Chapter 40: Mrs. Mason's House
On Saturday, Hogsmeade's open day for Hogwarts students, a hooded figure appeared at Honeydukes.
Like a drop of ink falling into an ink pot, his clothes were inconspicuous, with none of the flashy demeanor he usually displayed in the Snake House.
Today is not a good day to attract attention.
He followed the Weasley twins silently, off the main road, into a shabby house covered with flyers next to a shop called Elegant Wizarding Clothing.
The house wasn't big. Just a two-story building with an attic and a basement. The thick, dingy curtains hummed, one corner having been unhooked from the rail and drooped by the window, looking as if it was about to fall.
In the little sunlight that seeped in through the window, dust particles danced inappropriately on the shelves on the first floor, choking Draco under his hood and causing him to cough frequently.
"I didn't expect that the person who came to see the house would be so young..." The owner, Mrs. Mason, was a little surprised.
She was a shriveled, silver-haired witch wearing a strange-looking hat. After glancing at the three boys in front of her—obviously still students—a look of disapproval appeared on her face.
But things had come to this point, and although she was half-hearted, she still took the attitude of "try everything possible" and led the three of them to the reception room upstairs.
"So, who should I talk to about the rent?" She went straight to the point, not wanting to waste any more time.
The carpet in this living room was a hive of filth. Every time Draco stepped on it, a puff of pungent dust would rise, making him, who always loved cleanliness, feel very uncomfortable.
"I." Because of the dust, Draco decided to give up the pretense.
Mrs. Mason was slightly surprised. She hadn't expected that the person who would initiate the negotiation would be the youngest of the three.
From the moment they met, she'd cast her gaze upon the twins, trying to assess them. She could discern a certain joviality and a mischievous streak in them. She could see that their eyes, though cunning, were not quite cunning enough. They lacked social experience. If they were offered a little sweetener, a measure of their approval, they would part with all their money.
No need to be afraid! She would have the answers ready no matter which of them asked her.
Unexpectedly, the person in charge would be the little boy behind them? She didn't even have time to look him in the eye!
"I heard that Mrs. Mason wants to move abroad. Are you interested in selling your property in the UK directly?" The boy in front of him ignored her disdain for his age and her neglect of him and asked directly.
This question caught Mrs. Mason off guard. She had originally only intended to try to rent the house out, and had prepared a wealth of common landlord tactics to secure a higher rent. The sudden mention of the house by the boy across the street surprised and delighted her.
To her, the house was a distressed asset, and she had long given up hope of selling it.
Who in their right mind would buy a house like this?
Unexpectedly, she actually met this stupid guy today!
Mrs. Mason was secretly delighted. Her cloudy eyes twinkled, and she said in a pretentious tone, "If the price is right, it's not impossible to consider it."
"What's your target price for this house?" Draco sat on the gray sofa and looked directly into the eyes of Mrs. Mason across from him.
"Oh, dear, according to the market price, it must be at least 10,000 gold Galleons..." Mrs. Mason glanced at Draco's plain clothes and his tightly covered hood, and she was wondering in her heart.
Could this little boy afford it? She wasn't prepared to deal with such a child.
When she received the letter inviting her to view the house, she thought the sender was an adult wizard. The wording was very sophisticated and the paper was very exquisite. She thought it was the head of a well-established wizard family.
Seeing him today, she was deeply disappointed. The child looked ordinary. Mrs. Mason felt a little impatient. She quoted an inflated price, hoping to scare the child away and hastily end this ridiculous and futile conversation.
However, she did not find the frightened expression she expected on the boy's face. It seemed as if he could really come up with such a large amount of gold Galleons with a wave of his hand.
"The price is quite reasonable," the boy said sharply, glancing at her calmly. "If you don't consider the house's delicate location and the suspicion of being haunted."
"Where do you get that from?" Mrs. Mason pretended to be surprised and tried to hide it, even though she knew what was going on.
Maybe the boy was just bluffing.
"The house has an obvious geographical disadvantage. It's not on the main road of Hogsmeade. If we were to do business, it would limit the flow of customers." Draco said calmly, "Besides, it's not far from the Shrieking Shack. As everyone knows, the Shrieking Shack is not a symbol of good luck, nor does it have the ability to attract wealth."
