Faced with Wayne's overture of goodwill, the Slytherin students exchanged uneasy glances. Whether it was their imagination or not, Wayne's words sounded... decidedly odd.
The atmosphere fell into brief silence. Wayne remained smiling, though the curve of his lips gradually flattened.
Finally, someone stepped forward to break the impasse.
"Of course!" Malfoy pushed through the crowd, beaming as he clasped hands with Wayne.
"The Malfoy family never refuses goodwill from fellow nobility. I once extended my kindness to Potter, too, but alas, he rejected it."
Passive Skill: Weathervane Diplomacy activated.
Effect: The Malfoy family always makes the right choice in critical moments.
The power Wayne had just displayed was enough for the profit-driven Malfoys to overlook blood status.
Truth be told, their ancestors might have shared connections. In the 11th century, the first Malfoy—Armand Malfoy—accompanied William the Conqueror to England, contributing through magical means to earn a prime fiefdom in Wiltshire. The Lawrence family, too, was an old Norman lineage that crossed with William.
By that measure, they'd practically been colleagues.
Wayne's smile regained its warmth. These people tested his patience earlier—he nearly drew his wand.
With Malfoy leading, others soon followed suit, networking enthusiastically with Wayne. Even the Prefects he'd defeated moments ago seemed to have forgotten their humiliation, all smiles now.
Some might still privately scorn Wayne's origins, but none would show it. Without a ringleader, pure-bloods only dared to disdain those half-bloods or Muggle-borns without backing or power.
Their upbringing emphasised two things: strength and bloodline. Did anyone truly believe Voldemort's ancestry couldn't be uncovered? Some families likely knew more about it than he did himself—yet all pretended ignorance.
Because Voldemort was powerful enough. He needed no historical pedigree; his power was pedigree enough. And in these young snakes' eyes, Wayne Lawrence was beginning to exhibit the same quality.
"Since we're all friends now, I've got gifts for everyone!" Wayne summoned a long table with a wave, pulling various potions, trinkets, and a handful of quills from his robe pockets.
"For friends, all Celia Store merchandise at 10% off! Here's Wit-Sharpening Potion—enhances cognitive speed for spellcasting efficiency. This Pepper-Up Potion—one vial keeps you alert for two days. And this... Amortentia—sorry, not for sale."
Under Snape's dumbfounded gaze, what began as a friendly exchange rapidly devolved into Wayne's grand sales pitch.
"Lawrence, is this ring for sale?" A blonde girl asked, blushing slightly as she eyed the exquisite silver ring Wayne produced.
Wayne introduced enthusiastically, "Greengrass, you've got excellent taste. This is my latest creation—defensive artefacts!
"It can autonomously activate the Shield Charm when you're in danger. It'll only deactivate completely after three uses."
Daphne Greengrass, Wayne's classmate, was also the student Snape had just sent to fetch the female Prefect.
Wayne instinctively glanced at Snape's sour expression. Snape had addressed Daphne directly by her first name—something he wouldn't do unless they were on familiar terms.
Before Wayne could ponder further, he was interrupted by a chorus of gasps from the young Slytherins: "Three activations of the Armour Charm—is that true, Lawrence?"
In the wizarding world, autonomous protective artefacts were exceedingly rare. Few mastered Alchemy, and even fewer could craft items of such calibre. Any family possessing such treasures would consider it a point of pride.
Without further ado, Wayne levitated another pendant into the air and cast the Hardening Spell repeatedly at it.
The pendant's three Shield Charms blocked nearly ten Hardening Spells before finally shattering. The live demonstration left no room for doubt.
Even the Slytherins who'd shown no interest in potions or quills now eyed the remaining ornaments covetously.
Selwyn, seizing the moment, piped up, "Lawrence—no, Wayne—I'll take one. How much?"
"Two hundred Galleons, discounted to one hundred and eighty," Wayne replied cheerfully, naming a staggering price that made many wince.
For most, this was prohibitively expensive. Only a handful of pure-blood families could afford such luxuries, while others lived in near poverty, surviving by selling their ancestral heirlooms.
Daphne Greengrass, however, showed no reaction to the price, simply turning to fetch money from her dorm—clearly a young heiress. One of Wayne's customised maps had been purchased by her previously.
Malfoy also eagerly placed an order, promising to have the money sent from home the next day. Wayne, ever the smooth operator, handed over the goods immediately, lavishing praise on Malfoy to stroke his ego.
