In the days leading up to the new school term, Hogwarts gradually regained its usual liveliness.
So students had already returned early to the school.
After acquiring the diary, Wes spent most of his ti—aside from resting—deeply imrsed in magical research, attempting to uncover deeper secrets within the craft.
Of course, he also continued trying to establish contact with "Senior Tom" from the diary.
However, Tom remained incredibly reserved, never offering Wes the slightest response.
That was—until the night before the new term.
Wes wrote in the diary:
"There's a question that has always deeply troubled —why do wizards have the sa lifespan as Muggles?
Wizards possess miraculous magical power. They are superior beings. So why should their lives be equally short?"
"Nicolas Flal lived for over 600 years thanks to the Philosopher's Stone. That Stone is truly a magical marvel!"
"Damn Dumbledore had the nerve to reject my proposal and insisted on destroying the Philosopher's Stone! That's nothing short of a cri!"
"Dumbledore has gone senile. He's no longer the greatest and most admirable wizard we once revered…"
Wes had deliberately filled his writing with disdain for Muggles and a deep yearning for immortality.
Sure enough, just as he expected, the ink slowly faded from the page, as though being drawn into the diary by a mysterious force.
'Finally, Senior Tom couldn't resist.'
Monts later, a single clear line appeared on the page:
"I can help you."
Wes's lips curled into a smug smile.
'Finally took the bait.'
But he didn't respond right away.
Instead, he snapped the diary shut, pretending to be startled by the sudden reply.
Then he locked it back inside a drawer, leaving it there.
---
The next morning, Wes carefully adjusted his robes and headed to the school's Start-of-Term Feast. When he entered the Great Hall, the other professors had already taken their seats.
As soon as Dumbledore laid eyes on Wes, he could sense sothing unusual about Wes's magical aura.
'This magical reaction… he's already stepped into that realm.'
Though Wes hadn't made any attempt to conceal his growing strength, none of the other professors—not even Head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick—noticed the shift in Wes's magical level.
Only Dumbledore had the insight to imdiately perceive Wes's breakthrough.
Dumbledore raised his goblet and offered a toast: "Congratulations, Wizard Elwin."
"Thank you." Wes calmly lifted his own glass and clinked it lightly with Dumbledore's.
They both drank in silence.
The other professors exchanged puzzled looks, clearly having no idea what the two were celebrating.
---
The Start-of-Term Feast proceeded as scheduled
.
However, this year, everyone's attention was elsewhere.
Even the usual, entertaining blunders made by new students—normally a highlight of the evening—were completely ignored.
That's because everyone was captivated by the headline on the front page of the Daily Prophet:
"Flying Ford Anglia Startles Muggles"
Wes picked up the copy of the newspaper from his seat and shook his head slightly.
"As expected from Gryffindor's little lions—bold as ever."
Professor McGonagall trembled with rage after reading the article.
"Maybe they thought riding the train was too boring," Wes said casually, "so they decided to try another mode of transport."
"I haven't even ridden in a car myself. I hear these Muggle vehicles…"
Under Professor McGonagall's glare that looked sharp enough to kill, Dumbledore wisely shut his mouth and said no more.
"Dumbledore, this is no ti for jokes," McGonagall said anxiously, visibly worried for the safety of the two students.
"Do you realize how serious this is? They broke nurous school rules before even arriving—and they violated the Statute of Secrecy!"
"Calm down, Minerva…"
Dumbledore attempted to soothe her, but before he could finish, Snape's cold voice cut through the air:
"They should be thrown into Azkaban. Hogwarts cannot accept such lawless students."
McGonagall shot Snape a furious look, but Snape, unfazed, kept his usual emotionless expression.
At that mont, the roar of an engine outside the castle suddenly caught everyone's attention, and they turned to the windows.
A blue car was wobbling through the sky, flying haphazardly past the castle walls.
"That's Dad's car! Ron and Harry are inside!" Fred and George cried out excitedly.
The students erupted with excitent—no one had ever done sothing so outrageous before.
"Bold move. It's true what they say—old people just can't keep up with the tis,"
Dumbledore said, adjusting his glasses which had nearly slipped off his nose.
"Oh no!!" McGonagall exclaid. "They're headed straight for the Whomping Willow!"
But Snape was already moving, faster than anyone else.
"Foolish, reckless Potter…" he muttered, striding briskly out of the hall.
McGonagall followed imdiately after him.
"Let's leave it to Severus and Minerva," Dumbledore said to the others with a smile.
"I'm sure they'll handle those two boys just fine."
He motioned for everyone to continue their al.
"Kids these days are braver than ever. I was never this wild in my youth,"
Professor Flitwick said, sipping his wine to calm his nerves.
"Personally, I think that car is quite interesting," Wes added, clearly intrigued by the flying magical vehicle.
'Perhaps I could ask Mr. Weasley how to modify one for myself.'
Gilderoy Lockhart, on the other hand, was filled with a mix of admiration and jealousy.
"Why didn't I think of that? This would've made a fantastic front-page story!"
The professors nearby cast him a look of disdain and quietly slid their chairs further away.
But Lockhart seed blissfully unaware of their disgust, launching into an endless string of self-congratulatory stories about his "heroic exploits."
The professors bore his verbal onslaught with pained expressions—as if they were under the Cruciatus Curse.
"Professor Elwin is an adventurer too. Perhaps you two have sothing in common,"
Dumbledore said, clearly trying to pawn off Lockhart onto soone else.
"Professor Elwin! I believe we've t—rember my book signing?"
Lockhart eagerly dragged his chair closer to Wes, eyes gleaming.
"Perhaps we could start an adventure club! I could write about our escapades in my next bestseller…"
"Sorry, I prefer to work alone,"
Wes replied dismissively while slicing into his steak, barely acknowledging Lockhart.
But Wes underestimated Lockhart's thick skin.
The man continued to pester him enthusiastically.
"Professor Elwin, with your looks, you've got star potential!"
"I've got great connections with newspapers, you know…"
"…"
"…"
Wes's patience wore thin.
With a flick of his wand, he cast a spell to shut Lockhart up.
"Mmm! Mmmph!"
Lockhart flailed in panic, silently begging Wes to lift the spell.
But Wes ignored him.
Lockhart turned to the other professors for help—but none of them lifted a finger.
In fact, most looked quite pleased with the silence.
Even Dumbledore quietly gave Wes a thumbs up.
Lockhart, in a desperate attempt, tried casting a counter-spell on himself.
But his lack of skill backfired—literally—causing him to knock himself out cold.
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