Mrs. Mason's face turned grim. The boy before her was quite difficult, and he actually talked about the disadvantages of her house in a very reasonable way.
This was not the standard of an ordinary little boy. She looked at his plain clothes again and suddenly caught a glimpse of his leather shoes through the gap in the wooden coffee table.
A sudden inspiration struck her. She had seen that style on Savile Row in London. Her niece's fiancé, a nouveau riche American, had once, while visiting her, ordered a similar pair of shoes there, costing her a fortune.
Mrs. Mason knew she had found an expert. She dared not give him the cold shoulder again. He might be the son of a wealthy wizarding family, disguised to acquire private property, rather than the troublemaker she had imagined.
"You see, the haunting is just a rumor..." She laughed dryly, trying to avoid the main point.
She suddenly wanted to give it a try and see if she could make this deal. A rich, willful, and impulsive young master probably wasn't as shrewd as an adult wizard.
Otherwise, why would he be interested in this shabby house?
"...Besides, the price isn't high. It's much cheaper than similar houses in the surrounding area." The lady smiled an honest and sincere smile—which made the thick powder on her face fall off. She was trying her best to show that "my price is very reasonable."
But as a Malfoy who had been taught business skills by his parents at the dinner table since he was a child, how could he miss the fleeting cunning in her eyes?
"Rumors may not be groundless. After all, your house has been abandoned for a long time. I am very curious about why no one wants to rent it..." Draco smiled and exposed her secrets mercilessly.
Mrs. Mason's smile immediately vanished. He pointed out the fatal point—due to its poor location and the strange rumors about the Shrieking Shack, the house had been vacant for years, and she couldn't even rent it out, let alone sell it.
"From what I've heard, this house has been on the secondary market for a long time," the boy asked. "If nothing else, how many people have inquired about its price in the past year?"
One, Mrs. Mason thought grimly. He was the only buyer to show interest in this place in a year.
She realized that she couldn't underestimate this boy at all: "What's your target price?"
Good, she's losing her composure, Draco thought, giving her a triumphant smile—and Mrs. Mason shuddered.
After a fierce debate and bargaining, Draco bought the permanent ownership of the house for 5,000 gold galleons.
This price is just a drop in the bucket for a young master like Draco who has no shortage of gold Galleons. Even if he buys it at the original price given by Mrs. Mason, he can still afford it.
But having money doesn't mean you should squander or waste it at will, nor does it mean you should be taken advantage of.
Rich people tend to be more meticulous and careful about their assets.
A Malfoy never made a losing deal.
Draco was determined to get the house. For him, one of the small benefits of living a new life was that he could clearly know the economic trends and the appreciation level of certain assets in the past few years.
Just as he knew that stocks in the Muggle world would continue to rise at certain points in time - such as starting in early 1995 - he also knew that in the next few years, real estate would be a means of preserving and increasing the value of assets in any world.
Even if this house is left unused, by the time he is in seventh grade, the price of the house will have increased by 50% above the market price.
Both sides of the table were satisfied with the deal. After expertly casting a series of confidentiality spells on the contract, both parties happily signed their names.
Only then did Mrs. Mason finally understand the name of the young wizard she was dealing with. Just a few minutes ago, she'd been grumbling about the price she'd been told she'd get—who would mess with Galleons? Now, she was just glad she'd sold the unfortunate house for a price that exceeded her expectations. After all, the kid had given her a bit of a profit—the price had increased considerably from the original purchase price.
No wonder this kid knows this stuff! A Malfoy kid is naturally familiar with land and property pricing, she thought. It's a shame he had so little experience in selecting properties, and his eye for detail needed to be sharpened, so she'd gotten away with it.
"Mrs. Mason, I want this transaction to remain a secret," Draco said. "There's no need to let anyone know."
"Of course, of course, that's exactly what I want." Mrs. Mason, secretly sweating, smiled so hard that her teeth were showing and nodded in agreement.
She didn't have the guts to let the Malfoy family know that she had cheated the young master by selling him such a bad asset! Fortunately, she would be leaving England in a few days, and by then, they would be far away and would have no further ties.
