Wayne had no interest whatsoever in Dumbledore's carefully cultivated Chosen One project.
But that didn't mean he had no curiosity about Voldemort.
More accurately, what Wayne wanted to understand was Horcruxes—and the dark rituals used to create them.
The making of a Horcrux was among the darkest and most advanced forms of magic. It allowed a wizard to hide a fragment of their soul in an object. As long as that fragment remained intact, they could never truly die.
The originator of this dreadful magic was also one of the most notorious Dark wizards in history: Herpo the Foul.
A sorcerer from ancient Greece, Herpo predated even the legendary Andros the Invincible by several centuries and is one of the oldest known practitioners of Dark Magic.
He invented many destructive and wicked curses, created the first Basilisk through dark experimentation, and twisted numerous magical creatures to his will, building a terrifying army feared across magical history.
He was also the earliest known Parselmouth—a wizard who could speak Parseltongue. It was as if evil was woven into his very being from birth—he was a harbinger of doom.
Many of the curses and dark spells still known today trace back to him.
The only dark wizard who could be mentioned in the same breath as Herpo the Foul would be Lorenzo "Enzo" Berkshire.
The deeper the Dark Magic, the crueler its requirements.
Creating a Horcrux not only inflicted unbearable pain from tearing apart one's soul but also demanded the murder of a living person through a sinister ritual.
It all sounded utterly horrific—but at the same time, it was undeniably a path to immortality.
When used with caution, it was even more powerful than the legendary Philosopher's Stone.
It bore some similarities to the fabled phylacteries used by liches in ancient legends, but Horcruxes did not grant resurrection by themselves.
To use a Horcrux to be reborn, a separate ritual would be necessary.
Wayne, of course, wasn't obsessed with immortality at such a young age. What he truly wanted was to understand the mysteries of the soul.
In this world, souls undeniably existed. The legend of Death itself haunted the wizarding world, and ghosts floated in the space between life and death—permanent echoes of their former selves.
All these secrets teased at Wayne's boundless curiosity.
When the class bell rang, many young witches and wizards snapped out of their daze, rubbing their sleepy eyes as they wandered out of the classroom.
Walking toward the Great Hall with Hermione, Wayne asked in a hushed voice:
"You guys have Herbology this afternoon, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"After class, could you drop by Hagrid's hut and ask him to gather some materials for me?"
George and Fred had just started learning potion-making and wasted quite a few ingredients. But Wayne didn't mind—he figured Hagrid could just take a few strolls through the Forbidden Forest and collect more.
As for what Wayne would trade in return—he could brew some Growth Potions or Pest Repellant Draughts. Those would surely come in handy in Hagrid's pumpkin patch.
Hermione readily agreed, and the two of them began talking about what had happened that morning.
"You're really going to take private lessons from Snape?"
"Of course," Wayne replied. "Snape's real skill never shows in class. I went through a lot to convince him to tutor me before Christmas."
"I have to get everything out of him."
Hermione giggled. "Aren't you worried he'll take the chance to deduct points from Hufflepuff?"
Wayne gave her a look as if comforting someone who was a bit slow: "Have you ever seen a single Hufflepuff care about House Points?"
Hermione opened her mouth… and found she had no comeback.
Hufflepuff's overall reputation was just... too laid-back.
If you wanted to award Hufflepuff points—go ahead. If you wanted to deduct points—no one would stop you.
Assignments were barely completed just enough to scrape by. If it couldn't be done in time, most students would simply give up entirely.
Even the professors had no real solution when it came to this group of prematurely retired little badgers, already living like they were on holiday.
At least they were better than the rowdy Gryffindor lions—who couldn't sit still for a minute and constantly stirred up trouble for others.
For a moment, Hermione actually felt a twinge of regret.
Maybe it would've been better if she'd been sorted into Hufflepuff. Her dorm life in Gryffindor wasn't exactly smooth sailing, and her relationships with her roommates were… tense.
But thinking back, the Sorting Hat hadn't even considered Hufflepuff for her—so it was nothing more than a passing fantasy.
That afternoon, after Transfiguration class ended, Wayne was just about to head to the library to borrow another book when Professor McGonagall stopped him.
Only after all the other students had left the classroom and they were alone did she finally speak.
