"The Headmaster took me out for a couple of days. I only rushed back today for classes."
Wayne eyed them strangely. "How long has it been since you two washed your hair?"
"Not that long, right?"
Norman yawned, counting the days.
"Washed it once after you installed the Fountain of Beauty."
Wayne's face darkened. "That's almost ten days, Norman. How'd you get so lazy?"
"Not our fault," Toby protested loudly. "Didn't you say washing too often makes you go bald faster?"
"I don't wanna end up like my dad—not a single hair left, doesn't even need shampoo."
Norman nodded solemnly in agreement.
Their fathers looked almost identical—if you only saw their scalps, you wouldn't know which was which.
"You're still so young, yet you're already worrying about this." Wayne looked exasperated. "Hurry up and go. If you two keep being this slovenly, don't expect me to help with your homework."
"Do you have to be so harsh?" Toby gazed at Wayne despairingly. Wayne didn't respond, merely crossing his arms and staring at them both.
In the end, they relented and trudged off to the bathroom, sulking all the way.
Compared to future baldness crises, their current homework crisis was far more terrifying.
Professor McGonagall's intimidation felt much more real than the prospect of going bald.
...
During Herbology class, since all the Mandrakes had matured, the young wizards who'd been tending to them for months were introduced to new teaching materials - Leaping Toadstools.
These were magical mushrooms capable of leaping, possessing strong medicinal properties and serving as crucial supplementary ingredients for numerous potions.
For instance, many hair-straightening potions and shampoos on the market contained Leaping Toadstool, which gave hair a glossy shine.
Each young wizard had a glass vessel before them containing over a dozen milky-white Leaping Toadstool sprouts, embedded within humus-rich soil.
This lesson's task was to replace the soil and replenish its humus content.
"Children." Professor Sprout clapped her hands to gather everyone's attention.
"Remember, Leaping Toadstools are extremely fragile and easily startled before they mature. You must handle them gently and avoid frightening them."
"Otherwise, they'll scatter everywhere and you'll have to retrieve them all."
By the end, Professor Sprout had grown serious.
Hogwarts was poor, with very limited funding sources.
Aside from annual donations from twelve unfortunate benefactors, the Ministry of Magic also provided fixed subsidies to the school.
Yet even combined, these funds couldn't sustain the school's massive expenditures.
Hogwarts was essentially a completely free charitable institution - all students' tuition was waived, with no charges for accommodation or meals either.
The money students spent on textbooks and robes never reached the school's coffers.
Just feeding and housing a thousand people represented enormous costs, plus teaching materials, professors' salaries, and daily castle maintenance.
The begged-for funds were never enough.
So professors had to both teach and worry about school finances.
Each year, part of the herbs cultivated by young wizards went to Snape for classes, while the rest were sold to major potion shops and the Ministry.
Leaping Toadstools were among the best sellers - high demand, good profits, and simple cultivation materials.
They only required soil with sufficient humus, which could be achieved by burying some animal carcasses in it.
The unused Flobberworms from Snape, leftover processed toads, and Hagrid's carnivorous slugs filled large wooden buckets before each student.
Working in pairs as usual, Wayne was partnered with Daphne today.
Daphne loosened the fresh soil and dug small holes, while Wayne, wearing dragonhide gloves, buried the chopped animal remains.
Others' dragonhide gloves were usually synthetic, but his were genuine.
Freshly acquired from Nicolas' house that morning, they proved immediately useful in the first lesson.
"Right, next we transplant the Leaping Toadstools," Wayne told Daphne. "You girls are more careful - this step's yours."
Daphne nodded obediently, carefully opening the glass container before using tweezers to transfer one Leaping Toadstool into the prepared soil gently.
Throughout, she took care not to disturb the other small fungi.
Wayne nodded approvingly.
Truly a meticulous girl - saved him considerable trouble.
"Achoo!"
Perhaps having caught a cold after morning hair-washing, Norman couldn't suppress a loud sneeze.
Toby reacted swiftly, covering their glass container the instant the mushrooms startled.
Opposite them, Malfoy and Goyle weren't so fortunate.
Startled, Goyle fumbled and overturned their container - all the Leaping Toadstools awoke and went hopping away, vanishing in moments.