Draco took out the check and placed it lightly on the dark coffee table in front of Mrs. Mason.
"A check? That's unusual," said Mrs. Mason.
"Do I really need to carry so many gold Galleons with me?" Draco sneered. "You should have heard that Gringotts provides these kinds of checks to some of its big clients."
"Yes, that's what happened." Mrs. Mason picked up the check, examined it in the dusty, dirty air, and finally carefully put it into her dark red handbag. "It should be fine."
"You can register with the Ministry of Magic and the Hogsmeade Village Administration at any time." She took out the property's ownership certificate and other relevant documents and handed them to Draco one by one. "This is all proof of its magical effectiveness."
"Payment and goods settled, you may leave." Draco carefully examined the documents and nodded towards the stairs. He had witnessed many such transactions and procedures in his previous life with his parents, and had even been taught step by step. He was familiar with it.
He wasn't worried that Mrs. Mason would tell anyone about the "new owner." The magical confidentiality restrictions in the contract were not to be underestimated.
According to Dobby's background check, the lonely widow would soon leave the UK to live with her niece in the United States - this was one of the reasons why Mrs. Mason was eager to sell the property - no transaction could be more confidential than with a seller far away from the UK.
The issue of property registration is a joke to wizards. Hogsmeade Village Management Office doesn't care who owns a property, as long as the annual public management fees are paid in full. As for the Ministry of Magic officials, they never quite understand the specific circumstances of wizards' homes and properties. Few wizards would bother to register their property and make things difficult for themselves.
The magical contracts and documents Draco held were the most important. They were the key to protecting the rights of wizarding homeowners, a fact slightly different from the Muggle world.
Ever since Draco had mentioned "buying a house," the Weasley twins' mouths had been hanging open. They hadn't expected to witness such a shrewd house transaction on such an ordinary Saturday. It wasn't until they saw Mrs. Mason out that the brothers came to their senses.
They exchanged glances and saw the same shock in each other's eyes: a young master from a wealthy family!
"Buying a house directly? Are you making such a fuss?" Fred, with his long legs, leaped from the first floor to the second, beaming at Draco. "I even made a bet with George that you were just playing around."
"A Malfoy would never play around with money," Draco said calmly as he slowly packed up the documents.
"Are you sure you're not crazy?" George followed his brother, his eyes darting around, as if he saw not a dusty and dirty room, but some neat and new ideal of the world.
"Of course not," Draco said.
"Give me the money, Fred," George shouted across the room.
Fred threw a gold Galleon to George and snorted, but his face looked very happy.
"Aren't you afraid of losing this house?" George asked with a smile, clutching the Galleon. "I see Mrs. Mason is eager to get rid of it, treating it like a hot potato. Aren't you afraid of a big loss?"
"To Mrs. Mason, this property, which can't even be rented out, is a depreciating asset. Of course, she's eager to get rid of it," Draco said. "Did you notice the notices on the door? Most of them are notices urging her to repair the house. I guess many people in Hogsmeade are dissatisfied with the dilapidated state of this house, especially the manager of the elegant wizard clothing store next door."
"Oh, I guess so. They are indeed very impatient with this house. And the people in the teahouse next door often say that its image 'lowers the standard of the whole alley.'" George imitated the contemptuous expressions of those people in the clothing store and the teahouse perfectly.
"The landlord should have been responsible for repairing the house, so their complaints are understandable. Maintaining and renovating a house is a significant expense. Originally, the landlord could have allocated a portion of the rental income for this purpose. Unfortunately, the house isn't rented out, so if Mrs. Mason wants to maintain and renovate it, she'll have to pay out of pocket year after year. Do you think this is a devaluation or even a loss for her?" Draco said. "For me, that's not the case. I originally planned to use this house to open a profitable shop, and renovating it will attract customers. It's a win-win situation, so why not?"
"That's fine," Fred asked excitedly. "But are you so sure our store will be a big hit? Aren't you afraid we won't be able to pay your rent?"
"I have faith in you." Draco glanced at the bug-ridden carpet with disdain, and finally decided to put his feet on the table in front of him - at least there wasn't much dust on it. "I think I won't charge rent until the store is profitable. That way, the pressure of running a store will be much less, right?"
