When Hermione learned Wayne was meeting Newt, she handed him her copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' and begged him to get Newt's autograph. Wayne naturally agreed to such a simple request.
Lately, Wayne and Newt had kept in touch, exchanging roughly one letter a week.
Their discussions mostly revolved around magical creatures, with Wayne asking numerous questions about raising Phoenixes and Unicorns.
Newt was equally intrigued—it was rare for a male to raise Unicorns, something even his case didn't contain.
Over time, the old and young pair had grown into something of an unlikely friendship.
Here, one couldn't help but gripe about the wizarding world's sluggish communication. For cross-continental exchanges like Wayne and Newt's, letters had to first be sent to the London post office, then collectively shipped to America before distribution.
Due to the high costs, London typically waited three to five days to accumulate enough post before sending it off, making the process painfully inefficient.
The magical world did have instant communication alchemy devices, but Wayne had never encountered them. Nor had he studied the subject, though he hoped to craft a few in the future.
Inside the Room of Requirement, the boy sat with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep but practising meditation.
After a period of study, Wayne increasingly realised the extraordinary effects of the Meditation Technique. His mind had grown sharper, steadily enhancing his Dynamic Perception, while his thinking became more agile, allowing him to enter a focused state with ease.
Whether learning magic or delving into Alchemy and Potions, his efficiency had improved significantly.
It was as if he had activated an all-purpose accelerator.
Following the requirements of the esoteric method, Wayne now emptied his mind, entering a state of ethereal clarity. His thoughts seemed to separate from his physical body, and then a cooling sensation spread throughout his being, reuniting the two.
Wayne felt invigorated, his thoughts clearer than ever. His eyes snapped open abruptly, two beams of light flashing within his pupils.
"Finally reached the Advanced level," the young man murmured.
The golden-tier skills rewarded by the system were indeed challenging to master. After all this time, his Dynamic Perception and Meditation Technique had only just reached the Advanced level.
Who knew how long it would take to reach Mastery?
Yet the results were undeniable. Due to the upgrade in his meditation technique, even his innate talents had undergone subtle changes.
[Host: Wayne Lawrence]
Magical Power: SS+ (1.9S)
Charms: SS
White Magic: SSS
Dark Magic: S+
Transfiguration: SS
Potions: SS-
Alchemy: SS
Special Talents: Memory Palace, Innate Saint, Wandless Magic, Magical Creature Affinity, Manaflow Band, Dynamic Perception, Thunderlord's Decree, Elemental Affinity, Master's Inspiration.]
[Comprehensive Evaluation: SS+, Legendary—One Step Away.]
The improvement in Meditation had propelled his Transfiguration talent to SS, while the minus sign beside his Charms talent had vanished. Even his Dark Magic talent had risen by a minor rank.
The only regret was that, in the system's eyes, his comprehensive evaluation still hadn't reached the SSS tier.
This was just too difficult.
Wayne shook his head helplessly. He couldn't imagine what kind of monsters those truly rated SSS by the system must be.
As for points, apart from the five thousand he'd earned from his Slytherin friends, he hadn't been stirring up much trouble lately.
Only Snape's point deductions and nightly wanderings provided a trickle of daily points, not even enough for a hundred draws yet.
Constantly causing a ruckus would only annoy the professors and Dumbledore, not to mention disturbing the other badgers.
So he decided to lie low for a while.
Earning points and major event rewards could wait until next term. While improving his strength was important, Wayne had no intention of making himself universally disliked.
Primary school didn't count—at that age, all children were little terrors anyway, so whether he misbehaved or not made little difference.
Back then, he was a child. Now, he's a teen. He's matured!
Stretching as he stood up, Wayne stepped out of the Room of Requirement.
Another sleepless night, yet without even taking a Pepper-Up Potion, his spirits remained high.
With the Meditation Technique, two or three hours of sleep a day were enough.
This magic was absolutely the essential tool for any overachiever. Wayne had devised a simplified version of the Meditation Technique, planning to gift it to Hermione and Cho as a Christmas present.
It wasn't that he was unwilling to share the original—he was afraid that if they received the complete version, they wouldn't even be able to grasp the basics, wasting their time for nothing.
Hm?
Wayne, who had been heading downstairs, suddenly halted, his expression turning slightly peculiar.
At the edge of the staircase, the senior with voluminous golden curls was smiling at him.
"Good morning, Senior." Wayne stepped forward to greet her, though inwardly he was grumbling.
Did Penelope have some sort of passive ability? Every time he emerged from the Room of Requirement after pulling an all-nighter, he always ran into her.
