"What did you mean by that, Lawrence?"
Malfoy turned around. Wayne's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough for him to hear every word.
The eleven-year-old boy's face even held a chilling expression.
"Should I take that as a provocation against the Malfoy family?"
Wayne remained unfazed. The little badger shrugged. "Wasn't I just stating a fact?"
"I thought you'd be a big client, but in the end, you just bought the most basic map. What a waste of anticipation."
Basic?
Malfoy looked at the parchment in his hand, confused.
It had a beautiful snake motif and green trim dusted with faint golden glitter—clearly gold powder.
Wasn't this the most expensive version?
Did he buy the wrong one?
"Lawrence, what do you mean?" Malfoy asked again. "You have a better one?"
"Of course," Wayne said, eyes widening slightly. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight are wizarding aristocracy, aren't they? Shouldn't everything you use be bespoke?"
"I mean, even I, a Muggle noble, have everything custom-made at home."
"You're not the same?"
"Of course we are!" Malfoy snapped. "The Malfoys are nobility. We obviously use the best!"
"My father's cane was commissioned from a master alchemist."
Malfoy felt a flicker of shame. Thinking about it... most of their family's things were top quality—but not exactly custom-made.
Damn it, was he really being one-upped by a Muggle?
"Lawrence, don't just run your mouth!" Malfoy huffed, waving the map. "You never told me there was a custom version. How much? I want one!"
"Oh, my mistake then," Wayne replied with a perfectly timed apologetic smile. "I do have a custom edition. Tailored to the buyer's preferences. Different materials for different levels, naturally."
"I want the best," Malfoy declared proudly.
Wayne grinned brightly. "A bargain at just 200 Galleons."
Malfoy nearly jumped. "Why don't you just rob me instead?!"
"Let me explain the materials first—then you can judge." Wayne gestured for calm, then launched into his sales pitch.
"For the highest tier, we don't use parchment—we use dragon hide. The ink is from the legendary giant squid, so it won't fade and even gives off a faint scent."
"The map will also be inscribed with the Malfoy family crest and the Slytherin emblem, using the finest unicorn feather."
Wayne raised an eyebrow. "Still think it's overpriced?"
Malfoy blurted, "Too cheap—" then immediately caught himself.
"No—I mean it's not expensive! Totally reasonable. Just don't raise the price on me!"
"We're both nobles—you're a wizarding noble, I'm a Muggle one. Nobles don't gouge prices," Wayne declared confidently.
That attitude actually reassured Malfoy. Now this was proper noble conduct!
"The top-tier version—I'll take it. Here's a deposit of 50 Galleons."
Malfoy handed over all the money he had. His semester's allowance was only 100 Galleons, and he'd spent quite a bit already. He didn't have enough left.
But Wayne mustn't find that out, or he'd be mocked again.
He'd just use the deposit as an excuse and send a letter home tonight asking for money.
He'd avoid asking his father—he'd definitely get a lecture. Better to ask Mum, Narcissa.
But to Malfoy's surprise, Wayne didn't even take the gold. Instead, he looked angry.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"A noble transaction needing a deposit? Are you insulting me?"
"Take your money. Come back in two days for the map!"
And with that, Wayne turned, tapped the barrel, and vanished back into the Hufflepuff common room—as if genuinely angry.
Goyle suddenly chuckled.
"Master Malfoy, that guy's an idiot. Doesn't even take the money—no wonder he's in—"
"Shut it!" Malfoy snapped, glaring at him with murderous eyes. Goyle shut up at once.
"You don't understand. This is how nobles do business!"
"Don't judge Lawrence with your peasant mind!"
"Do you think the Malfoy family would cheat someone out of two hundred Galleons?!"
Malfoy had been thoroughly hoodwinked. Wayne's speech about nobility had struck him deep.
Now this was how a noble should act.
Just Wayne's trust in the Malfoy name... that respect alone felt like validation.
Looking with disdain at his two dumb henchmen, Malfoy turned and left.
He now felt that maybe calling Wayne a Mudblood had been too harsh.
Even if he was a Muggle, he was still a noble—he didn't deserve to be insulted.
Yes. From now on, I'll call him Lawrence.
Meanwhile, inside the common room, Wayne was nearly dying of laughter.
Cedric, seated beside him, was completely dumbfounded.
"You're telling me... you pitched that nonsense and sold a map for two hundred Galleons?"
When Wayne had come back, Cedric casually asked what Malfoy wanted. But after hearing the full story, Cedric's entire worldview began to collapse.
"Are people really that dumb?" Cedric said, speechless.
"Stop laughing," he added. "You didn't even take the deposit. What if he thinks it through later and backs out?"
"You still don't understand what Malfoy really wants," Wayne said, forcing himself to calm down.
"You don't get it—those purebloods don't care about money. Or at least, not about small money. What they care about is being unique, and feeling superior."
"My sales pitch? Even Lucius Malfoy himself would've fallen for it."
"I don't believe that," Cedric muttered. "No wizard doesn't care about money."
"Wanna bet?" Wayne offered with a grin.
"Deal," Cedric said, getting fired up.
If the sale actually went through, he'd do a butt-wiggle dance on the Hufflepuff dining table.
If it didn't, Wayne would have to do it.
Still, even if Cedric won the bet, he was low-key weeping inside.
Wayne had already earned over a hundred Galleons—and more would definitely follow.
With that kind of money, he could buy every piece of Chudley Cannons merchandise he ever wanted.
"Cedric," Wayne suddenly asked, "wanna learn how to make maps?"
Cedric blinked. "What? You're gonna teach me?"
"If you want to learn, I'll teach you."
"Wait, seriously?" Cedric looked startled. "Aren't you afraid I'll just copy your business?"
