[Congratulations, Host. Obtained S-rank character template: 'Yin-Yang Transforms the Five Elements, the Five Elements Derive All Things – Zou Yan!']
[Zou Yan: 4th century BCE, the greatest alchemist of the Warring States period, founder of the Yin-Yang Five Elements theory, applied in Alchemy and Potion-making.]
[Character: Zou Yan]
Magical Power: A+
Charms: S
White Magic: A+
Dark Magic: B
Transfiguration: S
Potions: SS
Alchemy: SS
Special Talents: Elemental Affinity: Enhances the power of elemental magic. Master's Inspiration: During alchemy or potion-making, may trigger improvements in potion quality, recipe refinement, or even creation of entirely new works.
[Comprehensive Evaluation: S]
(System evaluation prioritises direct combat strength; auxiliary disciplines like Potions and Alchemy carry lower weight.)
[Note: Host merging multiple templates does not stack talents. Lower-rank talents will be directly overwritten by higher-rank ones.]
Wayne's eyebrows nearly flew off his face.
Without hesitation, he fused Zou Yan's template card.
His original A-rank Potions and Alchemy talents already placed him among the gifted students.
But compared to true geniuses like Snape, he could be called dull – each remedial lesson earning him several bat-like sneers.
Zou Yan's other talents were currently useless to him, but the Potions and Alchemy alone rivalled an SS-rank template.
In any world, those who master elixirs and artefacts may not be the strongest in combat, but their status is invariably exalted.
Moreover, his other talents weren't lacking – only these two had been dragging him down.
Merging the template produced no visible phenomena, nor did Wayne's body register any changes. But as he recalled the Purification Potion Snape had discussed the previous week, numerous novel ideas instantly sprang to mind. Simultaneously, he became aware of several issues in his brewing process regarding the handling of details.
To test the effects of his talent, he abandoned sleep altogether. Exiting the dormitory, he headed straight for the Room of Requirement.
During repeated experiments, none of the issues Snape had previously pointed out resurfaced. He even managed to refine two potion recipes further, reducing their costs.
An SS grade talent was indeed terrifyingly formidable.
As for Alchemy, examining the small trinkets he'd previously crafted revealed many flaws.
These inspirations and ideas didn't emerge from thin air—they were entirely derived from his accumulated knowledge and experience.
One must still study diligently to fully realise one's talents.
The system had granted him limitless possibilities and certain shortcuts, but the path lay beneath Wayne's feet. If he refused to walk it, not even the system could save him.
Wayne had a clear understanding of all this and knew precisely what he wanted.
Having not slept all night, it was already 8 a.m. when he emerged from the Room of Requirement.
Remembering he was due to visit Hagrid's Hut with Harry later, he dismissed the thought of catching up on sleep and instead downed a vial of Invigoration Draught.
He immediately felt energised. This stuff packed more punch than Red Bull.
"Lawrence?" A female voice called from behind Wayne.
Turning, Wayne smiled in greeting: "Good morning, Senior Penelope."
"How come you're coming from upstairs?" The blonde, curly-haired prefect fell into step beside him, looking puzzled.
"Oh, I was looking for George and Fred," Wayne lied smoothly. "Turns out they weren't even up yet, so I came down alone."
"Those prankster brothers?" Penelope nodded.
Recently, Percy, the Gryffindor prefect, had been pursuing her.
Though she knew the twins not through Percy, but through Wayne's Celia Store.
Penelope had purchased many useful quills from the twins.
Enviously, she asked: "Got some new mischief planned?"
"Preparing some new products," Wayne admitted freely. "But considering everyone's wallets are light, we'll wait until after Christmas."
"Pfft!" Penelope covered her mouth, laughing. "You're so blunt."
Wayne blinked. "Naturally. I'm an honest Hufflepuff."
This sent Penelope into further peals of laughter.
This senior's development far surpassed the slender figures of Hermione and Cho. Even before adulthood, she radiated a distinctive charm.
As they walked towards the Great Hall, Penelope sighed: "If only I had galleons like..."
Wayne caught her meaning: "Short on funds, senior?"
"Not exactly." Penelope shook her head. "Like you, I'm Muggle-born. The galleons only stretch so far each year.
"Life's comfortable enough, but the robes I fancy, the books that interest me—those require careful budgeting."
Penelope spoke pragmatically, and Wayne found nothing objectionable about it. Most people were like this—once material needs were met, they pursued spiritual fulfilment.
Wealth remained an inescapable topic.
"I might be able to help you, senior," the young man said with gentle grace, his faint smile still lingering. "But I believe you wouldn't accept my assistance without reason.
