In History of Magic class...
Today's lesson covered the fantastical history shaped by wizards and magical creatures. During ancient Greek times, the wizard Siegfried, seeking vast treasure, conspired with a Hebridean Black dragon named Fafnir to stage multiple dragon-slaying legends.
They later split the plundered gold and jewels with the very dragon.
In the late Eastern Han dynasty, a Muggle who gained a Thunderbird's favour launched the monumental Yellow Turban Rebellion. Every time he summoned the Thunderbird, he would shout, "Thunder God, aid me!"
Professor Binns droned on and on without pause.
Unfortunately, half the class had already dozed off, while the other half were lost in their thoughts.
Even Miss Granger, usually the only one paying attention in class, was now fidgeting restlessly, her mind elsewhere and unable to focus.
"Wayne..." She gently tugged at Wayne's robe and whispered, "Are you sure there won't be any problems leaving those people hanging like that?
"Won't Snape come after you? He's always been fiercely protective of his own."
Without any outward reaction, Wayne took Hermione's small hand in his. The girl trembled slightly but didn't pull away.
Wayne nodded in satisfaction—his progress had increased another notch.
"When have you ever seen me come out worse for wear? Snape's usual tricks are just venomous remarks, point deductions, and detentions.
"This time, it was the Slytherin students who ambushed us first. My Head of House isn't one to be trifled with either."
Remembering Professor Sprout's formidable display in front of Dumbledore, Wayne couldn't help but smile.
This damned sense of security.
...
As Wayne had predicted, once word of the corridor incident spread, the badgers were furious. Head of House Sprout was furious.
A bunch of fifth- and sixth-years ambushing first-years—had they no shame?
"Don't worry, Wayne, we'll get revenge for you!" Seventh-year male Prefect Patrick clenched his fists, and the surrounding classmates nodded indignantly.
Ever since the fight at the Quidditch Pitch, the badgers seemed to have awakened some formidable new trait.
Had they grown accustomed to solving problems with their fists?
"Whatever you do, don't strike first," Wayne quickly advised. "And be careful not to go anywhere alone—stick together in groups.
"If the Slytherins get desperate and come after you, we can always outnumber them."
"Afraid of them? Not a chance!" Cedric said indignantly. "I learned some duelling techniques from my dad over the summer and was just itching to use them."
"Don't cause trouble!" Wayne smacked him on the head irritably. "We're all kind-hearted Hufflepuffs—no need to provoke anyone. This is between me and Slytherin. We can't make things difficult for our Head of House."
Hearing this, the little badgers gazed at Wayne with admiration.
What a noble soul!
Willing to face the entire Slytherin house alone just to avoid trouble for their house and Head of House.
No way!
They had to protect their kind-hearted Wayne!
Watching the inexplicably fired-up badgers, Wayne felt dizzy.
Wait, he was genuinely trying to stop a fight, not stir one up!
...
By the afternoon, the entire school had descended into chaos.
Compared to the Slytherins, who resorted to sneak attacks, the badgers were far more civilised—they'd whip out their wands right in front of their opponents, cast a spell while the other side was still stunned, and then bolt.
And they weren't using particularly dangerous spells either.
Teeth-Growing Hex, Tickling Charm, Slug-Vomiting Charm—these prank spells were enough to teach a lesson without causing real harm.
Meanwhile, the Slytherins were fuming over Wayne's provocation.
Usually, Slytherins only clashed with Gryffindors—since when did Hufflepuffs dare to step on their toes?
Revenge!
They had to retaliate hard!
In just one afternoon, before dinner was even over, Wayne had been ambushed four or five times.
Unsurprisingly, the corridors and classroom ceilings were soon adorned with dangling Slytherin students.
Professor McGonagall was livid—house points were plummeting at an alarming rate for both houses.
By dinnertime, the hourglasses presented a comical sight.
The Ravenclaws were overjoyed.
The gemstones representing the other three houses had dwindled to almost nothing, leaving Ravenclaw standing alone in glorious isolation.
This year's House Cup was practically in the bag.
Though they didn't care much, who wouldn't appreciate an unearned honour?
At the High Table, Snape's expression was stormy. "Sprout, control your students. Don't mistake our restraint for indulgence."
He'd spent the day playing janitor for Hufflepuff, scouring the castle for jinxed Slytherins and those Wayne had strung up.
There were a few unlucky badgers, too, but far fewer.
