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Chapter 138 - The subtle art of not giving a...

Christmas morning was quiet in the particular way only heavy snow could manage. The world beyond the cottage windows had disappeared beneath a thick white blanket,

By the time Ben made it downstairs, everyone else was already up.

"Merry Christmas," he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stepped into the warmth of the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas, love," Dorothea replied at once, levitating a steaming mug toward him.

Outside, through the open back door, Nigel's voice carried in on the cold air. "Merry Christmas, son!"

He was out there, shovel in hand, attacking the snow with far more enthusiasm than necessary. Any competent wizard could have cleared the whole yard with a single flick of his wand, but Nigel had been at it with a shovel since dawn.

Ben guessed he was using cleaning as an excuse to play in the snow.

Before Ben could sit properly, Dobby came bouncing across the room, barely containing himself.

"Mewwy Christmas, Master Ben!"

The house-elf thrust a small, poorly wrapped parcel into his hands. It had been tied together with what looked suspiciously like an old shoelace.

Ben smiled and carefully untied it. Inside was a wizard's hat.

Colourful was one word for it. Uneven was another. It leaned slightly to one side, and it was, without question, handmade.

Dobby had likely crafted it from the felt created after collecting fallen hair from all the rabbits on the farm. Hence the… interesting colour.

Ben placed it on his head, and it was surprisingly warm.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said, and the elf beamed so brightly it was a wonder he didn't combust.

Then, Ben reached up and pulled another hat from inside the one he was wearing.

This one was far less… wizardly. A simple round winter hat he'd purchased directly from his shop.

In fact, most of his Christmas shopping this year had come from there.

Which meant that, scattered across Britain, several very confused witches and wizards were currently unwrapping Skyrim-style cloaks, fur-lined boots, and oddly cut tunics, and wondering precisely when wizarding fashion had taken such a dramatic turn.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Dobby."

Dobby hugged his new hat to his chest as if it were made of gold and immediately put it on, not once questioning how it had appeared.

Ben glanced at Dorothea, waiting for some form of amazement, but she was already absorbed in a stack of Christmas cards.

'Nobody in this house appreciates real magic.'

He sighed inwardly and turned his attention to the tree where there were a lot more presents than usual this year.

Ben quickly got to unwrapping. There were Scarves, books, chocolates and all sorts of stuff from friends, dormmates, teammates and even people at the duelling club.

Flitwick and Dumbledore had sent something along as well. Someone, somewhere, clearly thought he needed more socks.

He also got a broom-care kit from Marianne, a Tutshill Tornados hat from Cho and, most powerful of all, an anti-nargle amulet from Luna.

Ben silently thanked the Transmutation spell for existing and saving him from getting broke.

He had not just received a mountain of presents. He had sent just as many as well.

Having connections, it turned out, was expensive.

By the time he finished opening everything, the last being a pair of dragon-skin boots from Aunt Maeve, the door flew open.

Nigel rushed in, covered in snow.

"I won!" he shouted. "Thea, I won!"

Dorothea looked up and noticed the snow he'd brought in with himself. "Won what? And how many times..."

Nigel waved a parchment, stopping her right on her tracks before she went on a rant about his dirty shoes. "The crossword! A thousand Galleons!"

"A thousand what?" she said. "Nigel, don't joke."

"I'm serious! Look!" He said, handing her the letter.

She read it from top to bottom with her eyes widening with every sentence.

"Oh Merlin," she said in shock.

Dobby looked at the scene, "Dobby thinks this is… a very good Christmas," he said quietly.

Looking at the scene, Ben quickly copied the shocked expression too and asked out loud, "Does this mean...we're rich?"

But he wasn't really shocked. After all, it was his newspaper. If his father hadn't won, that would have been... embarrassing.

Nigel laughed. "Yes! I told you, didn't I? I had a feeling!"

Dorothea sat down slowly. "We can pay off the feed contract...and set up a new greenhouse ...and fix the extension charms on the barn...and"

"And finally get that old Holyhead Harpies banner from Diagon—"

Dorothea sobered up from her imagination at that and stared at him.

"Yeah, the extension charms on the barn, I was thinking the same," Nigel added quickly but it was too late.

