"Didn't yesterday's lesson suffice?"
Fleur set down her spoon, glaring at the golden-haired girl now standing before them.
"Miss Delacour," Cassandra had regained her usual composure, her pale chin slightly raised. "I am, after all, a guest from Ilvermorny. There's no need for you to be so aggressive."
"Besides, I came to speak with Mr Lawrence. Surely that's my prerogative?"
Wayne nodded inwardly.
Truly an American – opening with talks of freedom, the stereotype is strong.
Fleur wasn't one to back down either, immediately countering: "Beauxbatons welcomes all civilised guests. Wayne and I were having breakfast. You barging in uninvited naturally concerns me."
"After all..." The half-Veela's tone turned teasing. "I imagine certain individuals wouldn't care to experience another avalanche?"
Cassandra's expression darkened.
This woman... really knows how to hit a sore spot.
"My attitude yesterday was indeed problematic. I'll apologise to Mr Lawrence. Could you please stop harassing me?"
"Me harass you?" Fleur's eyebrows nearly flew off her forehead. "You're the one who approached us! Could you not interrupt our meal?"
Like a reenactment of last night's scene, the two beauties locked horns. Many in the Great Hall had noticed the commotion, eyes gleaming.
An argument!
Between two beautiful girls at that!
Almost instantly, conversations elsewhere in the hall quietened, everyone fearful of missing the drama.
Wayne differed from these bored spectators.
He was closer, hearing everything clearly.
Watching women argue was mildly exciting.
But if they came to blows... now that would be truly thrilling.
Perhaps the boy's simple wish was too fervent, as both arguing girls suddenly fell silent, simultaneously turning to look at him.
"Wayne, whose side are you on?" Fleur pouted, asking coyly.
For a moment, she even resembled Gabrielle.
Wayne finally understood where Gabrielle had learnt such expert coquetry.
"Obviously yours," Wayne replied without hesitation. "I'm hardly acquainted with Miss Worley."
Fleur's triumphant smile made Cassandra grit her teeth.
"But what exactly do you want me to do? Defeat her in a duel?" The boy rolled up his sleeves, his wand appearing in his hand.
"Of course not! I just..." Fleur hastily stopped Wayne, stammering as she suddenly realised she didn't know what to say.
Right, what exactly did she want him to help with?
"Never mind. Why did you come to see Wayne?" Fleur changed the subject.
"Lawrence, are you attending classes with fifth-years?" Cassandra asked.
"Yes, why?" Wayne nodded.
"I've also been granted permission to attend fifth-year classes today," Cassandra said, tilting her chin slightly with evident pride in her voice.
"So?" Wayne looked even more puzzled. "What's that got to do with me?"
"I just wondered if you'd like to go to class together? We could exchange notes," Cassandra turned her face away, her voice growing quieter.
It was the first time she'd ever invited a boy to accompany her to lessons.
This wasn't love at first sight—she simply wanted to know whether Wayne's remarkable strength came from some unique study method.
She hoped to observe him more closely, perhaps uncover his secrets.
Fleur's eyes instantly narrowed into a dangerous glare.
Compared to Cassandra coming to pick a fight, this situation seemed far more perilous.
"Sorry, I've already made plans with Fleur," Wayne shook his head. "Though Miss Worley is welcome to join us if you like. No one's stopping you."
Cassandra gave a slight nod, offered a polite curtsey, and took her leave.
"No use staring when she's long gone. She's not even as pretty as me," Fleur said sourly.
"Now that's not fair," Wayne disagreed. "You are slightly more attractive than her..."
Just as Fleur began to brighten, the boy added, "But that doesn't mean she isn't pretty. I'm not picky, especially with that beauty mark under Miss Worley's eye... Ow! What was that for?"
Five minutes later, Wayne trailed behind Fleur while clutching his side, thoroughly disgruntled.
Next time he drew lots, he absolutely must win that body-enhancing spell!
...
Hogwarts.
Fresh from the holidays, the young witches and wizards hadn't adjusted their routines yet.
Students shuffling into the Great Hall for meals all wore expressions of utter exhaustion.
Only Harry remained cheerful, his grin never fading since last night's feast when he'd learned Snape would be absent for a whole month.
The entire castle had become infinitely more welcoming. If Malfoy were just to disappear, too, he'd definitely burst into song today.
During the Christmas holidays, Malfoy actually tried to slip him a potion, but fortunately, he dodged it with quick reflexes.
Ron nudged Harry and whispered, "You might want to tone it down a bit."
Harry looked at him blankly, and Ron cautiously pointed at Hermione nearby.
