-Veela's protective instincts flared at Sakura's adorable distress.
"Wayne," Fleur chided, "stop bullying Sakura."
"Apologies." Wayne scratched his head sheepishly. "Professional habit. When I encounter unfamiliar alchemical artefacts, I can't help studying them."
"It's... fine," Sakura said, though she carefully tucked the Wind Card away, remaining glued to Fleur's side thereafter—the only source of safety she trusted.
Yet in subsequent days, Sakura still joined Wayne's group willingly. Being unfamiliar with the area and having little connection to her schoolmates, she found comfort in their company—especially when female companions were present to ease any awkwardness.
Moreover, whether regarding potions or alchemy, fourteen-year-old Wayne proved remarkably knowledgeable, answering all Sakura's queries. She even regretted not bringing her unfinished cards.
Learning while practising would have been far more efficient.
Don't be fooled by how easy Wayne has it, surrounded by three beautiful girls every day; the other competitors are having a tough time.
Not only do they have classes every day, but at night they are also dragged away by their respective professors for extra tutoring.
Henderson and Russel are almost marinated in potions by now; it's worse than being at school, leaving both of them feeling utterly despondent.
They clearly came just to observe and broaden their horizons.
As long as Wayne is around, there's no way they could win the championship, even if they studied until they dropped!
But Snape doesn't see it that way. If it weren't for the requirements, he would only have brought Wayne along.
However, since Russel and Henderson are here, he can't lose face. If their final scores are too low, how will he hold his head high in front of the other professors?
Over the past few days, Snape has adopted the same critical attitude he has towards Harry, making the two boys feel as though they are living in hell.
As they look at Wayne, who appears relaxed and surrounded by beautiful girls, they can barely hold back their tears.
Finally, after four days, it was time for the potion competition.
The Great Hall of Beauxbatons had undergone some changes; the long tables had disappeared, leaving only chairs, and three rows of cauldrons were set up beneath the platform.
All the students would come to watch the competition, and three specially invited members of The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers had also arrived at the school.
"Wayne?"
In the lounge, while explaining to Sakura the impact of the smoothness of magical patterns on magical power output, Wayne suddenly heard someone calling his name and instinctively turned around.
"Mr Damocles?" Wayne was slightly surprised; the Potions Master who invented the Wolfsbane Potion had approached him, and he exclaimed in delight:
"What are you doing here? Are you also here to be a judge?"
"Why didn't you tell me earlier? We could have come over from England together."
"Um, Mr. Damocles." Wayne blinked: "I'm not here to be a judge; I'm a contestant from Hogwarts."
"What?" The old man was taken aback, his goatee trembling: "You say you're a contestant?"
"Yes."
"You... you..." Damocles' expression was quite something; after thinking for a long time, he finally said, "Isn't this bullying?"
"You would have been more than enough to be a judge; participating in the competition... is there any suspense left in the outcome?"
Sakura, hiding behind, quietly nodded in agreement.
Wayne teaches better than the teachers at school; participating in the competition is indeed unfair.
However, Sakura wasn't someone who cared much about rankings; as long as she could gain something from it, that was enough.
"Mr Damocles, I'm only in my second year." Wayne looked quite innocent: "Participating in a competition like this shouldn't be against the rules, right?"
"You..." Damocles opened his mouth, ultimately only able to say helplessly: "Fortunately, the first session after the restart is just a trial run; who the champion is doesn't matter too much."
"However, I will report this to the organising committee; you shouldn't participate in the next competition."
The Wizarding Schools Potions Championship is held every three years, and Wayne will only be in his fifth year by then.
"Even if you don't say so, I wasn't planning to participate," Wayne replied.
Next time, he could let Hermione participate; the young witch would definitely be interested in a competition similar to the Olympiad.
The door to the lounge was pushed open again, and the other two judges had arrived.
Damocles pulled Wayne forward to face the two men: "Allow me to introduce Wayne Lawrence..."
Both judges were members of The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers and had read Wayne's papers. The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, with no sense of hierarchical distance.
The students in the lounge watched dumbfounded as he conversed with all three judges.
To an outsider, it might seem there were four judges today. How was anyone supposed to compete under these circumstances?
Cassandra bit her lip, observing the young man surrounded by three elderly judges, speaking with effortless confidence without showing the slightest hint of nerves.
She realised with painful clarity how laughable her previous inexplicable arrogance had been.
While she'd been competing with peers, true geniuses like Wayne had already transcended that level entirely.
...
Ten minutes later, Madame Maxime arrived to notify the contestants to proceed to the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was already packed. As the contestants took their positions before their cauldrons, Maxime waved her hand, and identical sets of ingredients appeared beside each cauldron.
She announced, "Today, you will brew a Cheering Potion. Each of you has been provided with double the required ingredients – no additional materials will be issued."
"You have three hours. Failure to complete within this time constitutes automatic disqualification. Begin!"
At Maxime's command, the contestants began their preparations.
The Cheering Potion was one of the more challenging potions within the NEWTs curriculum, designed to induce feelings of happiness and contentment.
This particular potion had been chosen because its quality differentiation was exceptionally clear.
A poorly brewed Cheering Potion would leave the drinker feeling depressed after its effects wore off. The better the potion's quality, the shorter the rebound period, making judgment straightforward.
Wayne methodically prepared the daisy roots before steeping the peppermint in an alkaline solution.
Only peppermint steeped for over two hours could be used in the Cheering Potion, so nearly every student prepared both portions simultaneously as insurance.
