Eye of Clarity Potion?
Hearing this unfamiliar term, not only were the students baffled, but even the Potions professors looked utterly confused.
Cassandra glanced at Wayne, who also shook his head slightly.
"Never heard of it."
The world of potions was vast and bizarre, with Hogwarts' archives and Nicolas Flamel's library containing only a fraction of it.
"Oleg, explain quickly," Damocles urged.
"Patience," the Potions Master named Oleg retorted irritably. "Twenty years ago, during my travels in Japan, I exchanged knowledge with a local potioneer who mentioned this very potion."
"It's specifically brewed for Muggles, allowing them to see magical objects and creatures – Dementors, for instance, or locations under Muggle-Repelling Charms."
"Many shrines initially used the Eye of Clarity Potion to swindle treasures from Muggles. It only faded into obscurity after being banned by the International Confederation of Wizards."
"Little girl, am I correct?"
"Mhm." Sakura nodded eagerly. "It's my friend's family potion. Very few people know how to make it now."
"How should we score this?" Damocles hesitated. A family potion couldn't possibly require disclosing its formula and brewing process.
"I know the general procedure. It's undoubtedly challenging – just look at her ingredient list," Oleg said.
"As for quality, it barely scrapes acceptable. Twenty points to the girl, plus two for the Eye of Clarity Potion itself – twenty-two total."
"Any objections?"
Oleg sought the others' approval, receiving unanimous agreement.
Twenty-two points far exceeded Sakura's expectations. Dimples appeared as she beamed, happily settling beside Wayne and handing him a rolled parchment.
"For you."
"What's this?"
Unfurling it, Wayne froze.
It contained the Eye of Clarity Potion's complete formula and brewing instructions.
"Thank you for helping me gather the ingredients. Consider this my gift," Sakura murmured, head bowed.
"Did Tomoyo give you this formula? Are you sure about passing it on?" Wayne didn't immediately pocket it, studying the girl intently.
Having heard about Tomoyo from Sakura, he had to ask.
"It's fine." Sakura felt warmth at his consideration. "This potion holds sentimental value more than practical use. Tomoyo won't mind me sharing it."
The situation's developing nicely.
Wayne silently noted, carefully storing the parchment.
As the judges finished evaluating the remaining contestants' potions, Damocles called out impatiently: "Wayne, up you come! Finally, your turn."
"Coming."
Adjusting his robes, Wayne strode forward with deliberate grace, lifting the crystal vial of azure liquid.
The competition's judging segment instantly transformed into his product launch.
Ahem!
Clearing his throat, the young man announced: "My newly developed potion – the Flying Potion."
"And its effects?" Damocles pressed.
Snape's gaze remained fixed on the boy. He had reviewed the list of ingredients Wayne had submitted, but still couldn't deduce anything from it.
Horklump juice, Diricawl feathers, a Jumping Fish's tail fin, dried Billywig stinger, Basilisk fang, and Acromantula venom, along with several herbs.
They seemed like completely unrelated materials. Anyone unaware would think Wayne had just filled them in randomly.
"It means exactly what it says." Wayne slowly turned his head, looking puzzled as if questioning their English reading comprehension.
"Drink it, and you'll be able to fly."
"What?!"
Damocles sprang to his feet while the other two old men tumbled under the table in shock.
"Flight? Are you certain, Wayne? Flight, not levitation!"
He emphasised, as flight and levitation were entirely different concepts, worlds apart in difficulty.
The other students and professors who understood English erupted into uproar, filling the small room with clamour.
A sharp glint flashed in Snape's eyes, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the armrests, betraying his inner turmoil.
The wizarding world had many magical items capable of flight – flying broomsticks, magic carpets, carriages, even that modified car of Weasley's.
Yet those who could fly unaided by spells were vanishingly rare.
And not a single potion existed for it.
In Snape's knowledge, only he and the Dark Lord could achieve flight – and his own flying spell had been taught to him by the Dark Lord as a reward.
Dumbledore might also possess the ability, though Snape had never witnessed it.
Though Snape loathed Voldemort with every fibre of his being, he'd never doubted the man's power – had even been utterly awed by it once.
Had it not been for Lily... Snape might have become Voldemort's most devoted follower.
In many ways, Voldemort had demonstrated astonishing creativity and talent, refining and inventing countless spells – the flying charm being one such innovation.
And now, Wayne had supposedly developed a potion enabling flight.