"Snape's gone for a month, and Wayne's leaving for a month too. Look at Hermione—she hasn't smiled since last night, and she didn't even clap after Dumbledore's speech."
Harry turned to glance at the young witch silently picking at her food, almost able to see a dark cloud of gloom hovering over her, and couldn't help but shiver.
In his excitement, he'd completely forgotten that Wayne would also be away for a month.
Wait a minute—if there were no lessons for a whole month, shouldn't Wayne refund some of the tuition...?
Harry fell into deep thought.
The carefree Potter heir of the first year, who treated money like dirt, was long gone. In his place stood a penny-pinching, broke Harry.
But there was no helping it. After a term of Wayne's tutoring, Harry had tasted the benefits.
He could now clearly feel the gap between himself and the other students.
While everyone else fumbled with their spells, he could already perform nonverbal spellcasting, and even his duelling had become polished.
So, next year, and the year after that, he'd have to shell out those thousand Galleons in annual fees.
By the time he graduated, his little vault would probably be nearly empty.
He'd have to spend more carefully.
After breakfast, as students headed to their respective classes, Harry asked curiously, "Since Snape's gone, what about Potions class? Do we not have to attend?"
"No idea," Ron said hopefully. "It'd be great if we didn't—that's three whole hours of free time!"
Harry nodded in agreement.
But by noon, their minds had changed.
The substitute teacher for Potions was none other than Dumbledore!
Fred and George, fresh from their lesson, excitedly boasted everywhere that Dumbledore was ten thousand times better than Snape.
Almost everyone agreed—except the Slytherins.
Harry was already looking forward to tomorrow's Potions class. He'd never had a lesson with Dumbledore before.
But before that, he had another challenge to face.
...
That afternoon, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom.
Lockhart strode onto the platform, still clad in his flamboyant purple robes, wearing his trademark grin.
"Everyone, I know you must have missed me terribly. Thank you for all the Christmas presents."
"Professor, were you ill?" Lavender Brown raised her hand.
Compared to last year's radiant complexion, Lockhart looked rather pale today, his lips almost colourless.
"Thank you for your concern, Miss Brown," Lockhart gestured for silence. "But I'm quite alright. It's just that my fans have been overwhelmingly enthusiastic—replying to their letters took up so much time, and my sleep has suffered lately."
"Now, let's begin our first lesson of the term."
Lockhart pulled out the textbook and flipped to a random page.
"Ah, this is one of my favourite passages—rescuing the Siren. Let me think... Harry, how about you play the part of the carnivorous fish?"
Harry's expression twisted as if he'd just bitten into a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean that tasted of cow dung.
Just as he was about to refuse, Seamus gave him a shove from beside him, forcing him to step forward. Ron and several other boys quickly gave Seamus a thumbs-up. If Harry refused, the unlucky one might well have been any of them.
By the end of the class, Harry had endured what felt like a living hell, demonstrating a hundred ways to kill a piranha as Lockhart demanded.
When the lesson concluded, Lockhart cheerfully announced, "Now, your homework is to write an eight-inch reading reflection. Remember to focus particularly on what you've learned from my books. Class dismissed!"
The classroom erupted in groans.
Absolute madness!
It used to be just four inches – how had it suddenly doubled overnight?
...
At Beauxbatons, Wayne also finished his day's classes.
The morning had consisted of a large Transfiguration lecture, followed by two Herbology classes and one Potions class in the afternoon.
By the time everything concluded, it was already five o'clock.
"How did you find today?" Fleur asked the boy.
"Would you prefer the truth or a polite lie?" Wayne countered instead of answering.
Fleur frowned prettily. "The truth, of course. What would I do with lies?"
"Miss Worley, perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts first?" Wayne suddenly turned around. Cassandra had been following them at a discreet distance all along.
This had been the pattern all day – wherever Wayne went for classes, she attended the same ones without intrusion, simply sitting behind the pair.
"Me?" Cassandra blinked, surprised Wayne had addressed her first.
After a moment's consideration, the golden-haired girl replied, "The Potions instruction was excellent. Professor Padilla explained everything very thoroughly – superior to Ilvermorny's standard."
"But the Transfiguration and Herbology professors..." Cassandra gave a sudden laugh, brimming with derision.
"Perhaps this is normal progression for Beauxbatons' fifth years, but much of the content covered would be fourth-year material at Ilvermorny."
Fleur gave an annoyed hum but didn't contradict the assessment, instead looking expectantly at Wayne.
"Beauxbatons does progress slower than other schools," Wayne acknowledged with a nod, then pivoted: "Though there's good reason for it."
"They're the only school where OWL examinations take place in sixth year."
