Harry followed Snape to his underground office.
He'd been here many times before, usually to process disgusting ingredients during detentions.
Harry was just wondering why Snape was bothering him now when he hadn't done anything wrong recently.
As Harry zoned out, Snape finally spoke.
"Potter, I'll be providing you with Potions tutoring over the holidays."
"Eh?"
Harry's face was a picture of confusion. He'd never applied for any extra tutoring, let alone in Potions.
If possible, he wouldn't even attend Potions class at all.
But becoming an Auror required passing the Potions NEWT with decent marks, so he had to endure it.
"Do you imagine I wish to waste my precious holiday time instructing a block of wood?"
Snape's expression twisted with disdain at Harry's dumbfounded look.
"You currently represent Hogwarts. If you can't produce passable potions, you'll disgrace the school and tarnish my reputation."
Understanding dawned on Harry.
Of course. There was no way Snape actually cared about his grades.
Suddenly, he glanced around and asked, "What about Cedric? He's a champion, too."
Snape sneered. "Diggory's Potions results are among the best in the entire school. Did you imagine everyone was as incompetent as you, unable to brew even the simplest Antidote to Common Poisons?"
Harry flushed with anger but had no retort.
So what if I'm bad at this? It's not like I'm using your ingredients.
Snape looked down, feigning nonchalance as he said, "Tell me about any materials you acquired in the ruins."
"I'll select potions suited to your limited abilities – anything too complex would be beyond you."
Harry looked up timidly. "Professor, there were over a dozen. I can't remember them all."
"Then return to your dormitory and fetch them immediately!"
Fifteen minutes later.
Harry returned to the office panting, arms full of parcels, which he emptied onto the table.
"Sneezewort, spider legs, dirigible plums, crab claw orchids... Oh? And gillyweed. That's not cheap."
Surveying the ingredients, Snape gave a slight nod.
"Universal antidote, burn-healing paste, truth serum – all feasible. Your luck holds."
"Professor." Harry's gaze lingered on the gillyweed. "What's this used for?"
Madame Maxime had seemed particularly surprised by it yesterday, and now Snape appeared to value it highly too.
"Though rarely useful, it's exceedingly rare, so it fetches a decent price," Snape remarked casually. "After ingesting it, you'll grow gills for two and a half hours, allowing you to breathe and move freely underwater."
Harry nodded, committing this to memory.
"Hmm..." Snape prodded the chaotic assortment of materials on the table with his wand, raising an eyebrow. "Potter, I heard... You obtained a vial of Phoenix tears from Lawrence?"
"From the Niffler," Harry corrected.
"That's irrelevant," Snape snapped impatiently. "Why haven't you produced it?"
Harry looked puzzled. "Can't Phoenix tears be used directly?"
"Foolish!" Snape barked. "Applying them directly to wounds only yields the most basic healing effects—an utter waste! Brewed into potions, they're far more potent with additional benefits!"
Reluctantly, Harry produced the Phoenix tears.
Snape's eyes flickered with disappointment upon seeing them. He'd gone to such lengths precisely for these tears—like Dumbledore, he'd assumed Wayne had provided Ho-Oh's.
Clearly not. These were merely ordinary Fawkes' tears.
Still, Snape wasn't picky. Any profit was worthwhile. Though Fawkes' tears couldn't brew Resurrection Draughts, they remained valuable ingredients.
"Today, I'll teach you to brew a potion that repels Dark creatures," Snape said flatly, waving his wand. Several ingredients and the Phoenix tears floated onto the workbench. "Applied to the skin, it deters most Dark creatures from approaching."
Striding over, he discreetly siphoned off some tears while Harry wasn't looking, lips quirking upward.
This unexpected windfall put Snape in rare good humour—for two entire hours, he didn't utter a single insult.
Even Harry found it peculiar. Previously, only when Harry used Gender-Swap Mints would Snape's temper abate slightly. What was different today?
"Review the process later. If confident, request permission from the judges to brew it." Snape shooed him away with a wave.
Unperturbed, Harry gathered his materials and left.
Standing alone in the corridor, Harry examined the vial of Phoenix tears, a bold idea forming.
...
"You're selling Phoenix tears?" Cedric blinked at Harry outside the Hufflepuff common room.
"Right. Snape taught me a powerful Dark creature repelling potion," Harry explained.