Draco's generosity was thanks to his grandfather, who secretly added a large amount of gold to his grandson's coffers before his death.
"Having said that—" A hint of hesitation appeared on George's face.
Can two 15-year-old boys and a 12-year-old boy really open this store successfully? In the process of researching the store, George gradually discovered that things are not that simple.
"There are risks involved. Purchasing raw materials, product development, selling products, after-sales service, etc., every link needs to be explored. Any stuck link will affect the progress of the next link." George said thoughtfully.
"Tell me more in detail?" Draco became interested. His lazy look disappeared, replaced by a kind of bright curiosity.
"For example, quality control and price fluctuations when purchasing raw materials are commonplace issues... You need to constantly compare prices across suppliers, not just one, or they'll jack up the price..." George said anxiously. "Before, when we were just doing small business, we didn't pay much attention to these things. But now that we're scaling production and operations, we have to be extra vigilant."
Draco nodded slightly. At this moment, his deep-seated identification with George was definitely greater than he let on.
George's words were pragmatic. Draco felt even more confident about the store's future. They weren't the kind of arrogant people who relied on their cleverness to gain the upper hand. Instead, they were actively identifying problems and considering how to solve them.
That's a good start.
Draco looked at George Weasley and suddenly realized that, without realizing it, he could clearly tell the difference between him and his brother.
In terms of appearance, although they looked very similar, Draco could basically tell them apart by the subtle differences in their smiles - when George smiled, the tip of his nose turned down more and the corners of his mouth turned down, while his brother Fred's mouth corners turned up, making his face look fatter.
In terms of personality, George is in a sense calmer, sharper, more steady and careful, which can be seen from his thinking in running a store; while Fred is bolder and more extroverted, with a more lively and interesting personality. Many jokes are initiated by him, and many products are also mentioned by him first. He has a better sense of humor and is more creative.
"As for product development, we plan to purchase a number of interesting finished products. At the same time, we also want to create some more interesting products ourselves, or innovate based on existing products and create several series... We have to test these one by one..." At this moment, Fred began to talk about some of his novel ideas, while giving Draco a malicious smile. "The biggest problem is: a lack of testers."
"I refuse," Draco said coldly. He knew they had bad intentions.
George and Fred both showed regretful expressions. The young Malfoy was completely unyielding and was very wary of their pranks.
"We can't be careless when it comes to selling products. Like you said, we have to renovate and clean the house and make it presentable. It's a big project." George looked around and spread his hands.
"How do you plan to plan the functional areas of this house?" Draco asked with interest.
Fred had already inspected the shop from top to bottom. He and George exchanged a glance. "The first floor is where we sell the merchandise. Upstairs is where we'll develop new products, and we'll have staff quarters. The basement is where we'll store the merchandise. We haven't decided on the attic yet—"
"Leave the attic to me," Draco said quickly. "I have my own uses."
"Of course." The Weasley twins had no objection.
"I'll send a house-elf over to help." Draco snapped his fingers, summoning the house-elf he had neglected for a long time. "Dobby, stay here and keep an eye on the shop. Clean it up. Assist these two Mr. Weasleys in decorating the shop."
"Yes, little master!" Dobby, dressed in colorful clothes, squeaked, with some excitement in his big eyes.
Draco noticed that its style of dressing was rapidly moving towards "extravagant": a Christmas-style tea towel, a Santa hat that was obviously a size too big, and a few candy canes stuck on the hat - that was a Christmas gift from Draco.
"House-elf!" said Fred with interest, watching the nimble Dobby scrub the floor with his snorting voice. "Mother would be so jealous if she knew about us. She's always wanted a house-elf."
"Of course we'll keep it a secret." George noticed Draco's frown and quickly got back to the point. "Decoration takes time, and we won't give up the mailing business, at least not before the store opens. How many Hogwarts students are counting on our candy for skipping classes!"
"Even if the business opens, there's no need to give up. After all, students can only come once a month, but the mail service is available anytime and anywhere." Draco stood up and stopped in the open space in front of the small window that Dobby had just cleaned.
His patience with the rug under the sofa was wearing thin—dust was always rising from it.
"Filch won't like our decision," said Fred with a grin.
