After learning the functions of the various quills, Harry's eyes lit up, and he immediately purchased both the Plagiarism-Proof Quill and the Fluff-Filler Quill—two of each.
What's the worst part of writing essays?
Turning a single nugget of knowledge into an entire paper, of course!
These quills were a godsend.
Wayne wasn't charging much—two Galleons per quill. Without hesitation, Harry handed over eight Galleons to complete the transaction.
Beside them, Ron was practically overheating with envy.
Like Harry, he wasn't a dunce, but he was only average. The worst part of school was the endless homework after classes.
'With these quills, imagine all the extra time I could spend playing Wizard's Chess!' But alas, Ron was broke. His termly allowance was a measly dozen Sickles—he couldn't even afford his own map, let alone fancy quills.
Harry noticed his friend's predicament and whispered, "Don't worry, you can borrow mine."
"Cheers," Ron said gratefully.
Wayne didn't mind either.
Quills were consumable stationery—most young wizards went through ten in a single term. If two people used it, the consumption would be even faster, and Harry would have to come back to buy from him again.
As for whether Harry could afford it, Wayne wasn't worried in the slightest.
Apart from his title as the Boy Who Lived, Harry had another equally renowned designation in the future—
Inheritor of fortunes!
The Potter Family was an ancient lineage with a decent amount of gold in their vault, though still within reasonable limits.
After Sirius's death, the Black Family's inheritance would also go to him, and they were one of the wealthiest among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, even richer than the Malfoys.
The fact that Sirius could gift a Firebolt without batting an eye spoke volumes about his wealth.
Then there was Snape. No matter how much Snape seemed to despise Harry now, simply because he was Lily's child—
Snape's final inheritance would also go to Harry.
A Potions Master's accumulated wealth? That went without saying.
With these three substantial fortunes coming his way, Harry would undoubtedly become one of the wealthiest in the wizarding world.
Harry cheerfully recounted amusing incidents from his Quidditch training, completely unaware that Wayne had already marked him as a prime target.
"George and Fred are driving Wood mad—they're like two human Bludgers, never doing anything properly."
Hermione didn't understand Quidditch but still said earnestly,
"Harry, you must win the House Cup. We're trailing far behind the other houses in points."
Winning the Quidditch House Cup would add a hundred and fifty points to their house—that was what Hermione truly cared about.
Harry's face fell. "I'll try, but it's only my first year."
Then he immediately grew indignant again. "It's all Snape's fault! I don't even know what I did to upset him—he's always docking points from me."
Hagrid, who had been smiling, suddenly looked uneasy. "Harry, Snape's still yer professor. Yeh oughta show 'im some respect."
"I'm just telling the truth!" Harry said stubbornly. "Last week in Potions class, he took thirty points from me!"
He then turned to Wayne and complained, "Wayne, your advice didn't work at all! I kept my head down and avoided looking at him, but Snape seemed even angrier."
"What exactly happened? Tell me," Wayne perked up.
Harry recounted the incident with a pained expression.
Normally, Snape would find fault with him every lesson. Whenever Harry glared back defiantly, Snape would sneer a few times and let it go.
But in the last Potions class, Harry suddenly remembered Wayne's suggestion.
No matter how much Snape nitpicked, Harry kept his head down and focused on brewing his potion.
In the end, Snape docked him twenty points for "disrespecting the professor," and later took another ten from Neville.
Wayne nearly doubled over with laughter internally, though he maintained a thoughtful expression.
'Of course Snape was furious—Harry's eyes, identical to Lily's, were the one thing Snape cherished most about him. Avoiding eye contact? No wonder he lost his temper.'
"This is tricky, Harry," Wayne clicked his tongue. "Seems Snape does have it out for you.
"How about this—send him a Christmas gift to smooth things over. You'll have Potions class until at least fifth year, after all."
Harry thought it made sense. "What should I give him?"
"How about shampoo?" Wayne suggested. "Just look at his greasy hair—he clearly hasn't washed it in ages. Shampoo would be perfect."
"Will it really be useful?" Harry said sceptically. "He's a professor, surely he can afford shampoo."
"Well, he is a Potions Master. Being a bit unconventional is to be expected," Wayne said with a chuckle. "Maybe he just forgot or couldn't be bothered to buy any.
"Just get the best one, the brand with the longest history.
"When Snape sees how thoughtful you are, even if he doesn't go easy on you, he probably won't give you any more trouble."
Hagrid opened his mouth slightly.
'Best shampoo in the wizardin' world… tha'd be Potter's Shampoo, wouldn' it?'
