Flint had completely lost his bearings.
To prevent the fool from spouting more thoughtless words, the Slytherin team abandoned their new broom trials, dragging him away without a backwards glance.
Before leaving, Malfoy repeatedly assured Hermione that this incident had nothing to do with him—it was entirely Flint's personal misconduct.
"That's it? Resolved just like that?" Watching their hurried departure, Wood felt as though he were dreaming.
When had Slytherins become so accommodating?
The twins exchanged glances, both understanding each other's thoughts.
Something extraordinary must have happened to make Slytherin so afraid of Wayne.
Both were intensely curious, itching to summon Wayne immediately and demand an explanation.
"Thank you, Hermione," Wood said, scratching his head. Though equally baffled by the situation, he knew it was Hermione speaking up for them that had made the difference.
"It's nothing. I only told the truth," Hermione shook her head. After biting her lip, she added, "Could you not tell Wayne about what just happened? I don't want to cause trouble for him."
If Wayne learned Flint had tried to insult her, things certainly wouldn't end peacefully.
Moreover, Malfoy's words had been surprisingly pleasant. She wasn't really angry anymore—if anything, she felt rather pleased.
"No problem," Wood agreed readily.
Hermione nodded, bid farewell to Harry and the others, and left the pitch.
She'd only been passing by on her way to the Forbidden Forest.
The Unicorns there were still waiting for her to bathe them. With Gardevoir present, safety wasn't a concern.
...
In Hogsmeade, Wayne remained unaware of the minor incident at school.
Emerging from Honeydukes, he carried a large bag of sweets—some for Dumbledore, some for himself.
Though not particularly fond of sweets, they were excellent for coaxing children.
Instead of heading straight to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, they browsed the smaller stores in Hogsmeade.
Their first stop was Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.
Wayne purchased vast quantities of ink and parchment, along with self-inking quills and cover paper.
He bought a few actual quills, selecting only a handful of aesthetically pleasing designs to replicate later.
The shop's most valuable Fwooper feather quills were already his in unlimited supply, making purchases unnecessary.
Parchment and ink, however, were in constant demand.
He'd only copied half the books from the Restricted Section, with many still awaiting duplication.
The scale of his needs?
After Wayne and Cho left, the quill shop closed entirely—completely sold out of ink and parchment. What else could they do but shut for the day?
This left subsequent young witches and wizards utterly bewildered.
...
"Shopkeeper, can you make cloaks here?"
After leaving the quill shop, they entered Gladrags Wizardwear.
Cho's figure and bearing suited Eastern classical styles remarkably well—something Wayne only noticed today.
"Certainly. What materials would the customers require?" A middle-aged witch emerged from behind the counter, smiling at them.
"For you, or the lady?"
"For her." Wayne pointed at Cho, then requested paper to sketch his desired cloak design.
The witch studied Cho, then Wayne's drawing, nodding appreciatively.
"It suits her perfectly. Your own design?"
Wayne shook his head. "This is an Eastern style. I've no talent for design."
He rummaged through several bags before placing one on the counter.
"Can you use this?"
The witch examined it, eyes widening. "Unicorn hair?"
"Correct."
"Wayne, there's no need to be so extravagant," Cho gently tugged the boy's sleeve.
"There's nothing wasteful about it." Wayne took her hand. "You know my situation—with Hestia and the others around..."
These were all hairs collected by Gardevoir over time, sorted by quality. Keeping them served no purpose.
Cho considered this and finally stopped objecting.
The shopkeeper couldn't help glancing at Wayne several more times.
'Using Unicorn hair to impress girls—just which young master's family did he belong to?'
But she knew better than to comment. After taking Cho's measurements and asking Wayne some detailed questions, she charged five Galleons for the tailoring.
The work would be completed within a week and delivered by owl to the school.
After leaving, the two wandered around a while longer before heading to the teahouse around eleven to secure seats early.
Though touted as a student dating hotspot, its main appeal was the atmosphere. Chubby little angels floated overhead, looking utterly adorable.
Combined with decorations that catered to young girls' tastes and dim lighting, the place exuded a romantic atmosphere.
Yet the teahouse was tiny—only six tables total.
Wayne disliked such a lack of privacy during dates. Once their tea and pastries arrived, he cast a spell isolating their space from outside view.
Truthfully, dating didn't require excessive planning.
If a girl likes you, even strolling down streets together brings joy. If not, even the fanciest restaurant or most expensive handbag won't...
Well... she might fall for your money instead.