All because they'd heeded Wayne's 'advice'—never act alone, always move in pairs at least. They'd also learned from Slytherin's tactics.
Upper-years sought out lower-years, while the younger students fled to crowded areas at the sight of older ones.
After a series of guerrilla skirmishes, Slytherin had suffered heavy losses, while Hufflepuff emerged victorious.
A perfect demonstration of the principle that there's strength in numbers.
Hearing Snape's warning, Professor Sprout's expression darkened. Though Hufflepuff had the upper hand now, it was Slytherin who'd started it.
Your students picked the fight, and now you're blaming our well-behaved children?
Abandoning any pretence of collegiality, she snapped back, "My children are perfectly fine, Professor Snape. Perhaps you should focus on tutoring your students instead.
"Fifth and sixth-years getting outmatched by a first-year—if word gets out, you'll have to answer for it as their Head of House."
The ever-diplomatic Flitwick tried to mediate, but Snape had already lost his composure. With an angry snort, he stood and stormed off.
Even then, Professor Sprout couldn't resist delivering one final jab: "I forgot to mention, Professor Snape, there have been some issues with cultivating this batch of wolfsbane and coltsfoot. The yield will be half of what we expected."
Snape stiffened momentarily before quickening his pace, silently cursing Sprout for fighting dirty.
She was strangling his supply chain!
After all, Sprout's greenhouses were Snape's primary supplier—both for his personal ingredients and those used in his Potions classes. Most materials were produced and consumed within the school.
If he had to purchase them externally, even with the support of twelve generous school governors and Ministry of Magic donations, they couldn't sustain such massive consumption.
Yet Sprout was using this tactic against him over mere student conflicts. This left Snape utterly frustrated yet powerless. What had the world come to?
Was Slytherin somehow inherently disadvantaged against Hufflepuff?
"Pomona..." Flitwick gave a pained smile. "Is this necessary? We're all colleagues here. Wouldn't it be better to avoid such tension?"
"I know my limits, Filius." Sprout reverted to her usual warmth when addressing others. "I'll just make him uncomfortable for a few days. It won't affect the students' Potions classes.
"Who told him to bully Lawrence? Did he think Hufflepuffs have no temper?" Sprout snorted lightly before deliberately changing the subject.
...
The day passed quickly, yet the turmoil showed no signs of abating.
Though Professor McGonagall's intervention had driven the activities underground, Wayne still managed to hang over a dozen more students by day's end, including several repeat offenders from yesterday.
Their persistent dedication almost impressed him, prompting Wayne to escalate his methods. Not only were they suspended from ceilings, but he also threw in a few free jinxes as bonus gifts.
That evening, Cedric intercepted Wayne as he tried to leave the common room. "Are you really going to Snape's class?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Wayne looked puzzled. "I've already paid the tuition."
"But what if he retaliates?" Cedric urged. "Maybe skip it? You can ask any of us about Potions—many here have excellent marks."
"Yeah, Wayne, Snape will definitely seize this chance to avenge his students."
"What if he curses you?"
"Just don't go."
Other badgers chimed in with concerned advice.
"Don't worry, everyone," Wayne reassured them. "Though Snape's unreasonable, unhygienic, and speaks more gratingly than a Mandrake's cry... he is still a professor. He wouldn't attack a student."
Wayne's Potions skills had improved dramatically over the past few days. He'd been itching to show off before Snape and relish the professor's shocked expression.
Missing class was out of the question.
"But—" Before Cedric could continue, Wayne had already slipped out, leaving them no choice but to let it go.
Approaching eight o'clock, Wayne arrived at Snape's office with familiar ease. Without knocking, he pushed the door open.
Uncharacteristically, Snape wasn't pretending to read the newspaper as usual today.
Instead, he fixed Wayne with an intense stare. "You came."
"I did."
"You shouldn't have."
"But I've paid my tuition," Wayne countered with a dangerous glint. "Are you trying to renege?"
Snape choked on his words, taking considerable effort to suppress his rising temper.
"What are you teaching me today?" Wayne walked over to his usual workstation, only to find it empty, which puzzled him.
Snape rose slowly from his seat.
With both hands extended sideways, he pushed outward.
The storage cabinets, workbenches, and various miscellaneous items in the classroom swiftly retreated, and the space rapidly expanded.
In the blink of an eye, the office became empty, its area now comparable to a football pitch.
"Today's lesson isn't Potions class—it's Defence Against the Dark Arts," Snape said, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips, his expression teasing.
