Wayne held the helmet in his hands, dismantled its outer shell and drew several runic symbols.
He then extracted strands of silver mist from between his eyebrows and fused them into the helmet.
Finally, he tried it on himself before handing it back to Hermione.
"This should do the trick now."
The young witch re-entered the virtual world and summoned the same opponent as before.
This time, things went much smoother. Once the countdown ended, the opponent fired off a spell first.
Though Hermione was still flustered, she managed to secure an easy victory thanks to her mastery of the Shield Charm and more powerful spells.
When the opponent was switched to a fourth-year student, the casting speed and intensity abruptly escalated.
Wayne's settings were based on solid reasoning—the fourth year truly was a turning point for most.
By the ages of fourteen or fifteen, a young witch or wizard's magical power would grow at a significantly faster rate, only slowing down after graduation and adulthood.
Starting from the fourth year, all classes would advance to a higher level in preparation for the OWL exams the following year.
The fourth-year template Wayne had chosen was modelled after Cedric. Hermione found herself endlessly frustrated by the opponent's ingenious Transfiguration spells, until finally, an agile squirrel snatched the wand right out of her hand.
Defeated, the young witch pulled off the helmet in dismay.
With the help of the Potential Elixir, her raw power wasn't inferior to her opponent's, but she still lost due to lack of experience and panic.
Wayne ruffled her hair. "Don't be afraid of losing. You can't get truly hurt in there."
"Just treat this as homework. Once you can defeat a fourth-year projection without taking any damage, consider the task complete."
Everyone had their own motivational triggers—for Hermione, it was homework and exams.
Sure enough, the moment Wayne framed it that way, Hermione immediately tensed up, put the helmet back on, and resumed training.
"Are there any extras?" Cho, watching with interest, wanted to try it herself.
"Only one for now," Wayne shook his head. "It's a newly developed product, so production is slow."
The Virtual Brain Machine was far more capable than what had been demonstrated.
It embodied the combined wisdom of two master alchemists—Wayne and Nicolas Flamel—as well as the explosive inspiration of a single 'Master's Insight' talent.
During its creation, Wayne had also used Felix Felicis multiple times, granting him near-divine assistance to complete it so quickly.
When the finished product emerged, even Nicolas Flamel couldn't help but marvel that Wayne had created an alchemical artefact that could rival, if not surpass, the Philosopher's Stone.
Most importantly, this Virtual Brain Machine wasn't even the final version—it could still be refined further, eventually influencing reality itself.
Astoria stared nervously at the floating images, her hair standing on end.
Penelope, Daphne, and Cho were too distracted to practise, forcing Wayne to dismiss the projections before they could refocus.
Astoria went off to memorise spells, while Cho and Daphne resumed their dodging drills.
Wayne, meanwhile, took Penelope to a corner to tutor her in Transfiguration.
The older witch excelled in Potions and Charms, but her Transfiguration had always been poor. Still, she wanted to enrol in the advanced classes after sixth year, so Wayne did his best to help.
During a break, Wayne asked, "Are you going home for Christmas break, senior?"
"No, I'm not going back." Penelope shook her head. "I plan to stay at school as long as possible to revise for next year's exams."
"Perfect timing then. I'll need your help with some things later."
"Alright." Penelope agreed without hesitation, not even bothering to ask for details.
Wayne couldn't resist teasing her. "Aren't you worried I might ask you to do something bad?"
The senior blinked, her lovely eyelashes fluttering like a doll's as she whispered: "Even if it means going to Azkaban, I'd accept it."
Penelope's direct approach took Wayne aback.
Under the boy's gaze, the golden-haired girl didn't retreat at all. From those deep blue pupils, Wayne could read countless unspoken things.
This made the boy uncharacteristically flustered.
"Don't worry, it's nothing that serious. I'll tell you when the time comes."
Penelope watched as Wayne averted his eyes, her smile blossoming like flowers.
"I'll follow your lead."
...
After several girls had taken turns experiencing the Virtual Brain Machine's functions, today's lesson came to an end.
Hermione felt reluctant to stop, already sensing her improvement.
The constant duelling, combined with knowing she was in a virtual world, made her far less flustered than usual.
In just two hours, she'd gained more practical experience than in the entire previous year combined.
Hermione wanted to borrow the Virtual Brain Machine to continue training, but Wayne stopped her.
"Can't you feel how mentally exhausted you are?"
