Snape furiously deducted fifteen more points from Hufflepuff, then stormed off in anger.
He left behind only Wayne, looking thoroughly dissatisfied.
Where's that same energy you had when docking points from Gryffindor?
Only fifteen points? You looking down on us or what?
Surrounded by a group of little Badgers, Wayne returned to the Hufflepuff common room.
This morning had been way too information-packed.
First, a phoenix appeared. Then Wayne bought a Nimbus 2000—for Quidditch players, that broom was nothing short of a dream.
As for Snape deducting points from Wayne?
That was hardly a big deal.
The House Cup was really only taken seriously by Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Slytherin fought for the honor of pure-bloods. Gryffindor fought for their damned pride—and their absolute refusal to lose to those stinky snakes.
Ravenclaw would go for it if they had a chance, but they wouldn't go out of their way for it.
Most Ravenclaws prioritized their personal endeavors. House honor was more of a bonus. That mindset extended even to Quidditch.
Only the Badgers—Hufflepuffs—always had the attitude:
What cup?
What house?
House what?
Dunno. What's that got to do with us?
You wanna deduct points?
Sure, go ahead. I'll just eat three more bowls at lunch to express my sorrow. Sound good?
That kind of attitude made Wayne's life incredibly comfortable. He could stir up trouble however he liked, and no one would talk behind his back or try to isolate him.
If he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, he'd probably be getting side-eyed already.
"Let me see it—just one look!"
As class time approached, Cedric clung to Wayne's leg and begged pitifully.
Wayne shivered all over and kicked him off, tossing the box over.
"Get out of here. You're disgusting."
"Careful! That's a Nimbus 2000!" Cedric caught the box gleefully, while a bunch of Quidditch players crowded around. Their eyes practically lit up with drool.
Wayne left the gear back in the dorm and rushed toward the History of Magic classroom, carefully avoiding that group of weirdos on his way out.
What class did they even have first? Don't they care about being late?
…
In History of Magic, Professor Binns was as hypnotic as ever—within ten minutes, half the class had their heads on their desks.
Wayne tried his best to listen. Today's topic was the significant impact wizards had on Muggle history.
For example, during the Tudor period, a wizard named Edmund Thistlewaite disguised himself as a Muggle alchemist and secretly advised Queen Elizabeth I.
Thistlewaite was especially talented in brewing Felix Felicis, and he allegedly took a drop before every royal council meeting.
His uncanny foresight helped England avoid several disastrous invasions, secure lucrative trade routes, and once, famously, convince a Spanish ambassador to accidentally declare war on France instead.
Tug… tug…
Wayne woke up from his nap to feel someone pulling at his sleeve.
"Class is over?"
Hermione quickly held him down before he could stand up and whispered:
"Not yet."
Wayne irritably brushed her hand away. "Then why'd you wake me?"
Hermione blushed and twisted her fingers shyly.
"I… I… I want to touch your bird."
Wayne stared at her in shock, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"…What did you say?"
"I want to touch your bird," the little witch pleaded, her eyes full of innocent hope. "Just once. I'll be really gentle. I won't hurt her."
Now it was Wayne's turn to feel awkward. "R-Right now?"
Even though the bird wasn't much use at the moment, letting her get some early exposure to the world wasn't necessarily a bad idea…
Sigh, Hermione is really something—why bring this up during class?
Wayne even had to cast a spell to block others from perceiving them.
"Of course not," the little witch rolled her eyes. "We're in class! How could I even touch you? Even if Professor Binns is a ghost, we can't take advantage of him like that."
Wayne followed her lead, "Name the time, and I'm there."
Hermione thought for a moment. "You're having afternoon tea with Headmaster Dumbledore, right? Then how about after dinner? There's still plenty of time before curfew."
"No problem," Wayne readily agreed. "Where should I meet you?"
"On the lawn."
Exciting...
Wayne's body trembled slightly.
Then he heard Hermione add, "Oh right, what does Ho-Oh like to eat? I want to prepare some snacks for it."
The boy looked at her in disbelief. "You mean Ho-Oh?"
"Who else?" Hermione gave him a strange look. "Don't tell me you have another bird?"
"Haha, even if I did, I wouldn't show it to you." Wayne chuckled. "I just thought you really were talking about Ho-Oh."
"Then after dinner it is. I've got something to talk to you about too."
I knew it—there's no way this little witch would become a little vixen.
In the afternoon Charms class, Wayne performed the Slowing Charm with outstanding precision, earning back half of the 20 points he'd lost earlier that morning.
Professor Flitwick watched Wayne's departing figure with a trace of emotion.
Some people were simply different from the rest. They were born to be protagonists—like Dumbledore, or that once-famous Slytherin student who won the Special Services to the School Award.
Wayne was beginning to show similar traits.
Forget the absurdity of a young wizard owning a phoenix as a pet—the magical talent Wayne displayed was enough to make Flitwick green with envy.
No spell ever seemed to stump him. To test his aptitude, Flitwick taught him one of his own original spells.
After just reading it and trying twice, Wayne mastered the charm—a spell that combined both slowing effects and mental confusion.
What a remarkable young wizard—how did he end up in Hufflepuff?
As for Flitwick's regret, Wayne was completely unaware. He had already reached the eighth floor.
The headmaster's office was guarded by a stone gargoyle. Upon seeing Wayne, it lazily asked:
"Password."
"Cockroach Cluster."
"Ugh~!" The stone beast gave a very humanlike gagging expression and twisted aside to open the door.
"Every time I hear that password, I feel sick for ages. Little wizard, can you ask Dumbledore to change it already? I get nauseous just from opening the door."
"I can try. How about... dung beetle?"
"Get lost! That's basically the same th—ugh!"
"You cheeky little wizard—you've got no decency! Terrible!"