The Sorting Hat was highly praised for its unyielding character that couldn't be subdued by force or corrupted by wealth.
Wayne then tossed the vain hat aside and grasped Gryffindor's sword, admiring it.
The sword was exquisitely crafted with ornate designs—its hilt embedded with rubies, its blade engraved with Godric Gryffindor's name and adorned with intricate patterns.
These patterns were purely decorative, devoid of any magical power.
The true secret that made this sword extraordinary lay hidden within the blade itself.
Goblin craftsmanship was undoubtedly among the finest, mastering techniques even wizards couldn't comprehend.
Not even Wayne's acquired X-ray vision could penetrate the outer layer to glimpse its true nature.
Countless legends surrounded this sword, the most famous being the two disputes over its ownership.
The sword was forged by Ragnuk the First for Gryffindor. As the most skilled Goblin master of his time, Ragnuk grew covetous upon completing the blade and falsely accused Gryffindor of stealing it, sending his servants to reclaim it.
These servants were defeated by Gryffindor and delivered before the Goblin King with a warning: if more were sent, he would declare war on the Goblin nation.
Who was Gryffindor in those days?
The most formidable duelling master of his era, overflowing with both martial virtue and might. Faced with his warning, even though Gryffindor stood alone, the Goblin King yielded—though he bore resentment until his dying day.
Thus, later generations of Goblins perpetuated the tale that Gryffindor was a thief.
The second dispute arose after Gryffindor's death, when the Goblins sought to reclaim the sword.
They believed the gold wizards paid merely leased the item, and upon the wizard's death, the lease naturally expired, requiring its return.
Hogwarts staunchly defended its founder's legacy, leading to significant conflict that ultimately ended in the Goblins' retreat.
Their relentless pursuit spoke volumes about how dearly they prized this blade.
Wayne stepped out of the cabin with Gardevoir.
"Gardevoir, flames."
Without hesitation, Gardevoir summoned several fireballs, though they moved slowly toward Wayne.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
With swift, precise strikes, the fireballs were cleanly cleaved apart, dissipating into the air.
Wayne then had Gardevoir cast several common spells, but the result remained unchanged—upon contact with the sword, the magical power was instantly nullified.
The force transmitted through the blade was also within manageable limits.
"Brilliant," Wayne murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the sword.
Its most remarkable trait was its ability to absorb and strengthen itself. Though it hadn't yet absorbed Basilisk venom, Gryffindor had undoubtedly exposed it to many enhancements.
Against magic, it could even produce an anti-magic effect.
With sufficient speed and precision, the sword's defensive capability surpassed even the Shield Charm. Moreover, it was both offensive and defensive, capable of cutting through iron like mud, far more effective than any wand in close combat.
If possible, Wayne would have loved to claim the sword as his personal property.
Unfortunately, he couldn't.
After the Sorting Hat returned, it would undoubtedly inform Dumbledore—this object didn't belong to Dumbledore, nor any Headmaster. Like the Sorting Hat itself, it would forever belong to Hogwarts.
Still, if he ever became Headmaster one day, he could certainly pull some strings.
Turning public property into private assets? That was a trick he knew all too well.
Wayne carried the sword back into the room.
"Hey, Old Hat, did Gryffindor leave behind any other treasures? Show me something impressive," the boy asked bluntly.
The response was a derisive snort. "Godric was a pauper. To forge this shoddy sword, he had to borrow money from Salazar and Rowena."
"For several years after, he only managed to fill his belly thanks to Helga's food magic."
"What other treasures could he possibly have?"
Wayne used Transfiguration to craft a custom scabbard for the sword, sheathing it before pressing further: "The other founders' treasures would do too. I'm not picky."
The Sorting Hat fell silent.
Partly shocked by Wayne's shamelessness, it also found itself seriously considering the question.
After all, having accepted Wayne's... gifts, it couldn't very well refuse.
After a long pause, the Hat finally answered hesitantly, "I don't know anything about other treasures. At least, not that I can recall."
"What happened to the founders, then?" Wayne inquired, curious.
"After founding the school, the disagreements among the founders grew deeper, and tensions between them ran high."
"Especially between Godric and Salazar—they nearly came to blows. In the end, Salazar simply left the castle and never returned."
"As for Helga and Rowena... Rowena fell gravely ill after learning of her daughter's death."
