News of the final decision regarding Professor Quirrell quickly spread throughout the school. It was passed down from the Heads of House to each year's Prefect, who then informed the rest of the students.
At least the school gave them an explanation.
Many students were disappointed that Quirrell hadn't been expelled.
However, Dumbledore also made Quirrell's guarantee and reasoning public.
That helped quell any major dissatisfaction.
For now, Dumbledore's word still held great weight among the students—after all, he was the most powerful white wizard in the world.
As the announcement settled over the school, a familiar system chime rang out in Wayne's mind:
[Major Event: "Power of the Badger" complete. Quirrell has paid a heavy price. Event impact rating: Good.]
[Reward Points: +500. 10x Critical Bonus generated. Can be claimed at any time.]
Wayne's expression didn't change as he calmly waved his wand during Transfiguration class, turning the apple on his desk into a teacup.
Getting a "Good" rating was already a decent result—after all, Quirrell was still at Hogwarts.
If he had been expelled—or even killed—the score would have been higher.
500 points. Counting the points from earlier, this event had netted Wayne nearly 4,000 points in total—almost half of a guaranteed reward tier.
As for the ten-times critical bonus, Wayne didn't claim it right away.
He planned to wait until late at night, when the castle was quiet, and find a safe place to redeem it—just in case something unexpected happened.
"Smaller movement with your wrist, Hermione," Wayne advised softly. "It's a wand, not a conductor's baton."
Miss Granger shot Wayne a glare, but still followed his advice, adjusting her motion.
"Mr. Finnigan, don't point your wand at Longbottom!" Professor McGonagall's voice cut in sharply.
While McGonagall was correcting Neville and Seamus, Wayne leaned close to Hermione, his breath brushing her fair cheek.
"Tonight, come to the Room of Requirement," he whispered. "Let me see how your practice's been going."
Ever since the complaint letter incident, Hermione had been giving him a cold shoulder—her glares were practically hexes.
But Wayne knew she was only angry because she was worried about him.
He'd decided to use tonight to ease the tension between them—to get a little closer. At the very least, to smooth things over.
They were standing quite close. Hermione's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't reject him.
"What time?" she asked.
"Half past ten. Any earlier and it's too risky," Wayne said, to which Hermione frowned slightly.
"But curfew starts at ten."
"As long as we don't get caught, it's fine," Wayne replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Gryffindor Tower's close to the Room of Requirement. And Filch usually patrols near the fourth floor at night."
In the end, Hermione didn't say no.
Her strict rule-following had started to falter.
More than obeying the rules… she wanted to learn from Wayne.
Late at night, in the Room of Requirement.
Compared to the weekend, Hermione's Disarming Charm had improved significantly.
But it still lacked some punch.
"Expelliarmus!"
A red flash struck Wayne's wrist, knocking his wand from his hand. But with a casual reach, Wayne caught it midair and pulled it back instantly.
Hermione looked a bit sheepish.
That spell really had no power behind it.
"Focus more. Fewer distractions," Wayne said, instantly identifying the issue.
"When you cast a spell—whether it's at a person or a target—you need to treat it like a real opponent every time."
"You should learn from Harry. He has natural talent in combat magic—he throws himself in completely."
Wayne paused a moment.
The Sorting Hat had recommended Slytherin for Harry not just because of Voldemort's influence.
Think about it—
Aside from being reckless, Harry was practically made for Slytherin. His temper was intense.
He'd argued with Ron more times than one could count. In third year, he inflated his aunt. In fifth year, he yelled at Dumbledore and wrecked his office. In sixth, he hit Malfoy with Sectumsempra.
Cover the name, and tell Wayne this wasn't a little snake—he wouldn't believe you.
When Wayne said she still wasn't as good as Harry, Hermione looked frustrated.
"That's too abstract," she muttered. "Can you be more specific?"
"Forget it—let me show you." Wayne shook his head and summoned a practice dummy. He took a textbook-perfect stance and clearly enunciated the incantation:
"Expelliarmus!"