Solely Wayne, confident in his skills, prepared a single portion of each ingredient, making Snape grit his teeth in frustration.
Snape knew Wayne was exceptionally skilled, but even the most capable could make mistakes.
He himself frequently exploded cauldrons. If Wayne's overconfidence led to an error now, it would be utterly humiliating.
Spectating students whispered among themselves. While potion-brewing itself was tedious, watching contestants sweat with nervous tension provided ample entertainment.
During the initial preparation phase, everyone's techniques and sequences were broadly similar.
But when actual brewing commenced, wizarding diversity became strikingly apparent.
The three dark-skinned... no, three dark-robed contestants ahead suddenly stood up and began singing and dancing around their cauldrons, startling their neighbours.
"What on earth are they doing?" Russel stared at the trio as if they were madmen.
"Some sort of ritual, presumably?" Wayne poured armadillo bile into his boiling cauldron before glancing up, feeling rather like he'd wandered into a zoo.
"Uagadou's magic operates on a completely different system from ours. They have all manner of peculiar customs."
Henderson mused: "When I spoke with them recently, they mentioned riding leopards from their villages to reach school each term."
"No train?" Russel looked at him in astonishment.
"Didn't ask." Henderson shook his head. "Alright, stop staring and get back to work."
With that, he lowered his head and resumed his tasks. Yet the voices of the three Uagadou students pierced through like an auditory curse, relentlessly invading his ears.
Forced to endure it, Henderson cast a Muffliato Charm upon himself.
At the high table, Uagadou's Potions professor proudly explained to the visiting professors.
"This is Uagadou's Moon-Devotion Dance! It absorbs lunar essence to enhance potion quality!"
"But it's broad daylight..." Padilla checked the time – 2 PM. Where was the moonlight?
The Uagadou professor faltered momentarily, though his dark complexion hid any visible embarrassment.
"That's irrelevant! Just know it's extraordinarily powerful."
The professors fell silent. Whether it improved potions remained uncertain, but its effectiveness at distracting competitors was undeniable.
Several contestants had already abandoned their cauldrons to gawk at the dancing trio, joining the spectators in sheer fascination.
"Ura!"
Three burly Koldovstoretz students suddenly erupted, roaring so loudly that Sakura and Cassandra startled nearby.
In unison, the hulking wizards produced bottles of... vodka from their robes.
"Ura!"
Uncorking them, they poured the liquor into their cauldrons. Splashing alcohol hit the burners, sending flames rocketing skyward.
"You add alcohol to potions?" Lafferty gaped in disbelief.
"Of course!" Koldovstoretz's headmaster thumped his chest proudly. "Real men need vodka! More vodka means stronger potions – hits you right here!" He tapped his temple.
The crowd: "..."
The competition descended into pandemonium – Uagadou students performing ritual dances while Koldovstoretz contestants revelled in drunken antics.
Indeed, after emptying one bottle into their cauldrons, they produced another from their coats and chugged it straight.
Their professor claimed alcohol boosted efficiency. Judges and faculty exchanged sceptical glances.
As smoke swirled through the Great Hall, Madame Maxime watched her pocket watch intently. The final minute elapsed.
"All contestants must step away from stations immediately! Do not touch your cauldrons!" she commanded.
Two students froze in anguish, their final ingredients still unprepared. Under Maxime's stern gaze, they dared not move a muscle.
Wayne followed the contestants to the seats to await the score announcements while Damocles and the other two judges examined each cauldron in turn, decanting a small vial from each.
"Why are you so nervous?" Wayne asked Sakura, who was practically wringing her robes into a ball, with some exasperation. "Your potion's completion was quite good."
"I... I don't know, I just am," Sakura stammered, unable to explain. Instead of loosening her grip, she clenched the fabric tighter.
Cassandra, on the other hand, remained exceptionally composed, brimming with confidence in her abilities.
Soon, scores were announced for most contestants, excluding two unlucky participants who hadn't finished their potions.
However, the potions brewed by the students from Koldovstoretz and Uagadou left the professors utterly baffled.
A successful Cheering Potion should be a beautifully transparent golden liquid, with clear droplets.
Yet these two schools had employed unconventional brewing methods. The Uagadou potion had turned into a dark brown paste, while Koldovstoretz's resembled a pot of thick, milky-white soup.
After some deliberation, the three judges approached Maxime. "Let's have some students test them. We can't properly assess them otherwise."
"Fine," Maxime agreed without objection and quickly found six volunteers to act as test subjects.
First was Uagadou's potion. The three volunteers were all black students, reflecting France's recent demographic trends where mixed-race and Black students had become increasingly common.
Wayne mused that by the next century, Beauxbatons might as well declare itself a purely African magic school without raising eyebrows.
The three testers drank the potion and soon broke into smiles, allowing the judges to assign a score based on their reactions.
Then came Koldovstoretz's turn.
The three students gulped down the milky-white liquid, only for their expressions to immediately contort in agony. Violent coughs wracked their bodies, tears streaming down their faces, startling everyone nearby.
"What's happening?" Damocles hastily pulled out an antidote to common poisons, ready to administer it, but was stopped by Koldovstoretz's professor.
"No major issue. Everyone unaccustomed to vodka reacts like this. See? The potion's already taking effect."
Damocles observed the trio—two had turned beet-red, coughing and giggling simultaneously, while the third couldn't even stand, collapsing to the floor with a blissful smile as they drifted into slumber.
The judges were stumped.
How should this be scored?