Cedric nodded in understanding. "Adding Phoenix tears would significantly enhance its efficacy."
Harry fell silent. Here lay the gap between him and Cedric—before he'd even named the potion, Cedric had deduced it.
"Exactly. I've got more tears than I need, so I thought I'd sell some."
Cedric hesitated. "But is it allowed under the rules?"
"I checked with Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "No rules prohibit champion trading, provided all materials came from the ruins."
Hearing Dumbledore's approval, Cedric was visibly tempted.
"How do you plan to sell it?"
"Ten Galleons per drop. A standard dose of the potion only requires three drops."
So expensive.
Cedric winced in financial pain.
No, it wasn't that the price was high—it was that he was poor.
Phoenix tears had always been priceless commodities, with many willing buyers but few available sellers. Harry had struck gold yesterday by spending over a hundred Galleons to bribe a Niffler into acquiring some.
At ten Galleons per drop, though there were no market benchmarks, the price would undoubtedly find willing takers if made public.
"I'll take ten drops."
In the end, Cedric gritted his teeth and accepted the price.
"Wait for me, I'll go back and get the bottle."
With that, he turned and entered the common room.
Harry's expression remained unchanged, but inwardly he was practically giddy.
So this was how Wayne usually felt when making money?
Watching someone wince in pain yet still having to pay up was utterly satisfying.
Truly, first you question Wayne, then you understand Wayne, then you become Wayne.
Soon, Cedric reappeared, holding a glass vial and his money pouch.
Accepting the hundred Galleons, Harry carefully dripped out ten drops. The Phoenix tears in the vial visibly decreased by about a fifth.
Harry felt puzzled. Snape had only used three drops earlier, yet it seemed much more had been used than what he'd given Cedric.
"If only I'd brought all my money yesterday," Cedric said ruefully. Nearly all his term earnings and allowance had been spent.
"Next time, perhaps." In high spirits, Harry bid Cedric farewell and left.
He still needed to find the other champions.
With about fifty drops remaining, he planned to sell twenty more and keep half for himself – that should suffice.
Not only had he not lost money, he'd made a tidy profit.
Still, even when selling materials, one had to consider personal connections.
After some thought, Harry decided that since these were originally gifted by Wayne, they should go to those close to him.
After searching the castle grounds without finding Fleur or Sakura, he learned from classmates that they'd already left the premises.
As a last resort, he approached Cassandra.
"Phoenix tears?" The blonde crossed her arms. "You're actually willing to sell? Potter, I must say you surprise me."
"Name your price. I'll take them all."
Stunned by her extravagance, Harry quickly said, "Five drops maximum per person."
If everyone bought ten drops, he wouldn't have enough for himself, hence the five-drop limit.
"How stingy," Cassandra muttered, though she didn't press further. It was Harry's property to sell as he pleased.
...
By evening, Wayne and the girls returned to the castle.
The young women were in excellent spirits – the finished dresses had exceeded expectations, and they could hardly wait to stun everyone at the ball.
After parting ways, Wayne had Gardevoir bring Luna over.
"This set is yours."
Wayne produced the gown, gesturing for Luna to try it on.
He'd secretly commissioned this from the company without Hermione and the others noticing, though it matched their dresses in quality and cost.
Luna was his personal possession. What the other girls received, she must have too – fairness was paramount.
Like the Round Table contracts. Like these dresses.
Tomorrow, Luna would also be his dance partner.
Surveying the luxurious dress adorned with numerous diamonds, Luna seemed genuinely surprised by Wayne's gesture.
"My father already prepared one for me."
"Then keep that one. I'm your dance partner – we'll follow my aesthetic." With unreasonable insistence, Wayne pushed Luna into the room.
Sighing, the silver-eyed girl knew better than to argue and began changing.
Five minutes later, observing Luna in the mermaid-tail gown, Wayne nodded approvingly before producing crystal heels for her to wear.
"Excellent. Just as I envisioned."
Luna blinked, uncertain whether this compliment was meant for her or his own taste...
...
This was probably the liveliest Christmas Hogwarts had ever seen.
With students from other schools staying over, the number of boarders exceeded Hogwarts' usual total population.
The Black Lake had begun to freeze over, forming a thick layer of ice. Many had fashioned makeshift ice skates and were now gliding across its surface.