"Would you?"
"Of course not," Cedric shook his head. They were friends now. And even if they weren't, he wasn't the kind of person who'd steal someone's business.
"There's a condition though," Wayne said, getting to the point. "Once you learn how to make maps, you'll help me produce them. I'll give you 20% from each one."
Wayne's inventory was running low—especially the basic maps, which were nearly sold out. He'd have to work overnight again to restock.
While the repetitive process helped with his alchemy skills, continuing too long was a waste of time.
He had already mastered the spells and principles behind the map. Any more would be inefficient.
Better to outsource and free up time to learn other magic.
His real goal wasn't making money—it was earning system points.
As for money? He could always get some gold from Gringotts.
He had originally considered asking Hermione to help, but the little witch was still a bit green—not quite up to standard yet.
In contrast, Cedric was just right.
And if Cedric ever did turn on him...
Well, Wayne had plenty more ideas. The map was just the first test.
If Cedric betrayed him, he'd lose far more than just this business.
"I'm in."
Cedric didn't hesitate at all when he heard Wayne's offer.
Two percent didn't sound like much, but over a school year, it could amount to dozens of Galleons — far more than his allowance. Most importantly, he'd get to learn a lot from Wayne, which was what Cedric truly valued.
He now fully understood that the little first-year in front of him was a monster — freshly enrolled and already more proficient in magic than he was.
"Let me see what you've got first."
Wayne asked a few questions to test Cedric. After a round of Q&A, he nodded and said:
"You've got something there… but not much."
Cedric sat across from him, expression twitching.
Couldn't he at least try to be subtle?
I'm still your senior, man. Show some respect.
Wayne pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote down the spells needed for map-making, handing it to Cedric.
"Master these spells first. I'll handle the rest for now, alright?"
Cedric scanned the list and nodded. "Give me a week, that should do it."
"Good. But hurry — once everyone has one, even if you learn it, it'll be pointless."
"I'll try…" Cedric sighed. "You have no idea, Quidditch Practice went from twice a week to five times. I'm nearly dead on my feet."
Wayne waved him off. "That's your problem."
In the days that followed, though sales weren't as explosive as the first day, Wayne still managed to sell a good number of maps.
Ever since that night, Malfoy's attitude toward Wayne had improved significantly — he even nodded at him in the halls now.
As soon as the money from home arrived, Malfoy handed it over without hesitation.
Wayne didn't disappoint. The custom-made dragonhide map was stunning and included anti-spy and anti-theft features.
Even Malfoy, who had winced at the cost, now felt the money was well-spent. He began bragging about it to other purebloods.
Wayne couldn't have been happier — Malfoy was basically free advertising.
Thanks to him, Wayne got five more custom orders and over ten "Pro Max" versions — all from Slytherin students.
Wayne planned to share the profit with Hermione and Cho, but they both refused.
"This was all your doing, Wayne. We didn't do anything."
So Wayne didn't push it.
Cedric, however, witnessed the entire transaction and looked like he was suffering from severe constipation.
With a dark expression, he climbed onto the Hufflepuff dining table and did his promised hip-shaking dance. The young witches were stunned.
Even Professor Sprout couldn't take it and docked him two days' worth of House Points, sending him to fertilize plants in the greenhouse.
Under Cedric's pained gaze, Wayne — along with everyone else — laughed until they nearly collapsed.
On Friday morning, while eating breakfast, Wayne received a letter from an owl.
Curious, he opened it.
"Wayne, I've found more of the materials you needed. Come by for afternoon tea tomorrow. And if you can bring the phoenix, even better."
Signed: Hagrid.
Wayne chuckled. This wasn't really an invitation for him — it was clearly for Ho-Oh.
Still, he didn't plan to turn it down. He'd used up a lot of ingredients lately making tools, and it was a good opportunity to restock.
He suddenly felt someone staring at him.
Looking up, he saw Professor Snape, sitting at the staff table, not eating — just staring.
Snape had been hinting for days, trying to get his hands on phoenix materials from Wayne.
But the kid was completely uncooperative. After a few point deductions, he only seemed happier.
What was wrong with him?
Snape was baffled. Since when did taking points encourage students?
That afternoon, during Potions, Snape "casually" deducted 15 more points from Wayne.
The Hufflepuffs weren't even surprised anymore.
At this point, most students knew: Snape hated Harry the most, and Wayne came in second.
No one knew exactly why, but Snape never missed a day without docking a few points from him.
Not that it mattered. Hufflepuff wasn't likely to win the House Cup anyway — Gryffindor would take the bottom spot for sure.
Wait, no — it's just "Gryffin." Because the "dor" part of their points? Gone.
Wayne was grinning like a flower in bloom, which made Snape finally give up.
After class, he pulled Wayne aside.
"Lawrence. What would it take for you to hand over those phoenix materials?"
"You didn't really waste all of them making those ridiculous maps, did you?"
Wayne's map business couldn't stay hidden from the professors for long. Besides Flitwick's open praise, the rest of the staff were secretly pleased.
(They didn't realize Wayne's maps could track Filch.)
Since students were now rarely late — and when they were, it was clearly not because they were lost — the professors had one less thing to worry about.
So even while Snape kept deducting points, the other professors quietly kept adding them back.
In the end, Wayne's net score was actually higher.
"Professor," Wayne said with a modest smile, "I've gathered quite a few materials recently. Tears, feathers, droppings… you name it."
Snape's breath quickened slightly.
All excellent ingredients.
"You're just hoarding them — it's a waste. Give them to me. I'll craft potions and give you a portion in return."
"…And I won't deduct any more points for two months."
Snape's tone turned almost persuasive.