The Leaky Cauldron.
Flames in the fireplace suddenly leapt higher as a figure stepped out from within.
Tom spotted the new arrival and greeted him warmly.
"Good morning, Professor Snape."
"What brings you here today? Can I get you something to drink?"
"No need for trouble, Mr Abbott." Faced with Tom's enthusiasm, Snape remained his usual impassive self. "I'm here to meet someone. I won't be staying long."
"Suit yourself." Tom wasn't bothered by Snape's demeanour.
Everyone knew the Head of Slytherin House wasn't the most approachable. Apart from maintaining decent relations with some pure-blood families, it was rare for him to exchange pleasantries with others.
Tom was merely curious. "Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts waiting for the students to return? Term starts today."
"Wizarding Schools Potions Championship," Snape said tersely, and Tom immediately understood.
"Ah, my Hannah mentioned that. You're off to Beauxbatons, aren't you?"
"I hear two of the three competitors are from Hufflepuff," Tom said cheerfully. "Hannah's friend Lawrence got selected, too. I knew from the first time I met him that lad was something special."
"Representing the school in his second year – simply outstanding!"
As a fellow Hufflepuff alumnus, he swelled with pride that his house had produced such talent.
The broader Tom grinned, the darker Snape's expression grew.
Lawrence. Why did it always have to be Lawrence?
Even now, Snape was still pondering whether Wayne's words that day – those that had struck a nerve – had been deliberate or accidental.
If deliberate...
Then who had told him those things?
Dumbledore?
That old fool wouldn't stoop to such pettiness...
When Snape remained silent, old Tom went about his business.
Before long, Henderson and Russel, the other two competitors, arrived at the Leaky Cauldron accompanied by their parents.
"Professor," Henderson greeted somewhat stiffly.
Russel's father knew Snape, and after exchanging a few words, the man frowned and asked: "Weren't there supposed to be three? Where's the last one? No sense of punctuality?"
Russel's heart skipped a beat as he stared nervously at his father, inwardly cursing.
Choose your words carefully!
If Lawrence heard this, how was he supposed to face him at school!
Usually, it's sons who land their fathers in trouble, but here his father was the one sabotaging his son. Russel looked at Henderson with pleading eyes, begging him not to reveal the matter.
Henderson exerted tremendous willpower not to laugh aloud, nodding at Russel instead.
"That student went to Paris first," Snape explained. "He'll rendezvous with us there."
Russel's father opened his mouth to protest, but Russel cut him off.
"Alright, Dad, it's getting late. Isn't Mum waiting for you at home? You should head back!"
"Your mother went shopping with Carol..." Old Russel began, but found himself being ushered out of the Leaky Cauldron.
"Professor, we should depart now."
Without a word, Snape led the two to Diagon Alley's square, producing a whistle from his robes and blowing it sharply.
Soon, a carriage compartment appeared in mid-air – strangely, without any visible creatures pulling it – before landing smoothly before the trio.
"Board," Snape said coldly.
Henderson and Russel hurried into the compartment, already familiar with such transport.
After their first year crossing the Black Lake by boat, students always returned to the castle in these horseless carriages.
But upon entering, they realised their mistake.
While outwardly ordinary, the interior spanned over a hundred square metres, complete with a sitting room, bedrooms, and even a washroom.
"Choose a room or remain in the sitting area," Snape instructed after entering, pulling the reins to send the carriage airborne.
With that, he disappeared into a room, shutting the door behind him.
Seeing Snape's dismissive attitude actually eased the boys' tension somewhat.
Even Slytherins felt pressure around their head of house.
Curious, they peered out the window as the shrinking city vanished beneath them. The carriage levelled off after piercing the clouds, yet remained perfectly steady – as stable as a grounded building.
"Hogwarts has treasures like this? Far better than the Hogwarts Express," Henderson remarked, sinking into the plush leather sofa.
"Hmph," Russel scoffed. "Thestrals provide smooth travel, but the school would never waste them on student transport."
"You're saying Thestrals are pulling us?" Henderson's eyes widened slightly. As a half-blood, he lacked Russel's pureblood knowledge.
"Obviously," Russel said. "The Forbidden Forest hosts Britain's largest Thestral colony. Don't tell me you didn't know?"
