The final decision regarding Quirrell was swiftly relayed to each house's Prefects by their respective Heads of House, who then informed the other young witches and wizards.
This, at least, provided some closure.
Many were disappointed that Quirrell hadn't been expelled. However, Dumbledore had also made public Quirrell's assurances and reasoning, which prevented any further discontent.
For now, Dumbledore's word still carried immense weight among the students—after all, he was the most powerful white wizard in the world.
A notification chimed in Wayne's mind, signalling the completion of the event.
[Major Event 'The Power of the Badgers' concluded. Quirrell has paid a heavy price. Event Influence Rating: Exceeds Expectations (E).]
[Reward: +500 points. Tenfold Critical Reward generated—available for claim at any time.]
Wayne's expression remained unchanged as he continued his Transfiguration class, flicking his wand lightly to turn the apple on his desk into a teacup.
An 'Exceeds Expectations' rating was a decent outcome, considering Quirrell had remained at Hogwarts.
Had he been expelled—or, better yet, killed—the rating would have been higher.
Five hundred points. Combined with his previous earnings, this event had netted him nearly 4,000 points, close to half of a guaranteed reward.
As for the tenfold critical reward, Wayne didn't claim it immediately.
He would wait until late at night, finding a secure spot to avoid any unexpected disturbances.
"Hermione, ease up on the wrist movement. It's a wand, not a conductor's baton."
Miss Granger shot Wayne a glare but adjusted her movements as suggested.
"Mr Finnigan, do not point your wand at Longbottom!"
Seeing Professor McGonagall correcting Neville and Seamus, Wayne leaned close to Hermione's ear, his warm breath brushing against the young witch's pale cheek. "Come to the Room of Requirement tonight. Let me see how your studies have been progressing lately."
Because of the reporting incident, Hermione had been giving him the cold shoulder over the past couple of days, her attitude being quite hostile.
However, Wayne understood it was all out of concern for him—that was why she was angry. He planned to find a quiet moment late at night to mend their relationship properly, or at least soothe Hermione's temper.
Standing very close to her, Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn't refuse. "What time?"
"Half past ten. Don't come too early." The time Wayne suggested made Hermione's expression shift.
"But that's already past curfew!"
"Just don't get caught," Wayne said matter-of-factly. "Gryffindor Tower isn't far from there. Don't worry about Filch—he usually patrols around the fourth floor."
In the end, Hermione still didn't refuse. Her principles were slowly eroding.
Compared to following school rules, she wanted to learn from Wayne more.
...
Late at night, in the Room of Requirement.
Compared to the weekend, Hermione's Disarming Charm had improved significantly, though it still lacked force.
"Expelliarmus!"
A red light struck Wayne's wrist, sending his wand flying, but the next second, he simply reached out and caught it mid-air.
Hermione looked embarrassed. The spell had been too weak.
"Put more into it, and clear your mind of distractions." Wayne immediately pinpointed her issue.
"When casting, whether it's at a person or a practice target, treat every attempt as if you're facing a real enemy."
"You should take a page from Harry's book—he's got a real talent for duelling. He throws himself into it completely."
Back then, the Sorting Hat's suggestion that Harry belonged in Slytherin wasn't just because of Voldemort's influence. Just look at him.
Aside from his recklessness, Harry really was suited for Slytherin—he had quite the temper.
He'd argued with Ron countless times, blew up his aunt in third year, dared to yell at Dumbledore and smash things in the Headmaster's office in fifth year, and even used the Laceration Curse on Malfoy outright in sixth year.
If you covered his name, Wayne wouldn't believe for a second that he wasn't a snake.
Hearing Wayne say she wasn't as good as Harry, Hermione felt indignant and frustrated.
"That's too abstract. Can you be more specific?"
"Fine, I'll show you." Wayne shook his head, summoning a training dummy. Adopting the most textbook stance, he enunciated the spell clearly.
"Expelliarmus!"
In an instant, Hermione felt Wayne's aura shift. The red light struck the dummy, and it exploded, the stone construct shattering into pieces across the floor.
"You—" The young witch stammered. "Th-that was a Disarming Charm? You said Expelliarmus, but cast Expulso, didn't you!"
"Don't get hung up on the details." Wayne waved it off. "Did you see the state I was in just now?"
"I think so." Having witnessed the transformation firsthand, Hermione, with her sharp mind, naturally grasped something.
"Then you try."
Wayne summoned another dummy. This time, Hermione didn't hold back—she imagined the dummy was the villain who'd stolen her books, and the teapot in her hand was one of them.
