Cassandra Worley.
Wayne had felt a sense of familiarity upon hearing Lafferty's surname, but he never would have connected it to Cassandra.
Logically, she should have appeared at Hogwarts over a decade later—yet here she was, attending Ilvermorny instead.
Still, her haughty demeanour and pure-blood aristocratic pride remained unchanged.
He recalled some information Newt had shared about the Worley family.
In America, the Worleys held a status comparable to the Sacred Twenty-Eight in Britain and Europe.
During the early days of MACUSA's founding, there were only twelve Aurors—only two of whom survived the war against the Scourers.
Their descendants often pursued careers as Aurors, earning widespread respect among wizards.
The Worleys were one such family, boasting a near three-hundred-year legacy.
By American standards, they were an absolute old-money dynasty.
While Wayne was lost in thought, the two girls had already begun their verbal duel.
At Fleur's taunt, Cassandra's expression darkened with irritation. She crossed her arms and sneered, "The person in question hasn't even spoken yet. Why are you so eager to butt in? I wasn't asking you. Where are your manners?"
"Someone who opens with provocation has no right to lecture others about manners."
"That wasn't provocation—just a statement of fact."
The professors exchanged glances and silently agreed not to intervene. A clash between students was one thing, but stepping in would be bullying.
Back and forth they went, neither yielding an inch. Both were fiercely proud—Fleur despised Cassandra's inexplicable arrogance, while Cassandra looked down on Fleur's half-Veela heritage.
Among wizards, mixed-blood status with non-human beings was often more stigmatised than being a half-blood.
And for someone like Cassandra, who believed in the inherent inequality of wizards, it was even worse.
Despite Lafferty and his wife's repeated attempts to temper her views, she remained stubbornly set in her ways. The two were getting increasingly heated in their argument when Wayne finally snapped out of his daze and stopped Fleur.
"Miss Worley, is it?" The young man's expression was calm, neither showing enthusiasm because Cassandra could be considered an 'old acquaintance' nor anger from the earlier provocation.
"Since you believe Mr Worley misjudged, could you tell me exactly where he went wrong?"
"Or rather, what do you think I should be like?"
Cassandra was taken aback, not expecting Wayne to turn the question back on her.
After a moment's thought, the young woman folded her arms and drawled, "Father's assessment of you? A once-in-an-era prodigy, the next Dumbledore, someone whose mere acquaintance would be an honour for all."
Hearing these descriptions, Wayne actually flushed with rare embarrassment and waved dismissively at Lafferty.
"Mr Worley, that's... excessive."
He hadn't expected Lafferty to spin such outrageous praise about him to his own daughter...
"Not excessive in the slightest," Lafferty countered. "They simply haven't witnessed your brilliance, so they can't possibly imagine it."
"I'm certain Olympe would agree with me."
"Indeed, Lafferty isn't exaggerating at all," Maxime nodded in agreement.
Had it been otherwise, the two wouldn't have repeatedly invited Wayne to join their magical school.
To them, Wayne was the next Dumbledore.
How significant was that?
Despite Hogwarts' teaching quality having deteriorated to such an appalling state, it was still considered one of the world's finest magical schools – solely because Dumbledore was there.
With Wayne, there would be no dispute about which school would be the greatest in the next century.
If he were merely an ordinary genius, they wouldn't have acted in such a manner unbecoming of their status.
No matter how exceptional one might be, unless they reached the calibre of Dumbledore or Grindelwald, they still couldn't influence the grand scheme of things.
Upon hearing the two (Deputy) Headmasters' evaluation of Wayne, several students wore expressions of bewilderment, as did the Deputy Headmaster of Beauxbatons.
But Snape lowered his head.
He had to admit – the assessment was utterly accurate.
"Father!" Cassandra glared at Lafferty disapprovingly.
She was still in the midst of confronting Wayne – how could their own side surrender already?
"Very well," Wayne sighed.
"Though what you say is true, I'd prefer if such remarks were made less frequently in future. It's rather embarrassing."
Gazing at the indignant Cassandra, Wayne spoke calmly: "Frankly, it matters little to me how you perceive me – so long as you don't parade your opinions before me."
"But since you've chosen to voice your provocation... if I don't teach you a lesson now, it would suggest I lack temperament..."
Cassandra watched Wayne warily, her wand gripped tightly in her hand.
'You wanted to see what makes me special?' The young man slowly extended his right hand, palm open. "Then you shall have your wish."