"Genuinely didn't," Henderson admitted. "But Wayne would. He treats the Forest like his backyard – last time I saw him, he strolled right in under Hagrid's nose without a word of protest."
"That's nothing..." Russel mused. "Getting special privileges from Professor Snape is the real challenge."
Henderson nodded in agreement.
Had either of them demanded a detour to France with Snape as chauffeur, they'd have lost their tournament slots instantly.
Yet Wayne had done precisely that – and succeeded.
Exchanging glances, both knew they were merely making up the numbers, with no real chance at the championship. At least they could enjoy the scenery of other schools, so it wasn't a complete loss.
...
Several hours later, the Thestrals gradually slowed their pace before landing on the ground.
Snape stepped out of the carriage and waited, but Wayne's figure was nowhere to be seen. His expression grew increasingly impatient.
After about another half hour, a handsome young man suddenly appeared on the vast stretch of wasteland before him.
The youth reached Snape in a few quick strides, wearing an apologetic expression:
"Sorry, Professor. There were some matters to attend to—I'm a bit late."
He and Nicolas had been modifying the protective magic of the manor, completely losing track of time. It wasn't until the house-elf Nabby came to inform him about a carriage waiting outside the manor that he remembered his arrangement with Snape.
"Twenty points from Hufflepuff," Snape said coldly before turning back to the carriage.
Wayne's lips twitched.
Not because of the point deduction... but because it hadn't actually taken effect. The system hadn't given any notification about earning points.
No good—he'd have to remind Snape about this when they got back to school. He was just that honest.
Wayne followed behind him onto the carriage, where Russel and Henderson both came over to greet them.
"Lawrence, happy New Year."
Wayne looked at the two with some puzzlement. Why did Russel seem oddly ingratiating today?
But he didn't press further, simply taking a seat on the sofa.
"Wayne, are you visiting France for a holiday?" Henderson asked curiously.
"No, an elder from my family is here. I came to see them." Wayne shook his head, not mentioning Nicolas Flamel's involvement.
Aside from a select few who knew the truth, the general public believed Nicolas had died after losing the Philosopher's Stone. The Daily Prophet had even published his funeral notice, which Dumbledore himself attended.
No need to create unnecessary complications by revealing it.
...
The Thestral-drawn carriage retook flight, moving far faster than before.
The distance from Paris to the Pyrenees was much greater than from London. Combined with Wayne's earlier delays, it wasn't until nightfall—under a blanket of stars—that the carriage finally descended into a mountain basin.
The weather had turned bitterly cold, with howling winds that made everyone except Wayne instinctively pull their robes tighter as they disembarked.
Beauxbatons was a magnificent palace complex. As the carriage landed at the main gates, three figures stood waiting on the ground.
Russel and Henderson couldn't help but shrink back two steps, awestruck by the enormous figure approaching them, while Snape stepped forward.
"Welcome, Professor Snape," Madame Maxime said warmly, embracing him and offering cheek kisses.
The old bat seemed uncomfortable with such gestures, his hands stiffly pressed against his thighs as if unsure where to place them.
Fortunately, Madame Maxime soon released him and turned to Wayne.
"Mr Lawrence, it's been too long."
"All the best to you, Madame." Wayne greeted her politely, engaging in quiet conversation—though his gaze kept drifting past her.
There, a young woman in blue silk robes and a dress hat watched him with unmistakable delight in her eyes.
Russel and Henderson stared at her, utterly entranced. Their heartbeats accelerated as if she were a whirlpool threatening to swallow their very souls.
Noticing the silent exchange between Wayne and the girl, Madame Maxime briefly introduced their Deputy Headmaster before smiling.
"Young people should talk amongst themselves. We'll need to wait a while longer—the Ilvermorny delegation will arrive shortly."
"What about the other schools?" Snape asked.
"Aside from Ilvermorny, only Mahoutokoro remains, though they won't arrive until tomorrow," Maxime replied.
Snape nodded and fell silent, while Wayne moved to Fleur's side, blinking playfully.
"You didn't have to come out just to greet me. I'm touched."
The girl huffed. "Madame insisted. Who'd willingly stand out here in this cold otherwise?"
"Still cold now?" Wayne exhaled, and the wind and snow instinctively diverted around them.
