The amount of information that had come crashing down on them so early in the morning was simply staggering.
First, a Phoenix had appeared, and then Wayne had bought a Nimbus 2000. To Quidditch players, the Nimbus 2000 was practically the broom of their dreams.
As for Snape deducting points from Wayne? Was that even worth mentioning?
When it came to the House Cup, the only Houses that truly fought over it every year were Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Slytherin did it for the glory of pure-bloods, while Gryffindor did it for their blasted pride—and because they absolutely could not lose to those stinking snakes.
Ravenclaw would compete if they had a chance, but they would not pour too much effort into it.
Most of them focused on their own affairs, leaving collective honor to fate. That attitude was reflected in Quidditch matches too. As for the Little Badgers, Hufflepuff's attitude had always been: What Cup?
What House?
What House Cup?
No idea. What does that have to do with us? You want to deduct points?
Go ahead. To show how sad I am, I'll eat three extra bowls later. Sound good?
That attitude made Wayne's life far too comfortable. He could cause trouble to his heart's content without anyone gossiping behind his back or ostracizing him.
If he had been sorted into Gryffindor, people would probably already have started pointing fingers at him.
"Let me see it. Just one look."
Seeing that class was about to start, Cedric clung to Wayne's leg and begged bitterly.
Wayne shuddered all over, kicked him away, and tossed the box over. "Get lost. Stop being disgusting."
"Careful, that's a Nimbus 2000!" Cedric caught the box in wild delight, and the Quidditch players immediately crowded around him, their eyes practically watering.
After putting his materials in the dormitory, Wayne hurried toward the History of Magic classroom. On his way out, he even made a point of avoiding that bunch of freaks.
What was their first class, anyway? Weren't they afraid of being late?
In History of Magic, Professor Binns cast his usual grand sleeping spell. In less than ten minutes, half the class had collapsed onto their desks.
Wayne barely managed to listen. The topic was the major influence wizards had exerted on Muggle history.
For example, during the ancient Han Dynasty, the wizard Liu Xiu had disguised himself as a Muggle and successfully extended the Han Dynasty's lifespan by over two hundred years.
Liu Xiu had been especially skilled at brewing Liquid Luck. Before every battle, he would drink it, which was why good fortune always followed him.
The most outrageous time, he had downed an entire pint of Liquid Luck and let out a satisfied burp afterward.
Then his enemies were crushed to death by a meteor falling from the sky. From then on, everyone respectfully called him Grand Magus Liu Xiu. Tug, tug.
Feeling his sleeve being pulled, Wayne jolted awake from his dream. "Class is over?"
Hermione quickly pressed down on Wayne, who had risen to leave, and whispered, "Class isn't over yet."
Wayne slapped her hand away irritably. "Then why did you wake me?" Hermione's little face reddened slightly as she fidgeted. "I... I... I want to touch your bird."
Wayne stared at her in shock, as though he could not believe his ears. "What did you say?"
"I want to touch your bird." The little witch looked at Wayne pitifully. "Just once. I'll be very gentle. I won't hurt her."
Now it was Wayne's turn to feel embarrassed. "R-right now?" Although this bird was not much use yet, it would be good for it to see the world early. Sigh, Hermione really was something else, making a request like that during class. He would even have to cast a spell to block everyone else's senses.
"Of course not." The little witch rolled her eyes. "We're in class. How am I supposed to touch Professor Binns? Even if he's a ghost, we can't bully him like that." Wayne went along with it smoothly. "Name a time. I'm free whenever."
Hermione thought for a moment. "You're having afternoon tea with Headmaster Dumbledore, so how about after dinner? There'll still be plenty of time before curfew."
"No problem." Wayne agreed at once. "Where should I find you?" "On the lawn."
How exciting. Wayne's body trembled.
Then Hermione added, "Oh, right. What does Ho-Oh like to eat? I'll prepare some snacks for it."
The boy stared at her in disbelief. "You mean Ho-Oh?"
"What else would I mean?" Hermione gave him a strange look. "Do you have another bird?"
"Haha, even if I did, I wouldn't let you see it." Wayne laughed awkwardly. "I thought you meant Ho-Oh."
