Mahoutokoro was an exceptionally unique wizarding school.
In terms of student numbers, it was the smallest of the eleven major wizarding schools, admitting only pure-blood wizards and requiring a certain level of financial means from families.
Regarding the age of enrolment, Mahoutokoro accepted students as young as seven. However, until they turned eleven, students were day scholars, commuting daily via giant petrels. Only after eleven were they permitted to board at the palace.
The school also lacked a traditional house-sorting system. All students wore identical uniforms—though these would change over time.
Upon enrolment, every student's robes were a pale pink. As they grew older and their knowledge expanded, the robes would gradually shift in colour, eventually turning gold to signify readiness for graduation.
This also meant that Mahoutokoro didn't have specific year divisions. All students attended classes according to the colour of their robes. Unless their robes turned gold, they couldn't graduate even if they studied until their dying day.
It was said that Mahoutokoro still had several elderly men in their seventies or eighties who hadn't graduated, occasionally becoming the butt of jokes in the local Prophet.
When robes turned white, it signified expulsion. 'Whitening' was a terrible disgrace that would even warrant judgment from the local Ministry of Magic.
These students' robes were silver, representing the penultimate stage before graduation – undoubtedly the school's elite.
Wayne moved closer to observe the spectacle. Mahoutokoro's lead professor kept bowing repeatedly, though he seemed to know little French, cycling through the same phrases: "My deepest apologies for the inconvenience," and similar expressions, his attitude utterly deferential.
Wayne had little interest in this distinctly 'baka'-looking professor, instead studying Mahoutokoro's three students.
More precisely, the girl among them.
She appeared quite young – Wayne guessed slightly older than himself but younger than Fleur.
With short brown hair, large emerald-green eyes, and a cute face still bearing traces of baby fat, she was undeniably a beautiful girl.
Of course, Wayne's prolonged stare couldn't possibly stem from such superficial reasons.
Well... that was part of it.
Primarily, he felt an inexplicable familiarity with this girl.
Yet his formidable memory confirmed they'd never met.
After prolonged consideration yielded no clues, Wayne quietly returned to his seat, attributing the sensation to his supposed 'connection' with all beautiful women.
Meanwhile, the brown-haired girl he'd scrutinised had practically buried her face in her chest.
'Who is this person? His gaze is terrifying... has he already targeted me?'
"Do you know that girl?" Cassandra leaned over to ask.
After spending time together, the two had grown considerably closer. Recently, Cassandra had become noticeably more casual in speech, shedding her initial restraint.
At first, she'd been thoroughly intimidated by Wayne.
Later, Cassandra discovered the boy was actually quite approachable and mild-tempered – truly a kind-hearted Hufflepuff.
"Of course not," Wayne glanced at the blonde girl dismissively.
"You stared for so long at someone you don't know?" Cassandra's expression mirrored that of someone looking at a Flobberworm. "Don't be like those disgusting boys – I'll lose respect for you."
"I'm nothing like them," Wayne declared earnestly. "They'd stare at you. I don't – I only look at others."
Snap!
Cassandra's quill snapped in her grip, veins throbbing at her temples.
She immediately retracted her earlier assessment of Wayne.
What kind-hearted Hufflepuff? This was a complete rogue!
...
After negotiations, Mahoutokoro's students were granted merely one hour's rest before joining the competition.
This compromise was accepted by their lead professor, as waiting five days for them was already exceptionally generous.
Moreover, he had complete confidence in his students.
The professor glanced at the brown-haired girl, offered some encouraging words, and then left the room for them to prepare
...
One hour later.
Twenty-one contestants sat at their desks as Snape, Puddifoot from Beauxbatons, and Lafferty distributed the examination papers in their capacity as invigilators.
Hmm?
Wayne sensed something and looked up.
A male student from Beauxbatons was glaring at him with undisguised hostility. When caught, the boy didn't avert his gaze but instead raised his eyebrows challengingly.
What a lunatic.
Wayne mentally noted this individual, deciding to investigate after the exam.
The Wizarding Schools Potions Championship consisted of two components: a written test and practical demonstrations.
Each component was further divided into two parts. Today's examination covered the first written segment – knowledge of materials and magical herbs.
The second written test would focus on potions theory.
For the practical segment, each student needed to brew two potions. The first would be an assigned potion, graded based on quality.
The second allowed free experimentation – any satisfactory submission before the deadline would suffice.
The evaluation criteria for the free-choice potion considered not only completion and quality, but also the brewing difficulty for comprehensive scoring.
