Hogwarts: Please, Just Graduate Already!

The amount of information first thing in the morning was simply astonishing.

First, a phoenix appeared, and then Wayne bought a Nimbus 2000. To Quidditch players, the Nimbus 2000 was practically their dream broom.

As for Snape taking points from Wayne? Was that even worth mentioning?

When it came to the House Cup, the only houses that truly fought for it every year were Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Slytherin did it for the glory of pure-bloods, while Gryffindor did it for their damn pride—and because they absolutely could not lose to that bunch of stinking snakes.

Ravenclaw would compete if there was a chance, but they would not put too much effort into it.

Most of its students prioritized their own affairs. Collective honor was left to fate, and this was reflected in Quidditch matches as well. Only the little badgers, Hufflepuff, always had the same attitude: What Cup are you talking about?

What house?

What House Cup?

No idea. What does it have to do with us? You want to take points?

Then take them. To show our sadness, I'll eat three extra bowls of food later. How about that?

That attitude made Wayne's life far too comfortable. He could cause as much trouble as he wanted without anyone gossiping about him behind his back or isolating 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 time was approaching, Cedric wrapped both arms around Wayne's leg and begged bitterly.

Wayne shuddered all over, kicked him away, and tossed the box over. "Hurry up and go. Don't disgust me."

"Careful! This is a Nimbus 2000!" Cedric caught the box in a frenzy of delight, and a whole crowd of Quidditch players swarmed over, their eyes practically watering with longing.

After putting the materials in his dormitory, Wayne hurried to the History of Magic classroom, taking special care to avoid that group of perverts when he left.

What class did they have first, anyway? Weren't they afraid of being late?

In History of Magic, Professor Binns performed his usual Great Hypnotic Spell, and within ten minutes, half the class was already sprawled across their desks.

Wayne listened with some effort. The lecture was about the major influence wizards had had 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 more than two hundred years.

Liu Xiu's greatest talent was brewing Liquid Luck. He drank it before every battle and consequently enjoyed one stroke of good fortune after another.

The most outrageous occasion was when he drank an entire pint of Liquid Luck, then let out a satisfied burp.

The enemy was promptly crushed to death by a meteorite that fell from the sky. From then on, everyone respectfully addressed him as Grand Magus Liu Xiu. What nonsense.

Feeling his sleeve being tugged, Wayne woke from his sleep. "Class is over?"

Hermione hurriedly held Wayne down as he tried to stand and leave, whispering, "Class isn't over yet."

Wayne slapped her hand away irritably. "Then why did you wake me?"

Hermione's little face flushed slightly as she spoke bashfully. "I... I... I want to touch your bird."

Wayne stared at her in shock, as if 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. "N-now?"

Although the bird was still of little use at present, letting her see the world a little earlier would be good. Honestly, Hermione really is something, making this kind of request during class. He would even have to cast magic to block everyone else's senses.

"Of course not." The little witch rolled her eyes. "We're in class. How could I touch her? Even if Professor Binns is a ghost, we can't bully him like that."

Wayne readily agreed. "Name the time. I'm free whenever."

Hermione thought for a moment. "You're going to have afternoon tea with Headmaster Dumbledore. Then after dinner, perhaps? There's still plenty of time before curfew."

"No problem." Wayne agreed immediately. "Where should I find you?"

"On the lawn."

How exciting. Wayne's whole body trembled.

Then Hermione added, "Oh, right. What does Ho-Oh like to eat? I'll prepare some snacks for her."

The boy stared at her incredulously. "You mean Ho-Oh?"

"Who else?" 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 were talking about Ho-Oh."

"Then after dinner it is. I happen to have something to discuss with you, too."

He knew it. How could the little witch possibly turn into a little lecher?

During Charms class that afternoon, Wayne flawlessly completed the Slowing Charm, earning back half of the twenty points taken from him that morning.

Professor Flitwick watched Wayne's departing back and sighed with emotion.