"And where have you been this time?" Penelope teased, eyeing the boy playfully.
"Woke up too early, just wandering around out of boredom." Wayne brushed it off with a laugh. His relationship with Penelope wasn't at the level where he could reveal the Room of Requirement.
This senior was sharp, too. Her earlier remark had merely been to poke fun at Wayne, with no real intention of pressing further.
Since they'd bumped into each other, they might as well walk together.
On the way to the Great Hall, Penelope brought up what Wayne had mentioned last time.
"What are your thoughts, Senior?"
Tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear, Penelope said softly, "Celia Store's business is doing well, but the product range is still too limited.
"Many students don't spend too much of their pocket money on homework aids and maps—especially the maps. One or two per dormitory is enough."
Wayne nodded, signalling for her to continue.
He was well aware of these issues. Over the past month, his business had experienced a noticeable decline.
Money wasn't the main concern—it was the points that mattered.
Penelope went on, "With your skills, replicating products from Zonko's Joke Shop shouldn't be a problem. Pick a few items popular among young witches and wizards to make.
"As long as the price is slightly lower, or even just competitive, sales would be strong."
"It might seem like the profit margins are slim, but since they're consumables, the long-term gains would be substantial."
Wayne shook his head lightly. "You're not wrong, but I don't have much energy to spare for this."
Penelope bit her lip. "What if I could make them? I've looked into Zonko's products—not all of them, but I understand the principles behind a few. They're not too difficult."
"Then why don't you sell them yourself, Senior?" Wayne countered.
"Because I'm aiming to run for Prefect and Head Girl. I can't openly engage in these kinds of business ventures," Penelope admitted sheepishly. "But I need the money... so..."
Wayne suddenly realised that this senior was quite ambitious. He remembered that Penelope had only dated Percy for a year before they broke up. After graduation, there'd been no news of her.
Rumour had it that she'd died during the Third Wizarding War, persecuted by Death Eaters simply for being Muggle-born.
Now that he thought about it, perhaps the reason Penelope had dated Percy was also due to his status as a member of the Weasley Family. Although Malfoy disparaged Weasley with abandon, making him out to be the shame of pure-bloods, Mr Weasley was quite well-connected within the Ministry of Magic, and the Weasley Family remained an undeniable force in the wizarding world.
Wayne saw through these petty schemes but felt no resentment.
Why should one deny a person striving to climb higher while still maintaining their principles?
"Since you're interested, I'll introduce you to Fred and the others," Wayne agreed. "But the specifics will need to be discussed between you—I won't be too involved."
At this point, unless it was a major sale targeting Slytherin that required his personal involvement, the twins handled the rest.
Hearing Wayne's agreement, Penelope brightened again. With his assurance, the collaboration between them was likely to succeed. She was about to say more when a voice called out from behind.
"Penelope!" A red-haired boy caught up to them, preening like a peacock as he displayed the Prefect badge on his robes.
Penelope's smile faded slightly. "Weasley, please call me Clearwater. We're not that familiar."
Percy stiffened before forcing out, "Apologies, Clearwater. It's just a coincidence—I was just thinking of discussing some Prefect campaign preparations with you when I saw you."
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm confident in myself," Penelope replied politely before turning to Wayne. "Wayne, let's go. I still have a few questions I'd like to ask you."
Wayne glanced at Percy but didn't bother with greetings as he walked off with Penelope. He wasn't particularly fond of this Weasley either.
The boy was far too pretentious, adopting his Prefect's airs in every conversation. Once, he'd even stopped Wayne to scold him about not joining the twins in their mischief.
Three parts human demeanour yet unmastered, seven parts bureaucratic arrogance already vivid.
Watching the two walk away, chatting and laughing, Percy's expression darkened.
...
As Christmas approached, the young witches and wizards grew restless.
This was the only long break between terms—a full three weeks, over twenty days.
Most would return home for the holidays, only coming back a week after New Year's.
Cedric had extended an invitation to Wayne, hoping he'd visit his family, but Wayne simply couldn't spare the time and postponed it until summer.
He hadn't publicised his visit to Newt. Given how every Hufflepuff was practically a die-hard fan of Newt, letting them know would have meant no peace for days.
On the last Tuesday before the holidays, Wayne arrived at Snape's office promptly at eight o'clock as usual.
This was their final agreed-upon Potions class—after Christmas, their arrangement would end.
Seeing Wayne enter, Snape felt a sense of relief. He'd truly been wrung dry by the boy. At some point—no, right after that fight with Slytherin—something had clicked in his mind, his progress accelerating day by day.