"One day, the castle was filled with a shower of blue thistles. Everyone knew then—Ravenclaw had departed. Even in death, great wizards leave in extraordinary ways."
"How did the other founders die?" Wayne frowned.
A thought struck him—a blind spot in history.
There were no clear records of how any of the four founders died. Even for Rowena, historians could only speculate that she succumbed to illness.
Given their greatness, living for centuries wouldn't have been difficult. The previous headmaster, Armando Dippet, had lived for over three hundred years.
So why, in Hogwarts: A History, was there no mention of any founder beyond the early 1000s?
"Don't know," the Hat replied bluntly.
"After the four great wizards imbued me with their thoughts, I was left at the school."
"Not long after Salazar left, Godric departed as well. People said he returned to Godric's Hollow, but he never came back to the school, not even once."
"Over a decade later, his tombstone appeared in the garden behind his old home."
"As for Helga, after the first Headmaster was chosen, she left the castle to ensure his authority."
The Sorting Hat sighed wistfully. "Those were truly unforgettable times. You can't imagine how marvellous it was to have the four most powerful wizards of the age gathered together."
"Even the wizarding families most opposed to Hogwarts would send their students here to receive their teachings."
Wayne still frowned. Out of the four founders, everyone except Ravenclaw had gone missing?
"Anyway, forget about any treasures. I'm just an ordinary, slightly fashionable hat. I know nothing about any hidden treasures."
"The only thing I can tell you is that they all left their marks within the castle."
"Marks?"
"That's right. Like me, for example. Or that battered old sword."
"And other miscellaneous things too. I heard Godric mention some things when he was drunk, but you can't expect a hat to remember too much."
The Sorting Hat wobbled and rambled on, but instead of getting answers, Wayne found himself with even more questions.
Just as Dumbledore had told him, this castle held too many secrets. Even after a thousand years, many remained undiscovered.
Without any leads, dwelling on it was pointless.
Wayne carefully stored the sword and the Sorting Hat, then descended the stairs to the basement.
"Hiss!"
In the sealed room, the hissing was unmistakably clear. Spotting the young man's arrival, Nagini, coiled in the corner, perked up. The ten-foot serpent slithered forward, her supple body coiling around him.
Wayne reached out, stroking the cold serpent's head as its forked tongue flickered against his neck.
Had anyone witnessed this scene, they might have sworn they were seeing a Slytherin—perhaps even the Heir of Slytherin himself.
Snakes held extraordinary significance for Slytherin. Wherever he appeared, serpents were never far behind.
No wonder Voldemort kept Nagini by his side as a symbol of status.
"Still want more?" Wayne asked softly, a smile playing on his lips.
"Hiss~ hiss~"
"No need to rush." The boy shook his head. "We have time. Continuous burning would be too much for you."
"Hiss~ hiss~" Nagini persisted.
But Wayne remained firm. Eventually, the serpent slumped to the ground in defeat. Chuckling, Wayne leaned against her, using the vicious viper as a pillow.
After prolonged treatment from Ho-Oh, Nagini was nearly fully healed.
Only a final remnant of the curse remained, preventing her from regaining human form—hence her impatience.
Of course, Nagini also wished to assist Wayne sooner, knowing the boy had many uses for her.
What could a mere snake accomplish?
Still, Wayne refused for safety's sake. Their last session had been just a few days ago. The next attempt would require removing all lingering traces of the curse in one go—Nagini needed to be in her peak condition to avoid danger.
...
The new week began with Wayne returning the Sorting Hat first thing in the morning, though he kept the Sword of Gryffindor for now, intending to study it further.
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose at the dozen silver flowers now adorning the ancient hat.
"This is..."
"Well, Dumbledore?" the Sorting Hat chirped. "My new look—quite fashionable, don't you think?"
"An... elusive beauty," Dumbledore said, adjusting his spectacles with diplomatic praise.
His gaze shifted to Wayne—the true architect of this transformation.
Wayne smiled sheepishly. "Well, neither of us will need to wear it again, will we?"
Dumbledore nodded sagely. "That does provide considerable comfort."
"Professor, with the hat returned, I should head to class."
"Off you go then, Mr Lawrence."
Wayne left the office, making his way to the third-floor Transfiguration classroom.
...
Professor McGonagall expressed deep dissatisfaction with her students' progress. Many still struggled with the Vanishing Spell, managing to vanish only half of their mice. She retaliated by assigning twelve-foot essays to be completed before the next class.