Some people were born different from everyone else. They were born to be protagonists—Dumbledore, for example, or that Slytherin student who had once received the Special Contribution Award.

Wayne was gradually displaying similar qualities.

Never mind the absurdity of a young wizard owning a phoenix as a pet. Wayne's demonstrated magical talent alone was enough to make Flitwick intensely envious. No spell could stump him. To test Wayne's talent, Flitwick had even taught him one of his own original spells.

After studying it, Wayne needed only two attempts to master the spell, which combined Slowing and mental confusion.

How had such a fine young wizard ended up in Hufflepuff?

Wayne was completely unaware of Flitwick's resentment. He had already reached the Seventh Floor. The Headmaster's Office was guarded by a waterspout gargoyle. When it saw Wayne, it asked lazily:

"Password."

"Cockroach Cluster."

"Ugh!" The waterspout gargoyle made an extremely humanlike retching expression before rotating and opening the door.

"Every time I hear that password, I feel sick for ages. Young wizard, tell Dumbledore to change it already. I have to be disgusted every time I open the door."

"I'll see what I can do. How about changing it to 'scarab'?"

"Get lost! Isn't that just... Ugh!"

"You young wizards have no sense of honor. Absolutely rotten!"

Chapter 47: A Brawl in the Headmaster's Office

After teasing the gatekeeping statue, Wayne felt considerably better and cheerfully entered the passage.

The staircase inside rotated automatically. Wayne stood on it and was carried to the entrance.

The great door was tightly shut, and a brass door knocker shaped like a Gryphon was mounted upon it. Wayne could sense powerful magical fluctuations coming from the knocker. It was a remarkably fine magical artifact.

If a wizard tried to force his way through the wooden door of the Headmaster's Office, it would transform into a brass Gryphon and attack.

That magical creature was incredibly powerful, rated XXXXX, and was no weaker than a dragon.

Hogwarts really did have deep foundations.

Wayne sighed inwardly, suddenly tempted to pry the knocker off and install it at home.

An alchemical item of this level was completely beyond his abilities at present. But Wayne only thought about it. After all, he could not beat old Dumbledore.

Like Cedric fondling the Nimbus 2000, Wayne thoroughly played with the door knocker before pushing the door open and entering.

The Headmaster's Office was a magnificent circular room with a very high ceiling and excellent natural lighting.

It was four in the afternoon. Warm sunlight streamed into the room, shining on the gemstones and making them glow faintly.

"What extravagance... Even I don't waste money like this," Wayne muttered. Elsewhere in Hogwarts, oil lamps and candles were generally used for lighting. In the Headmaster's Office, they had been replaced with gemstones.

Dumbledore was not in the room. Wayne casually found a cushioned chair and sat down, studying the office's layout.

The most abundant objects here were undoubtedly books. Nearly half the wall was covered by bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, with a spiral staircase beside them for easy access. Next came the portraits covering the other half of the wall.

Although there was no one else in the room, Wayne constantly felt that he was being watched by countless eyes.

Yet whenever he turned around, the portraits showed no reaction at all. Like Muggle paintings, they remained completely motionless.

Near the large desk, a stone basin sat on a tall stool. Wayne knew that it was a Pensieve, an extremely valuable device for storing and replaying memories. I want to steal it.

What was he supposed to do? The moment he entered this room, Wayne felt as though he wanted to take everything home.

On the other side of the desk, a tall floor mirror leaned at an angle. Most of its surface was covered by velvet cloth, leaving only the stand and a small portion of the mirror exposed.

"Hey, boy."

A sharp voice suddenly rang out. Wayne turned around.

A portrait had "come to life."

"You've been staring at it for ages. Do you know what that is?"

Wayne walked over. The portrait depicted an old man with a pointed beard, dressed in silver-green robes.

The nameplate beneath the portrait introduced 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 pointed beard, his expression filled with disdain.

"That is the Mirror of Erised. Do you know what the Mirror of Erised is?"

Wayne put on an attentive expression.