No wonder Snape was so shaken.
The others fared even worse, knowing less than Snape did.
The more something defied common sense, the more violently it stirred emotions.
"Mr Damocles, why not test it and see?"
"Guaranteed authentic flight experience." Without further explanation, Wayne simply handed over the potion.
As Damocles reached for it, Oleg snatched it away.
"Damocles, you're far too old for something as dangerous as flight – let me handle this."
Damocles' eyes bulged with rage.
'Old? Since when were you any younger?'
'You're nearly one hundred and fifty yourself, you bastard!'
Bottle in hand, Oleg turned and fled, popping the cork as he ran, ready to down the contents.
"Thief! Give that back!" Damocles' beard bristled with fury.
Then a rotund yet agile figure pounced, intercepting the potion under Oleg's stunned gaze and gulping it down first.
"Karell!" Oleg's anguished howl echoed through the hall – the name of their third judge.
Oleg seized Karell by the collar. "You little rat! Spit that out right now!"
"Didn't you say old men shouldn't risk it?" Karell retorted, struggling with the potion's bitter aftertaste. "I just turned one hundred – practically a spring chicken compared to you two."
As Oleg raised a fist, ready for physical persuasion, Karell scrambled backwards – only to find himself weightless.
His feet left the ground, rising steadily higher.
"He's flying! Genuine flight!" Damocles shouted, anger forgotten in his excitement.
Oleg's fist dropped as he gaped at the floating Karell. After the initial brief fear and panic, Karell quickly regained his composure, holding his wand at the ready just in case.
To his astonishment, he then discovered that flying had become as instinctive to him as walking.
No—it was even simpler than walking.
Walking required his brain to send commands to his legs before they could move.
But with flying, the moment the thought occurred, his body began moving.
Soon, Karell was darting all over the room, leaving everyone green with envy.
"Go outside and try it!" Damocles shouted, flinging the door open. Without hesitation, Karell shot out, followed by a boisterous crowd.
As more and more people witnessed Karell's flight, by the time he soared out of the castle, over a hundred were trailing behind him.
"Wayne, how long does the Flying Potion last, and what's its top speed?" Damocles asked.
"Half an hour. As for the top speed, I haven't tested that yet."
"I'll test it!" Karell exclaimed excitedly before suddenly accelerating.
With a whoosh, he shot far into the distance, startling Maxime.
"Quidditch players—where are the Quidditch players? Follow him quickly, fly low, and catch him if anything goes wrong!"
No sooner had Maxime barked the order than several students shot into the sky on broomsticks, keeping close behind Karell.
"Don't worry, Madam. The user will sense it when the potion's effects are about to wear off," Wayne reassured her, understanding her concern.
If any of these old men were to come to harm at Beauxbatons, she'd face the collective wrath of a host of Potions Masters.
One or two, Beauxbatons could handle.
But in greater numbers, even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to withstand the pressure.
At Wayne's words, Maxime's expression finally eased somewhat.
More and more people streamed out of the palace, gaping at the sight of several young wizards on broomsticks chasing a man flying unaided through the sky.
Half an hour later, Karell felt his body growing heavy and knew the potion was wearing off.
Only then did he reluctantly descend, his plump face alight with joy, eyes crinkled into slits.
"Wayne, got any more? Let me have another go!"
"Dream on. There's only this one bottle," Damocles retorted irritably. "At least you got to fly. The rest of us have been craning our necks till they ache."
"That was incredible," Karell sighed, too pleased to take offence. "Even better than playing Quidditch on a broomstick."
The Quidditch players who'd landed with him looked indignant, but recalling his effortless flight...
Fine, they were jealous too.
"Top speed close to sixty miles per hour, lasting half an hour." Karell suddenly turned serious, addressing Wayne: "Mr Lawrence, this is undoubtedly one of the greatest potion inventions of this century."
"I think so too," Wayne said without false modesty.
Excessive humility would be disrespectful to his own hard work.
The Flying Potion hadn't been some lucky prize—he'd developed it through sheer talent and painstaking research.
He could take any praise that came his way.
Watching the radiant young man, Sakura's eyes sparkled with starlight, Cassandra's breathing quickened slightly, and Fleur nearly threw herself forward.
The reasons why a man attracts women boil down to just a few.
Looks, personality, status, achievements, and that faint, elusive electric spark.
And all of these could be found in Wayne.