It was the product that had built the Potter family's fortune, though Harry's grandfather had already sold the formula for a hefty sum of gold.
Now it had nothing to do with them anymore.
Hagrid scratched his head, feeling something was off but unable to pinpoint exactly what.
Unable to figure it out, he stopped trying.
Wayne was Harry's friend, and a kind, reliable Hufflepuff at that—how could he possibly be leading his friend astray?
Hagrid chuckled and went to fetch the freshly baked biscuits and hot tea.
...
An hour later, the young wizards left the hut, rubbing their overstuffed stomachs.
"Guess we won't need dinner now," Ron said with a yawn. "Harry, fancy a game of Wizard's Chess? One game for one sugar wrapper."
"Sure."
The two bid farewell to Wayne and left.
Their relationship with Hermione wasn't great, especially Ron's—he thought she was too rigid and meddlesome.
Girls often mature mentally earlier than boys, and adolescence comes sooner for them, too.
Hermione wasn't fond of these two mischievous classmates either.
She found them far too childish.
"Shall we head back to the castle?" Wayne asked.
Hermione thought for a moment. "Let's take a walk first. I'm quite full—some exercise would do me good."
Wayne had no objections.
The two strolled along the Black Lake, its surface shimmering as the autumn breeze rippled the water. Now and then, a fish would leap out, only to be swallowed whole by a lurking Grindylow.
A gust of wind blew past. Wayne remained unfazed—his robes were temperature-regulated—but Hermione tightened her coat.
By October, temperatures in the Scottish Highlands had dropped below ten degrees. Wayne thoughtfully cast a Warming Charm on Hermione, and the young witch immediately felt much better.
"Wayne, how do you know so many spells?"
"Just study more, practise more, and you'll get there," Wayne said lightly.
Hermione quietly pursed her lips.
She had also taught herself many spells in private, but her progress wasn't particularly fast. Simple spells could be mastered quickly, while the more difficult ones required considerable time and effort to study.
To avoid feeling discouraged again, Hermione gazed at the Black Lake and murmured, "I read in a book that an entire tribe of Merpeople lives in the Black Lake. I wonder if it's true."
"It is," Wayne said, skipping a stone across the water, though it only bounced three times before sinking into the lake. "From the Slytherin common room, you can sometimes see them through the windows."
He shook his head with a sigh. "But these guys are far too ugly—nothing like the legendary Sirens."
Hermione crossed her arms and scoffed. "And what would you do if there were actual Sirens?"
Wayne grinned. "I wouldn't mind keeping one as a pet."
"Humph!" The little witch pinched Wayne before turning on her heel and walking away.
"Oi, what was that for?"
"None of your business!"
"Ha," Wayne chuckled in exasperation. "'So unreasonable?'"
"What, got a problem with that?" the little witch taunted. "I just can't stand your daydreaming. If you're so capable, go ahead and catch a Siren to keep."
"And what if I do?" Wayne raised an eyebrow.
"If you catch one... I—I'll do whatever you say!"
Hermione thought for a moment. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them clearly stated that Sirens didn't exist—they were just figments of human imagination. Emboldened, she confidently agreed to the wager.
"Fine, just you wait," Wayne accepted. "If I don't find a Siren before graduation, I'll owe you a favour too."
"Deal!"
They shook on it, both wearing triumphant smiles.
...
Back in the common room, Cedric and the others had returned from Hogsmeade. Spotting Wayne, Cedric first handed him a butterbeer before whispering,
"The things you asked me to buy are in the dorm. I'll give them to you later."
Wayne nodded, indicating he wasn't in a hurry.
Cedric then passed him some sweets from Honeydukes. "Where should we meet tomorrow for the map-making lesson?"
"Any empty classroom will do. The Common Room's too crowded."
Popping a piece of fudge into his mouth, Wayne lost all interest in heading to the Great Hall for dinner. The Hufflepuffs truly lived up to their reputation as food enthusiasts—almost everyone had brought back snacks from Hogsmeade, and many generously shared some with Wayne.
Seizing the opportunity with so many gathered, he pulled out his quills for another round of sales.
At two Galleons each, the price was steep, but Hufflepuff had no shortage of struggling students. Hannah, teary-eyed, reluctantly forked over another two Galleons for a Fluff-Filler Quill. Less than a month into the term, the girl had visibly gained weight, with most of her pocket money spent on sweets and snacks.
Watching her, Wayne felt a pang of guilt and couldn't help suggesting, "Hannah, how about buying a Plagiarism-Proof Quill, too?"
