In a fit of anger, Snape deducted another fifteen points from Hufflepuff before storming off.
Leaving Wayne looking thoroughly unsatisfied.
Where was that energy he reserved for Gryffindor? Such a measly deduction—who did he think he was fooling?
Surrounded by his fellow badgers, Wayne returned to the Hufflepuff Common Room.
The amount of information this morning was utterly staggering.
First, there was the appearance of a Phoenix, then Wayne went and bought a Nimbus 2000. For Quidditch players, the Nimbus 2000 was practically their dream broom.
As for Snape deducting points from Wayne? Was that even worth mentioning?
When it came to the House Cup, the only ones who genuinely competed for it every year were Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Slytherin fought for the glory of pure-blood supremacy, while Gryffindor battled for their damned pride and the absolute refusal to lose to those slimy snakes.
Ravenclaw would compete if there was a chance, but they wouldn't expend much effort on it. Most of their members prioritised their own affairs, treating collective honour as something that would come naturally—a mindset also reflected in their approach to Quidditch matches.
As for the little badgers of Hufflepuff, their attitude towards the House Cup was always:
What cup?
House what?
What house cup?
No idea, what's that got to do with us? You're deducting points?
Go ahead then. To express my sorrow, I'll just eat three extra-large portions later, alright?
This attitude made Wayne's life incredibly comfortable. He could stir up trouble to his heart's content without anyone gossiping behind his back or isolating him.
If he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, he'd probably already be the subject of pointed fingers and whispers by now.
"Let me see it, just one look."
With class about to start, Cedric clung to Wayne's leg, pleading desperately.
Wayne shuddered and kicked him away, tossing the box over. "Hurry up and leave. Don't disgust me."
"Be gentle! This is a Nimbus 2000!" Cedric caught the box ecstatically, and a crowd of Quidditch players immediately swarmed around him, their eyes practically dripping with longing.
After dropping his materials off in the dormitory, Wayne hurried to the History of Magic classroom, deliberately avoiding those fanatics on his way out.
What class did they even have first period? Weren't they afraid of being late?
...
In the History of Magic class, Professor Binns cast his usual mass hypnosis spell, and within ten minutes, half the class had already dozed off.
Wayne strained to listen—the topic was the significant impact witches and wizards had had on Muggle history.
For instance, during the ancient Han Dynasty, the wizard Liu Xiu disguised himself as a Muggle and successfully extended the Han Dynasty's lifespan by over two hundred years.
Liu Xiu was particularly skilled at brewing Felix Felicis. He would drink it before every battle, ensuring a continuous streak of good fortune.
The most outrageous instance was when he downed an entire pint of Felix Felicis, letting out a satisfied burp afterwards.
Then, his enemies were crushed to death by a meteorite falling from the sky. From then on, he was revered as the Grand Warlock Liu Xiu.
Pull—pull.
Feeling a tug on his sleeve, Wayne jolted awake. "Class over?"
Hermione quickly pressed down on Wayne as he made to stand up, whispering, "Not yet."
Wayne swatted her hand away irritably. "Then why'd you wake me?"
Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly as she fidgeted. "I... I... I want to touch your bird."
Wayne stared at her in shock, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "You what?"
"I want to touch your bird," the little witch pleaded pitifully. "Just once. I'll be very gentle—I won't hurt her."
This time, it was Wayne who felt embarrassed. "Right now?"
Although the bird wasn't much use yet, it wouldn't hurt to let it see the world a bit early. Honestly, Hermione really had to make such a request during class. He'd have to cast a spell to shield others from sensing it.
"Of course not," the young witch rolled her eyes. "We're in class—how could I possibly do that to Professor Binns? Even if he's a ghost, we can't bully him like that."
Wayne readily agreed: "Name the time, I'm free whenever."
Hermione thought for a moment. "You're having afternoon tea with Headmaster Dumbledore, so let's make it after dinner. There's plenty of time before curfew."
"No problem," Wayne agreed at once. "Where should I meet you?"
"Just on the lawn."
Exciting. Wayne perked up.
Then Hermione added, "By the way, what does the Phoenix like to eat? I'll prepare some snacks for it."
The boy stared at her incredulously. "You mean the Phoenix?"
"Well, obviously?" Hermione gave him a strange look. "Unless you've got another bird?"
"Haha, even if I did, I wouldn't show you," Wayne deflected with a laugh. "I just thought you meant the Phoenix."
"Then after dinner it is. I have something to discuss with you, too."
As he thought, there was no way the little witch would turn into a little pervert.
...
During the afternoon Charms class, Wayne flawlessly executed the Slowing Charm, earning back half of the twenty points he'd lost that morning.
Professor Flitwick watched Wayne's retreating figure with a sigh.
Some people were simply born different, destined to be protagonists—like Dumbledore, or that Slytherin student who'd once won the Special Award for Services to the School.
Wayne was gradually revealing similar traits.
Never mind the absurdity of a young wizard owning a Phoenix as a pet—just the magical talent Wayne displayed was enough to make Flitwick envious. No spell could stump him. To test Wayne's aptitude, Flitwick had even taught him one of his original spells.
After watching just twice, Wayne mastered the charm, which combined slowing and mental disorientation.
Such a brilliant young wizard—why did he have to be sorted into Hufflepuff?
...
Oblivious to Flitwick's lament, Wayne had already reached the eighth floor. The Headmaster's Office was guarded by a stone gargoyle, who lazily asked upon seeing Wayne:
"Password."
"Cockroach Clusters."
"Ugh—!" The gargoyle made a remarkably human-like retching expression before rotating to open the door.
"Every time I hear that password, I feel sick for ages. Little wizard, tell Dumbledore to change it already—it's disgusting having to open the door to that every day."
"I'll try. How about Dung Beetle?"
"Piss off! That's just—ugh!"
"You little wizard—no respect, absolutely wicked!"