Henderson and Russel, standing nearby: "..."
Flirt all you want, but must we freeze for it?
Yet they couldn't help wondering—how did Wayne know both this Beauxbatons girl and their Headmistress?
Seeing that Fleur's small hands were slightly reddened, Wayne reached out and clasped them to transfer some warmth.
Fleur showed no shyness either, interlocking her fingers tightly with his.
Witnessing this, Maxime couldn't help but smile.
Crack!
A sharp popping sound erupted nearby as space distorted, and four figures tumbled out of thin air.
"Ah, our friends from Ilvermorny have arrived," Maxime stepped forward once more to greet them.
The lead professor shook his head dizzily.
"Blast it, I nearly thought that Portkey was counterfeit."
"Rest assured, Lafferty, the Ministry of Magic wouldn't give you fakes. But do understand, this is intercontinental travel after all."
"Olympe, that was dreadful." Lafferty laughed heartily.
"Father, mind your manners," a beautiful blonde girl behind him tugged at his sleeve.
"No need for formalities, I'm quite used to it," Maxime said after embracing Lafferty, her eyes flashing with surprise as she regarded the golden-haired girl.
"Lafferty... is this truly your daughter?" She eyed the scruffy middle-aged man with disbelief.
What kind of genetic mutation could possibly explain such a vast disparity between father and daughter?
"Olympe!" Lafferty hopped indignantly at her expression. "What's that supposed to mean? I was quite handsome in my youth!"
"Hmph."
Those two simple syllables from Maxime carried more lethal impact than a thousand words.
Lafferty opened his mouth to retort, but his gaze travelled past Maxime's towering frame to spot someone behind her. Delighted, he bypassed the giantess and strode forward with arms outstretched.
"Mr Lawrence! You're already here? I've missed you terribly!"
"Mr Worley, long time no see. How fare the Thunderbirds of Arizona?" Wayne chuckled as they embraced.
"Splendid! We've had five chicks hatch this time – a far better success rate than usual."
Lafferty grew even more animated discussing this, his words now flowing freely.
"I specifically requested this chaperoning assignment; otherwise, there's no way they'd send a Magizoology professor like me."
"I've read all your published papers – excellent work. Have you considered transferring to Ilvermorny? We could use talents like you..."
Reduced to mere background observers, Russel and Henderson exchanged glances.
Another of Wayne's acquaintances?
Russel's eyes signalled: "Is this the Hufflepuff way? Friends everywhere?"
Henderson rolled his eyes: "Bollocks. I'm a Hufflepuff too. Why don't I know any wizards outside school?"
Snape's eyes gleamed at Lafferty's proposal, an uncharacteristic flicker of anticipation crossing his features.
'Having Lawrence transfer schools... now there's an idea, even better if we could keep Ho-Oh at Hogwarts.'
He might have been amenable, but someone else took urgent exception.
Seeing Lafferty immediately attempting to poach students, Maxime gave a pointed sniff. "If Mr Lawrence were to transfer anywhere, it would be Beauxbatons. Look how perfectly matched he and Fleur are."
'Fleur?'
Lafferty blinked, only now noticing the silver-haired girl standing beside the young man. His expression momentarily glazed over before clearing.
"Part-Veela? So that's your play, Olympe."
Lafferty was an expert in the field of magical creatures and quickly discerned the source of Fleur's peculiar allure.
Yet he remained unconvinced.
"Even if she's part-Veela, my daughter's looks certainly wouldn't lose to hers."
He turned and called out, "Cassandra, come here!"
"Father, what are you talking about? Who said anything about competing with her?"
The golden-haired girl stepped forward, first rebutting Lafferty with clear displeasure before turning her gaze to Wayne, who seemed momentarily stunned.
Though shorter in stature, her presence loomed over him with undeniable superiority.
"Hello. I'm Cassandra Worley, a fourth-year at Ilvermorny's Thunderbird house."
"My father has praised you far too many times in front of me. But now that I see you... Aside from being somewhat decent-looking, there's nothing particularly special about you."
"Did he misjudge you?"
Before Wayne could respond, Fleur took offence and fired back: "Who do you think you are, judging Wayne like that? Does acting like you're above everyone else make you special?"
The two beauties locked eyes, sparks flying between them!