"Then after dinner it is. I happen to have something to discuss with you too."
Just as he thought. There was no way the little witch had turned into a dirty-minded little witch.
In the afternoon Charms class, Wayne performed the Slowing Charm brilliantly and earned back half of the twenty points deducted from him that morning.
Professor Flitwick watched Wayne's departing figure with some emotion.
Some people were simply born different from others, destined to be protagonists from birth. Like Dumbledore, or that Slytherin student who had once received the Special Contribution Award.
Wayne was gradually revealing similar qualities.
Never mind the absurdity of a first-year wizard owning a Phoenix as a pet—Wayne's displayed magical talent alone made Flitwick incredibly envious. No spell could stump him. To test Wayne's talent, Flitwick taught him one of his own original spells.
After seeing it, Wayne learned the spell, which combined slowing effects and mental confusion, after merely two attempts.
Why had such an outstanding little wizard been sorted into Hufflepuff? Wayne knew nothing of Flitwick's resentment. He had already arrived on the eighth floor. A Gargoyle guarded the Headmaster's Office. Seeing Wayne, it asked lazily:
"Password."
"Cockroach Cluster."
"Bleurgh!" The Gargoyle made a remarkably human-like retching expression and spun aside to open the door.
"Every time I hear that password, I feel sick for ages. Little wizard, tell Dumbledore to change it soon. Having to open the door every day is disgusting enough."
"I'll try. How about changing it to Scarab beetles?" "Get out! Isn't that just... bleurgh!"
"You little wizard have no martial virtue. You're rotten to the core!"
The Brawl in the Headmaster's Office
After teasing the gatekeeper statue, Wayne's mood improved considerably. He entered the passage in high spirits.
Inside was a rotating staircase that moved automatically. Wayne stood on it and was carried up to the door.
The large door was tightly shut, with a brass door knocker shaped like a Gryphon. Wayne could sense powerful magical fluctuations from it. It was a
very fine magical artifact.
If a wizard attempted to force their way through the wooden door of the Headmaster's Office, it would transform into a brass Gryphon and attack.
That magical beast was incredibly powerful, rated XXXXX, no weaker than a Fire Dragon.
Hogwarts truly had deep foundations.
Wayne sighed inwardly, suddenly tempted to pry off the door knocker and install it in his own home.
He could not create an Alchemy item of that level at all yet. But Wayne merely thought about it. After all, he could not beat old Dumbledore.
Like Cedric stroking the Nimbus 2000, Wayne played with the door knocker for quite a while before finally pushing the door open and entering.
The Headmaster's Office was a lavish circular room with a high ceiling and excellent lighting.
It was four in the afternoon. Warm sunlight streamed into the room, falling upon the gemstones and making them glow faintly.
"What extravagance... Even I'm not this wasteful," Wayne muttered. Elsewhere in Hogwarts, oil lamps and candles were generally used for lighting, but the Headmaster's Office used gemstones instead.
Dumbledore was not in the room. Wayne casually found a soft chair to sit in and examined the office's layout.
The most numerous things here were undoubtedly books. Bookshelves took up nearly half a wall and stretched all the way to the ceiling, with a spiral staircase beside them for easy access. The other half of the wall was covered in portraits.
Although no one was present, Wayne constantly felt countless eyes watching him.
Yet whenever he turned around, the portraits showed no reaction at all. Like Muggle portraits, they remained perfectly still.
Near the large desk sat a stone basin on a tall stool. Wayne knew that it was a Pensieve, an extremely precious tool for storing and replaying memories. He wanted to take it.
What was wrong with him? The moment he entered this room, Wayne wanted to bring everything home.
On the other side of the desk stood a full-length mirror at an angle. It was very tall, and most of it was covered by velvet cloth, leaving only the frame and a small section of mirror exposed.
"Hey, boy."
A shrill voice suddenly rang out, and Wayne turned around.
One of the portraits had come "alive."
"You've been staring for ages. Do you know what that is?"
Wayne walked over. It was an old man with a goatee, dressed in silver-green robes.
The plaque beneath the portrait identified him: "Phineas Nigellus Black (1847–1925)."
Wayne shook his head. "It's covered up. How could I possibly know what it is?"
