For the rest of the holiday, Tver spent his time discussing their new product with the Weasley twins.
Or rather, taking their existing products and giving them unified new packaging.
Over the past few years, they had actually developed quite a number of inventions. Fat-Tongue Toffees, Self-Spelling Quills for homework, and more. None of them were fully refined yet.
At first, they had tinkered with these purely out of interest. It was only after Canary Creams became wildly popular in the castle that they realized the profits were enough to sustain further research. That was when they eagerly agreed to cooperate with Tver.
This time, however, Tver did not allow them to continue developing things at random according to their whims.
He made one thing clear. Their research had to be built on Muggle products.
For example, with quills, they could source feathers from the Muggle world, then apply magic or potions to enhance them.
The twins did not understand at first. But once Tver showed them the cost breakdown for the improved Canary Creams, they immediately stopped arguing.
Even after giving Tver a share of the profits, their earnings per biscuit were still fifty percent higher than before.
And this time, they would not have to exhaust themselves hawking goods around the school. They only needed to teach the professor the potion formula and magical application techniques. After that, they could sit comfortably in the castle and wait for Galleons to pile up.
"Wait, Fred. We don't even have a Vault."
On the last day before term resumed, George lay sprawled on the castle lawn. The snow had melted, leaving the grass unusually soft. He and Fred were happily imagining their future.
"The professor seems to get along well with the goblins. We can just ask him to help us open one," Fred said lazily, even crossing his legs in satisfaction.
"Or we could just store everything in the professor's Vault. No matter how much we earn, it'll never match even a corner of his," George said wistfully.
When they handed over the formula to the professor, there had been a faint trace of unease in their hearts.
After all, they had worked hard to develop this product under their mother's relentless supervision. It was also their first invention to become truly popular at Hogwarts.
But on the day they finalized the deal, Tver had taken them to Gringotts to review last year's finances and had casually allowed them to glimpse his Vault.
That single glance was enough.
The tiny lingering worry in their hearts vanished completely.
Compared to money, it seemed far more likely that the professor simply appreciated their talent.
"Honestly, I can't wait to see a shop that belongs to the two of us open," Fred said suddenly, staring up at the sky.
"But the professor said our current range of products isn't nearly enough to support a proper joke shop. For now, we can only consign them to Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop and Zonko's Joke Shop."
"So," Fred propped himself up on one elbow and looked sideways at his twin, "I kind of want to graduate early and focus entirely on developing products."
"If the professor knew that was your reason for wanting to graduate, he'd definitely be angry," George said, shoving him lightly back so he faced the warm sunlight again.
"What idea would make the professor angry?"
Hermione's head suddenly popped into view above them, peering down.
"Getting you to dance with him one more time," George shot back teasingly.
Hermione's face flushed instantly.
At the Christmas ball, she had been one of the many girls who invited the professor to dance.
Unfortunately, she had run into a fast-tempo piece and managed to set a record by stepping on her partner's foot three times in a row.
The twins decided not to press their luck. They sat up instead, looking at her curiously.
"Why aren't you in the library reading or writing letters? What are you doing outside the castle?"
"I'm not Madam Pince. Why would I stay in the library all day?" Hermione huffed as she sat down.
"I came with Harry and Fleur." She pointed toward the Black Lake. Several small figures were gathered by the water, cautiously testing the temperature.
George and Fred squinted for a while before spotting Harry.
In truth, it was not that difficult. One only had to look for the shortest figure.
"What are they doing?"
"Preparing for the second task." Hermione casually pulled a book out of her bag. She had grown used to reading outdoors or in noisy surroundings.
Especially when four Champions were gathered nearby discussing creatures in the Black Lake.
"By the way, where's little Ron? You're not still cross with him, are you?" George glanced around but did not see his younger brother.
"No… well, we're not exactly fully reconciled either. After he stopped obsessing over Harry being a Champion, he's now decided that my being friends with Fleur means I'm siding with the enemy," Hermione said helplessly.
Ever since Ron had nearly embarrassed himself in front of Fleur in the library, his feelings toward her had become extremely complicated.
On the one hand, Fleur's Veela heritage constantly drew his attention. On the other, he was afraid that under its influence, he might do something foolish and humiliating.
So he kept telling himself that Fleur was Harry's rival, as a way to restrain himself.
Hermione had secretly asked the professor about it, but even he had no good solution.
If it were easy to resolve, Fleur would not have been ostracized by students at Beauxbatons.
"Is that Ron running toward us?" Fred suddenly pointed toward a figure rushing out of the castle.
The boy looked around anxiously on the open grounds before spotting them and sprinting over.
Within moments, he reached the three of them.
"I think you need to see this!"
Ron's lips were pale from running. He was panting heavily, yet he stubbornly unfolded the newspaper in his hands and thrust it toward them.
"How to Be a Good Professor?"
The strange headline immediately filled Hermione and the twins with unease.
And the photograph beneath it made their chests tighten.
Hagrid stood in front of his hut, beaming proudly at a new batch of Blast-Ended Skrewts he had bred.
The Blast-Ended Skrewts were periodically blasting flames toward the camera.