"No," the girl sniffled. "It's not like anyone lets me copy their homework anyway."
"I'll lend you mine."
"Then... maybe one more?" Hannah dug out another two Galleons from her dwindling stash and handed them over reluctantly.
Cedric stared at Wayne as if he'd seen a ghost. 'Does your conscience not ache at all?'
Another hundred-plus Galleons richer, Wayne left, thoroughly satisfied. He planned to have a chat with Malfoy. How could the esteemed young master Malfoy use such an ordinary version? He had specially prepared high-end custom models with unicorn hair and fwooper feathers, priced quite reasonably.
Only ten Galleons.
...
Sunday morning.
Wayne was going to teach Cedric how to make the map. The two found an empty classroom on the second floor.
Wayne took out parchment and special ink and began explaining.
The most basic version wasn't too difficult. By using the special ink to draw the map and marking each staircase with corresponding codes, it could synchronise in real-time with Hogwarts' moving staircases.
All Cedric needed were the marking spell and the spell to reveal hidden passages. After ruining several maps, he finally got the hang of it.
But the Pro version was more challenging. The main issue was displaying the real-time locations of young wizards, which required an extremely unique tracking spell and a magical power linking spell to establish a connection between the young wizards' magic and the parchment.
After a week, Cedric could only barely manage it, with a very low success rate.
Left with no choice, Wayne had to transform into a Charms professor, explaining various spell-casting techniques.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The classroom door suddenly rattled, causing Cedric's hand to jerk—another failed spell.
"Who is it?" He opened the door irritably and saw two grinning faces outside. "What are you two doing here?"
"Looking for Wayne, of course."
Cedric stepped aside to let them in, still looking puzzled. "How did you know Wayne was here?"
"No comment."
"That's us twins' greatest secret."
George and Fred walked up to Wayne in perfect sync, flashing ingratiating smiles. "How was your weekend, Young Master Lawrence?
"If you're feeling lonely, we could introduce you to a couple of lovely Gryffindor girls."
Wayne shuddered and pushed them away in disgust. "Get away from me. If you've got something to say, say it—don't make me sick."
The twins exchanged a glance before speaking in unison: "Wayne, can you teach us how to make those quills?"
Fred added, "We won't take it for free. Name your price—we'll scrape together the money even if we have to starve."
Cedric rolled his eyes. "Meals are free at school."
"Piss off!"
George punched him lightly before turning expectantly to Wayne.
Yesterday in the Common Room, they'd happened to see Harry using the Fluff-Filler Quill to finish his essay and were instantly awestruck.
The twins felt that making such things was incredibly fun, as if they'd suddenly found the meaning of life.
Upon asking around, they discovered it was yet another of Wayne's creations, and their admiration deepened. They hadn't even figured out the map's mechanics, and here he was developing new gadgets. Unable to contain themselves any longer, after a night of internal debate, they'd swallowed their pride and come to find him.
Academic barriers in the wizarding world weren't particularly severe, but when it came to making money, things became trade secrets.
If they hadn't been so unbearably curious, they wouldn't have done something so rash. They'd already resolved that no matter what conditions Wayne set, they'd agree as long as it was within their power.
Fred and George's expressions were earnest and serious—Wayne had never seen them like this before.
After a moment's thought, he said: "I could teach you, but I'm currently instructing Cedric on map-making."
The two of them turned their heads in unison towards Cedric, who was just spectating, as if to say, 'How could you keep such a good thing from us?'
Cedric quickly interjected, "Why are you looking at me? I'm just working for Wayne."
"Exactly," Wayne nodded. "I provide the materials and the know-how, and he handles the production and sales, but only takes a 20% cut. If you can agree to those terms, I can teach you, too. Oh, and one more thing."
Just as they were about to agree, Wayne interrupted again, "I also want something from you—that map you've got."
Fred gasped, "How did you know?"
That map was the biggest secret they'd uncovered this term, and they hadn't even fully deciphered it yet. How could Wayne possibly know about it?
"You were too slow back in the Trophy Room," Wayne chuckled.
He was extremely interested in the Marauder's Map. In Harry's hands, it was just a map—useful for dodging Filch at best. But in his hands, it would be prime research material, its value incomparable.
'So hand it over already!'
The twins huddled together, whispering for a long while before finally relenting. "We agree, but can we keep using it for a bit longer? We haven't memorised all the secret passages yet."
Wayne was accommodating. "No problem, just give it to me after Christmas."
Only Cedric looked utterly bewildered. "What on earth are you all talking about?"