The atmosphere grew even more electric.
Snape watched the scene unfold in a daze.
Money changed hands, goods were exchanged—a perfectly ordinary transaction. Yet to him, it looked suspiciously like protection money.
...
Half an hour later, Wayne followed Snape out of the Slytherin Common Room, beaming from ear to ear.
Four defensive artefacts had sold for seven hundred and twenty Galleons, though the system only credited him for three (Malfoy's payment would come tomorrow). Other items had netted over a hundred Galleons, bringing his total earnings to nearly five thousand points.
"Lawrence," Snape suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the silence as they walked, "did you make those protective artefacts yourself?"
"Yes," Wayne admitted freely. "I've made some breakthroughs in Alchemy recently. Just a little novelty."
"A little novelty," Snape repeated dryly, his mouth twitching.
Fewer than ten people in all of Britain could produce such items. Here was the boy, choosing now of all times to feign modesty.
"Could you sell me one?" Snape asked stiffly.
Wayne raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Professor, what would you need it for?"
His claim about it being a novelty wasn't false modesty at all. The protective enchantments on those items were only at standard strength, equivalent to the Intermediate level in the system.
A slightly powerful spell would shatter them in one hit, and the wizard would still take damage, though they were sufficient for students.
But for wizards of his and Snape's calibre, it was more efficient to simply flick their wands and deflect incoming spells.
"Never mind," Snape said, his expression growing even more uncomfortable. "I just wanted to assess your skill."
"Fine."
Wayne couldn't care less and casually tossed Snape a silver ring. "Five hundred Galleons."
"How much?" Snape stared at him in shock. "You hike the price just for stepping outside? And double it, no less!"
"That was the student discount," Wayne shrugged. "This is the original price."
Since selling to Snape wouldn't earn him any points, of course, he'd charge more.
"You'll get it tomorrow." Snape didn't want to look at that annoyingly handsome face any longer and left with those words.
Wayne scoffed disdainfully.
"Some Potions Master, baulking at a bit of money."
With that, he headed towards the Hufflepuff common room.
...
The next day.
"Morning, Lawrence."
"Morning, Lynch."
"Lawrence, want to head to class together later?"
"Thanks, Greengrass, but I've already made plans with Hannah."
Early in the morning, Wayne arrived at the Great Hall. As he passed the Slytherin table, most greeted him warmly—only the Parkinson siblings wore scowls.
Their enthusiasm left the other students in the hall dumbfounded.
For a moment, they wondered if they were hallucinating.
"George, have those slimy snakes been hit with the Imperius Curse?"
"Or maybe a love potion, Fred."
The twins exchanged glances, equally baffled. Even the badgers were at a loss.
Before leaving the common room, Wayne had told everyone that his conflict with Slytherin was completely resolved.
From now on, they were friends.
They believed the conflict was settled—Wayne had returned very late the previous night, perhaps discussing it further with Snape.
But becoming friends? Impossible.
Yet now, they realised how narrow-minded they'd been.
"How on earth did you manage that?" Wotley asked, sitting beside Wayne in confusion.
"Making friends is what Hufflepuffs do best, isn't it?" Wayne replied with utter nonchalance. "I reasoned with them, won over most of them, and so we became friends."
Nearby, Cedric, who had been eavesdropping, wore a complicated expression.
If Slytherins were the type to listen to reason, they wouldn't be so universally disliked.
Wayne was definitely not being truthful.
It wasn't just the little badgers who were curious about what had really happened—students from other houses were equally intrigued.
One day, they were at each other's throats; the next, they were thick as thieves. It left the onlookers completely unprepared.
But Wayne stuck stubbornly to his story, refusing to change it even when questioned by Hermione and Cho.
Thus, it became one of the unsolved mysteries of the term.
Meanwhile, the Slytherin students were also grateful to Wayne.
In their view, Wayne could have easily revealed the truth about the previous night to boost his reputation.
Single-handedly defeating six Prefects with ease—if it had been them, they would never have been so modest.
But Wayne hadn't done so, which made the Slytherins treat him with even greater friendliness.
Ron couldn't help but grumble that if not for the Hufflepuff emblem still on Wayne's chest, he'd have thought Wayne had switched houses.
...
Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore and Snape sipped their hot tea.
"I was only away for two days, and so much has happened at school." Dumbledore looked weary. At 110 years old, the burdens on his shoulders showed no sign of lessening.