Hermione paused. Now that Wayne mentioned it, she did feel extremely tired.
Though only half the day had passed, she felt as drained as after a full day's work.
"It's a side effect," Wayne explained. "In the virtual world, time seems to pass faster, which puts considerable strain on the mind - especially when you've been doing intensive duelling."
"Maximum two hours per day. If you have regular classes, I can only allow one hour."
Seeing how serious Wayne was, Hermione obediently agreed.
To outsiders, Hermione might still be the stubborn know-it-all, but around Wayne, the young witch had grown much softer in temperament.
She knew that whatever Wayne said would never be wrong.
...
As the new week began, Wayne delivered all the Gender-Swap Mints students had ordered.
What followed was an exceptionally chaotic period in the castle.
Some girls suddenly became boys, while some boys turned into girls - yet their behavioural habits remained unchanged. Issues arose with bathroom usage and dormitories.
Hogwarts had a tradition: girls could enter boys' dormitories, but boys couldn't enter girls' dorms.
After taking the Gender-Swap Mints, the castle's original rules set by the four founders became confused.
How should one determine someone's gender now?
Many girls-turned-boys couldn't return to their dorms, while boys-turned-girls couldn't enter girls' dorms, yet dared not return to their original rooms.
For several consecutive days, each house's Common Room became makeshift sleeping quarters for numerous students.
Then on Wednesday, Lockhart was drugged and transformed into a woman. Lockhart's looks were still quite striking even as a woman. During his time as a man, his exceptional appearance and marketing skills had won him the adoration of countless middle-aged witches.
After transforming into a woman, he similarly made young wizards at the school turn their heads frequently.
Far from being angry about being drugged, Lockhart seemed positively delighted, even accentuating the effect with bold red lips and heavy makeup.
He smugly explained to the young wizards: "I know many of you boys admire me greatly, even harbouring... inappropriate thoughts."
"I understand, I truly do. Who could resist the charm of a five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award?"
"But just this once, mind you. If you wish to see my feminine form again, you'll have to write to me."
"Should the requests become numerous enough, I might not refuse."
Wayne clearly saw Cedric's face turn from pale to red, then finally from red to green.
Returning to the common room, he dry-heaved for a full ten minutes before gulping down lemon water while cursing loudly.
He'd intended to disgust Lockhart, only to end up disgusted himself.
"Who'd have improper thoughts about him?! This is slander, defamation!"
"It's Azkaban-worthy!"
The young witches who knew about it were now looking at him differently.
Cedric felt utterly despondent.
He'd already been suspected of being... that sort, and now with this incident, how would he ever find a girlfriend?
Wayne noticed his distress and patted Cedric's shoulder with a sigh.
Saying nothing, yet saying everything.
At least for the next few school years, his dating prospects seemed doomed.
...
The influence of the Gender-Swap Mints continued to spread until, finally, a professor intervened.
Professor McGonagall, having endured enough of gentlemen becoming ladies and ladies becoming gentlemen, went to Dumbledore.
Eventually, Wayne was summoned to the Headmaster's Office.
"Headmaster, you wanted to see me?" Wayne sat obediently across from Dumbledore.
As usual, Wayne mentally reviewed his recent transgressions.
Upon reflection, there were indeed many—too many to count.
He wondered which particular incident had prompted this meeting.
"Mr Lawrence," Dumbledore said cheerfully, conjuring tea and biscuits as usual. "Minerva visited earlier. She finds some of your little inventions rather... disruptive."
"Truthfully, I'm also unaccustomed to Miss Grace suddenly becoming Mr Grace."
"But she feared outright prohibition might dampen your enthusiasm for potion research, affecting the upcoming Potions Exchange. Hence, this conversation."
Dumbledore's diplomacy was characteristically tactful. With such courtesy extended, Wayne naturally reciprocated.
"Rest assured, I'll cease sales immediately."
"Splendid." Dumbledore nodded approvingly.
"But..." The boy's expression turned troubled. "I've already shared the formula with Professor Snape."
"He believes Harry's potion grades would benefit greatly from the Gender-Swap Mints."
Dumbledore paused momentarily before bursting into hearty laughter.
The implications were evidently not lost on him.
"Not to worry, I'll speak with Severus."
With official matters concluded, Dumbledore didn't dismiss Wayne. They lingered over afternoon tea.
"What became of that house-elf from last time?" Wayne inquired curiously.