No matter what challenge Snape presented, Wayne grasped it instantly, even extrapolating from his mistakes.
If not for his decades of experience and unique techniques, Snape suspected he'd have had nothing left to teach the brat by December.
But thankfully, today was the last lesson.
The thought of finally being free left Snape feeling oddly exhilarated.
Observing the precious materials beside the cauldron, Wayne raised an eyebrow. "You're sparing no expense today, Professor."
He racked his brain but couldn't recall any potion that would require such ingredients.
Needless to say, it must be another one of Snape's original creations.
"What kind of potion do you think it is?" Snape didn't reveal the answer directly, instead using the opportunity to test Wayne.
"Rose essence, narcissus, dragon horn, dragon blood, fairy wings, Lethe water..." Wayne stroked his chin, contemplating the properties of these materials and mentally deducing their combinations.
"Also, Acromantula venom and runespoor eggs—you'll have to supply those yourself," Snape reminded him.
"Cheapskate."
Wayne pursed his lips. Ever since Snape found out he had a large stock of Acromantula venom, he'd made Wayne foot the bill whenever the ingredient was needed.
"It seems..." Wayne said uncertainly, "To be related to magical power, with some healing properties as well."
Still couldn't stump him, huh?
Snape sighed inwardly and, without further delay, summoned the blackboards documenting the process with a wave of his hand.
Not just one, but three entire blackboards appeared, densely packed with intricate and complex instructions—enough to make any mediocre student dizzy at first glance.
"Potential Elixir..." Wayne read aloud, his eyes growing brighter with each word.
"Correct!" Snape lifted his chin slightly.
"This is a potion I've spent three years perfecting. It can unlock a wizard's latent potential."
He couldn't help but boast proudly about his creation: "There's an accepted truth in the wizarding world—that a wizard's magical power can only grow naturally over time.
"But I refuse to believe that. The Potential Elixir is the best evidence to prove them wrong!"
"Once consumed, the potion accelerates the development of magical power, though the exact effects vary depending on the wizard's innate talent and the quality of the brew."
"Regardless, this is a groundbreaking achievement!"
"Impressive," Wayne praised sincerely. A creation that defied established laws was indeed worthy of pride.
Then, shamelessly, he asked, "Professor, do you have any finished batches? I'd like to experience the effects."
Snape gave him a disdainful look. "Three vials of Phoenix tears in exchange for one."
"Then I'll just brew it myself," Wayne retorted, refusing to fall for the trap.
He meticulously studied the instructions, committing every detail to memory.
"Takes half a month to brew, huh..."
The more advanced the potion, the longer the brewing time—just like Felix Felicis, which required a full six months. A skilled Potions Master could shorten the duration, but it would still be a lengthy process.
For now, all Wayne could do was prepare some of the ingredients. The true treasure, after all, was the potion's formula itself.
About an hour later, Wayne suddenly asked out of the blue, "How many bottles did you give Harry?"
Snape answered reflexively, "Just one—it stops working after that—" before catching himself, his expression darkening instantly.
"How did you know?"
"Just a wild guess," Wayne replied without looking up, continuing to prepare the runespoor eggs. "Weren't you the one casting the counter-jinx for him during the last Quidditch match?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Snape said, realising just how sharp this boy was and swiftly changing the subject.
"There's something I meant to tell you earlier. Have you heard of the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship?"
"Oh?" Wayne perked up with interest. "Wasn't that discontinued ages ago?"
The Wizarding Schools Potions Championship was something he'd read about in books—an ancient competition dating back to the fifteenth century, which had only ceased during Grindelwald's reign of terror across Europe.
Once halted, it had remained dormant until now.
"Several schools have recently expressed interest in reviving the tournament," Snape revealed some details.
"Yesterday, Dumbledore sought my opinion. I told him I would only agree if you chose to participate. If any other fools were to compete, they'd only embarrass themselves."
"Restoring Hogwarts' glory is our solemn duty," Wayne declared with conviction. "Of course I wouldn't miss the chance to bring honour to the school. When is the competition?"
After all, showcasing his strengths now would give him more leeway when he inevitably caused trouble later.
If he won the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship, surely Dumbledore would forgive him even if he accidentally blew up half the school?
"It's still early. Many logistical aspects need coordination—the earliest it could happen is next year." Snape said coolly, "Since you've agreed, I'll inform Dumbledore."
In a place Wayne couldn't see, Snape allowed himself a faint smile.
If Lawrence secured victory, his reputation as a professor would soar alongside it.
Who didn't enjoy a bit of glory?