"If you ever have ideas requiring funding, or can offer something in return, feel free to come to me."
With those words, the two reached the entrance of the Great Hall. Wayne nodded politely in farewell before heading towards the Hufflepuff table.
Penelope watched the boy's retreating figure, momentarily lost in thought. That speech... was truly Slytherin through and through.
Inside the Great Hall, Wayne's arrival drew considerable attention.
Gryffindor greeted him with warm smiles, Ravenclaw observed with curiosity, and Hufflepuff welcomed him enthusiastically.
"Wayne, where've you been so early? Here, have a grilled sausage."
"I've got some onsen eggs!"
The moment he sat down, several young badgers piled his plate high with food.
After thanking everyone for their kindness, Wayne's peripheral vision caught sight of the Slytherin table, and he couldn't help but chuckle.
The long table stood nearly empty, occupied only by a dozen or so girls, not a single boy in sight.
Seeing Wayne laugh, the other badgers joined in merrily.
Their laughter fell upon Slytherin ears like sharp blades, further tormenting their proud hearts.
One Slytherin girl angrily sawed at her sausage, her knife and fork screeching against the plate.
It was as if she weren't cutting sausage, but Wayne himself.
This girl was Pansy Parkinson—one of Malfoy's lackeys and Robert Parkinson's younger sister.
Sensing the persistent glare of resentment directed his way, Wayne merely glanced to identify the source before paying it no further mind.
Speaking of Pansy, he still felt somewhat regretful.
In the film adaptations, Pansy in the earlier instalments was quite beautiful, completely unlike the ugly description in the books.
However, in the real world, Wayne could only say that the book's portrayal was still being generous.
One more glance and he'd lose his appetite for breakfast.
Unexpectedly, Wayne's fleeting glance was noticed by Pansy, who misinterpreted it as fear.
"Just you wait, Lawrence!"
"The Parkinson family, along with the other pure-blood families, won't let you off!"
The ugly witch seethed inwardly.
Yesterday, many Slytherin students had already written home, planning to pressure Dumbledore through their parents to expel Wayne outright.
Especially the most unfortunate victim, Robert Parkinson, who, upon learning he'd face detention even after being discharged from the hospital, was so enraged that his head wound reopened, causing him to faint again.
Madam Pomfrey said he wouldn't be leaving the hospital until next week at the earliest.
In her letter, Pansy exaggerated Robert's condition to make her family take it seriously and seek brutal revenge on Wayne.
But unfortunately, these Slytherins still hadn't learned to read the room.
Hogwarts was currently Dumbledore's domain.
As long as he remained Headmaster, no one could influence affairs here.
...
Headmaster's Office
Early in the morning, dozens of owls flooded into the office carrying letters. Many were conspicuously red.
Dumbledore waved the Elder Wand, and the Howlers, before they could erupt, turned into black smoke, burned to ashes, and were then blown out the window.
Opening the remaining letters, as expected, most were complaints. The Slytherin parents haughtily demanded Wayne's expulsion, insisting the perpetrator who harmed their children couldn't remain at Hogwarts.
What surprised the old man was the other letters—all pleading for leniency on Wayne's behalf.
Prewett, Abbott, Macmillan, Bones, Cedric, Phillip...
Dumbledore felt momentarily dazed.
He had discovered a blind spot he'd never noticed before. Was Hufflepuff's influence... this strong?
The first few families were also part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, while the latter, though not, were all Ministry officials—and not low-ranking ones at that.
Especially Amelia Bones, current Head of Magical Law Enforcement and a member of the Wizengamot.
Her position in the Ministry was second only to Fudge's, and she was renowned for her fairness. So many people pleading for Wayne together finally made Dumbledore realise just what kind of people had gathered around him.
Yet in the old man's heart, there wasn't a trace of worry—only relief. Had Wayne been in Gryffindor, he might have harboured some concerns. But who could worry when Wayne was a Hufflepuff?
A widely circulated joke in the wizarding world, though humorous, held some truth.
It said that in Azkaban, those from Slytherin were political prisoners and schemers. Those from Gryffindor were violent offenders. Those from Ravenclaw were white-collar criminals. And Hufflepuff?
Sorry, but Hufflepuffs aren't old enough to be locked up in Azkaban.
When people spoke of Hufflepuffs, the most common descriptors were 'good employees' and 'reliable helpers'—hardworking, dependable, and diligent.
Though Wayne was a bit more lively, at his core, he was still a kind-hearted Hufflepuff. So old Dumbledore had nothing to worry about.
...
Far away on the path to Hagrid's Hut, the young boy had no idea what Dumbledore was thinking. Even if he had known, he would have merely scoffed. Perhaps this was the arrogance unique to Gryffindor.
