Inside the Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore looked helplessly at the two bruised and battered men, feeling as though his own face was stinging from secondhand embarrassment.
Just yesterday, he had announced to everyone that Sirius would become the new Etiquette Professor, singing his praises.
Not even twenty-four hours had passed, and here he was, getting "acquainted" with Slytherin's Head of House.
Dumbledore was beginning to question whether inviting Sirius had been the right decision.
Not that he particularly cared about losing face—he was thick-skinned enough that such trivial matters wouldn't sway his resolve.
But what worried Dumbledore... was that if these two kept fighting like this, Snape might just defect back to the Death Eaters.
The atmosphere in the office was stifling. Since their arrival, Sirius and Snape had sat in sullen silence.
Professor McGonagall finally couldn't take it anymore. "Albus, what do you intend to do about this?"
Dumbledore didn't answer directly. "How are Potter and Malfoy?"
"They're fine—just lost quite a bit of hair and have some bite marks on their faces. I sent them back to their dormitories."
Dumbledore gave a slight nod, then, after a brief pause, said, "Starting today, both professors' privileges to award or deduct house points are temporarily suspended. These rights will only be restored once you've both calmed down and stopped acting on impulse."
Sirius didn't mind—he never cared about such things—but Snape's expression darkened.
Without the ability to deduct or award points, how could he torment Potter and vent his frustrations?
How could Slytherin secure the House Cup now?
"And what about the points they've already deducted...?" Professor McGonagall shot both men a glare.
You two could fight all you wanted, but did you have to drag Gryffindor into it?
She'd just checked the hourglasses—the Gryffindor one was so empty you could race mice through it.
"Let it stand," Dumbledore said calmly. "Wrongdoing must be punished. Mr Malfoy will serve two nights of detention, as will Mr Potter. As for you two, this month's salaries are forfeited."
"I expect you both to remember your positions as professors. Should such disgraceful incidents recur—"
"Headmaster," Sirius interrupted.
"You wouldn't object if Professor Snape and I had some... private exchanges between old friends, would you?"
"That is your prerogative," Dumbledore said with a slight shake of his head. "So long as it doesn't compromise your professional dignity, I've no authority to interfere. Ah—and provided it doesn't affect your teaching duties."
"Understood." Sirius shot Snape a challenging look.
"You may both leave now. Rest and recover properly—I expect to see you both in presentable condition when classes resume on Monday."
Dumbledore issued the order to leave, and Snape walked out without a word, with Sirius following closely behind.
Once outside, Sirius immediately said, "That wasn't satisfying enough. Have the guts for a proper duel."
Snape sneered, "Ten tonight, the Shrieking Shack. If you don't show, you're my grandson."
"You're not worthy of the Black name. Disgusting." Sirius spat and limped away. He needed to hurry to Madam Pomfrey for some healing potions, or he'd be crawling there tonight.
Snape gave him a cold glare before turning towards the staircase on the other side. His steps were too large, making him hiss in pain.
Bloody bastard, that knee was vicious!
Inside the office, Professor McGonagall was dissatisfied with Dumbledore's decision.
"Isn't the punishment too lenient? So many students saw it, not to mention visitors from other schools. Won't this make Hogwarts seem lawless?"
Professor McGonagall wasn't insisting on severe punishment for Snape and Sirius—she just wanted to make an example, to show other schools that Hogwarts upheld strict discipline.
"Minerva, anything harsher would require suspending them from classes," Dumbledore said helplessly. "If they're suspended, we'd need substitutes for Potions class, and finding a replacement for Etiquette would be even harder."
"Would that be punishing them or punishing the rest of the staff?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth but ultimately sighed in resignation.
...
Inside the suitcase's miniature world, Wayne entered the library and took out Ravenclaw's Diadem.
He then produced a vial of Felix Felicis.
Following Nicolas's instructions, he poured about an ounce of the potion onto the gem at the diadem's peak.
Even with his considerable wealth, Wayne was extremely frugal with Felix Felicis.
The potion was priceless and scarce—only a handful of Potion Masters could brew it, and the process took three to six months. Few would mass-produce it.
Between his own brews and what he had... acquired from Snape, he only had five vials left.
Fortunately, Nicolas had sent him another, replenishing his small stock.
The golden liquid, like molten gold, trickled over the gem. Soon, the diadem began to change.