Wayne and Cho were clearly the former. Their conversation flowed naturally—odd news from the papers, professional Quidditch team matches.
Occasionally, Wayne deliberately stirred Cho's emotions, whether joy or irritation.
What mattered was creating emotional ripples. Monotony is what truly kills romance.
...
Noon passed quickly. With Hogsmeade being small, they returned to the castle shortly after leaving the teahouse.
"Thank you, I had a wonderful time today."
When escorting Cho back to her tower, the girl attempted a surprise attack. But Wayne anticipated it, pinning her down for playful retaliation.
Blushing furiously, she fled into the common room.
Wayne didn't idle either, having Ho-Oh teleport him back to his case.
Inside, Hermione was cleaning the Mooncalves' nests. A flick of her wand sent debris swirling out in miniature whirlwinds.
Clearly, the young witch had mastered various cleaning charms—able to cast them wordlessly now.
"Good work, Hermione." Wayne grinned, ruffling her soft, fluffy hair—delightful to touch.
"Hmph. You had fun, didn't you? Enjoying your date with Cho?" Hermione pouted upon seeing him, swatting away his mischievous hands.
"It was decent." Wayne nodded cheerfully. "Found several interesting spots. When you can visit Hogsmeade, I'll take you too."
Rephrasing changed everything. His words implied the outing had been reconnaissance for future dates with Hermione.
Though knowing he'd gone with Cho, Hermione still felt secretly pleased.
The crisis averted, Wayne spent the rest of the afternoon helping her practice spells and solve classroom puzzles. Hermione didn't mention what had happened that morning, even when they returned to the Great Hall for lunch.
But how could there possibly be secrets within the school?
Though she'd promised Hermione not to tell Wayne, news of the pitch conflict had already spread between Gryffindor and Slytherin, soon reaching Hufflepuff as well.
Finally, Wayne naturally came to know everything.
"Marcus Flint..."
Hearing him mutter that name, Cedric, who was watching him nervously from the side, shuddered and quickly tried to dissuade him:
"Wayne, don't be impulsive. He didn't even manage to finish the insult before being shut down. If you really want revenge, let's find a time when no one's around to ambush him with a sack and beat him up. Don't make it too big."
Cedric was terrified—not of Wayne's daily flirtations with girls, but of his sudden bursts of energy for stirring up trouble.
Every time he caused a commotion, it was a school-wide spectacle.
Cedric genuinely feared the professors would grow dissatisfied with him.
"How could you have such a despicable idea?" Wayne looked at him disdainfully. "Who taught you that? Ambushing someone with a sack—what kind of method is that?"
"The twins did," Cedric said without hesitation, betraying his teammates. "They were planning to sack me before the last match."
"Really?" Wotley stood up abruptly.
"They were just joking," Cedric said, his scalp prickling. He hadn't even managed to calm Wayne down, and now another one was jumping in.
"No, next time we'll have to sack Wood too."
Wotley rubbed his hands eagerly, but Cedric ignored him. Keeping Wayne in check was the priority.
"Don't worry, I won't make it that big," Wayne patted his shoulder, smiling warmly.
"Alright, let's eat first. I've got things to do tonight."
With that, Wayne buried himself in his meal, ending the conversation with Cedric.
The Slytherins who had been secretly watching this exchange also breathed a sigh of relief.
...
After dinner, Wayne headed straight to the agreed-upon classroom.
First, he moved all the clutter to the back of the room, then temporarily expanded the space and cast defensive spells before sitting on a chair to wait.
Around half past seven, Malfoy arrived.
"Lawrence, about today's incident..."
"Hey, it's got nothing to do with you," Wayne cut him off with a wave. "I should be thanking you—no, Flint should be thanking you. If you hadn't stopped him, you might never have seen Flint again."
Malfoy broke out in a cold sweat.
That sounded downright chilling.
He didn't dare linger on the topic and handed Wayne the tuition fee—a full fifteen hundred Galleons, packed into four bags.
Hearing the chime of points being credited, Wayne smiled.
Only then did Malfoy ask, "Is it safe here? Won't Filch cause trouble for us?"
"Relax, I already spoke to Filch," Wayne said dismissively. "He won't come up to the third floor until ten."
Bribing Filch had been surprisingly easy—a self-made automatic sweeping mop and some Muggle cat food did the trick.
Hearing this, Malfoy relaxed completely. "Then let's begin," he said eagerly.
