[Wordless Terror: The signature ability of Scarecrow. Releases a psychic shockwave that forces the target to confront the deepest fears within their mind.]
"Isn't this just like the Scarecrow's skill?" Wayne thought.
This kind of magic, which acts directly on the psyche—sometimes even the soul—is quite rare in the wizarding world. Most known examples fall under Dark magic, like the three Unforgivable Curses, all of which have some connection to the soul.
By classification, Wordless Terror would likely be considered Dark magic too.
The most significant feature? It's invisible, instant-cast, and can't be blocked by the Shield Charm.
That alone was enough to make Wayne pleased.
But, like all magic, it had its limitations. The effectiveness of the terror spell didn't depend on the caster, but instead on how strong or fearful the target's mind was.
If the target feared nothing, the spell had little to no effect—maybe only enough to mildly irritate or distract them.
But if the target was a coward or mentally fragile, then it became practically miraculous—one cast could leave them utterly defenseless, ready to be taken down.
"Sleep time," Wayne muttered with satisfaction, wrapping himself in his blanket, pleased with what he'd gained.
He quickly drifted off to sleep.
At eleven or twelve years old—right in the middle of a growth spurt—even though Wayne's body had been optimized by the system, he still needed plenty of rest.
The next morning, he didn't wake up until 8:30.
His two roommates were even worse. If Wayne hadn't gotten them up, they'd probably have slept until noon.
After delivering the enchanted quills he'd promised to the Weasley twins at breakfast, he reminded them again to hurry up with their learning—if they could start crafting their own magical quills soon, it would ease Wayne's workload.
Then, scarfing down the last of his toast, Wayne hurried toward Greenhouse Two.
Passing through the courtyard garden and arriving at the greenhouses on the castle's eastern side, Wayne found a crowd of young wizards blocking the entrance. No one was going in, and loud metallic crashes echoed from inside the greenhouse.
"What's going on?" Wayne asked Susan Bones, who stood just in front of him.
"Oh, Wayne! You're here—Peeves is in there making a mess. He's thrown all the shovels and buckets everywhere."
Susan frowned. "Everyone's afraid of getting hit. We're just waiting for Professor Sprout to come and sort it out."
Wayne squeezed his way to the front and peered through the glass door.
Sure enough, Peeves was inside, gleefully swinging a shovel in one hand and using a metal bucket as a makeshift Bludger, whacking it back and forth through the air. The clanging was so shrill that many students had their hands over their ears.
Peeves, of course, was no ordinary ghost.
In fact, he wasn't really a ghost at all.
Most ghosts at Hogwarts were former witches or wizards—spirits lingering behind due to regret or unfinished business. They had once been human.
But Peeves? He had no origin story, no past life. He'd been around since Hogwarts was founded, seemingly born alongside the castle itself.
Even stranger, he could touch and manipulate physical objects—something true ghosts couldn't do.
Rather than call him a ghost, he was more like a manifestation of every mischievous impulse young witches and wizards had ever had—an impish spirit made from magical mischief.
At that moment, as Peeves gleefully spun midair, he suddenly shivered.
A strange chill crept up his back, as if he were being watched by the Bloody Baron.
Panicked, Peeves whirled around to scan the area.
But the Baron was nowhere in sight. Instead, Peeves locked eyes with a boy—Wayne Lawrence—standing at the entrance, watching him with casual amusement.
Peeves immediately bristled.
He was the one who was supposed to stare at others like that—not the other way around!
"Oi! You little runt! What are you staring at?" Peeves shouted, arms crossed and his hat bobbing indignantly.
"I'm not called 'Oi', I'm—" Wayne began automatically, then caught himself and quickly changed the subject.
"Peeves, if you keep messing around, I'll go get the Bloody Baron. Don't think I won't."
At the Baron's name, Peeves visibly flinched. But then his gaze dropped to Wayne's uniform, and his confidence quickly returned.
"You little Hufflepuff runt," Peeves sneered, "the Bloody Baron wouldn't bother with someone like you!"
"Daring to scare Peeves the Great? Let's see how you like this!"
With that, Peeves grabbed a bucket filled with fertilizer and flew into the air, clearly intending to dump it around Wayne as a scare tactic.
He did have some sense of boundaries—if he actually dumped it on a student, even Dumbledore would come down on him.
Seeing through Peeves' intent, Wayne pulled out his wand, ready to give him a lesson.
Then he remembered the new spell he'd acquired the night before. With a thought, he cast it.
Wordless Terror—instant, silent, and invisible. Not even a flash of light.
Peeves, who had been grinning mischievously, froze in place.
A ghostly sweat formed on his translucent face as he suddenly let out a shrill scream, echoing across the greenhouse.
No one knew what kind of vision he saw—but for someone like Peeves, who usually feared nothing, to scream like that...
By the time the spell's effects faded, Peeves was looking at Wayne with an entirely different expression.
"Y-you did that?" he stammered.
"Mm-hmm," Wayne admitted casually. "Want to go again?"
As he spoke, he raised his wand again, just a little.
Peeves shrieked, dropped the bucket, and bolted upward through the greenhouse ceiling, vanishing into the sky in full retreat.
The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students erupted in cheers. Padma Patil was outright starry-eyed, her gaze locked on Wayne, eyes sparkling.
Handsome and powerful? She was half a second away from offering to drink Ganges water with him.
(And in her family, that basically meant marriage.)
Just as the greenhouse buzzed with excitement, Professor Sprout arrived.
After hearing what had happened, she gave Wayne an approving pat on the shoulder—and awarded ten points to Hufflepuff.
Unfortunately, the greenhouse was in utter disarray thanks to Peeves. The original lesson plan—to fertilize and prune Moondew—was no longer feasible.
After a moment's thought, Sprout led the class to Greenhouse Three next door.
At the entrance, she turned to the students and said with a more serious tone:
"Be careful in here. These plants were originally intended for third-year coursework—they can be quite dangerous."
"I want all of you to remember: once inside, do not touch anything without my explicit permission."
The sharp warning had its intended effect. The young witches and wizards all nodded obediently.
Sprout looked relieved.
Good thing this class didn't include Gryffindors. There's no way she'd bring those hyperactive lions into Greenhouse Three.
The class followed her inside in a neat line.
And the moment they stepped through the door—
"AHH!"
"What is that?!"
"So creepy!"
The cries came from the frontmost group of students. In a raised planter closest to the entrance, a row of strange pale yellow plants snapped open jagged mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth, chomping the air as if ready to bite.
"Chinese Chomping Cabbage," Sprout said calmly. "Stay well clear of them, children. Their teeth are sharp enough to pierce dragon hide."
Some students had already gone pale with fear—which was exactly what Sprout wanted.
There were too many dangerous plants in the magical world. If students approached everything with blind curiosity, they'd get themselves hurt sooner or later.
She led the group to the innermost garden bed and held up a potted plant.
"Can anyone tell me what this is?"
As expected, Wayne—always eager to impress in his Head of House's class—immediately raised his hand.
"Lawrence?" Sprout called on him with a warm smile.
"Sneezewort. A toxic plant that can cause encephalitis, leading to impulsive and irritable behavior. It's a key ingredient in Confusion Draught and sneezing powder."
"Very good, that's a thorough answer," Professor Sprout praised, adding two points to Hufflepuff.
"I want everyone to remember what Mr. Lawrence just said. This herb is toxic. Just because it looks like parsley doesn't mean you can toss it into your food…"
Hannah sheepishly retracted her hand from Sneezewort, pretending nothing had happened.
~~----------------------
To read 30 future chapters head over to patreon:
patreon.com/Dreamer20