Half an hour later, the office had been cleared of anything valuable, leaving the shelves barren.
Snape slumped into his chair, face ashen, lips twitching as curses spilt out one after another.
This time, he'd finally learned his lesson—Lawrence was an absolute bastard whose words couldn't be trusted, nor should one ever follow his train of thought.
The man was full of wicked schemes!
This time, he'd been completely outmanoeuvred. Having undergone Dark Magic modifications and experienced the thrill of rapid power growth, there was no way he'd resist the temptation of bloodline fusion.
Thestral blood was manageable - even if difficult to obtain, with his connections as both Head of House and Potions Master, it wouldn't be impossible.
But materials from Ho-Oh... that truly had only one supplier.
Without the Resurrection Draught as backup, Snape wouldn't dare attempt bloodline fusion. It'd be like wishing for an early death.
Years of precious collections emptied in one go, plus having to promise Lawrence to lighten the workload for several of his little girlfriends - Snape felt utterly miserable.
Now stripped of materials and having donated most of his galleons to buy supplies for young wizards, he was practically penniless.
Snape couldn't comprehend how his situation kept deteriorating.
After cursing for a full half hour until his throat was parched, he finally stopped, sulked a while longer, then took out parchment and quill to start writing letters.
Normally, he disdained collaborating with potion shops or magical institutions, considering selling his potions beneath him. But now... money was money.
As they say, when life gets tough, even old bats must perform.
No money meant no experiments, no means to brew potions suppressing side effects.
...
Meanwhile, Wayne, having reaped bountiful rewards, found Astoria playing games with Daphne and shared the good news.
"From now on, as long as your classroom potions are flawless, homework becomes optional. Snape won't mind."
"Brilliant!"
The wealthy girl cheered, throwing herself into Wayne's arms: "The Head of House's assignments are always the hardest to fabricate. This gives me so much extra time each week! Wayne, how did you manage it?"
Wayne deadpanned his fib: "I thoroughly demonstrated your outstanding qualities to Professor Snape, and he was convinced."
The girl blinked rapidly. "You're amazing."
Daphne's mouth twitched. Her sister... was adorably naive.
Even if Snape was the Head of their House, she had to say - the man was hardly reasonable.
Things definitely weren't as simple as Wayne made out.
"Wayne... can I come to your room tonight as your pillow?" The wealthy girl whispered, cheeks pink, into his ear.
The boy remained expressionless, murmuring softly: "Tomorrow's Friday with early classes - no sleeping in. Come tomorrow instead. On Saturday, I'll take you to play with Mia."
Hearing this arrangement, Astoria obediently agreed.
Wayne sighed inwardly in relief.
He'd already invited Luna over tonight. If Astoria came too... that'd be disastrous.
Time management was crucial...
...
Before anyone noticed, over a month of the term had passed.
This past month had been unusually uneventful at school - none of the dramatic upheavals of previous years, leaving many feeling oddly unsettled.
Was this... what normal schooling felt like?
No idiotic professors, no wanted criminals, no deranged Snape... turned out to be such a joyful experience.
Snape was preoccupied with his bloodline fusion experiments and had no time to target young wizards. Even Harry's days became considerably more peaceful, aside from the occasional deduction of House points when Snape's research hit a snag. There was little conflict between them.
Meanwhile, Defence Against the Dark Arts had become the most popular subject.
Though Lupin taught well enough, there was always a sense he was humouring children. But Moody genuinely made them feel they were strengthening their abilities – learning magic to defend themselves.
The fourth-years had recently been practising the Shield Charm, an essential spell for aspiring Aurors that most found exceedingly difficult.
"Iron will! Can't you grasp that?"
During Defence class, Moody's notoriously short temper flared when he saw that Neville's Shield Charm was as thin as a membrane.
"Third-years perform better than this, Longbottom! Now imagine I'm a Dark Wizard. Fail to block my spell and you'll spend the week in the hospital wing!"
Neville's voice trembled. "I c-can't, Professor..."
