Professor McGonagall gave a detailed account of the day's events—especially the part about wand selection.
Dumbledore gradually formed a general impression of this young wizard named Wayne Lawrence.
Orphaned, but of noble descent.
He had a Muggle uncle who was a high-ranking government official.
Unconventional in behavior—he even brought raw gold to Gringotts to exchange for Galleons on his very first visit.
Most importantly, his talent was visibly apparent.
The moment he came into contact with his most compatible wand, he instinctively cast a Patronus Charm. Even with Dumbledore's vast knowledge and experience, he had never heard of such a thing.
"It seems we're about to have a genius student on our hands—and a future renowned alumnus," Dumbledore said happily, his snow-white beard twitching slightly.
"Let's hope he's better behaved," McGonagall said with concern, recalling the questions Wayne had asked her at the Leaky Cauldron.
"Two Weasley twins are already more than enough trouble."
Dumbledore, however, was unconcerned. "Students ought to be lively. It's a good thing."
Every time he saw energetic students, Dumbledore felt a heartfelt warmth. These young witches and wizards were his greatest treasures.
After a bit more conversation, Professor McGonagall left the Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore also set aside thoughts of Wayne for the time being—he had far more pressing matters to contemplate.
The Boy Who Lived was about to arrive at Hogwarts.
As if guided by fate, Voldemort—who had been dormant for ten years—was now showing signs of returning… and had set his sights on the Philosopher's Stone.
The Stone had been borrowed directly from Nicolas Flamel, and Dumbledore himself had deliberately allowed word of it to spread.
It was a trap.
One that would test Harry—and draw Voldemort's attention, giving Dumbledore a chance to assess his condition.
To ensure nothing went wrong, he needed to make even more thorough preparations.
With a sigh, Dumbledore pulled out the Daily Prophet. On the front page of today's issue was the recent Gringotts break-in.
…
"Accio teacup!"
Wayne lounged comfortably on the sofa, picked up his wand from the table, and cast the spell.
From the kitchen, a teacup filled with steaming black tea floated smoothly toward him and landed precisely in his hand—not a single drop spilled.
He downed the tea in one go, set his wand aside, and tapped the empty teacup twice.
Water surged up, and the cup filled itself again.
According to the First Principle of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, food cannot be conjured from nothing.
Wayne hadn't created the tea out of thin air—he had used a Refilling Charm to summon tea from the kettle in the kitchen into his cup.
"I've basically gotten the hang of silent incantations and wandless magic—at least for some simple spells."
The Refilling Charm was a very basic spell, which allowed him to perform it without a wand or even speaking.
But the Summoning Charm—Accio—was a different matter. That one wasn't taught until Fifth Year. Wayne still couldn't cast that one wandlessly.
By now, Wayne's magical skills far exceeded what was expected of a first-year—or even most Hogwarts students.
But the deeper his understanding of magic grew, the more he realized its complexity.
The magic of the Harry Potter world was deeply conceptual—almost like a force of pure intent, powered by will. "Wishful thinking" wasn't too far off the mark.
The true measure of a wizard wasn't how many spells they knew.
It was about how deeply they understood magic itself, and how well they understood their own mind.
At this moment, Wayne felt that he was a bit like the canon version of Hermione—he knew a lot of spells, but wasn't yet powerful. Broad knowledge, but shallow mastery.
"Ugh, why am I pushing myself so hard?" Wayne shook his head with a laugh. He realized he had been too impatient these past few days—he wanted to cash in on his talent all at once.
But in reality, he wasn't even officially a first-year yet. At best, he was just a pre-Hogwarts wizard.
After draining his teacup again, Wayne stood up and headed into the kitchen to prepare dinner.
All the household servants and chefs had been reassigned to other positions.
While that gave him more freedom, it also meant he had to cook for himself—a bit of a hassle.
Today marked Day 10 since he received the pet egg.
By his calculations, it was probably just about to hatch.
So after finishing cooking, Wayne didn't eat in the dining room. Instead, he carried his plate back to the bedroom to keep watch—just in case the little one hatched and couldn't find their mom.
No—dad.
But even after he finished eating, the little one still showed no signs of coming out.
So Wayne simply stayed put, leaning over his desk in a daze, thinking about which house at Hogwarts would suit him best.
Slytherin was definitely off the table. Even if the Sorting Hat recommended it, he wouldn't go.
A Muggle-born wizard entering Slytherin was practically asking to be hated. If he wanted to live a more relaxed school life, he'd have to beat every little snake into submission like Voldemort once did.
Sure, that would get him a ton of house points—but it was just too much hassle.
And it would definitely catch Dumbledore's attention.
Gryffindor wasn't a great choice either.
First, he'd be too close to Harry, which basically meant living under Dumbledore's constant watch—way too restricting.
Second, Wayne himself just didn't care for the whole Gryffindor thing.
They say it's all about courage and adventure, but in his opinion, it was just a bunch of noisy hotheads who harshly excluded anyone who didn't fit in.
Like Hermione at the start.
Everyone was goofing off and making mischief, trying to stand out.
And there she was, studying hard like a model student—what was that about?
Plus, Gryffindor placed a huge emphasis on collective honor. Even if Harry lost points for the house, people would whisper behind his back and give him the cold shoulder.
On one hand, they're the school's biggest pranksters, and on the other, they're obsessed with winning the House Cup.
What kind of twisted contradiction is that?
Wayne had no intention of suffering through that nonsense.
So that just left Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
Which one would be better?
Crack!
Crack!
The crisp sound of an eggshell breaking pulled the dazed Wayne back to reality. He quickly looked up.
He carefully picked up the Pokémon egg and placed it on a soft velvet cushion, his eyes filled with anticipation.
What he wanted most, of course, was something cute—like a Gardevoir, a Sylveon, or a Milotic.
Of course, if it were something like Rayquaza or Kyurem, he wouldn't mind either.
Crack!
Half the eggshell broke away completely, and the little guy finally revealed its true form.
Wayne leaned in—and then his eyes widened.
"…That's a Fearow?"
"Chirp!"