"You are quite possibly the worst cohort I've taught," McGonagall warned. "Anyone failing to vanish a mouse completely by next lesson will have all future assignments doubled."
Ron turned as red as his hair in terror—his performance had been the poorest.
Even Neville only left his mouse missing a paw, while Ron's Scabbers remained entirely unaffected.
Harry comforted his friend, suggesting that they do extra practice. Winning the Quidditch match had put him in excellent spirits, which in turn improved his magical studies considerably.
This good mood lasted precisely until that afternoon's Potions class.
Having lost ten points in the Quidditch match, Slytherin House would ensure Gryffindor lost twice as many. From the very first lesson, Snape deliberately separated Hermione and Harry, pairing Harry with Neville instead. He spent the entire class standing behind them, watching as they brewed an anti-itch potion.
Not a single mistake escaped his notice, nor his opportunity to spew venom.
Several times, Harry imagined his fist making intimate contact with Snape's hooked nose, but restrained himself each time.
During dinner, he asked Hermione furiously, "Does Wayne offer assassination services? Maiming would do too – just poison Snape's mouth into silence."
Hermione, reading Transfiguration Today while eating, rolled her eyes.
"Even if he did, you probably couldn't afford it."
Harry slumped at the thought of his already dwindling gold reserves.
Suddenly, he began praying like a madman – praying Snape would become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. That way, he'd only have to endure him for one more year before never seeing him again.
...
That evening, while chatting with the young witch, Hermione mentioned Harry's earlier complaints.
Wayne couldn't help but laugh.
"There actually is a way. It just depends on whether he's willing to make the sacrifice."
"What way?"
Hermione pondered. Getting Snape to stop targeting Harry seemed about as likely as Malfoy becoming Harry's best friend.
"Have Harry ask me himself. If he agrees, you'll see the results in a few days."
Wayne didn't elaborate, and Hermione didn't press. Instead, she asked about the method he'd mentioned earlier for rapidly improving her combat experience.
"Should be ready by the weekend. Just finalising adjustments." Wayne stretched. He and Nicolas Flamel had pulled several all-nighters working on it.
Hermione grew increasingly excited.
...
The next day, upon hearing from Hermione that Wayne actually had a solution, Harry stuffed bread into his mouth and rushed to the Hufflepuff table.
"How much? Name a price I can accept."
"No charge." Wayne shook his head. "But it requires strong mental resilience."
Harry stared at Wayne in shock, then turned to Toby, who was eating beside them. "Is he ill?"
His limited worldview simply couldn't comprehend Wayne's refusal to accept payment.
"Nope," Toby mumbled around a sausage, bewildered.
"It's a prototype, and you're the first client, so it's free. But if you want more later, you'll have to buy them."
Wayne dabbed his mouth elegantly and produced a tin-foil-wrapped sweet from his pocket.
"What's this? Nosebleed Nougat?" Harry eyed it curiously. "Good idea for skipping class."
"That thing's a joke against Snape. He's a Potions Master." Wayne scoffed. "If you tried it, he'd just deduct house points in bulk."
"This is a Gender-Swap Mint."
"Gender-swap..." Harry repeated faintly, his expression growing horrified as he stared at the sweet.
"I don't want to be a woman!"
"It's temporary. Lasts half a day to a day at most."
"Still no!" Harry shook his head like a rattle-drum. "What kind of terrible idea is this?"
"How is it terrible?" Wayne frowned at him. "Think carefully. Although Snape targets Gryffindor, doesn't he go easier on the girls? Look at Hermione – has he ever picked on her?"
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"Fair point."
Apart from initially giving Hermione the nickname "Miss Know-It-All," Snape generally chose to ignore her.
But what Harry didn't know was that the reason Snape didn't target Hermione was that behind her stood an extremely petty yet powerful wizard.
Wayne continued analysing: "If you take that Gender-Swap Mint before class, even if he knows it's you, would he have the heart to say harsh words when faced with a pitiful-looking girl?"
Harry nodded thoughtfully again.
"Also fair."
"Then it's settled." Wayne shoved the sweets into Harry's hand.
"Originally two Galleons per piece, but I'll give it to you free. Just tell me the exact duration of the effects. Good deal, right?"
Harry nodded vigorously. "Deal!"
"Then hurry back and keep it safe. Don't lose it."
Harry stood up dazedly and returned to the Gryffindor table.