Back in the common room, Wayne felt something was off.
There were quite a few people in the room, but the atmosphere was unusually quiet. Everyone was deep in thought.
"What's going on?"
Wayne sat down in the empty chair next to Cedric and asked curiously.
Cedric's expression was complicated. "Your two roommates are just too clever. They asked two questions that nobody could answer."
"Everyone's been thinking about it ever since."
Wayne looked at him like he must be joking.
Those two roommates of his were nothing short of a disaster duo. Toby had even been praised by Snape as being on the same intellectual level as Neville—utterly hopeless.
"Toby, what exactly did you two ask?"
"Oh, Wayne!"
Toby looked up at him and asked seriously, "Do you think expired laxatives still work?"
Norman chimed in as well: "And if someone drinks and then rides a broom, is that considered flying under the influence?"
Wayne: "..."
You two should transfer. Hufflepuff is far too small to contain your... brilliance. Go wreak havoc in Ravenclaw instead.
A new week began.
Harry and Ron walked into the Great Hall looking utterly drained.
Their injuries hadn't fully healed—dark circles under their eyes and several large lumps on their heads. When other students asked, they claimed they'd tripped and fallen down the stairs.
But no one believed it. Who falls down the stairs and ends up with two black eyes?
As if it were destiny, Malfoy—who was eating nearby—also looked up just as Harry passed by, their eyes locking instantly.
"Hmph!"
Harry and Malfoy scoffed at the same time. Malfoy didn't look too great either—his once-neatly styled blond hair had a chunk missing, as if someone had taken a bite out of it.
A bruise was clearly visible at the corner of his mouth. Malfoy bared his teeth in a menacing grin and was just about to sneer at Harry—
But Harry beat him to it.
"Hahaha! Malfoy, what happened to your tooth? You're missing one!"
Ron laughed along, and the two of them burst out laughing, completely unrestrained. Malfoy's face visibly turned green with fury.
"Potter, you want another fight?!"
Malfoy ground his teeth—now literally a little less—and even his voice had a slight whistle to it. He hadn't noticed the missing tooth until he got back that night. And when he thought back carefully, he realized...
It had been that idiot Crabbe who accidentally knocked it out.
He'd nearly coughed up blood from rage.
Now Harry had ripped open that wound again. If it weren't for all the younger students around, Malfoy would've rushed over and punched Harry in the face—or at least knocked out one of his teeth too.
Harry retorted, "I don't want to knock all your teeth out. Then you wouldn't even be able to eat."
Of course he wasn't about to fight again. If it hadn't been for Wayne that Friday night, he, Ron, and Neville would've been finished.
The best-case scenario would've been getting caught by Filch. The worst?
Probably becoming dog food for the three-headed dog. Conveniently, one head for each of them—no fighting over who goes first.
"Coward."
Seeing that Harry didn't take the bait, Malfoy scoffed and turned back to his food, ignoring them.
Harry still wanted to hurl another insult when a familiar and unpleasant voice rang out from behind.
"Potter. Does Gryffindor not have its own dining area?"
"No, Professor," Harry turned around, trying to stay calm. "I was just saying hello to a classmate."
Snape's eyes narrowed as they fell on the bruises on Harry's face. After a two-second silence, he said coldly:
"Lying to a professor. Five points from Gryffindor."
"Potter, you'd better pray I don't catch you in another fight. Otherwise, I'll personally send you back to Privet Drive."
With that, Snape swept away like a bat that dared to fly in broad daylight.
Harry watched his retreating figure with a look of pure disgust.
"Sometimes I honestly wonder if I stole his girlfriend or something—why else would he hate me this much?"
"You're over twenty years younger than her," Ron replied mercilessly. "If anyone stole his girlfriend, it'd probably be your dad."
"Alright, come on, let's get to dinner," Harry said with a chuckle.
He nodded and turned with Ron toward the Gryffindor table, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something unexpected—Wayne had walked over to the High Table and was now speaking with Professor Snape.
"Professor, these are the materials you asked for," Wayne said, reluctantly handing over a paper pouch, wincing as he did.
To gather these phoenix tears, he'd practically begged Ho-Oh all day yesterday. After a long round of sweet-talking, he barely managed to collect two small vials.
If Snape dared to underplay their value, Wayne swore he'd sneak him a love potion spiked with one of Umbridge's hairs.
Whoosh!
So fast it was almost a blur—before Wayne even realized what happened, the pouch had vanished from his hand, and Snape had already tucked it away. Uncharacteristically, the Potions Master even smiled.
The materials Wayne had previously provided had already been used by Snape over the weekend, and the results were shockingly good.
In particular, the Rebirth Elixir he brewed—after adding the phoenix tears—underwent unexpected and mysterious changes, ones even he couldn't fully comprehend.
After spending the entire weekend analyzing the outcome, Snape came to a startling conclusion: Wayne's phoenix wasn't ordinary.
Take Fawkes, for example. Its tears were powerful healers—but healing was all they could do.
But Wayne's phoenix…
Snape wasn't entirely sure yet—it had only been a short time—but based on early indications, Ho-Oh's tears were brimming with immense life energy.
Even someone who wasn't injured could experience a boost in vitality and possibly even regain their youth.
And what did that mean?
This wasn't just rare—it was practically a high-tier version of the Philosopher's Stone!
No—calling it that would be an insult. What did the Stone even do, really? Grant immortality, but not eternal youth. Nicolas Flamel probably cracked a rib just from sneezing these days.
But with these phoenix tears, one could not only live forever—but stay at the absolute peak of physical health and strength.
These two vials... Snape no longer dared to use them casually.
He now believed that none of the potion recipes he knew were worthy of such ingredients.
"Come to my office tomorrow night," Snape murmured in his usual mosquito-thin voice.
Wayne gave him a subtle thumbs-up in response.
However, by now, all eyes at the High Table had turned toward them.
Especially upon seeing Snape smile—an event so rare that even Professor McGonagall looked utterly stunned.
"Lawrence, what are you and Professor Snape talking about?" asked Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff House. She had the authority and didn't bother hiding her curiosity.
"Um, Professor, I just thought I've been struggling with Potions lately, so I asked Professor Snape for some extra tutoring."
Wayne bowed his head a little shyly. "I also gave him a few ingredients for class."
As he spoke, he pulled out a small jar of phoenix droppings to offer as fertilizer to Professor Sprout, then handed one feather each to Professors Flitwick and McGonagall.
Professor Sprout burst into delighted laughter. She had no idea how effective phoenix manure might be, but it was certainly a first.
She looked at Wayne with even more warmth than before. "Well then, I won't hold back. If you ever need any special plants, just come see me."
A talented, studious, and well-mannered young wizard—what a rare gem indeed.
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