"You think you're tough, do you? Using my own invented spell to hang my students on the wall. Lawrence, I haven't asked you yet—where did you learn Levicorpus?"
Snape scrutinised Wayne closely. In his day, the Dangling Jinx had been wildly popular, and Snape had taken pride in it. But as more and more people were locked away in Azkaban...
Those who could still wield this spell were either former Death Eaters or members of James Potter's old gang.
"Such a simple spell—anyone could figure it out just by thinking about it. Who needs to be taught?"
Occlumency activated silently as Wayne met Snape's gaze head-on, unflinching.
His claim wasn't entirely baseless. Even if he hadn't drawn the Levitation Spell as a system reward, with his talent, a little experimentation would have been enough to cast it effortlessly.
"Though I must say, Slytherin has certainly broadened my horizons. Beat the young ones, and the old ones come running."
"Sharp tongue."
Hearing his masterpiece belittled, Snape's anger flickered briefly across his face, but he didn't doubt Wayne was lying.
The boy certainly had the ability to back up his words.
Swish!
His wand appeared in his hand.
"Lawrence, consider this a free duelling lesson from me."
Wand in hand, Snape's demeanour shifted subtly—from his usual gloom to an unexpectedly upright posture.
"Professor, are you sure you want to duel me?" Wayne grinned, equally teasing. "What if you lose? Wouldn't that shatter your dignity?"
He glanced at his status panel.
[Host: Wayne Lawrence]
Magical Power: 1.3 S
Mastered Spells: Shattering Charm, Chain Lightning, Aegis Shield, Disarming Charm, Patronus Charm, Fiendfyre... (abridged)
Strength Evaluation: Professor-level (full talent) / Professor-level (normal strength)]
In terms of magical power, Wayne had already surpassed Snape.
That extra 0.3 S was no small matter—Snape wasn't just any ordinary benchmark. His magical reserves were several times that of the average adult wizard.
As for strength evaluation, even at his baseline, Wayne had reached professor-level.
And with his full talent unleashed, he remained at professor-level—but undeniably stronger.
After all, the wizarding world's power scaling was far too vague. Dumbledore and his ilk operated on an entirely different plane from everyone else.
That was why the likes of Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Voldemort commanded such fear and respect.
These three were wizards no squad of Aurors could hope to subdue.
As for his own current standing, Wayne wasn't entirely sure. Snape's challenge had come at the perfect time.
Snape wasn't just any professor, either. Had he not been weighed down by heartbreak, the wizarding world might well have seen a third Dark Lord emerge.
"Insolent brat..." Snape, poised for battle, remained unfazed by Wayne's provocation. Today, he was determined to teach this wretched boy a proper lesson.
"As you wish, then," Wayne likewise drew his wand.
"You know the etiquette of a duel, Lawrence. Come, bow." Snape inclined his head slowly, and Wayne mirrored the gesture.
Their movements were nearly synchronised. The moment they straightened, their wands snapped up to aim at each other.
Snape deliberately delayed his spellcasting by a fraction—he deemed it beneath him to strike first against a first-year.
Even if that first year was Wayne Lawrence, a prodigy whom Dumbledore had once claimed rivalled even Voldemort in his youth.
Poised to counter with a spell, Snape's composed demeanour shattered the instant he saw Wayne's vicious grin, the familiar flick of his wand, and the emerald glow. His scalp prickled with dread.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Wayne roared the curse that sent shivers through the entire wizarding world!
"Serpensortia!"
Snape nearly lost his mind, summoning a massive serpent at breakneck speed to shield himself.
The Killing Curse couldn't be blocked by a Shield Charm—only a physical barrier would do. This serpent was doomed the moment it appeared.
Had Wayne lost his mind? Did he fancy a stint in Azkaban? Opening with the Killing Curse—did he think he was the bloody Dark Lord?!
Bang!
Bang!
Snape froze mid-motion, ready to subdue Wayne with full force. The serpent, meant as a living shield, remained unharmed. The green curse struck it, only to explode into harmless sparks.
A fake?
A fake?!
"Professor, why so tense?" Wayne flashed an innocent smile. "I'm a Hufflepuff—how could I possibly cast an Unforgivable at my professor?
"I was just lightening the mood."
"Lightening the mood?!" Snape snapped, eyes blazing crimson. Raw magical power surged from his wand, coalescing into three spells hurtling toward Wayne.
"Nobody can save you today! Nobody!"
"Lawrence, you deserve to die!"