In the park, Wayne had been spacing out for quite some time. However, given this country's atmosphere of excessive freedom, where no one dared wander about at this hour, he remained undisturbed.
After scanning his surroundings, Wayne cast a wide-area Muggle-Repelling Charm and directly summoned the altar.
Boom!
Following a dull roar, the grassy lawn before him was occupied by a massive circular altar approximately sixty to seventy meters in diameter, emanating an aura of desolation and mystery.
Wayne stepped forward, and upon reaching the altar's summit, a sense of blood connection surged within him. A stream of information flooded his mind - the method of performing sacrifices.
Given the Divine artefact's sturdiness, he estimated that even if he used the altar as a weapon to smash someone directly, it would surpass the power of most spells.
Of course, he hadn't come up here to contemplate which angle would be most satisfying for crushing people.
Sitting casually on the steps and gazing at the starry sky, Wayne pondered the pros and cons of the Dimensional Altar.
There was no doubt this was a powerful Divine artefact. In terms of grade alone, it even surpassed the complete Dragon King inheritance. After all, no matter how powerful the Dragon King was, it couldn't jump between different dimensions or worlds at will.
But Wayne worried whether he could properly utilise this Divine artefact.
Opening worlds carried too many uncertainties. What if he opened a world where Demigods were weaker than dogs and Gods roamed everywhere - a world of archmages? He wouldn't dare enter, wasting the opportunity.
And if he rolled an ordinary world completely devoid of supernatural power, it would be meaningless to him.
There was also the most critical problem.
Opening a world channel required sacrificing a life of equivalent rank.
Where would he find someone of equivalent rank?
Did pseudo-Legend beings like Grace and Slytherin count?
If not, wouldn't he just be left staring helplessly?
Fortunately, although Wayne's system lacked emotions and higher intelligence, only operating according to rules, its after-sales service had always been decent. It soon provided the criteria for determining equivalent-ranked beings.
[Pseudo-Legend beings with equivalent destructive power but unbroken life thresholds require two sacrifices to open the first world.]
Understood - when quality falls short, quantity makes up for it. But at the very least, they needed to be pseudo-Legend.
If Slytherin truly wasn't dead and he could find him, that would be one.
Then the other...
Wayne suddenly slapped his thigh hard.
"What a huge loss! Had I known, I should have kept Voldy and Tom, fattened them up before killing them!"
...
"What's wrong with you?"
Back at the apartment, Grace looked at him, puzzled.
He'd been fine when he went out, so why did he return with such a gloomy face?
"I feel like I've lost a billion," Wayne grumbled unhappily.
Grace found his childish demeanour amusing. Putting down the stone slab, she walked over and lay on the bed too, embracing the young man's head while teasing, "Losing a billion wouldn't mean anything to you, would it?"
"No." Wayne shook his head vigorously. "Spending doesn't hurt, but losing does."
The damned system was clearly doing this on purpose. Among his enemies, only Tom and Voldemort had the potential to become pseudo-Legend, yet the Dimensional Altar was granted only after they were eliminated.
Now he couldn't even find suitable sacrifices.
Did they expect him to use the Sun Disc to cultivate one himself?
That would be utterly ridiculous...
"Have you discovered anything from the slate research?" Wayne looked up eagerly, now just hoping Grace could quickly find Slytherin's clue to complete at least one KPI first.
"Not yet." Grace leaned against the soft headboard, somewhat weary. "Most of it contains records of that era's culture and events, with very little about mysterious information."
"But it looks quite interesting, so let's take it slowly."
Hearing this, Wayne couldn't help but pout. "What kind of Hufflepuff likes reading as much as you do? You're a disgrace to your house."
He'd often teased her before - the time Grace spent in the library could equal that of ten Hufflepuff students combined. The Sorting Hat must have been confused again.
Now it seemed his words had proven prophetic.
To actually sort Ravenclaw herself into Hufflepuff house - if given the chance, he'd love to travel back a thousand years and make all the founders try on the hat to see the sorting results.
Grace pinched Wayne in anger.
"You're the real disgrace to your house! If Helga were still here, she'd definitely send you off to Slytherin."
Speaking of house disgraces, who could be more deserving of that title than this malicious Wayne? What Helga had wanted were kind-hearted, good children.
Which of those adjectives had anything to do with Wayne?
"Oh, daring to hit me now." With Wayne's explosive temper, he wasn't about to take a hit without fighting back.
The two began wrestling on the bed, their equipment gradually decreasing until soon, the room resonated with a moving symphony.
...
Massachusetts, Mount Greylock.
Ilvermorny's campus was located at the mountain summit, protected by powerful magic that prevented Muggles from discovering it. But so-called powerful magic... was actually just so-so.
With a history of barely 300 years, founded by a witch who never received formal training, what kind of heritage could the school possibly have?
Wayne and Grace received an enthusiastic welcome from Fontaine and Lafferty—so enthusiastic that Wayne grew somewhat wary. Unusual occurrences must signal trouble; even if they wanted to build good relations with him, there was no need to lower their stance so much.