In an instant, Hermione felt a shift in Wayne's presence. The red flash of light struck the dummy—and exploded. The stone mannequin shattered into pieces, scattering across the floor.
"You..." Hermione stammered. "That was... Expelliarmus?!"
You said it was a Disarming Charm, but that looked like an Exploding Curse!
"Don't worry about the technicalities," Wayne waved his hand casually. "Did you catch what kind of state I was in just now?"
"I think so..." Hermione nodded. Seeing the change firsthand, her clever mind immediately grasped the key.
"Then give it a try."
Wayne summoned another dummy. This time, Hermione didn't hold back. She imagined the dummy as some terrible thief who'd stolen her favorite book—and that the teacup in its hands was that book.
Fueled by that emotion, she cast.
The red light shot out. The dummy was blasted nearly ten meters backward, and the teacup flew through the air, spinning rapidly before landing near Hermione.
"Beautiful," Wayne applauded. "That's the feeling you want. The incantation, the wand movement, and your mental state—they all help focus and channel your magic."
"When those three align—and you refine them over time—that's the standard method for learning most spells."
In this world where will shapes reality, a wizard's strength isn't fixed. When emotions surge, even an average witch or wizard can unleash extraordinary power.
Take Molly Weasley, for example. Was her raw power truly greater than Bellatrix Lestrange?
Clearly not.
Bellatrix was one of Voldemort's most formidable and trusted Death Eaters. But when her family was in danger, Molly didn't hesitate—she cast a Blasting Curse that obliterated Bellatrix on the spot, leaving not even a trace behind.
Hermione, beaming, nodded. She felt like she had just found the door to mastery.
When she resumed practicing, her progress skyrocketed. After about thirty more minutes, Wayne called a halt and led a reluctant Hermione back to her dorm to rest.
After walking her to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Wayne quietly returned to the Room of Requirement.
"System, claim the event reward."
[Reward Package opening... Congratulations, Host! You've obtained a Legendary Talent: Decree of the Thunder Lord!]
Buzz!
A crimson, ancient-looking rune stone appeared out of thin air, spinning rapidly as it flew straight into Wayne's forehead.
At that same moment—
BOOM!
RUMBLE...
The dark sky above Hogwarts churned with thick thunderclouds, rapidly gathering over the castle.
CRACK!
A bolt of lightning tore across the heavens, followed by a deafening series of thunderclaps.
The tremendous noise startled many students awake in their dormitories. Even Hermione, who had just crawled into bed, jumped up in shock.
Headmaster's Office
The windows stood wide open as Dumbledore stared out into the storm.
Lightning still flashed intermittently, illuminating the oppressive night sky.
This kind of weather was highly unusual. It didn't feel natural at all.
"Fawkes," Dumbledore murmured, "did a thunderbird come to visit Hogwarts tonight?"
As the spirit of all magical birds, a phoenix would be sensitive to others of its kind. Fawkes landed gently on Dumbledore's shoulder, tilting his head.
"Coo-coo!"
"So… not a thunderbird," Dumbledore whispered.
He hadn't sensed any magical signatures within the storm—it clearly wasn't conjured by human hands.
After pondering it for a while and sensing no hostile intentions, the old headmaster shook his head. Perhaps it was just an unusual natural phenomenon. He let it go.
Inside the Room of Requirement
Wayne floated a few inches off the ground, eyes closed. The ancient rune had vanished, and his body now emitted a faint red glow.
Arcs of red lightning crackled around him like tiny serpents, slithering along his limbs.
Wayne was processing the immense knowledge the rune had granted him.
The Decree of the Thunder Lord.
It had another name:
Judgment by Lightning.
Now fully assimilated with the rune, Wayne had forged a connection with thunder itself.
His lightning-based spells had surged in power—and even spells unrelated to lightning could now carry its destructive force.
Even his body was changing, strengthened by the constant stimulation of electricity.
At this point, he was no longer just a wielder of lightning—
He had become its master.
~~----------------------
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