"Lawrence, I know you've already mastered all the material we've covered in class. But I still have to teach at a pace that suits everyone."
Wayne blinked. He'd been a little nervous, half-worried the enchanted quills Harry had bought had been discovered.
But upon hearing that it wasn't about that, he quickly shook his head. "Professor, please feel free to teach however you like. Don't worry about me."
Professor McGonagall gave a small nod, the stern lines of her face softening into the faintest smile. "From the first time I met you, I knew you weren't an ordinary young wizard. I also noticed that you didn't send any letters during the summer."
Wayne scratched his head sheepishly. "I didn't want to disturb your vacation… and I didn't run into any real problems."
"Then would you mind demonstrating your true level of skill?" McGonagall revealed her real reason for keeping him behind.
She wanted to see just how far Wayne had progressed with Transfiguration—especially since he always seemed to breeze through her lessons without much effort. Every spell cast correctly on the first try, without fail. Even she couldn't find fault with his work.
To make sure Wayne didn't hold back, she added a tempting incentive.
"If you can truly impress me," she said, "I'll excuse you from the rest of this term's Transfiguration homework."
Wayne's eyes lit up. "Really, Professor?"
"Of course," McGonagall said, a rare mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "But I should warn you—my standards are quite high."
"I understand, Professor."
Wayne immediately perked up. This was Transfiguration homework they were talking about!
Apart from Snape's Potions work, McGonagall gave out the most assignments—most of which were long-form essays. Even with Hermione as his backup and his enchanted rewriting quill on hand, less homework always meant less hassle.
Drawing his wand, Wayne gently tapped the podium, transfiguring it into a large sow—which promptly let out a series of squealing grunts.
It was the same spell McGonagall had used during their very first class.
"Professor, will this do?"
McGonagall's expression didn't change. In fact, she seemed a bit disappointed. "Is that all?"
"Transfiguring an inanimate object into a living creature is excellent work, but it doesn't quite impress me," she said. "Plenty of third-years can already do that."
Well—at least two of them, she added to herself. In truth, she was already very pleased.
But she deliberately masked it behind a calm exterior.
Wayne had cast the spell so casually, so effortlessly, that it didn't really showcase his full abilities. McGonagall wanted to see how far he could really go.
So she suppressed the urge to praise him and waited to see what he'd do next.
Still not enough?
Wayne scratched his head, unaware that McGonagall was baiting him into revealing more.
With a flick of his wand, the sow transformed again—this time into a golden ox.
Now, for the first time, McGonagall's eyes flickered with genuine interest.
"Multi-Layered Transfiguration?"
In Transfiguration, spells were categorized by difficulty—from transforming objects into other objects, to turning living creatures into objects, then turning objects into living creatures, and finally living-to-living transformations.
But that was just the foundational structure.
As one of the most difficult branches of magic taught at Hogwarts, Transfiguration's mysteries went far beyond those basic levels.
What Wayne had just demonstrated—Multi-Layered Transfiguration—was a far more advanced area of study.
Other complexities included the manipulation of transfigured entities, transforming multiple items at once, and prolonging the effects of Transfiguration.
Only true Transfiguration masters could achieve proficiency across all of these subfields.
Professors like McGonagall—or Dumbledore himself.
Multi-Layered Transfiguration meant applying successive transformations to an already-transfigured object. Each layer added exponentially more complexity.
From podium to sow, and then from sow to ox—that was a double-layered transformation.
Even most upper-year students couldn't pull that off.
McGonagall didn't offer any direct praise. Instead, she tested further.
"Can you continue?"
Wayne nodded.
He transformed the ox into a massive python, which then shifted into a hawk.
Under McGonagall's increasingly astonished gaze, the hawk landed on the floor, morphed into a roaring lion, and finally twisted into a honey badger.
"Professor, is that enough? I can't go much further than this."
He made it look like maintaining the final transformation was extremely difficult. The honey badger looked a bit lopsided—one ear larger than the other, eyes squashed too close together. Not exactly a perfect success.
He looked completely spent, as though he'd pushed himself to his limit.
Which, truthfully, wasn't too far from the truth.
If it weren't for the transformation experience Wayne had previously gained through the blue card draw, what he just performed would have been his current limit.
But thanks to that additional knowledge, he was able to pull off another round of Multiple Transfigurations.
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