Huum~!
The howling winds grew more violent as magical power radiated from the youth, making his robes billow dramatically.
Lafferty's expression changed slightly. Just as he moved to speak, an earth-shattering roar echoed from the distance.
BOOM~!
One of the eastern peaks trembled violently, its snowy summit cascading downward in great sheets. Before Lafferty could mediate, he whirled around to see Maxime and Snape wearing equally grave expressions.
"Why a sudden avalanche? We must get inside the school at once!"
Against natural disasters, even wizards were often powerless. Fortunately, Beauxbatons' intricate defensive measures would prevent any real damage to the school.
"Compose yourself, Madame Maxime," Wayne said coolly. "This is merely me demonstrating my so-called 'special qualities' to Miss Worley. There won't be an avalanche."
Every eye turned to the young man!
The anticipated avalanche never came. Instead, the snow from the mountaintop rose into the air, coalescing into numerous white ice dragons.
The next instant.
With deafening roars, the ice dragons charged!
Dozens of snow serpents advanced menacingly, drawing horrified gazes as they encircled the group completely.
One flew closer, positioning itself behind Wayne. Its massive, hovering form – spanning dozens of metres – exerted such pressure that Cassandra's breath caught in her throat.
The blonde girl had no doubt: were those hollow eye sockets given actual eyes, the creature would become truly alive.
And then... crush her effortlessly.
"Miss Worley..." Wayne addressed the stunned golden-haired girl.
Their dynamic had undergone a complete reversal now, with the young man looking down imperiously as he demanded: "Now, do you still think Mr Worley's assessment of me was exaggerated?"
Cassandra shook her head woodenly.
"Good." Wayne nodded in satisfaction. "Questioning the truth is your right, but not all powerful wizards are as accommodating as I am—take my Potions professor, for example."
"So in future, do mind your tone. Don't go provoking enemies you can't afford to cross."
Snape's face darkened.
'Even now, you seize the chance to mock me, don't you?'
Fleur, meanwhile, wore an expression of pride, casting a triumphant glance at the speechless Cassandra.
She'd been startled too at first, but upon realising everything had been under Wayne's control, her fear had turned to admiration.
With a casual wave of the boy's hand, the snow dragons encircling them dispersed into the wind, settling onto the ground and thickening the surrounding snowdrifts considerably.
"Shall we head inside?" Madame Maxime interjected diplomatically. "Our guests have travelled far, and the school has prepared a banquet in your honour."
"Brilliant." Lafferty chimed in eagerly. "I've been dreaming about your House-elves since my last visit to Beauxbatons. Surely you could spare me one?"
"Don't be absurd—they're school property," Madame Maxime scolded good-naturedly, easing the tension.
The group proceeded through the gates, with Maxime leading the way. Snape walked alongside the other Deputy Headmaster, the two being old acquaintances.
Through Fleur's introductions, Wayne learned this was Beauxbatons' Potions professor.
Hmm. Lafferty was Ilvermorny's Deputy Headmaster. By that measure, Snape was clearly the underachiever—just an ordinary teaching professor.
Now, Professor McGonagall's presence would have represented proper equivalency.
Fleur enthusiastically pointed out various buildings and landmarks as they walked.
The Beauxbatons campus was largely symmetrical, with a grand palace complex dominating the central axis.
'Palace' might be overstating it—more accurately, it was an interconnected cluster of palatial buildings covering extensive grounds, though none rose higher than three storeys.
They followed the central avenue inward, flanked by twin water channels that converged at an enormous fountain before branching outward again.
Dragging Wayne by the hand, Fleur bounded up to the fountain. "This is the Fontaine Magique! Beauxbatons has seventy-six fountains, but only these waters carry special properties—they improve one's complexion."
Wayne studied the fountain's central feature: brass statues of a wizard and witch, water arcing from their wands, surrounded by smaller figures spouting lesser streams.
What amused him was recognising Nicolas Flamel and Perenelle as the central figures.
"Who knew Nicolas went through such a narcissistic phase?" Wayne chuckled. "I'll have to tease him about this later."
As the pair bantered, Cassandra trailed at the group's rear—close enough not to get lost, but visibly despondent.
"Still dwelling on earlier events?"
Lafferty slowed his pace deliberately, waiting until Cassandra drew near before speaking softly.