Fifteen hundred Galleons wasn't a small sum for him—it had cost him a beating to get it. He needed to learn something worthwhile.
"Not yet. Wait a little longer," Wayne said, motioning for Malfoy to sit down.
A short while later, Harry arrived.
Harry, who had been excited, froze the moment he saw Malfoy.
"You're here!"
"Potter, what are you doing here!"
They spoke simultaneously, glaring at each other with mutual disdain.
They'd never gotten along, and after their clash that morning, they'd probably have come to blows already if not for Wayne's presence.
"I'm here to learn magic from Wayne," Malfoy sneered. "Did you think you were the only one who could cough up fifteen hundred Galleons?"
'Fifteen hundred?'
Harry blinked, instinctively glancing at Wayne.
Wayne's voice echoed in his mind: "Don't blow my cover. I charged Malfoy fifteen hundred too – if he asks, that's what you say."
"Pfft!"
Harry barely suppressed a laugh.
Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so angry with Malfoy anymore. If anything, his gaze now held a hint of pity and schadenfreude.
Malfoy, irritated by Harry's expression, demanded, "Lawrence, what's the meaning of this? Weren't you supposed to be teaching me? Why invite Potter along?"
"Obviously, I'm teaching both of you together," Wayne said matter-of-factly.
Both Malfoy and Harry frowned. After paying so much, they had to share lessons? Was Wayne taking them for fools?
Meeting their displeased stares, Wayne smiled: "Don't get upset yet. I guarantee you'll learn more efficiently together than separately."
"Potter, do you dislike Malfoy?"
"Not at all," Harry shook his head. "I just wish he'd get expelled, that's all."
A vein throbbed in Malfoy's forehead.
"Malfoy, do you dislike Potter?"
"Not at all," Malfoy sneered. "I just hope he gets sent back to the Muggle world to scavenge through rubbish someday."
They locked eyes again, their intense mutual glare leaving no room for anyone else.
"Perfect," Wayne clapped his hands. "What I'm teaching is Defence Against the Dark Arts, where emotional power matters greatly. Moreover, competition will fuel your learning potential. Only through comparison can you gauge your progress."
Wayne eyed them sceptically. "Unless... you're afraid of being outperformed by each other? Is that why you don't want joint lessons?"
"Bullshit!" they shouted in unison. "As if I'd be scared of him!"
Provocation worked brilliantly on sworn rivals. Even if they saw through it, their pride would still lead them into the trap. And given these two's intellect, seeing through it wasn't even an option.
"Excellent. Let's begin, then – this is a perfect opportunity for you to duel properly. Wouldn't want to waste it."
If this were an anime, Wayne could practically see the fiery auras erupting around them.
Clearly, both Malfoy and Harry had swallowed his reasoning whole and were raring to go.
"Here." Wayne handed them each a wand.
"Wayne, we already have wands," Harry said, puzzled.
"These are specially designed teaching tools."
Wayne produced an identical wand and pointed it at Harry.
Whoosh!
A red flash later, Harry felt a sting. Looking down, he saw a bright dot on his clothes.
Simultaneously, the mounted scoreboard changed to 1-0.
"Just a little invention of mine. It fires attacks with a thought, but the effects are minimal. But since the spell's flight speed is about the same as an average wizard's, it's perfect for your training."
"What exactly are we supposed to practise with this?" The two still looked puzzled.
"Your reflexes, of course." Wayne studied them both. "To defeat an enemy, you must first ensure your own survival."
"Wizard duels aren't about standing still and trading spells. You need agile footwork. Dodging attacks not only drains your opponent's magical power but creates openings to strike back. So if you want to fight, first learn to take a hit."
"Now, you'll each have three minutes. Afterwards, we'll compare who has the fewest marks and lowest score."
As he spoke, Wayne flicked his finger, causing the light points on Harry's body to vanish and his score to reset to zero.
"Friendly warning – though individual hits aren't painful, enough of them will leave you with minor injuries."
Neither Harry nor Malfoy registered this last part.
Both wore eager grins.
Wasn't this a perfect chance to legally pummel (Harry) Malfoy?
"Who wants to go first?"
"Me!" Harry and Malfoy answered simultaneously.
"Why should you go first?" Harry glared at Malfoy indignantly. Just as he was about to appeal to Wayne's better nature, he saw the blond produce a Galleon from his pocket and hand it over.
Wayne pocketed the coin without blinking.
"Right, Malfoy goes first, then. Timer starts now!"
Harry: "..."
'Bloody money! Damn it!'