"Can't isn't an option. Here I come." Moody slowly raised his wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
A vivid blue spell shot towards Neville. The round-faced boy desperately shouted, "Protego!"
The spell hesitated momentarily before continuing its trajectory, petrifying him.
Snickers rippled through the classroom.
"Something funny?" Moody roared. "Where exactly do you lot surpass Longbottom? At your incantation speed, you'd be struck before finishing the charm! Laugh at yourselves!"
The students fell silent, not daring to breathe.
"Double homework tonight. Detailed analysis of wand movements and gestures for the Shield Charm."
With that, he lifted Neville's Body-Bind Curse and stormed out.
Thank Merlin Dumbledore hadn't demanded he mould Neville into a champion – he'd have dropped dead on the spot.
By comparison, Harry suddenly seemed remarkably gifted.
After class, Neville trudged out alone. Taking pity on the dejected boy, Wayne brought Hermione over to console him. Neville was, after all, one of his best customers – annually purchasing multiple maps due to his forgetfulness, along with quills and Pepperup Potions.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Neville," said Wayne. "Everyone has weaknesses. You struggle with Defence, but you're brilliant at Herbology."
Hermione nodded. "Absolutely! You scored higher than I did in Herbology class last term."
Neville managed a weak smile but remained troubled. "But what kind of wizard can't even cast properly? My grandmother will scold me rotten..."
Desperation entered his eyes as he clutched at Wayne's sleeve. "Wayne – do you sell any memory-enhancing potions? Price isn't an issue."
"Your problem isn't just memory... It's confidence. Potions won't fix that."
Wayne shook his head. As a wizard, if one couldn't even speak with confidence, how could they expect to cast spells with firm conviction?
After a thoughtful pause, he continued, "If you truly want to improve in spellcasting, I have two suggestions."
Neville looked at him expectantly.
"First, from now on, treat everything your grandmother says as background noise—in one ear and out the other."
"Wha—?" Neville's mouth fell open in disbelief.
"Second, you can't keep using your current wand. Haven't you noticed? You and it are completely incompatible."
Having attended many classes with Neville, Wayne had clearly sensed the wand's resistance.
"But this was my father's wand..." Neville's face twisted in conflict.
"You're you, he's he. Who says a son must wield his father's wand comfortably? It's best to get one fitted at Ollivander's."
Wayne spoke with earnest concern: "Neville, if you can't manage these two things, don't expect any future changes. Only through resistance can you build confidence—whether in learning magic or personal growth."
"If you really can't do it, buy a few bottles of Liquid Courage to bolster your nerves."
...
Neville handed Wayne all his pocket money, purchasing five bottles of Liquid Courage before leaving to write to his grandmother.
Hermione watched his hurried departure with a complicated expression. "I can't tell if you genuinely want to help Neville or just promote your potions."
"Of course I want to help him," they continued walking towards the Great Hall. "But as you saw, with Neville's temperament, even with talent, his spellwork won't improve."
"Blame his overbearing grandmother."
"As for selling potions? Just clearing inventory."
Hermione fell silent, privately agreeing with Wayne's assessment.
The deeper she studied, the clearer it became how profoundly mental state affected magic. Neville's grandmother had subjected him to high-pressure comparisons with his father since childhood, forging his current hesitant personality.
His spellcasting wavered without conviction, lacking belief in his own success.
"Outsiders can't fix this, so don't dwell on it." Wayne comforted her, guiding Hermione toward the Great Hall.
At the entrance, several girls intercepted them—their House badges revealing they weren't even from the same year group.
"Lawrence, is Cho selling potions you brewed?" one girl asked nervously.
Wayne shook his head. "No, those are Cho's own creations."
The girls visibly deflated until another blurted, "Could you get us some Blemish Blitzer then? The waiting list's so long!"
"Yes! We'll pay extra—just get us earlier shipments!"
"Well... no promises, but I'll mention it to Cho." Though noncommittal, the girls left delighted, having left their names.
"Is Cho's business that good?" Wayne, having not kept up, seemed puzzled.
"Wildly successful." Hermione shuddered. "Lavender Brown and Padma spent nearly thirty Galleons. Their bedtime routine involves entire shelves of potions now."