Judges wouldn't be professors from participating schools, but rather qualified potions scholars specially invited for assessment.
The paper posed no challenge to Wayne. Within half an hour, he'd completed all answers and sat idly.
Noticing this, Snape approached, reviewed Wayne's paper, and left satisfied.
Lafferty followed suit, shaking his head as he departed.
Seeing that both professors had inspected, Padilla felt obliged to do the same.
Their attention eventually irritated Wayne, who slumped onto the desk for a nap.
When the two-hour limit elapsed, papers were collected. Contestants displayed varied expressions – except Cassandra, Wayne, and the mahogany-haired girl from Mahoutokoro, most appeared apprehensive.
"How are quality leeches distinguished?" Henderson turned to compare answers with Wayne.
"By body length, flatness, and spindle shape. The stronger the posterior sucker's suction, the higher the quality."
"Damn it." Henderson smacked his forehead. "I wrote anterior sucker."
Russel urgently asked, "What potions use powdered fluxweed leaves?"
"Polyjuice Potion or Fire Protection Potion – either answer works."
"Er... What about Amortentia?"
Wayne looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Fluxweed isn't moondew. How could you confuse them?"
Russel paled. Several nearby contestants who'd overheard their conversation also showed visible distress.
As the pair prepared more questions, Snape interrupted.
"Tomorrow at two o'clock, same classroom for the second written test."
Due to Mahoutokoro's delayed arrival, the interval between tests had been compressed to less than a day.
Many resolved to take energy-boosting potions and pull all-nighters.
Exiting the classroom, Cassandra sought to discuss the exam with Wayne. But preoccupied with the Beauxbatons boy, the young man hurried off without turning, making the girl stamp her foot in frustration.
...
Finding Fleur, Wayne described the male student's appearance with absolute certainty.
"That guy's definitely trouble."
"Why do you say that?" Fleur widened her eyes, asking in confusion.
She had some guesses about the reason, but still found it strange how Wayne could know.
"I'm a Hufflepuff," Wayne said matter-of-factly to the girl. "If he dislikes even me, then the problem must be with him."
"Pfft!"
Hearing this explanation, Fleur finally couldn't hold back her laughter, shaking as she leaned against Wayne for support:
"How can you be so full of yourself?"
Wayne corrected her: "This isn't being full of myself, it's called having clear self-awareness."
"Alright, alright, you and your twisted logic." Fleur extended her slender jade-like fingers and tapped the boy's forehead.
"Probably because of me. That guy's name is Phineas Samuel. He's been pursuing me for two years, and I've never given him the time of day."
Afraid the boy might misunderstand, Fleur emphasised: "I absolutely detest him. I avoid him whenever possible, but that guy's like an annoying fly. Next time he bothers me, I'll take direct action."
Wayne's focus, however, was elsewhere: "What did you say his surname was? Samuel?"
"Yes, why?"
"Is that a French pure-blood family?"
"Correct." Fleur nodded. "Though not particularly famous, the Samuel family has existed for centuries. One of their ancestors was even taken as an apprentice by Mr Nicolas Flamel."
"That settles it then, it's this Samuel." Wayne looked thoughtful.
"What are you talking about? What about the Samuel family?" Fleur asked curiously.
"Nothing much, Nicolas mentioned them to me." Wayne evaded the question, not telling Fleur about the scenes he'd witnessed in Nicolas's dreams.
That Samuel had ultimately been dealt with by Nicolas, though publicly it was claimed he'd died in a dangerous alchemy experiment, severing the last threads of their master-apprentice bond.
Nicolas had also warned Wayne not to speak of this matter.
However...
That didn't prevent him from making trouble for this Phineas character.
Hufflepuffs never held grudges - they settled them immediately.
Wayne considered the situation. Based on his experience, the proper approach would be to pretend nothing happened, wait for Phineas to provoke him, then deliver a crushing counterattack in front of everyone, thoroughly humiliating him.
This would highlight his own innocence and Phineas's despicable nature, rallying public sentiment against the bully until he became universally despised.
But...
This approach didn't suit his persona.
He, Earl Lawrence, recipient of the Order of Merlin Second Class, inheritor of the Badger's Will - why should he stoop to waiting for some minor character's provocation?
Therefore, Wayne decided...
To tell the adults!
...
Headmaster's Office at Beauxbatons.
"Mr Lawrence, what brings you here?" Madame Maxime warmly invited Wayne to sit in the reception area.