"Cassandra, long time no see?"
After putting some distance between themselves and the two old men whose smiling faces were creased with wrinkles, Wayne turned with a smile to the young woman in the welcoming party behind them.
Cassandra pretended to be surprised, covering her small mouth. "So the great Mr Lawrence actually remembers a minor character like me?"
"Oh, then I've mistaken you for someone else." Wayne suddenly understood, even raising his hand in apology.
Cassandra's fair face flushed red with anger, though she soon became happy again.
"Could I get to know this beautiful young lady?"
Cassandra had received countless compliments since childhood, but praise needed to be considered based on who said it.
No matter how much those people at school said, it only made her feel nauseated, but if it came from Wayne, she'd reluctantly listen.
But Cassandra's smile didn't last long before she noticed Grace's hand had quietly reached Wayne's waist.
With too many people around, Grace was just warning him - to keep him from flirting with girls right in front of her.
After the brief welcome ceremony, the students returned to class while Lafferty and Fontaine served as tour guides, showing the two around the campus.
Ilvermorny is likely the wizarding school with the largest student population in the world, with nearly three thousand students in total. Its campus covers a much larger area than Hogwarts.
Apart from the main teaching building, which is a six-storey castle, most other structures are three-storey buildings. Each house has its own dedicated dormitory—Slytherin students would probably be green with envy.
'Living in a basement for seven years straight would drive anyone mad,' he thought.
The entire campus doesn't actually have many noteworthy sights, except for the circular Great Hall where the Sorting ceremony takes place, and what was once the Snakewood tree.
Although it has now been stolen, Wayne still suggested visiting the site, and Lafferty didn't refuse.
During their walk, Wayne learned why the two men were being so attentive.
"Grindelwald ransacked Mahoutokoro?" Wayne feigned surprise. Having been with Grace recently, he hadn't kept up with wizarding world developments or read any wizarding newspapers, leaving him somewhat out of touch.
"Yes," Fontaine replied gravely. "Half the campus buildings were stolen, though fortunately, there were no casualties."
"President Keynes has been searching for you worldwide recently. We never expected you'd come to North America."
"I've been exploring some ruins lately, not paying much attention to current affairs," Wayne murmured, stroking his chin.
'Only took half, huh...'
He felt somewhat dissatisfied with Grindelwald.
'If you're going to steal, why not take more?'
As they spoke, the group arrived at the spot where the Snakewood tree once stood.
A five-hundred-year-old birch tree had been transplanted here to maintain appearances, though its actual value paled in comparison to the Snakewood.
Standing at this sorrowful site, Fontaine couldn't help but curse the Scourers under his breath - they still believed the Scourers were responsible for everything, never suspecting Tom.
Wayne had no intention of returning Slytherin's wand to its original owners either.
As the saying goes, treasures belong to the virtuous - and he considered himself abundantly virtuous in martial prowess, so the wand was most suitable in his possession.
Moreover, Wayne and Grace had examined it and found the wand bore Slytherin's deep imprint. Unless intercepted by either of them, no one in this world could prevent him from claiming the wand.
Leaving it with others would merely mean safeguarding it for Slytherin, and might even lead to the wand controlling its wielder and affecting their mind.
Grace had mentioned that in their era, many wizards didn't commission wands from others but made their own, selecting suitable materials and gradually refining them into their perfect state.
'Rather like a bonded magical artefact,' he mused.
This approach had clear advantages and disadvantages: the advantage being that such a wand, once fully formed, would become its owner's perfect partner; the disadvantage being that when first acquired, one might not even be able to cast magic with it.
After circling the area, Grace shook her head slightly at Wayne, and the young man understood immediately.
'Seems we've found nothing of value here.'
After taking some souvenir photos, the group returned to the castle.
Lafferty finally couldn't contain himself any longer and asked nervously, "Mr Lawrence, how long do you plan to stay this time? There are excellent scenic spots around Ilvermorny, and we could visit Arizona too - those young Thunderbirds have grown considerably since last time."
Wayne saw through his concerns. "Mr Worley, are you worried Grindelwald might target Ilvermorny?"
Lafferty and Fontaine exchanged a glance, smiling awkwardly, but offered no rebuttal.
Not just them – at this point, apart from Hogwarts and Durmstrang, every other wizarding school across the globe was likely on edge, fearing Grindelwald might show up at their doorstep to 'make friends'.
That was why they had been so thrilled and excited upon hearing Wayne was coming to visit.
"I'm afraid I'll have to return in a couple of days," Wayne said, and their expressions visibly fell with disappointment.
He continued, "However, once I'm back, I will deal with the Grindelwald situation. I can assure you, he will not lay a hand on Ilvermorny."
At that, the two Headmasters perked up considerably.
But inwardly, Wayne was grumbling to himself.
'The wizarding community there still has treasures left behind from the old days – at least they're worth having a Dark Lord take the blame for them.'
'But what does your Ilvermorny have?'
'The most valuable thing, the Snakewood tree, is already in my hands. Am I supposed to come and snatch some Native American skulls?'