"Mr Goyle, Mr Malfoy, I've told you to be careful. Why are you still so careless?" Professor Sprout said disapprovingly. "Go and retrieve them, or you won't be leaving after class either."
Malfoy was utterly exasperated.
Could his luck get any worse lately?
His father had been expelled from the school board, their family's house-elf had gone missing, and now he had to suffer because of that idiot Goyle during class?
Though extremely reluctant, Malfoy shot Norman a glare before trailing after Goyle to search the greenhouse for the Leaping Toadstools.
By the end of class, two were still missing.
Fortunately, Professor Sprout didn't make things too difficult for them. After a few more admonishing words, she let them go.
Wayne and the badgers hurried back to the Great Hall for lunch. Along the way, everyone discussed whether the Leaping Toadstools would mature before they left school.
If possible, they could borrow some to taste – they were considered premium ingredients.
Older students had repeatedly praised the deliciousness of Leaping Toadstools.
"I think it should be possible," Wayne wiped the drool from his mouth, tempted by Hannah's description of their texture and flavour.
"If not, I could add a little something to the soil to speed up their growth."
"Mmm-hmm," Hannah nodded vigorously. "I'll make you cream of mushroom soup when they're ready."
"Deal."
"Wayne, should we hold another kitchen championship?"
"Next term. It's almost exam revision time – the professors definitely wouldn't approve."
As the group chatted and laughed their way into the Great Hall, Snape intercepted Wayne.
"Give me some Basilisk materials first."
"Professor, we agreed on simultaneous exchange," Wayne said unhappily.
Ever since that incident where he'd traded phoenix tears for potions and Snape had dragged it out for nearly a term, Wayne had refused to provide goods first in their transactions.
"Aside from those time-consuming potions, I can give you the rest this afternoon," Snape said sternly. "But you must give me some materials first. It's urgent."
Seeing Wayne remain unmoved, he added, "Dumbledore needs this."
Wayne studied the greasy bat.
Snape's brows were tightly furrowed, his eyes bloodshot – his condition clearly poor.
Wayne made a guess and whispered:
"You know about the diary and Tom now?"
Dumbledore trusted many people.
Professor McGonagall, the Heads of Houses, and members of the Order of the Phoenix were all utterly loyal to him.
But when it came to opposing Voldemort, his greatest trust lay with Snape.
Professor McGonagall's temperament wasn't suited for schemes, whereas Snape was full of cunning and harboured deep hatred for Voldemort – making him the perfect instrument.
Sure enough, at Wayne's words, Snape's expression darkened further as he nodded slowly.
Dumbledore had only revealed everything to him the day before.
As a double agent, Snape played a crucial role. If the prophetic visions came true, he would need to reveal Tom's existence to Voldemort at the right moment, turning them against each other.
The urgent request for materials was because Dumbledore needed him to brew certain potions.
Snape wanted to experiment with whether Basilisk flesh and blood could enhance the potions' efficacy.
"Alright, I'll come to your office after class this afternoon." Wayne didn't say anything more this time and agreed directly.
Having obtained the answer he wanted, Snape felt considerably more comfortable and entered the Great Hall with Wayne.
...
That afternoon, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were originally scheduled for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But since the professor had... expired, the lesson had to become a self-study session.
Other professors could have stepped in to cover if they weren't teaching, but on Monday afternoons, all staff members were exceptionally busy with no spare time.
Not that the young witches and wizards minded—this meant they could openly slack off without guilt.
After all, when Lockhart had been teaching, most lessons involved reading books or performing plays, so this was actually more relaxing.
The classroom was now buzzing with activity, the self-study session having devolved into a social gathering.
Harry, who'd been discharged after several days of hospital observation confirming no serious harm, was currently venting to Ron and Neville about his recent experiences.
"Twice. I've been fooled twice in a row."
"First year it was Quirrell, second year Lockhart. I've figured it out—not a single Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is any good."
Remembering how completely Lockhart had deceived him, Harry desperately wanted to punch him twice.
"The school might as well cancel this subject altogether," Harry said petulantly. "We'd be better off having Snape teach it."
"You've got Wayne giving you extra lessons, so cancellation wouldn't affect you. The rest of us can't afford that," Ron retorted.