Sakura clutched her chest, her delicate face flushing with two rosy clouds as she lowered her head, not daring to glance at the boy again.
...
Regarding the finer details of the Flying Potion, none of the three judges pressed further.
This was undoubtedly a potion capable of creating immense value, a veritable goldmine rivalling the Nimbus company.
If they asked too much, what if they were suspected of trying to steal Wayne's work?
The reason Damocles and the others were so excited was purely because they had witnessed the birth of a groundbreaking potion—their intentions were utterly sincere.
"With the improvements to the Wolfsbane Potion, you're bound to receive another Order of Merlin this time—at least Second Class!"
The crowd had been shooed away by Madame Maxime, leaving only Snape, the judges, Fleur, Cassandra, and Sakura.
As Damocles calculated for Wayne, Snape suddenly felt like having a glass of lemon water.
"Can you receive the same class of Order of Merlin more than once?" Wayne asked in surprise.
"Of course," Cassandra chimed in as the explainer. "The Order of Merlin is an honour awarded for specific deeds. One person can receive it multiple times—it's just that such individuals are exceedingly rare."
"Wayne is amazing," Sakura said admiringly beside her.
Wayne couldn't help but ask, "Can three Second Class Orders be combined into one First Class?"
"What are you thinking?" Cassandra rolled her eyes. "This isn't a maths problem."
"Fine," Wayne shook his head regretfully. So much for experiencing the joy of levelling up.
He then turned to the old men and reminded them, "Mr Damocles, I have no intention of making the Flying Potion public."
"Don't worry," Damocles waved dismissively. "The inventor of Floo Powder still hasn't revealed the formula, yet he received a First Class Order. It makes no difference."
"Leave this matter to us old men. We'll handle it for you—just wait for the good news."
Damocles suddenly remembered something and glared at Oleg disapprovingly. "Why hasn't Wayne's membership application been approved yet? What kind of rotating chairman are you?"
Oleg looked baffled. "I never received his application—just your recommendation letter."
Wayne was equally confused. "Do I need to apply for membership?"
They all exchanged bewildered glances.
...
After repeatedly urging Wayne to prepare his application that very night, the three old men departed.
Wayne smiled at Cassandra. "Miss Worley, if you ever wish to join The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers but can't find a recommender, feel free to contact me. The price is negotiable."
"Hmph, I'll find a recommender on my own merits," Cassandra retorted haughtily.
Wayne shot Snape a pointed look.
'Aren't you overstaying your welcome, you old bat?'
'Can't you see only lovely young ladies remain?'
Snape acted as though he hadn't noticed and said gravely, "Lawrence, we'll be leaving tomorrow after the award ceremony."
"So soon?!"
Fleur, Sakura, and Cassandra exclaimed in unison. After the awards ceremony, there were still three days of exchange activities before the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship would officially conclude over the weekend.
Snape glanced at the trio and gave a rare explanation: "Something has happened at Hogwarts. As Head of House for Slytherin, I must return immediately."
Hmph.
For Slytherin... or for Harry?
Wayne knew exactly what Snape was worried about, but chose not to contradict him.
An early return might be for the best. Even with all the precautions he'd left in place, being physically present at school would make it easier to keep an eye on Tom and prevent any major incidents.
Fleur asked anxiously, "Has the danger at school been resolved? Wayne, why don't you just stay at Beauxbatons?"
Cassandra countered immediately: "He could come to Ilvermorny instead. Our school is absolutely safe."
Fleur shot her a glare.
Sakura wanted to invite Wayne to Mahoutokoro – he and Tomoyo would surely have much in common – but considering the distance between their countries and the cultural differences, she ultimately remained silent.
"Thank you all, but that won't be necessary," Wayne said with a smile. "I'll return to Hogwarts with the professor. After being away so long, I'm rather homesick."
"I'll visit you during summer break," Wayne added, gently stroking Fleur's silky hair to comfort her.
"Summer break is ages away," Fleur pouted unhappily.
It was only early February – summer wouldn't come until July.
"There's still the address book. We can meet anytime we want."
"It's not the same."
While the two of them were being affectionate, the other three felt rather uncomfortable, each lost in their own thoughts.
Snape was the most miserable.
Whenever he thought about the vast difference between his and Wayne's skills at charming girls, that same cry he'd uttered countless times would rise in his heart.
'Lawrence, you truly deserve to die!'