Emotions stirred, the red light shot out, and the dummy was blasted back nearly ten metres. The teapot also flew back toward Hermione at high speed.
"Brilliant," Wayne applauded. "That's exactly the feeling."
Both the spell gestures and mental state are processes of enhancing concentration and mobilising emotions.
In this idealistic world, a wizard's power isn't constant. When emotions peak, even an average witch or wizard can unleash astonishing strength.
Take Molly Weasley—was her objective ability truly superior to Bellatrix's? Clearly not. As Voldemort's trusted lieutenant, Bellatrix was immensely powerful. Yet when protecting her family, Molly obliterated Bellatrix with a single Blasting Curse—not even ashes remained.
Hermione nodded eagerly, realising she'd found the key. Resuming practice, her progress became markedly evident. After another half hour, Wayne called a halt, dragging a reluctant Hermione back to bed.
...
After delivering Hermione to the Fat Lady's portrait, Wayne returned to the Room of Requirement.
"System, claim event reward."
[Package opening... Congratulations, Host. Obtained legendary talent: Thunderlord's Decree!]
A hum resonated as an ancient crimson runestone materialised mid-air, spinning rapidly before embedding itself into Wayne's forehead.
Simultaneously—
BOOM!
BOOM!
Rolling black clouds gathered ominously above the castle.
CRACK!
A lightning bolt split the heavens, followed by relentless peals of thunder that resonated oppressively.
The cacophony startled numerous sleeping students. Hermione, barely settled, leapt from her bed, bewildered.
...
Headmaster's office.
The window stood wide open as Dumbledore gazed outward. Thunder persisted, intermittent lightning illuminating the brooding night sky. This phenomenon seemed profoundly unnatural.
"Fawkes, has a Thunderbird come to visit Hogwarts?"
As sovereign of aviankind, Phoenixes sense other magical birds. Fawkes perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, tilting his head.
"Chirp!"
"No?" Dumbledore murmured. Detecting no magical signatures within the storm, he dismissed human intervention. After prolonged contemplation yielded no answers, the aged Headmaster shrugged, attributing it to peculiar natural phenomena.
...
Room of Requirement.
Wayne's eyes closed as the rune vanished. His body levitated, radiating crimson light. Scarlet electricity coiled around him like serpents while he assimilated the rune's vast knowledge.
Thunderlord's Decree.
Fully merged, Wayne now communed with thunder itself. Not only were his lightning spells dramatically enhanced, but all magic could now channel electrical properties. Even his physique strengthened under lightning's stimulus. Effectively, he'd become a lightning sovereign.
WHOOSH!
A casual gesture unleashed thunderbolts that shattered stone training dummies to dust. This talent was formidable indeed. Wayne opened his eyes.
"System, are post-multiplier rewards always this generous?"
[Base reward: 97% probability (Purple tier), 3% probability (Gold tier).]
[Host's luck has exploded. The original reward was the golden talent Thunderbird Bloodline, which has been amplified into the legendary reward Thunderlord's Decree.]
Seeing the system's explanation, Wayne couldn't help but marvel.
'I truly am destiny's chosen one!'
He then checked his current stats panel.
[Host: Wayne Lawrence]
Magical Power: SS+
Charms: SS-
White Magic: SSS
Dark Magic: S
Transfiguration: S+
Potions: A+
Alchemy: A-
Special Talents: Memory Palace, Innate Saint, Wandless Magic, Magical Creature Affinity, Manaflow Band, Dynamic Perception, Thunderlord's Decree (Command over all lightning, enhanced power of thunder-based spells, ability to imbue other spells with thunder attributes)
[Comprehensive Evaluation: SS+, Legendary, just one step away.]
Compared to before, Wayne's magical talent had improved by a minor rank, while his White Magic had skyrocketed to the SSS level.
Even his Dark Magic had reached S rank.
Unfortunately, his comprehensive evaluation remained stuck at SS+. Wayne wasn't overly disappointed, though. The higher the talent tier, the more pronounced the gaps became.
This was the so-called 'Sometimes, the difference between people is greater than that between a person and a dog.'
"System, is there only a talent evaluation and no strength assessment?" After a while, the system's prompt sounded.
[Strength attribute panel generated. Special note: The magical world's strength rankings are ambiguous. The system's evaluation is for reference only.]
[In real wizard battles, anything can happen.]
As the voice faded, Wayne's strength panel appeared before his eyes.