The Felix Felicis was absorbed, and the silver crown emitted a faint blue glow.
Intrigued, Wayne placed the diadem on his head. A refreshing coolness spread through his body, sharpening his mind.
Suddenly, his thoughts underwent a strange transformation, as if elevated to a higher plane.
Several lingering doubts in his mind instantly cleared.
Starlight surged, and a majestic aura radiated from him.
In the next room, Gardevoir, who was preparing lunch for the Unicorns, winced in pain and was forced to teleport out of the cabin to the lakeside.
She couldn't withstand the pressure emanating unconsciously from Wayne.
"Gardevoir..."
She gazed worriedly at the cabin, now enveloped in starlight, obscuring the view inside.
Meanwhile, Wayne was immersed in an ocean of knowledge.
He had already experienced the immense power of Ravenclaw's Diadem—the sensation was utterly extraordinary.
In scientific terms, it was as if his brain's potential had been further unlocked, making him even more intelligent.
From a metaphysical perspective, it was an enhancement in comprehension—many previously baffling problems were now effortlessly resolved.
Wayne had inherited the Dragon King's legacy for quite some time, yet his progress remained dismal.
Beyond the basics gained during the initial inheritance, his personal research had been painstakingly slow.
The reason was simple: the fundamental disparity was too vast.
The starting point was a divine-tier legacy, and even that was merely one per cent of the whole. The complete Dragon King's legacy would be even more advanced.
Yet Wayne? He was just an underage wizard.
It was like placing all advanced mathematics textbooks before a primary or secondary school student. They could recognise the words, but comprehension remained a struggle.
Wayne could only grind away with time, gradually elevating his understanding to digest the legacy's knowledge.
But with Ravenclaw's Diadem now enhancing his comprehension, many previously insurmountable problems had become far simpler. The accumulated doubts of this period were rapidly transforming into his foundational knowledge.
What a windfall!
Overjoyed, Wayne settled back into focused study.
By evening, as if drained of energy, the diadem's effects faded, and he emerged from that wondrous state.
A single afternoon had yielded more than ten days of prior study. Concepts once beyond his grasp were now crystal clear.
Even as he returned to normal, Wayne felt a lingering reluctance.
Yet he didn't attempt to "renew" the diadem's effects.
As potent as it was, the mental strain was considerable.
Now, all he wanted was a good sleep.
Noticing the pitch-black sky outside, Wayne hurried to inform Hermione and the others to avoid worrying them.
With that done, he returned to his dormitory and collapsed into bed.
...
The new week began with nearly every student submitting their etiquette class applications by Monday morning.
Sirius was absent—Professor McGonagall collected the forms on his behalf, citing leave.
But what puzzled everyone was Snape's presence. Not only was he there, but he seemed in remarkably good spirits, even sporting a faint smile.
This only fuelled the gossipmongers' curiosity further.
A weekend passed, and now almost the entire school knew about the incident that had occurred that early morning, including the other six schools, and the rumours grew increasingly outrageous.
The vast number of clever young witches and wizards put their minds to work, transforming what had originally been a perfectly ordinary Gryffindor-Slytherin clash into various thrilling versions.
The most widely circulated—and most popularly accepted—was the tale of the two men's unavoidable, tragic love triangle with James Potter.
After Sirius Black was released from prison, he chased Snape all the way to Hogwarts, hoping to rekindle their romance. But the mirror was already shattered, and even if it could be repaired with a spell... well, it could technically still be fixed.
In any case, the roles Harry and Malfoy had played were completely ignored. The versions multiplied, and the details within them grew increasingly elaborate and realistic.
The love-hate saga between the two could have been turned into a soap opera spanning hundreds of episodes.
When Wayne was eating breakfast that morning and overheard Hannah and Susan discussing Snape and Sirius's zero-clothes wrestling with flushed faces, he was utterly dumbfounded.
Bloody hell, if I didn't know the truth, I'd actually believe this nonsense.
One could only say that Britain had its own unique cultural quirks.
Wayne sighed and then joined their conversation.
"I don't think just talking about it is enough. You should really write it all down properly—maybe even turn it into a full book. It might even sell well someday."
His words struck a chord with the two girls. Hannah immediately abandoned her bread, pulled out paper and a quill from her bag, and got to work.
If only they applied this much diligence to their homework, they wouldn't be scraping by with Acceptables in every exam.
