Hogwarts: Please, Just Graduate Already!

During the day, while everyone else was doing their homework, he still had to develop new products for Celia's Shop. Every night, he not only had to sneak out and practice spells, but also scour the books in the Restricted Section.

From time to time, he also had to visit Hestia to check on her and the little Unicorns, bringing them some food while he was at it.

His time management was already maxed out.

It was another Tuesday night.

As usual, Wayne arrived at Snape's office.

The difference was that this time, it wasn't a potion Snape had assigned. Wayne had proposed it himself.

"You want to brew a Draught of Living Death?"

Snape frowned, though it wasn't because Wayne's skill was lacking.

With a Potions Master like Snape guiding him, combined with Wayne's natural talent and terrifying memory, Wayne's Potions skills had advanced by leaps and bounds.

Even a Draught of Living Death was well within his ability.

What troubled Snape was the ingredients needed to brew it.

Scarab beetles, Ginger Root, and Toad gall were all common enough, but he couldn't bear to take out the Acromantula venom and Runespoor skin. Both ingredients were extremely precious, and he didn't have much of either on hand.

"Professor, I have both Runespoor skin and Acromantula venom." Wayne took out the two ingredients.

When he saw a full gallon of Acromantula venom, Snape's eyes went wide. "Lawrence, where did you get so much venom?" Then he saw the snake skin. "And this skin is at least fifty years old!"

"I bought them in Diagon Alley, Professor." Wayne smiled brightly.

The Runespoor skin had been sponsored by the Centaurs. He had more than ten pieces, and brewing one cauldron of the Draught of Living Death only required a small section of a single sheet.

Snape gave him a look that clearly said, What utter rubbish.

He had partnerships with the apothecaries in Diagon Alley. Whenever precious ingredients arrived, they would certainly notify him in advance.

Snape couldn't be bothered to listen to any more of Wayne's nonsense and asked directly, "Are you selling it?" Bang!

Wayne slammed a gold brick onto the table and raised an eyebrow. "Do I look short of money?"

The relationship between Wayne and Snape was rather strange. They were teacher and student, and Snape even tutored him privately.

But they both wanted to take advantage of the other whenever possible.

If there was a chance to see Snape suffer, Wayne would never let it pass.

"Hmph! What a waste of ingredients!" Snape ground his teeth, but he still took out the Draught of Living Death recipe.

A high-level potion like this couldn't be brewed in just two hours. When the time was up, Wayne left the cauldron in Snape's office and went out. As he watched the golden liquid steaming, Snape felt an itch in his heart. How does this kid have so many good things? The next day.

Wayne struggled out of his warm bed. The weather was getting colder and colder, and it probably wouldn't be long before it snowed.

As usual, he woke his two roommates, washed up, and then went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The moment he entered the Great Hall, he stopped.

The entire hall was filled with the scent of pumpkins, and the topics being discussed by the little witches and wizards all made one thing clear.

Halloween was coming.

Chapter Seventy-Two: Swelling Pumpkins, Hermione's Outburst

Wayne was feeling rather emotional as well.

Before he knew it, he had already been living at Hogwarts for nearly two months. Once people became busy, time passed especially quickly.

These two months at Hogwarts had been the most fulfilling time of his life. It was far more interesting than Muggle school.

Perhaps because the holiday was approaching, starting this week, the professors' lessons had more or less begun to involve Halloween.

Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall gave each student a mouse and asked the little witches and wizards to turn it into a pumpkin.

Wayne looked at his mouse. It was limp and listless. He poked Ron, who was sitting in front of him, with his wand.

"Is something wrong, Wayne?" Ron turned around in confusion.

"I feel like this mouse isn't very intelligent. How about you lend me Scabbers?"

"Scabbers is a pet, not a prop." Ron immediately grew nervous. "Besides, Scabbers is in the dormitory. I didn't bring him."

"Oh, I see." Wayne looked a little disappointed. "How about lending him to me next time? Consider it a rental. One Sickle per day."

Hearing such an astronomical price, Ron was indeed tempted.

One Sickle a day came to nearly two Galleons a month. To him, that was undoubtedly a fortune.

But after weighing his feelings for himself and Scabbers, Ron still refused with a pained expression.

Harry asked in confusion, "Wayne, why are you so interested in Scabbers?" Wayne replied matter-of-factly, "A mouse usually lives only one to three years. Scabbers has already been alive for more than ten years, right? Of course I want to study such a long-lived mouse."

Oh, right.

Harry also noticed the blind spot.

If Wayne hadn't mentioned it, he wouldn't have realized it either. How had Scabbers lived so long?

Noticing the curiosity in his friend's eyes, Ron hurriedly defended him. "Scabbers is a wizard's pet. How can he be compared to an ordinary mouse?"

Harry shrugged. "But you said so yourself. He's just an ordinary rat without the bloodline of a magical creature."

"This..." Ron didn't know what to say.

"Maybe Percy fed him some kind of potion? You know, Scabbers used to be Percy's pet."

"Forget it. I won't force you if you don't want to." Wayne didn't care. "But if you ever run short of money, you can come to me. Just remember to bring your rat."

With that, he began fiddling with his own limp mouse.

22

Herbology.

This week's Herbology class wasn't held inside the greenhouse.

Braving the cold wind, Professor Sprout led the little witches and wizards to Hagrid's vegetable garden.

It was a pumpkin patch. The pumpkins were already ready to be harvested, with two or three growing on each vine, turning the whole field golden.

The students' task wasn't merely to harvest the pumpkins. Before that, they had to make the already enormous pumpkins even bigger.

Professor Sprout took bottle after bottle of potion from the large basket she had brought and had each student take one.