[Host: Wayne Lawrence]
Magical Power: 0.8 S (Snape)
Mastered Spells: Blasting Curse, Aegis Shield, Disarming Charm, Patronus Charm, Unforgivable Curses... (abbreviated)
Strength Evaluation: Professor-level (full talent unleashed) / Elite Auror-level (regular strength)
[System Power Ranking: Student, Adult Wizard, Elite Wizard, Auror, Elite Auror, Professor, Archmage, Legend, Myth]
Elsewhere, Wayne had no particular objections, feeling the evaluation was quite reasonable. The two talents, Dynamic Perception and Thunderlord's Decree, had a significant impact on actual combat. Combined with his current physical condition, even several professors in the school couldn't do much against him.
Because spells simply couldn't hit him.
The only thing that left him speechless was his magical power.
0.8 Snape? What the hell was that? The magical version of Kakashi?
'My man Snape has a reputation to uphold!'
In the basement, Snape, who was studying Ho-Oh's tears, sneezed.
...
The next day, the young wizards were still discussing the thunder and lightning from the previous night.
"There must have been a Thunderbird passing over Hogwarts," one Hufflepuff student declared confidently.
"I once went to Arizona in America with my grandfather, and the storms in those valleys were exactly like last night's lightning."
"I heard it was Dumbledore practising magic," another young wizard offered a different opinion.
A Ravenclaw refuted, "Impossible, no Weather Charm could be that terrifying. Maybe it was some other powerful spell..."
Wayne listened to their discussion, silently sipping his oatmeal porridge, with no intention of joining in.
After hearing about last night's events, he knew it was most likely his own doing.
Who would've thought that hiding in the Room of Requirement would still cause phenomena in the outside world? It seemed he'd have to be more careful when drawing cards in the future—he'd have to go there every time.
Remembering his recklessness in drawing cards in the dormitory earlier, Wayne felt a twinge of relief. Thank goodness he hadn't drawn the Thunderlord's Decree talent back then.
Otherwise, he'd have had to hit Toby and Norman with Obliviate each. His two roommates, meanwhile, looked utterly confused.
"What are you all talking about?"
"Was there thunder last night?"
Justin Finch-Fletchley stared at Toby in disbelief. "You didn't hear it?"
"Nope," Toby said blankly. "I slept straight through till morning. No thunder or lightning, no idea what you're on about."
Norman chimed in, "Same here, didn't feel a thing. What about you, Wayne?"
"I did see it, but it disappeared pretty quickly, so I just went back to sleep."
Wayne buried his head even lower. To ensure his two roommates slept soundly, he'd added two drops of Draught of Living Death to their bedtime drinks.
It was a powerful sleeping potion—once you were out, it was practically like being dead. But Wayne had controlled the dosage; two drops were just enough to give Norman and Toby a solid eight hours of blissful sleep.
...
As class approached, the discussions died down. The little badgers made their way to the third-floor Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Coincidentally, Quirrell's last lesson before being reported had been with their class. Now, his first lesson back from sick leave was with them again. Many eyes turned to Wayne.
If Wayne still wasn't satisfied, would he file another complaint?
Sitting by the window, Wayne sighed helplessly. "Stop looking at me. I'm not going to deliberately cause trouble for the professor."
"Hehe," Hannah giggled. "Wayne, if you're going to complain again, make sure to bring us all along."
The others nodded in agreement. Seems they'd gotten addicted to it.
The bell rang for class, and Quirrell walked in right on time, looking no different than usual, still with his oversized turban and that pungent garlic smell.
The young wizards were sorely disappointed. The classroom grew slightly noisy.
"Since class has begun, let's refrain from discussing irrelevant matters."
Surprisingly, Quirrell wasn't stuttering. His head was raised, and he wasn't looking at the textbook.
"My apologies for delaying everyone for a month due to my personal health issues."
"However, with Dumbledore's help, I'm feeling much better now." He continued, "Let's begin the lesson."
The classroom fell silent.
Everyone realised Quirrell truly wasn't the same.
Wayne also straightened slightly in his seat, scrutinising him.
Quirrell, unusually, drew back the curtains, allowing sunlight to flood the room. His voice was calm as he spoke:
"To study Defence Against the Dark Arts, one must first understand why we learn this branch of magic."
"Is it for defence?" He paused. "Yes—and no."
"Learning Defence Against the Dark Arts allows us to protect ourselves from Dark Wizards and Dark Magic."
"But at its core, this is an offensive discipline."
Tap-tap-tap!
His wand lightly struck the blackboard, and three words materialised upon it: "Defend. Counter. Defeat."
With just a few words, every young wizard in the room was captivated by Quirrell's speech, which carried an inexplicable magnetism.
Wayne understood—Quirrell didn't possess such ability, nor such charisma. Which meant the one currently teaching could only be…
Tom!