Freed from the pressure of homework after the holidays, the young wizards had fully unleashed their spirited nature. Their figures could be seen everywhere, both inside and outside the castle.
The Quidditch Pitch was packed to capacity daily, occupied not only by training school teams but also by those fooling about mid-air with flight potions.
Today's breakfast was the standard fish and chips, much to Fleur's displeasure.
"Why must every dish be so greasy? What if I gain weight and can't fit into my dress?"
Wayne, sitting across from her, didn't even lift an eyelid.
Among the girls, Fleur was the most fastidious—not just about food but also about herself.
Gabrielle had secretly told him that Fleur weighed herself every night. If she'd gained even half a kilogram, she'd only nibble on greens the next day, avoiding carbs and fats entirely.
"Here, Gabrielle, have a pudding." Wayne placed a raspberry chocolate pudding on Gabrielle's plate. "You mustn't be as picky as certain people, or you'll end up with stomachaches and writhing in bed."
Fleur's face flushed crimson as she glared at Wayne.
The little girl flashed a sweet smile and chirped, "Gabrielle understands. Gabrielle won't be picky like big sister."
Fleur pretended to scowl. "Then prepare to become a little piggy."
"I'd love her even as a little piggy," Wayne ruffled the girl's hair, throwing Fleur a challenging look.
The young woman fumed but could do nothing against these two.
The pair, one big and one small, seemed determined to bully her.
After breakfast, Wayne took Gabrielle to Hogsmeade.
The village was brimming with Christmas spirit. Every household had decorative lights hanging by their doors, and the snow-laden Christmas trees shimmered with magically refracted colours—utterly enchanting.
Gabrielle adored Honeydukes' sweets, but Wayne strictly rationed them, fearing cavities.
This displeased the little girl, though she dared not protest.
They bought several packs of festive commemorative sweets, browsed a couple more shops, then returned to the castle.
Despite the holidays, Wayne found himself busier than ever.
His schedule was meticulously organised by the girls—mornings with Hermione, afternoons with Cho, evenings with Astoria, and the next day with Fleur.
Occasionally, Sakura and Tomoyo would seek him out, too, while Cassandra required his company for dance practice. He was practically spinning like a top.
Harry had sold Phoenix tears to each of them—five drops per person.
This move left Krum, Buso, and Vladimir grinding their teeth in frustration, though they could do nothing about it.
Wayne regarded Harry with newfound respect.
His business acumen had clearly been thoroughly cultivated.
These days, one could spot pairs of young wizards—a boy and a girl—sneaking furtively around the castle, slipping into small rooms to... practice dancing.
Everyone was both nervous and excited, hoping to shine at the Yule Ball while perhaps resolving certain personal matters.
Wayne once witnessed Cedric and Angelina practising—they looked less like dance partners and more like sworn enemies, viciously stomping on each other's feet.
He hadn't been watching long before the twins came charging over, looking ready to tear Cedric limb from limb.
Listening to the howls of pain behind him, Wayne shook his head and summoned Ho-Oh, transporting himself to the Crouch residence.
Seeing Wayne appear, the empty-nester Crouch, who had been reading the newspaper, blinked in surprise.
"How did you get here?"
Wayne turned his head, glancing around.
"Tsk, spending Christmas alone does look rather pitiful. You could always come to Hogwarts to keep your son company."
Crouch took a deep breath.
Don't get angry. Don't get angry.
Even if I did, I couldn't beat him anyway.
This brat...
After silently repeating this mantra, he felt slightly better and finally spoke. "You didn't come all this way just to mock me, did you?"
"I'm not that bored."
Wayne casually took the seat at the head of the table. Winky carefully brought over a steaming cup of black tea.
Even after so long, the house-elf still remembered this young master's preferences.
"Heard you're planning to broadcast the next match live?" Wayne smiled at Winky, startling the poor house-elf, then asked offhandedly.
Crouch nodded. "That's the plan. I've already applied for the equipment."
"Good. It'll give everyone more of a sense of participation."
Wayne drained his tea in one gulp. "Get the equipment over as soon as possible. I need to make some modifications."
"What kind of modifications?" Crouch asked curiously.
"Nothing major. Just adding some light effects, mosaics, that sort of thing."
"Since the next match is underwater, we should take some precautions."