Then she explained:

"This is Swelling Solution. It will increase the size of the pumpkins."

"What you need to remember is that it must be dripped onto the center of the stem. Only then will the swelling be even. And whatever you do, don't use too much."

"After dripping one drop, wait until the swelling is complete before adding the next."

Professor Sprout warned them, "Last lesson, a Gryffindor student poured half a bottle of Swelling Solution onto a pumpkin. Two students were almost crushed to death, so you must be careful."

Quiet laughter came from the vegetable garden.

Whenever something fell into Gryffindor's hands, it always developed in a strange direction. By now, everyone was used to it.

Wayne opened the bottle and held it beneath his nose to smell it. His expression darkened slightly. "What's wrong?" Hannah, who had been drooling over the pumpkins, noticed the change in Wayne's expression. She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and asked.

The little witch had only been at Hogwarts for two months, but she had already put on enough weight to look two sizes larger.

"Nothing. I just think the potion is of pretty good quality." Wayne forced a smile. How could it not be? I brewed it myself.

No wonder Snape had suddenly asked him to brew such a simple Swelling Solution that day. So he had been treating Wayne as cheap labor.

Wayne silently added another mark against Snape in his little notebook.

He had always been the one exploiting others. He hadn't expected to be exploited by Snape instead. Sooner or later, he was going to hang that man from a lamppost.

As class neared its end, the vegetable garden was packed full of pumpkins. Each one was two or three times larger than before, as big as a millstone.

Pumpkins treated with Swelling Solution could still be eaten, but their texture became terrible, and they were not very filling.

Fortunately, these pumpkins were only being used as Halloween decorations. They wouldn't end up in the little witches' and wizards' stomachs.

Well, Hannah might not be able to resist tasting one.

Professor Sprout awarded Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff five points each because no one had caused trouble in class.

That was the power of comparison.

With Gryffindor setting such a terrible example, simply behaving and listening obediently had become worth points.

"Mr. Lawrence, could you stay behind for a moment?" Sprout called out to Wayne from within the crowd. "Professor, is something wrong?"

"Help me carry these pumpkins to the storeroom." As she spoke, Sprout made half the pumpkins float.

Wayne followed her example and controlled the other half of the pumpkins, without even taking out his wand.

"Perfect Levitation Charm. Ten points to Hufflepuff." Professor Sprout smiled

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very happily. "That is on Flitwick's behalf."

Recently, Wayne had stopped answering questions in class. Or rather, even when he did answer correctly, the professors no longer awarded him points so easily.

Whenever the professors saw Wayne, they always felt as if a graduate had returned to take first-year classes.

Giving him points would feel strange.

Professor Sprout was merely taking the opportunity to make it up to Wayne. There was no way she couldn't control a few pumpkins.

Only after putting the pumpkins in the storeroom did Wayne bid farewell to his Head of House. He ate a little lunch and then went to the Potions classroom.

His good mood vanished at once. Snape always knew how to pour cold water over everyone when they were happiest.

None of the professors had assigned homework for the Halloween weekend. Even Quidditch practice had been suspended.

Only he had assigned three essays after class, corresponding to the three Potions they had studied earlier.

Wayne didn't need to write them, but Snape had given him a task as well: he had to ensure that every Hufflepuff student's essay passed perfectly.

The instant Snape saw him take out his wand, he floated away like a bat.

The last day of October was Halloween night.

When Wayne woke up early that morning, the smell of roasted pumpkins in the corridors was even stronger, and the ghosts were more active than usual.

In the Hufflepuff common room, the Fat Friar gave an impromptu speech, calling on the little witches and wizards to join the church and believe in the omnipotent God. Unfortunately, no one seemed interested.

In Charms class, Professor Flitwick felt that they could begin making objects fly.

After seeing him send Neville's toad flying all over the classroom, the students were practically bursting with anticipation.

Each person received a feather. The little witches and wizards waved their wands and chanted under their breath. "Wayne, what are you writing?" After Hermione successfully controlled the feather and kept it hovering for several seconds, she happily put away her wand and let it slowly descend.

Only then did she notice that Wayne wasn't practicing magic. He was writing a letter.

"Oh, my clothes are getting a little small, so I'm planning to order two more sets from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions."

"Do you need any? If you don't know your measurements, the shop will send over a set of magical measuring tapes to help you measure yourself. Then you just send them back along with the money and tools."

Eleven or twelve was the age when children grew quickly.

Wayne had grown three centimeters in the two months since enrolling. The robes that had fit him before were now rather

short.

"I don't need any." Hermione shook her head and lectured Wayne like a little housekeeper. "You've only been here for two months, and you're already buying new robes. Why not order one size larger from the start?

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"It would save you quite a bit of money."

"Sigh." Wayne finished writing his final request, slipped the letter back into his pocket, and shook his head regretfully.

"After all, I'm so poor that all I have left is money. There aren't many places to spend it at Hogwarts. Are you going to take away even this little bit of happiness from me?"

Hermione was speechless for a moment.

Only then did she remember Wayne's identity.

That rascal had only mentioned that both his parents were dead when they first met. He hadn't said a word about being an earl!

If they had been in the Muggle world, Hermione would have had to address Wayne as "Lord."

"You just love showing off." The little witch angrily ignored Wayne. Hearing Ron behind her repeatedly mispronounce the spell, she irritably reminded him, "Pay attention to the pauses. It's Wingardium Levio-sa. The 'gar' has to be drawn out and pronounced clearly."

After being told about a whole pile of mistakes, Ron flushed with embarrassment and anger. "If you're so clever, why don't you try it yourself?"

Hermione wasn't polite at all. She rolled up her sleeves, revealing her snow-white wrist, and followed Flitwick's instructions with a wave and a flick.