"Other magical schools hold them in the fifth year, hence the faster pace. The fifth year becomes mostly revision – there are pros and cons to each approach."
Cassandra looked startled. Her knowledge of such details was limited, and she'd been unaware of the underlying rationale.
"And other aspects? How would you compare it to Hogwarts?" Cassandra pressed.
"Inferior," Wayne stated bluntly. "There's a noticeable gap in teaching calibre, particularly with the Transfiguration and Herbology professors..."
He shook his head, leaving the thought unfinished.
Only those who'd experienced Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout's classes could truly appreciate how exceptional they were.
The differences might seem negligible when teaching students initially. Still, later in life, for those pursuing deeper study in these fields, the stronger foundations and broader perspectives would naturally lead to greater achievements.
"Madame Padilla is the finest Transfiguration professor the school could find," Fleur said with a troubled shake of her head.
She didn't doubt Wayne's words – even Madame Maxime had expressed dissatisfaction with their Transfiguration instructor.
But what could anyone do about it? Transfiguration was undoubtedly the most challenging subject of all, without exception.
Currently, there are very few wizards in the world who could be called Transfiguration masters. France had none, while Hogwarts alone boasted two.
'Was it really that poor?'
Cassandra stole a glance at Wayne. She couldn't really see much difference—she just found the class content a bit simpler.
The disparity in skill between professors was practically imperceptible.
The three of them entered the main building, heading to the Great Hall for lunch. At the entrance, Maxime was speaking with a group of professors from other schools, and Snape was there too.
Curious, Wayne sidled over.
"Professor, what's going on?"
Snape looked down at the boy and drawled, "Mahoutokoro is delayed. The volcano that their school is built on shows signs of erupting. They won't arrive for a few more days."
What kind of mad idea was it to build a school on a volcano?
Wayne was speechless.
"So what happens now? Will the tournament be postponed?"
"It will be delayed by a few days." Maxime had noticed Wayne and nodded at him. "I'll give them five days. If Mahoutokoro's representatives still haven't arrived by then, they'll be disqualified."
"Professor Snape, Lafferty, Professor Griffiths, please inform the other students as well. A few extra days of preparation time isn't necessarily a bad thing."
The professors leading the various schools nodded in agreement.
Before leaving, Snape turned to Wayne. "I'll be tutoring Russel and Henderson tonight. Care to join?"
"Hard pass," Wayne refused without hesitation. "I have a sneaking suspicion you just want me to help you teach."
Snape's eye twitched.
This brat—why was he so sharp? That was precisely his plan.
Noticing Snape's expression, Wayne was stunned. "No way, you were actually thinking that?"
He'd only meant it as a joke, but he'd accidentally hit the mark.
Shooting the old bat a disdainful look, Wayne grabbed Fleur's hand and bolted.
Last time, during the selection trials, he'd been roped into playing a teaching assistant. Now Snape wanted to exploit his labour again? Utterly shameless, preying on a child like this.
"You and your Potions professor seem quite close?" Fleur asked curiously after listening to their exchange.
Their dynamic didn't feel like teacher and student—more like equals.
"We get along alright," Wayne tilted his head in thought before nodding. "At Christmas, he even gave me a bottle of Felix Felicis as a present."
"Felix Felicis?" Fleur gasped, covering her mouth. "That's incredibly valuable!"
"Not really. He'll give me one every year from now on. Want me to share some with you?"
"No thanks. My luck's always been pretty good."
"Of course. Meeting me proves that."
"Conceited~"
...
Over the next few days, aside from attending classes, Wayne spent his time touring Beauxbatons' various landmarks with Fleur.
In terms of area, Beauxbatons was slightly smaller than Hogwarts.
However, since Beauxbatons had no lake, its landmass was actually larger than Hogwarts'.
After a few days, they'd finally explored every corner—and incidentally scouted out the best spots.
Like where to sneak out of school to catch some local specialities.
He had already seen the Pixie-Sprites, and they were indeed as beautiful as Newt had described. Their tiny limbs made them look utterly adorable due to their petite size.
Bringing them back to the case as gardeners to tend the flowerbeds seemed an excellent idea.
And so, the fifth day arrived.
The students and staff of Mahoutokoro still hadn't arrived at Beauxbatons. Finally, Madame Maxime announced that the first written exam would begin the following morning.
Just as Wayne assumed he wouldn't get to meet Mahoutokoro's students this time, they appeared on the morning of the exam itself.
Three young wizards in silver robes, led by a middle-aged wizard, were bowing repeatedly in apology.
It was immediately clear—these were undoubtedly Mahoutokoro's representatives.
That craftsmanship in bowing... truly classic.