"He won't notice. Just pretend it's cough drops," Draco told them, in a good mood.
In his previous life, he had occasionally heard Hermione mention in the library - well, he admitted that he had eavesdropped on her - that Filch was a Squib and couldn't recognize the ingredients of the potion.
She was so clever that he couldn't help smiling.
"By the way, did you know that Filch is a Squib?" Draco suddenly thought that the two people in front of him seemed to be frequent visitors to Mr. Filch's office. Combined with their mischievous personalities and habit of rummaging through things - that's how they got the Marauder's Map - discovering Filch's little secret was just a piece of cake.
"We knew it!" George said disapprovingly. "We knew it last year."
"We actually sent him the letter about the introductory magic correspondence course," Fred said to Draco with a malicious smile, "to see if he would fall for it."
"That's right! Lesson One, Hold Your Wand..." George said enthusiastically, "We were planning to compile some more teaching materials and send them to him next time... Unfortunately, we've been too busy lately to compile a 'Quick Spell Lesson Two'."
I'm afraid Mr. Filch is in no mood for this lesson either. He's too busy grieving over his petrified cat and his publicized identity as a Squib.
Draco tried to stifle a laugh, but failed.
Dobby sighed and decided to clean the curtains first—the carpet was probably beyond saving. The elf stood up, and as soon as he touched the dusty, thick cloth, a full-grown vixen flew out from the folds of the curtains.
The fox's beetle-like shiny wings were buzzing, its small, needle-like teeth were exposed, its small and exquisite body was covered with thick black hair, and its four little fists were clenched tightly in anger, as if it wanted to attack someone to vent its anger.
"Look out, little master!" Dobby shouted.
"...Take your time. The most urgent thing is to clean up this house. I'm looking forward to the day it opens." Draco was talking to the two brothers when he heard the elf's cry. He waved his wand and casually knocked the ferocious vixen away.
The vixen unwillingly passed between Draco and George and was slammed against the wall on the other side. It was stunned by the violent impact and slid limply into the hole in the carpet in the corner.
George glanced at Draco with approval. He found that although the boy was young, his reaction was very quick and agile. He didn't even look at the vixen, but he hit it accurately.
Not everyone has this skill, George thought, scratching his chin.
"Wait, don't be so rude! This is an ingredient in the instant skipping candy!" Fred rushed over and threw it into a large black bag. He said to Dobby in a warm tone, "Look again, is there anything behind the curtain?"
"There are still many!" Dobby squeaked, "Young Master, we need a fox demon killer! Dobby can go find it right away!"
"Buy more. I think there's plenty here." Draco pinched his nose and looked at the slightly shaking curtains from a distance. "Replacing the carpets, curtains, and furniture! I really can't stand it..."
He threw a bag of money to the elf. It took the bag, nodded happily, and disappeared with a "pop".
"Would you like to catch her with us?" Fred looked at the unconscious vixen in the bag with a mischievous smile on his face.
"No, I have to go." Draco didn't want to stay any longer. He wanted to turn around and leave this place filled with dust and pests. However, when he reached the stairs, he paused and suddenly remembered something.
"By the way, when you were using the Marauder's Map, did you notice the name next to Ron?" Draco was still very concerned about Peter Pettigrew's name appearing on the Marauder's Map. Confused, he could only choose to ask the previous owner of the Marauder's Map.
"Peter Pettigrew?" said Fred nonchalantly. "A few times, yes. I knew him. He was dead a long time ago, wasn't he?"
"We haven't told Ron yet. We think he might be haunted by the ghost of a dead person," George chuckled. "Though he doesn't seem to have any ghost-related troubles so far."
"This is unbelievable," Draco said with a twitch of his mouth.
Even if it was a ghost, the two brothers let it haunt their younger brother without saying a word. They were really heartless.
"This may be disrespectful to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, but it's possible the Marauder's Map isn't working properly anymore. It's a bit old, after all," said Fred seriously. "We were a bit taken aback when we first saw the name—he was sleeping in the same bed with Ron in the middle of the night."
"In fact, we once sneaked into his bedroom in the middle of the night and checked, and there was no one else there." George raised his eyebrows exaggeratedly. "On that bed, there was only our stupid brother snoring and talking in his sleep.