Ever since being surrounded by over a dozen snow dragons, Wayne's standing in Maxime's eyes had risen considerably, her attitude becoming even more cordial.
"It's like this, Madame..." Wayne briefly explained the situation, including how Fleur was being persistently harassed.
Madame Maxime's expression gradually darkened, eventually turning ashen.
"Madame, Fleur is your favourite student, and I greatly admire the atmosphere at Beauxbatons. It's truly a shame that someone like this has appeared."
Wayne sighed. "Mr Samuel seems to have misunderstood me. I don't wish for any conflicts with him in the coming days that might damage my affection for Beauxbatons."
"At the same time, his behaviour has caused Fleur considerable distress. As you can see..."
The tactic of informing parents wasn't limited to just one's own. When troublesome students caused problems, one simply had to involve theirs.
If the parents were reasonable, the matter could be resolved easily.
If they were equally troublesome, then they'd be dealt with together.
Clearly, Madame Maxime fell into the first category – or rather, Wayne's strength and potential compelled her to be the first type.
"Mr Lawrence, I understand." Maxime took a deep breath and strode to her desk, writing a note before tossing the parchment out the window.
"Please wait a moment. I assure you such incidents won't occur again."
Wayne gave a slight nod, sampling the macarons and coffee on the table.
After about fifteen minutes, the office door was knocked upon.
"Enter!" Maxime said sternly.
The door opened to reveal Samuel smiling as he bowed slightly. "Madame, you... Why are you here?"
Before he could finish, he spotted Wayne sitting on the sofa watching him with amusement and exclaimed in surprise.
Wayne shrugged without speaking, turning his gaze to Madame Maxime instead.
The expression on Samuel's face darkened with anger, his fists clenching tightly beneath his robes.
"Samuel, Mr Lawrence is my guest," Maxime reprimanded sharply. "Since when do you question my guests?"
"That's not it, Madame," Samuel hastily defended himself. "I merely—"
"Enough!" Maxime's cold rebuke silenced him immediately. Not daring to challenge the Headmaster's authority, Samuel fell quiet, though his face twisted with suppressed resentment.
"I summoned you here to deliver two announcements," she continued.
"First, you are henceforth forbidden from approaching Miss Delacour – you're not even to go near her!"
Samuel's head jerked up, but Maxime paid no heed as she added, "Second, you will apologise to Mr Lawrence. What status do you hold to dare provoke someone of his standing?"
"That won't be necessary," Wayne interjected modestly. "Given that Mr Samuel and I won't cross paths in future, simply keeping his distance suffices."
Maxime nodded. "Mr Lawrence, you truly embody Hufflepuff's forgiving nature. Very well then, Samuel, I shan't assign you detention."
"But should you appear before Mr Lawrence outside tournament events, I'll summon your parents to collect you – after they've given you several remedial lessons in manners!"
Samuel paled, his lips trembling wordlessly.
Madame Maxime wasn't merely a Headmaster; her influence extended deep into the Ministry of Magic, cementing her reputation as an indomitable woman.
Being sent home would shatter his post-graduation ambitions of Ministry employment.
"Y-yes, Madame," he stammered, voice cracking.
"Dismissed." With an impatient wave, Maxime sent him scurrying away like a frightened rabbit.
Watching his retreating figure, Wayne knew the matter was settled.
Just an ordinary young wizard, thoroughly cowed by the Headmaster's warning – hardly capable of retaliation.
"Madame, thank you for your assistance," Wayne said, rising to express his gratitude.
"Nonsense, this reflects poorly on my oversight. Fleur too – she never mentioned these incidents." Maxime shook her head. "My apologies for this unsightly display."
"Not at all. I witnessed only your absolute authority over the students," Wayne offered diplomatically.
The atmosphere eased considerably as they discussed tournament matters before Wayne took his leave.
He intended to share the good news with Fleur – no more bothersome flies buzzing around her.
Descending the first staircase, Wayne froze.
A brown-haired girl from Mahoutokoro stood ahead, large eyes brimming with confusion as she glanced left and right.
A passing student attempted to help, but their language barrier foiled communication.
Approaching, Wayne inquired in Japanese: "Are you lost?"
The girl brightened instantly, bowing deeply. "You speak Japanese? How wonderful!"
"Hello, I'm Sakura Kinomoto. I can't find the Great Hall – could you direct me?"
"Oh, Sakura Kinomoto." Wayne nodded absently. "I'm Wayne Lawrence. The Great Hall is—"
Mid-sentence, he stiffened, staring intently at the girl.
"You said your name is Sakura Kinomoto?"