"Father..." Cassandra looked at Lafferty, lips parting soundlessly. After a long silence, the blonde girl spoke softly, "I'm sorry for my rudeness today. I provoked Lawrence."
"I shouldn't have doubted your judgement of people, nor should I have adopted such a confrontational attitude..."
Much of Cassandra's impulsiveness could actually be attributed to Lafferty.
He often went on about how exceptional Wayne was – his remarkable talents and amiable nature – even suggesting Cassandra should meet him to lure him to Ilvermorny.
How could the competitive Cassandra tolerate this? She'd always considered herself superior, and Lafferty's words made her feel like a mere marriage tool for the family.
That's why she'd spoken so sharply earlier.
Usually, she was merely haughty, never an instigator.
"Provoked is too strong a word." Hearing his daughter's apology, Lafferty shook his head slowly. "Given Lawrence's temperament and upbringing, if he says it's over, then it's over. You needn't dwell on it."
Cassandra bit her lip.
"I only hope you'll learn from this and recognise your mistake."
Lafferty strolled beside his daughter. "You always believe wizards aren't born equal, that displaying your superiority before classmates merely proves their inferiority."
"It's hard to correct this view with words, because you're no longer a child."
Lafferty gazed at the young man's figure ahead. "True excellence and strength are never flaunted – they emerge naturally, commanding genuine admiration and awe."
"Father, I'll strive harder," Cassandra said firmly. "Even if I can't match Lawrence, I won't disgrace our family."
"Nonsense." Lafferty smiled. "You've always been the pride of the Worley family. Your mother and I both believe that."
The blonde girl turned her head away, embarrassed yet heartened.
"Father, was that the spell Lawrence used to defeat the Scourers last year?" Cassandra asked curiously.
"No." Lafferty shook his head. "Back then, it was thunder and lightning that filled the sky, with the Thunderbirds in the reserve aiding him."
He sighed wistfully. "In just a year, I've already lost the ability to comprehend Mr Lawrence's magic."
"The wizarding world... has gained another walking calamity."
Cassandra nodded in agreement, recalling the vision of being surrounded by snow dragons.
To summon an avalanche with a mere gesture – what else could that be but a calamity?
...
Under Madame Maxime's guidance, the group finally entered the palace's main building.
Upon stepping inside, their eyes were met with dazzling splendour – the grand hall glittered with gold, surrounded by countless oil paintings and statues.
Where Hogwarts exuded understated luxury, Beauxbatons flaunted an entirely different opulence, its aristocratic grandeur displayed at every turn.
Along the way, students stopped to bow respectfully whenever they spotted Madame Maxime, only moving on after the party had passed.
"Such strict discipline?" Wayne remarked, noticing the students' awed expressions towards Madame Maxime.
"Madame places great emphasis on etiquette," Fleur whispered to the boy. "We even have dedicated etiquette classes here."
"Seems Hogwarts has the better approach," Wayne mused, disliking such formality. Beauxbatons was very similar to the church primary school Wayne had attended – the class distinctions were far too pronounced.
The group didn't proceed to the Great Hall, but instead arrived at a side chamber.
The enormous long table already seated several individuals wearing different school uniforms, their skin tones equally varied.
After brief introductions, everyone took their seats. Fleur, not being a competitor, hadn't entered after reaching the doorway.
"Everyone," Madame Maxime smiled from the head of the table, "the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship will last one month. I hope you'll create wonderful memories during your stay at Beauxbatons."
"For now, let us enjoy this fine meal. Afterwards, Professor Padilla will arrange your accommodations."
Applause echoed through the hall as empty golden plates suddenly filled with food.
Having starved all day, Wayne didn't stand on ceremony and began eating immediately.
The trouble with French cuisine lay in its strict serving sequence:
Hors d'oeuvres, soup, fish course, meat course, salad, dessert, fruit.
Following proper dining etiquette would leave one hungrier than before the meal. Fortunately, Beauxbatons showed consideration – tapping an empty plate brought the next course, while two taps would replenish the previous dish.
Wayne consumed three portions of truffle fish soup, two servings of seasonal lamb shank, and three duck breasts.
Across the table, Cassandra watched the boy eat with such relish that an inexplicable competitive spirit arose within her.
She ordered multiple portions herself, nearly making herself ill from overeating, and constantly rubbing her distended stomach.
Wayne found this utterly baffling.
Is Ilvermorny's catering really that poor? Look how they're starving the poor girl.