"Come in quick, it's freezin' out 'ere, it is."
Knocking on the door of Hagrid's Hut, the half-giant soon appeared, warmly ushering the group inside.
"Hello, I'm Cho Chang," introduced Cho, who was visiting for the first time.
"No need fer all them formalities. If yeh're Wayne's friend, then yeh're a friend o' mine too."
Hagrid heartily pulled over several stools, newly made by him. In the past, he hadn't had many friends, so such furniture wasn't necessary.
But since the start of term, Wayne and Harry had been dropping by occasionally, and it wasn't proper to always have guests sitting on the bed. So Hagrid had taken to crafting some furniture himself.
Admittedly, they looked rather rough, with splinters sticking out here and there.
Concerned for their posteriors, Wayne drew his wand and gave the stools a quick polish and sanding before letting everyone sit.
Harry glanced around—Hagrid to his left, Ron to his right. Then he looked across at Wayne, flanked by Cho on one side and Hermione on the other. He felt a pang of despair.
The conversation soon turned to the events of the previous day.
Hagrid began with a reproach: "Wayne, yeh were too impulsive yest'rday. Even if it were Parkinson's fault, yeh shouldn' have lashed out like tha'. Yeh could've just told Dumbledore—he'd've stood up fer yeh."
"Ah," Wayne waved a dismissive hand, taking a sip of scalding tea. "The moment got the better of me. My fists just wouldn't listen."
"No," Harry interjected, stepping up to shoulder the blame, his voice thick with emotion. "You did it for me. If not for you, Snape would've thrown me to my death."
Wayne gave Harry a thumbs-up.
This was a bloke worth keeping around—not only did he help share the blame, but he'd also tossed Snape under the bus for free.
"Wha's Snape got ter do with this?" Hagrid scratched his head, completely in the dark about yesterday's incident.
"Hermione and I saw it," Ron declared loudly. "Snape was staring at Harry's flying broomstick and muttering a curse the whole time."
"What?" Cho gasped, covering her mouth in shock—this was news to her. "Is that true?"
Faced with Cho's question, Harry ducked his head sheepishly. "I—I only heard it from Ron and Hermione."
"It was him," Hermione vouched firmly. "The moment the chaos started, Snape got distracted, and Harry was safe again.
"I bet he never expected you to catch the Golden Snitch so quickly."
"Exactly!" Wayne nodded gravely, seizing the chance for some payback. "Snape's a right piece of work."
Seeing Hagrid still unconvinced, Harry decided to drop another bombshell:
"On Halloween, we saw Snape heading up to the fourth floor. He must've been trying to get past Fluffy to steal whatever's being guarded there."
Bang!
Hagrid slammed the teapot down with such force that everyone jumped.
Cho instinctively edged closer to Wayne.
"'Ow d'yeh know 'bout Fluffy?" he demanded, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Er, Wayne told me—the Three-Headed Dog's name," Harry admitted, shrinking back and promptly throwing Wayne under the bus.
Hermione shot Wayne a disapproving look. Why tell Harry and not her?
Wayne sighed and explained the whole story. Some ally he was.
"So tha's 'ow it was?" Hagrid nodded. "Thanks fer holdin' back, Wayne. Fluffy's somethin' I got off a Greek bloke las' year, an' I lent 'im ter Dumbledore fer guardin'—"
"Guarding what?" Harry asked eagerly, sensing he was on the verge of discovering the answer.
"Tha's enough questions now," Hagrid cut in gruffly. "Dumbledore trusts me not ter tell yeh lot."
"This ain't none o' yer business."
As he spoke of Dumbledore's trust, the half-giant puffed out his chest proudly, as though serving Dumbledore was the greatest honour.
"As fer Snape," Hagrid paused, "he's a professor at the school, someone Dumbledore trusts too. He'd never do summat like tha'."
"But yesterday, we all saw Snape casting spells," Hermione said, her opinion of Snape now thoroughly soured.
Cho sat quietly on the sidelines, nibbling on a snack and blinking innocently.
She was beginning to understand the Gryffindor brand of curiosity. With so many professors around, not to mention Headmaster Dumbledore himself, here were a bunch of first-years worrying about school property and even suspecting a Head of House. How amusing.
"Alright!" Hagrid growled, losin' patience. "Dumbledore trusts me 'cause I know how ter keep me mouth shut."
"Yeh can give up now—I ain't tellin' yeh nothin' 'bout him an' Nicolas Flamel—" He abruptly clamped his mouth shut.
Harry and Hermione's eyes lit up.
Wayne facepalmed. So much for keeping secrets...