"Death Eaters, Heir of Slytherin... what's next year going to bring?"
"Maybe a Vampire?"
Wayne, who was reading Hermione's palm, nearly laughed aloud. He turned to look at them: "If all else fails, Harry, you could write some complaint letters to Dumbledore."
"You're the Boy Who Lived after all. Wanting a normal professor is such a small request—he definitely wouldn't refuse."
"Wayne, stop teasing me," Harry said, his face burning scarlet.
Because of the Chamber of Secrets incident, he'd become the school's celebrity again.
Many students who'd previously misunderstood him had come to offer sincere apologies. First-year Colin Creevey seemed to have cast a Tracking Charm on him, always managing to photograph such moments.
"I'm completely serious," Wayne said, sitting upright with a solemn expression. "Two consecutive years without learning anything substantial—if this continues, everyone will have complaints."
"Exactly!"
"Wayne's right. This subject might as well not exist—it's just wasting time."
"Two years on, and I'm still utterly useless."
"Could it possibly have nothing to do with the professors?"
Ernie Macmillan interjected: "Wayne, lead us in another protest!"
"He's right! I support Wayne! He's the one we all want!"
Suddenly, the classroom erupted as long-suppressed frustrations burst forth.
"Thank you, thank you all." Wayne rose with a smile, pressing his hands downward to quiet the room.
"I completely understand how you feel, but hasn't this been an ongoing issue?"
"No one cares. No one considers that we're the future of the magical world."
"I know Professor Dumbledore faces tremendous difficulties, with all these rumours about curses circulating... but isn't this precisely the Headmaster's responsibility?"
The atmosphere froze momentarily before erupting into thunderous applause.
Hermione widened her eyes as she stared at the boy.
This speech sounds so familiar... She felt like she'd heard something similar before.
"We must unite!" Wayne clenched his fists passionately. "We must unite into a strong... group. Some may face punishment, but ultimate victory will be ours!"
"On the last day of term, I'll go to the Headmaster's Office to submit our demands. If you're willing, follow me then."
"Why wait until the last day of term?" Ron asked foolishly.
"Idiot," Hannah glared at him. "Hand in the letter and then catch the train home. Even if the professors want to punish anyone, they won't be able to find us."
Ron had an epiphany, and the others understood Wayne's plan too.
"Remember, don't leak this beforehand," Wayne waved his hand grandly. "We must be patient!"
"If the professors find out, we lose the element of surprise and impact. The Headmaster won't take it seriously either."
"After exams, contact your friends and family, and students from other years too. This petition shouldn't just come from us. Adults' words carry more weight than us young wizards."
"Understood!" everyone chorused, eyes shining with excitement.
Only then did Wayne sit back down, satisfied.
Harry nervously tugged at Wayne's sleeve. "Isn't this a bit unfair? Professor Dumbledore has it hard enough already."
"Harry, I'm not making things difficult for the Headmaster," Wayne said with a wounded expression, his voice dropping. "I just want everyone to have a proper Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Even if they're a Werewolf or a Death Eater, I don't care—as long as we can learn useful magic."
"If you think it's wrong for me to want what students deserve, then let me keep being wrong."
"Exactly," Ron couldn't stand it anymore. "Harry, Wayne's considering everyone's interests here. Stop always siding with Professor Dumbledore."
Feeling the unfriendly gazes from others, Harry shrank his neck and didn't dare continue.
Any more and he'd incur public wrath.
...
After class, Hermione took Wayne's hand as they walked side by side. She still couldn't figure out why his earlier speech had sounded so familiar.
Upon reaching the second floor, Wayne said to her, "You go to the library first. I need to see Professor Snape."
"I'll come find you later."
"No need." Hermione shook her head. "We can just meet in the Great Hall later."
"Alright, see you then."
"Bye."
Watching Hermione enter the library, Wayne then descended the stairs and made his way to the dungeons.
Up ahead came the sound of hurried footsteps and flashes of spelllight. Wayne raised an eyebrow as he saw the twins scrambling around the corridor corner, leaping about while pleading for mercy.
"Cedric, mate! We're really sorry, stop chasing us!"
"It wasn't meant to be a prank this time, we didn't expect it to actually work!"