"Hmph. Ignorant." Phineas stroked his goatee, his expression filled with contempt.
"That's the Mirror of Erised. Do you know what the Mirror of Erised is?" Wayne put on an attentive expression.
"It can show you your deepest, most urgent, and strongest desire. Don't you want to know what you desire most right now?"
Phineas tempted him. "Go take a look. Dumbledore has been staring into it every day until dawn lately. He's nearly obsessed."
"Not interested." Wayne waved a hand and sat back down in boredom. "Right now, I want everything, yet none of it really matters. Looking would be pointless." He was not fooling Phineas; that was genuinely how Wayne felt. He was interested in everything, but not intensely so. Because Wayne knew that whatever he wanted, he would obtain sooner or later. That was the confidence of someone with cheats.
Phineas was caught completely off guard by Wayne's response. "What? You haven't even looked, and you're already talking big?"
Wayne glanced at him. "No wonder you're the least popular Headmaster in school history. You meddle in everything. Can you even control whether I look at a mirror or not?"
"You're dead and still this nosy. No wonder people curse you."
The room fell silent for a moment before erupting with earth-shaking laughter. The Headmasters who had been pretending to be dead could no longer hold it in. One after another, they laughed until they doubled over.
One Headmaster with a large nose pointed at Phineas. "Black, so this day has finally come for you! Getting cursed out by a student!"
A plump-looking woman clapped in approval. "Worthy of our Hufflepuff little wizard. He truly has a good eye for people!"
"Don't laugh! None of you are allowed to laugh!" Phineas stomped furiously. "You damned little wizard! If I were still alive, I'd expel you immediately!"
"Then come back to life." Wayne spread his hands as notifications of points gained began ringing out in his mind one after another.
Well, well. Talking back to a former Headmaster earned points too? What a wonderful deal.
Phineas was enraged by his attitude.
"You little brat! You Hufflepuff idiots are only fit to be cooks and shopkeepers for the rest of your lives!" That did it.
Phineas's sweeping insult had offended every Headmaster who came from Hufflepuff.
A hot-tempered Headmaster was the first to lose his patience. He vanished from his own frame and appeared in Phineas's portrait in the blink of an eye, swinging his fist into Phineas's nose.
The other Hufflepuff Headmasters refused to be outdone and rushed over together to deliver a righteous group beating.
Phineas screamed repeatedly. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Headmasters cheered from the side, while the Slytherin Headmasters had no intention of helping him either.
Although they had all come from Slytherin House, Phineas's mouth was simply too foul. In less than a century since his portrait had been hung here, he had managed to offend nearly everyone.
Wayne watched the grand Headmaster brawl with a smile, occasionally nodding in appreciation.
Look at that side kick, so powerful. And that black tiger clawing at the heart—utterly authentic. Sure enough, the end point of every wizard was close combat, the kind where they did not even use wands. Just as Wayne was watching with great interest, the door to the Headmaster's Office was pushed open. Dumbledore walked in and froze at the chaotic scene. Then he saw that the velvet cloth had not been touched and gave Wayne a long look, smiling.
"Perhaps I have arrived at an inconvenient time?"
"No, Headmaster." Wayne shook his head. "You've come at exactly the right time." "If you had come any later, Headmaster Phineas would have been beaten to death."
The Clash Between the Old Fox and the Young Fox
Now that the office's current owner had arrived, the portraits of past Headmasters sped up their movements.
Each of them gave Phineas one last vicious blow before returning to their frames and resuming their act of playing dead.
As for Phineas, perhaps he felt too embarrassed to remain. He disappeared from his frame, likely fleeing to hide at Black Manor. "Please sit, Mr. Lawrence."
Dumbledore gestured for Wayne to sit across from him. "What would you like to drink? Black tea, green tea, hot cocoa?"
Wayne did not stand on ceremony. "Black tea will do."
Dumbledore nodded in approval and said happily, "I enjoy black tea as well. Bathilda happened to send me some Ceylon black tea. Unfortunately, Minerva and Filius both prefer lemon tea, so I have never had anyone to share it with."
Dumbledore lightly tapped the desktop with his wand, and an exquisitely designed teapot and teacups appeared on the table.
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