"I—I'm fine." Hermione shook her head, her gaze flickering fearfully towards Seamus.
Magic was dangerous! No—wait.
It wasn't magic that was dangerous.
It was Seamus. She had practised so many spells at home without ever encountering such an accident before—at most, the spells would simply fail without any effect.
Hermione said sternly, "From now on, let's stay away from Seamus. I don't fancy being carried into the hospital wing."
Wayne nodded with a smile, watching as Professor Flitwick had already directed Seamus and Neville to practise in a corner of the classroom, clearly wary of them accidentally harming others.
Fortunately, Seamus was still just a young wizard, his magical power far from formidable. The spectacle had been more startling than dangerous, and everyone quickly recovered from the shock.
By the end of the lesson, Hermione had already forgotten her earlier irritation with Wayne and eagerly invited him to the library to work on their homework together.
Wayne had no objections, and the two made their way to the library, falling silent the moment they stepped inside.
Madam Pince, the Librarian, was a woman with a notoriously poor temper. She was fiercely protective of the books and despised noisy students.
Anyone who angered her would find themselves chased out with a flick of her feather duster. Wayne suspected she was likely a Squib, which explained why she treasured the books so dearly—they contained the knowledge she could only dream of wielding.
Hermione pulled out her Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook to work on her essay, while Wayne picked up a copy of The Duelling Manual of Zonas to read.
Zonas had been the most renowned duelling master of the early 20th century, famed for his unbeaten streak of thirty-eight consecutive duels, which had dominated the front pages for an entire week.
The most remarkable thing about him was that he hadn't mastered any advanced magic—his victories were achieved solely through clever use of basic spells.
The book documented several of his duels, and after skimming through them, Wayne found a few useful tricks to add to his repertoire.
Hogwarts was a vast treasure trove laid out before everyone, yet not all had the ability or the drive to claim its riches.
The professors, particularly the four Heads of House, were undeniably accomplished in their fields, and guidance from them was invaluable.
Even if you went to Snape with a question, though he might respond with biting sarcasm, he would still answer it.
The library, too, was a treasure in its own right, housing centuries of accumulated knowledge. Students had seven years to better themselves, but how many took full advantage of it?
This was what made Hogwarts so extraordinary—it offered both a joyful education suited to everyone and an elite education for the ambitious. Whether you soared as a dragon or crawled as an insect depended entirely on your own choices.
One thing Wayne found frustrating was that the Restricted Section was far too large, occupying nearly a third of the entire library.
It hadn't always been that way. After the incident with Voldemort, Dumbledore had gradually expanded it to its current size.
Even spells like the Patronus Charm had been relegated to the Restricted Section.
'Honestly, old bee Dumbledore, I could buy a book on that at Flourish and Blotts!'
...
The new term soon settled into its rhythm, and the first-years gradually adjusted to school life.
Most students were quite satisfied with the majority of their classes.
Unsurprisingly, Charms was the favourite among the young witches and wizards. The professors were approachable, and there was plenty of time during lessons to wave wands and cast spells.
Transfiguration was also quite good, but Professor McGonagall was so strict that the young witches and wizards were rather intimidated, terrified of losing points for their houses.
Moreover, Transfiguration was simply too difficult. After two lessons, many had nearly worn out their wrists from waving their wands, yet made no progress whatsoever.
The matchstick remained a matchstick—no sign of a needle in sight.
One Ravenclaw student tried to be clever by bringing their own needle to class, only to successfully lose ten points for their house.
Many admitted that they now saw slender objects as silver needles—a case of 'needle-eye' fatigue.
Apart from that, the Hufflepuff badgers greatly enjoyed their Head of House's lessons. In the first week, their task was to repot ginger roots, a magical ingredient used in potions like the Cure for Boils and Wit-Sharpening Potion.
When Professor Sprout mentioned that this stuff sold for five Sickles a galleon in Diagon Alley, Wayne and other Muggle-born students were stunned.
"Don't look so surprised, children," Sprout explained with a smile. "This ginger is the same as the ginger you know, but the growth-enhancing potions and fertilisers used in cultivation are quite expensive.
"That's why it sells for so much."
"What kind of fertiliser?" Wayne asked curiously.
"Mooncalf dung." Professor Sprout produced a box filled with silvery pellets.
"Mooncalf dung is highly fertile and can enhance the potency of potions, but only when fresh and properly treated."
Wayne nodded, committing this to memory.
Most of his reading had focused on potion-making and ingredient selection, so he hadn't delved into the cultivation and care of basic materials like these.
He felt a bit ashamed—Herbology was their Head of House's subject, after all, and he'd been so neglectful.
He resolved to catch up by reading more Herbology books as soon as possible.
As for the other subjects, the young witches and wizards weren't particularly enthusiastic.
Take Astronomy, for instance—it required climbing the tower at past ten on Wednesday nights to peer at stars through telescopes.
It sounded romantic, but the timing was so late that many students were already yawning from exhaustion.
Then they had to write a ten-inch observation report afterwards—absolute torture.
History of Magic was even worse. Every word from Professor Binns was like an incantation of the Sleeping Charm—only Hermione seemed immune.
The early history of wizards being worshipped as deities was quite fascinating when read independently.
But from Professor Binns' mouth, it turned into a monotonous drone of letters.
Everyone had come to treat History of Magic as the perfect place for a nap, since Binns never interfered with students—as long as they didn't jump up and cause trouble, they could do whatever they wanted.
Defence Against the Dark Arts was also a major letdown. Quirrell could barely string a sentence together without stuttering—how could he possibly teach well?
Rumours even spread that a student had reduced Quirrell to tears.
Most dismissed it at first, but as the story gained traction, complete with vivid details—even the student's name—it became impossible to ignore.
The name 'Wayne Lawrence' once again entered everyone's awareness.