Thea narrowed her eyes, and Nigel quickly ran out the door. 

"I'll go collect the prize money—"

"Immobulus," Nigel froze with one foot out the door. "I'm coming along, darling."

"You are? Why?" Nigel managed to let out from his frozen mouth.

"To make sure you don't forget your way back," she said with a smile.

Ben leaned back in his chair, pretending to focus on his boots.

Nigel's transfer had come with what was described as a temporary pay cut. Temporary, it seemed, was a flexible word.

Money had been a bit tight, so it only felt right that Ben chipped in.

Especially since he had just unlocked a high-level skill—

Money laundering.

There were two challenging requirements to use it: a ton of money and a "legitimate" business. The second of which he had only recently met.

Officially, The Magical Voice was jointly owned by Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart.

Gilderoy, in particular, had been stoked beyond measure when Rita pitched the idea. After all, he could now be on the front page every single day.

Rita was also the editor-in-chief and handled all the day-to-day workings of the paper. Well, she didn't do it all personally. She'd hired plenty of people for that. For the most part, she enjoyed sitting in her cushy chair and bossing everyone around.

And then there was Ben. Or rather, Ben-as-Arthur.

As much as he'd love to be a hands-off boss, he was doing quite a bit to keep things running.

Ben had to procure iron ore, transmute it into silver and then gold ore, and then figure out how to sell it.

He couldn't just dump it into the wizarding world. The news of a missing Philosopher's Stone was still the talk of wizarding pubs, and not all wizards were dumb.

Luckily, it wasn't much of a problem anymore. He could just sell it to his shop and buy Galleons instead.

Buy Galleons, you ask? Yes, that was something he could do after disposing of the Resurrection Stone.

In fact, he could buy everything he'd ever sold to the shop, including the iron ores, too, just at three times the original cost.

But since Galleons were valued at about 0.3 septims, even at triple the price, he could still exchange a Galleon for a septim.

He bought iron ore for six septims, transmuted it into silver worth twenty-five, and then into gold worth fifty.

It did drain half his Magika, but he walked away with a profit of forty-four Septims or Galleons.

Now, was this something that could break the wizarding economy? Probably.

Did Ben give a shit? Not even a little.

Well, he could sell the gold directly to goblins and probably get a better deal, while also making sure the magical economy didn't collapse. But that would take time and effort, and between cleaning rabbit poo and feeding Hissy, he already had his hands full.

And honestly, it wasn't that big a deal.

Was flooding the wizarding economy with more gold going to devalue the currency? Definitely. But that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.

As far as he was concerned, this money was going to pay the employees of The Magical Voice and the winners of the Weekly Magical Lottery and Quiz.

Those people were going to spend that money in wizarding markets, and soon everyone would have more money in circulation.

The only real losers would be people with no new source of income, like the Malfoys and the other old noble families. Their vast generational wealth would slowly shrink under inflation, but Ben didn't particularly care about them.

Anyway, he wouldn't need to do this forever. Just until The Magical Voice could stand on its own two quills.

Generating profit? That had never been the goal. The real goal was to replace the Daily Prophet in every wizarding home.

And both of those depended on how well Rita Skeeter performed.

For now, he'd left her on her own, giving her the illusion of freedom. He'd given her wealth and power, and in return, all she had to do was write the truth and follow a few instructions he sent through a notepad with a Protean Charm.

Ben had no doubt she was plotting her revenge, but what did he care? He wasn't Arthur Brown.

While she definitely needed to be kept on a tight leash to rein in some of her less-than-desirable tendencies, the leash couldn't be too tight either. Otherwise, he might as well be doing everything himself.

Ben could have forced her into an Unbreakable Vow, but that needed a very capable witch or wizard to witness it. And he wasn't particularly keen on having matching tattoos with Skeeter either.

So, for now, he just kept an eye on her with Clairvoyance, using some of her hair as a medium.

He wasn't worried about her doing anything stupid like going against him. With troubled times ahead, nobody would even bat an eye if Rita ever needed replacing.

Not to mention that Hissy was always hungry. 

-To be Continued...

Ben casts Inflation; it was super effective.

Please support my work at P@treon/DreamyApe. 

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