Since Dobby's delivery to Dumbledore's office, there'd been no updates.
"Ah, Dobby?" Dumbledore nibbled a cauldron cake. "Merely misunderstandings. House-elf logic can be... perplexing, but I assure you he means Mr Potter no harm."
"Mr Potter has graciously forgiven him."
Wayne nodded. This was classic Dumbledore—judging intent over actions.
Those he favoured or respected received extraordinary leniency.
Even within the Order of the Phoenix, such cases existed—like Mundungus Fletcher.
This wizard, permanently entrenched in the underworld of magic, was proficient in every shady trade and a frequent guest at Azkaban. Yet Dumbledore dared to employ him, simply because his nature wasn't truly wicked and he possessed some cleverness.
Ah, Hagrid was actually another excellent example.
A half-giant who frequently caused trouble would only receive such consideration under Dumbledore's care.
If it were Wayne, he'd never recruit such individuals into his ranks.
While loyalty was important, capability was equally important.
Loyalty without reason and ability often brought catastrophic consequences.
Sirius, Harry – they all shared this temperament.
One might say Dumbledore and Snape were essentially leading a team of dreadful allies against Voldemort in the future...
"Oh, do remember to give Nicolas my regards when you reach France," Dumbledore said as Wayne prepared to leave.
"I will, Professor."
After some thought, Wayne placed the remaining few Gender-Swap Mints from his pocket onto the desk.
"No use keeping them. Consider this your Christmas gift."
Dumbledore accepted them with evident delight.
Truthfully, Wayne was simply curious.
Given the opportunity... would Dumbledore consume these sweets... or Grindelwald?
...
No sooner had Wayne stepped through the Headmaster's Office door than he encountered a 'peacock' approaching the entrance.
"Ah, Mr Lawrence." Lockhart flashed his gleaming smile. "What splendid timing. I was just coming to find you, and here you are."
"Professor, is something the matter?" Wayne blinked. This marked the first time Lockhart had sought him out.
"No rush." Lockhart gave his shoulder an amiable pat. "Why don't you wait in my office? I'll join you after discussing the next Duelling Club session with Dumbledore. You know the way?"
"Very well, I know where your office is," Wayne acquiesced with a nod.
Lockhart's office occupied the third-floor space that had previously belonged to Quirrell, although every furnishing had been replaced.
The walls were papered with his own posters, which simultaneously bared eight-toothed grins at Wayne upon his entry.
The desk overflowed with fan mail from across the country and an assortment of quills – some for correspondence, others ornate signature quills. Wayne even spotted one of his own Fluff-Filler Quills amidst the clutter.
The formerly spacious room now felt oppressively cramped beneath this chaotic accumulation.
Preferring ignorance to irritation, Wayne closed his eyes to meditate.
Approximately thirty minutes later, the door swung open to admit Lockhart.
"Ah, apologies, Lawrence – no, may I call you Wayne?" Lockhart settled into his swivel chair.
"As you prefer, Professor," Wayne replied with practised courtesy.
"Now then, Wayne. I hear those Gender-Swap Mints are your creation?" Lockhart straightened with keen interest. "And you produce other... intriguing novelties?"
"Indeed. That quill on your desk, for instance – also my handiwork." Wayne indicated the Fluff-Filler Quill.
"A gift from one of my female students. Most ingenious," Lockhart enthused. "With so many letters to answer daily, it's proven invaluable."
"If you're interested in purchasing more, I have additional stock available."
"Splendid news." As a bestselling author, Lockhart certainly wasn't short of money. Upon learning that Wayne also sold various alchemical items capable of casting spells, he splurged on several.
Selling to Lockhart wouldn't earn points, but it allowed for price hikes—a deal where both parties benefited equally.
A win-win.
After receiving the items, Lockhart became even more enthusiastic. Wayne played along superficially while privately pondering his motives.
After a while, finding Wayne's responses impeccably guarded, Lockhart finally couldn't restrain himself.
"Lawrence, you've got the skills, I've got the connections. It's such a waste limiting these creations of yours to Hogwarts."
"How about partnering to open a shop in Diagon Alley?"
"You needn't worry about rent or paperwork, and I'll only take fifty per cent of the profits."
Lockhart spoke as if he were offering the deal of a lifetime.
Understanding his intentions at last, Wayne genuinely smiled.
'So he's after my secrets...'
'Excellent. You've chosen the path to your own demise.'