"It allows you to see the deepest, most urgent, and most powerful desires in your heart. Don't you want to know what you most desire right now?"

Phineas tempted him. "Go on, give it a try. Dumbledore has been staring into that mirror until dawn every day lately. He's practically bewitched."

"Not interested." Wayne waved his hand and boredly returned to his seat. "I want everything right now, and yet none of it matters. Looking would be pointless."

This was not Wayne fobbing Phineas off. It was a true reflection of him. He was interested in everything, but none of those feelings were particularly intense.

That was because Wayne knew that sooner or later, he could obtain anything he wanted.

That was the confidence of someone with a cheat.

Phineas was caught completely off guard by Wayne's reaction. "Wait, you haven't even looked yet, and you already dare to boast?"

Wayne glanced at him. "No wonder you were the least popular Headmaster in the school's history. You meddle in everything. Do you think you can even control whether I look at a mirror?"

"You're dead, yet you're still causing trouble. Serves you right for being cursed."

The room fell briefly silent before erupting into thunderous laughter. The Headmasters who had been pretending to be dead finally could not hold back any longer, each of them laughing so hard they rocked back and forth.

A big-nosed Headmaster even pointed at Phineas. "Black, you're finally getting what you deserve! You were actually insulted by a student!"

A plump-looking woman applauded. "As expected of our Hufflepuff young wizard. You certainly know how to judge people!"

"Stop laughing! All of you, stop laughing!" Phineas stamped his feet in fury. "Damn young wizard! If I were still alive, I would expel you immediately!"

"Then come back to life." Wayne spread his hands, while notifications about earning points arrived one after another in his mind.

Well, well. Insulting a former Headmaster earns points too? What a pleasant surprise.

Phineas was enraged by his attitude.

"You little brat! You bunch of Hufflepuff idiots! You're all only fit to be cooks and shop assistants for the rest of your lives!"

This was bad.

Phineas's indiscriminate attack had offended every Headmaster who had come from Hufflepuff.

One hot-tempered Headmaster was the first to lose control. He vanished from his own frame and appeared in Phineas's a moment later, swinging his fist straight into Phineas's nose.

The other Hufflepuff Headmasters were not to be outdone. They charged over together and began a righteous group beating.

Phineas screamed nonstop. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Headmasters cheered from the sidelines, while the Slytherin Headmasters had no intention of helping.

They might all have come from Slytherin House, but Phineas's mouth was simply too foul. He had not even been hanging in the portraits for a hundred years, yet he had already offended practically everyone.

Wayne watched the Headmasters' chaotic brawl with a grin, occasionally nodding in appreciation.

Look at that side kick. What power. And that Black Tiger Steals the Heart—so authentic. As expected, a mage's final destination was close combat, the kind that did not even require a wand.

Just as Wayne was enjoying the spectacle, the door to the Headmaster's Office was pushed open. Dumbledore walked in. He froze at the sight of the chaos, then noticed the untouched velvet cloth and gave Wayne a deep look, a smile on his face.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No, Headmaster." Wayne shook his head. "You arrived at exactly the right time."

"If you had come any later, Headmaster Phineas would have been beaten to death."

Chapter 48: The Clash Between an Old Fox and a Little Fox

The office's current master had arrived, so the portraits of the past Headmasters sped up their movements.

Each of them landed one last hard blow on Phineas before returning to their own frames and pretending to be dead again.

As for Phineas, perhaps feeling humiliated, he vanished from the portrait. He had probably fled to hide in Black Manor.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Lawrence."

Dumbledore gestured for Wayne to sit opposite him. "What would you like to drink? Black tea, green tea, or hot cocoa?"

Wayne did not stand on ceremony. "Black tea will do."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement and said happily, "I'm very fond of black tea as well. Bathilda just sent me some Ceylon black tea. Unfortunately, Minerva and Filius both prefer lemon tea, so I've never had anyone to share it with."

Dumbledore lightly tapped the tabletop with his wand, and an exquisitely crafted teapot and teacups appeared on the desk.