Wayne opened the system interface and was startled to see that his points had increased by over three thousand.
He remembered Cho had only started selling her products last week, hadn't she?
How was this more profitable than his games?
...
After afternoon classes, Wayne found Cho busy in the Room of Requirement and relayed the girls' requests.
"Freckle Removal Potion..." Cho flipped through a notebook and frowned. "We're out of stock. The next batch won't be ready for another two weeks."
"What ingredients are missing? I can have Nagini purchase them directly from outside."
Wayne knew the potion's formula was simple. The only reason for the delay was insufficient ingredients. Currently, Cho was using materials cultivated inside the suitcase world. The Pixie-Sprites he'd brought back from Beauxbatons had become diligent gardeners, tending to common medicinal herbs for Wayne.
"That should speed things up," Cho nodded. "With the materials, it'll only take two or three days."
"Do you still have Acromantula venom? Sales have been so good recently that what you gave me earlier is almost used up."
"Plenty to spare." Wayne immediately produced a bucket and handed it to her.
After processing, Acromantula venom became a premium antidote to common poisons with purifying effects, making it a staple ingredient in all beauty products.
"Perfect!" Cho happily stored the venom and produced a large pouch of gold coins. "I kept ten Galleons for myself. The rest of the recent earnings are here – about six hundred."
"I told you, this is your business. Keep it for restocking." Wayne pushed the pouch back. "Though I am curious how you made so much in just two weeks?"
Cho's eyebrows drooped dejectedly. "I don't know either. To make things easier, I set the prices really high, but people insisted that higher prices meant better results. Demand increased instead of decreasing. I'm swamped."
Wayne: "..."
Typical. People seeking peace of mind through spending exist everywhere.
Expensive products? Even bottled water could whiten skin and nourish beauty.
Cheap products? Immediately suspecting something unclean in them.
"Carry on then. I'll head to the Forbidden Forest to gather more supplies." Seeing Cho buried under orders, Wayne left the Room of Requirement to have a "chat" with the Acromantulas.
He departed the forest satisfied, carrying a large wooden bucket, and then headed to the Centaur tribe. Their herb-gathering skills were exceptional, and he could trade some daily necessities with them.
...
Mid-October.
The first new notice of the term appeared on the main bulletin board in the entrance hall, drawing a crowd of students.
"On the evening of October 20th, the Ilvermorny delegation for the Holy Grail War and the Uagadou delegation from Africa will arrive. All staff and students are requested to prepare accordingly."
"They're finally coming!" a student shouted excitedly. Though only two schools were mentioned, the announcement instantly heightened the tournament's impending atmosphere.
The contents of the notice spread rapidly. In the library, books about these two schools were checked out entirely as everyone discussed what their students might be like and wondered how the visitors would arrive.
Ilvermorny wasn't too concerning. When it was discovered they also had four houses, Hogwarts' young witches and wizards felt an immediate kinship. Combined with shared ethnicities and language, it almost seemed like Ilvermorny was Hogwarts' North American branch.
But Uagadou remained far more mysterious. There were few books about it, and the descriptions were rather superficial.
This led someone to recall Wayne, who'd presumably met their students during the previous Wizarding Schools Potions Championship.
"They were quite distinctive," Wayne said, surrounded by curious badgers as he recalled the scene. "After finishing their potions, they'd dance around their cauldrons. Not particularly graceful, but rather mesmerising."
"Dancing?" Toby imagined the scene, then shook his head violently. "No, just picturing Snape dancing around a cauldron makes me feel corrupted."
His words left the other students looking equally constipated.
"Anything else distinctive?" Cedric quickly asked, forcing himself not to dwell on that disturbing mental image.
"Distinctive..." Wayne tilted his head. "Uagadou students excel at Transfiguration, especially human Transfiguration. Many are Animagi—the three competitors last time could transform into giant black bears."
Another wave of astonished exclamations arose.
"That can't be real! Britain has had only a handful of Animagi this entire century. How could they have so many?"