What Wayne didn't know was that his offhand suggestion would lead Hannah to actually write a complete story, which then spread like wildfire among the students.
By the time Snape found out and flew into a rage, the trail had gone too cold to trace back to its source, leaving him fuming helplessly.
...
During Herbology class, Tomoyo glanced at Wayne, who looked utterly drained, and asked curiously,
"What have you been doing these past two days? You look exhausted."
Hermione also eyed him suspiciously. "You said you were studying, but studying isn't that tiring."
Unless...
In an instant, the young witch's mind conjured up a series of R-rated images. Her head spun, and a pang of grievance twisted in her chest.
And he didn't even ask me?
"I really was studying," Wayne said with a sigh, noticing Hermione's pout.
"The material was quite difficult—really taxing on the mind. These past two days, I've either been reading or sleeping. I haven't even left my dorm."
Hermione trusted that Wayne wouldn't lie to her. Feeling a twinge of concern, she urged him to take care of himself and strike a balance between work and rest.
Tomoyo thought for a moment. "My family has some calming, brain-nourishing tea. I'll write home later and ask them to send some over."
"Tomoyo, you're the best," Wayne said, giving her a thumbs-up.
If he could marry such a capable young lady, just think of all the trouble he'd save himself.
Faced with such direct praise, Tomoyo blushed charmingly, a delicate flush spreading across her cheeks.
She bent her head, pressing down on the escaping Bouncing Bulb.
After Herbology, Wayne was supposed to attend Divination, but he didn't want to waste time and had someone pass on his excuse.
Last week, he'd predicted he'd soon come down with the flu—Trelawney probably wouldn't be angry. If anything, she'd be delighted.
...
Over the next few days, the various schools finalised their selections for the upcoming Quidditch Match.
Even in the face of biting winds, the Quidditch Pitch remained fully booked, with reports of several conflicts arising over its use.
However, Madam Hooch kept a firm presence there, ensuring everyone remained relatively restrained.
The school had also realised that a single pitch was no longer sufficient for the students, so a temporary pitch was constructed on the former dragon camp site, easing the tension.
Harry and Cedric were kept on their toes every day, juggling Quidditch training with preparations for the next tournament task.
Before bed each night, they also had to rack their brains to decipher the secret within the golden egg.
And so, December arrived.
Wayne also had his first etiquette lesson.
All fourth-year students who had signed up gathered in a large classroom on the third floor after their regular afternoon classes.
Sirius, dressed in a black suit with meticulously groomed hair and beard, caught the eyes of many girls.
Once everyone had arrived, he spoke.
"Feel free to relax and think of me as your friend. Well, although there's quite an age gap between us, my mindset is still quite youthful."
A few people chuckled. Sirius leaned casually against the lectern and got straight to the point:
"Etiquette often serves no practical purpose in many situations, yet in certain specific contexts, it becomes indispensable. There's simply too much to cover on this topic."
"Our time is limited—just four lessons in total—so I'll only focus on the rules and etiquette related to the ball."
"..."
As the heir of the Black Family, Sirius had always been free-spirited, but that didn't mean he was ignorant of these matters.
Before coming to Hogwarts, pure-blood families with deep traditions would typically provide specialised training for young wizards.
That's why many Slytherin students hadn't signed up for the class today.
Wayne had also undergone formal etiquette training before, but he'd come along to accompany Hermione.
For the first lesson, Sirius covered only the most basic knowledge.
Which tie colours matched which outfits, when it was appropriate to wear a bow tie, the correct way to use a wristwatch and pocket square, and the dining etiquette to observe.
Most of the students had never encountered such things before, so they listened intently, even taking out notebooks to jot down notes.
Time slipped away unnoticed—it felt as though the lesson had only just begun when the bell rang.
"That's all for today," Sirius said with a smile. "This ball is a rare opportunity for everyone to socialise, so I won't assign homework. Still, I hope you'll review what we've covered and strive to present your best selves."
"Next time, we'll learn the basic steps of the waltz and tango. Interested students are welcome to do some advance reading."
The announcement of no homework was met with delighted applause.
"Oh, one more thing," Sirius added just before leaving, addressing the rising students.
"After all that, I realise I haven't told you the most important point yet."
Everyone looked at him curiously.
Sirius smirked mischievously. "Students who haven't found dance partners yet should hurry up, or the lady or gentleman you fancy might be snatched away by someone else."
With that, he strode off.