They had only grown heavier since the start of the year.
"Where did you go?" Snape asked bluntly—there was no need for pleasantries between them.
"Eastern Europe. The situation there has been quite turbulent lately. Keynes asked me to help stabilise things."
Keynes was the name of the current Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.
Unfortunately, Snape cared little for the outside world. He countered, "Leaving so carelessly—weren't you afraid Quirrell would seize the opportunity—"
"With you and Minerva here, I had every confidence." Dumbledore smiled. "And indeed, you handled things admirably. Though there were some minor conflicts among the children, weren't they resolved satisfactorily in the end?"
"Minor conflicts?" Snape repeated, his tone inscrutable. "That certainly sounds like you."
"It was a hair's breadth away—a hair's breadth from those pure-blood families storming Hogwarts."
"No, they wouldn't have."
Dumbledore's voice was calm, yet brimming with quiet confidence. "I've already visited the Parkinson family. We had a pleasant chat, and they even gifted me a few pairs of woollen socks before I left."
"At least you won't run out of socks next year." Snape's hand, as it toyed with the teacup lid, trembled slightly.
The Parkinsons probably had quite a bit to say about that 'pleasant' chat.
He fixed his gaze on Dumbledore. "For Lawrence, you'd go this far—I must say, I'm surprised."
"It wasn't just for Mr Lawrence."
Dumbledore savoured the warmth of the tea as he spoke slowly:
"Every student is worth my efforts. Besides, I dislike others interfering with Hogwarts' established rules."
The old man's eyes suddenly grew distant, his expression softening. "But it seems I overstepped. Mr Lawrence handled the matter excellently, preventing it from escalating into a full-blown conflict between houses. Instead, he turned foes into friends."
"Only Hufflepuff." He thought of a former student, his smile deepening. "Only Hufflepuff could achieve such a thing. Because they are so kind-hearted."
"Like a lubricant, uniting forces from all sides."
Snape: "…"
He racked his brains but couldn't find a single shred of evidence to prove Wayne's kindness. This first-year lad had deceived the entire school's staff and students!
Snape considered himself the person at Hogwarts who understood Wayne best. The previous complaint about Quirrell and the recent inter-house conflict—he could sense they were all deliberately provoked by Wayne. Wayne hadn't even tried to hide it.
Yet why did the same events lead to entirely different conclusions in different people's eyes?
All he saw was Wayne's reckless behaviour, while Dumbledore and the other professors saw only his obedience and good manners. What was wrong with the world? Could it be... that the problem lay with him?
Snape fell into deep self-doubt.
...
Time rolled around to Saturday once more.
Two consecutive weeks of Quidditch had electrified the school's atmosphere.
By eleven o'clock, students had already begun streaming towards the Quidditch Pitch—not even the icy winds from Greenland could dampen their enthusiasm. Last week's match had been explosive.
A broomstick malfunction, an on-pitch brawl, inter-house conflict, and even a professor getting injured—each incident had become the talk of the school all week.
Today's match pitted Ravenclaw against Hufflepuff. With no real rivalry between the two houses, things seemed relatively tame.
However, with Cedric suspended, Ravenclaw's team saw a glimmer of hope for victory and were in high spirits.
The clever little eagles offered their pre-match analysis:
"Though Hufflepuff has the most students, Quidditch has never been about numbers."
"Take China, for example—they've never even qualified for the World Cup."
"Right, guys?"
Hearing this, the badgers weren't having it.
"Even if we let you have a Seeker, Ravenclaw still wouldn't win."
"We'll be leading by over 150 points before you even catch the Golden Snitch."
Back and forth they went, until genuine tension began to simmer.
Boom!
A dazzling display of magical fireworks burst above the Quidditch Pitch, forming Hufflepuff's emblem alongside the words "VICTORY ASSURED."
Dumbledore watched with a chuckle, turning to Professor McGonagall beside him.
"I still remember when you were Gryffindor's star player. Back then, I wasn't Headmaster—just a Head of House."
Recalling those days, Professor McGonagall couldn't help but smile.
"Indeed. When I got injured, you nearly beat the Slytherin Head of House to death."
Listening to the two reminisce, Snape curled his lip in disdain and subtly edged away.
As eleven o'clock approached, players from both teams emerged from the changing rooms.
Cho, initially nervous about her first match, felt all her anxiety melt into delight at the sight of a familiar grinning face.
"Wayne? Is that you?"