After understanding the uses of the different quills, Harry's eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he bought both the Copybook Quill and the Babble Quill—two of each.
What's the hardest part of writing an essay?
Isn't it just trying to turn one single useful sentence into an entire paper?
These quills were a lifesaver.
Wayne wasn't selling them at a high price either—two Galleons each. Harry didn't even blink as he handed over eight Galleons to complete the transaction.
Ron, standing beside him, was already turning red with envy.
He and Harry weren't exactly academic failures, but they were only average students. The thing he hated most was having to do homework after every class.
With those two quills, imagine how much time could be saved to play wizard chess!
Unfortunately, Ron was broke. His family only gave him a small allowance each term—barely a handful of Sickles. He even mooched the map from Harry, so buying a quill was out of the question.
Harry noticed his friend's dilemma and whispered:
"You don't need to buy one—I'll lend you mine when you need it."
"Thanks," Ron replied gratefully.
Wayne was happy with this outcome. After all, quills were expendable items. Usually, a young wizard would go through ten quills per term. If two people were sharing, they'd wear them out even faster, and Harry would be back soon to buy more.
As for whether Harry could afford it—Wayne wasn't worried at all.
The Potter family was old and respectable, with a decent fortune in Gringotts—nothing outrageous, but solid.
Once Sirius Black dies, all of the Black family's inheritance will also go to Harry. And the Blacks were one of the most powerful of the Sacred Twenty-Eight—richer even than the Malfoys.
If he could give away a Firebolt without flinching, you know how rich he must be.
Then there's Snape. Despite how much Snape dislikes Harry now, just because he's Lily's son… Snape's final will also leaves his estate to Harry.
And for a Potions Master? That's nothing to scoff at.
Three hefty inheritances in total—Harry is absolutely destined to be one of the wealthiest wizards in the future.
Harry, blissfully unaware of Wayne mentally marking him as a fat sheep, was happily talking about the fun from Quidditch practice.
"George and Fred almost gave Wood a heart attack—they were flying around like two human Bludgers and refused to practice properly…"
Hermione didn't really understand Quidditch, but she earnestly said:
"Harry, you have to win the House Cup for us. We're trailing the other houses by so many points…"
Winning the Quidditch Cup would earn their house 150 points. That's what Hermione really cared about.
Harry's face fell. "I'll do my best… but I'm only in my first year…"
Then his expression shifted to anger. "It's all Snape's fault! I don't even know what I did to upset him, but he deducts points from me constantly."
Hagrid, who had been smiling cheerfully, now looked a bit awkward. "Harry, Snape is your professor. You should show him proper respect."
"I'm just telling the truth!" Harry protested. "Last week in Potions class, he took thirty points off me!"
Harry turned to Wayne and complained, "The trick you taught me doesn't work. I avoided eye contact like you said, but it only made him angrier!"
"What happened exactly?" Wayne perked up.
Harry grimaced and explained: Normally, Snape would find fault with him in every class, but when Harry stared back defiantly, Snape would just toss out a sarcastic comment and move on.
Last class, Harry remembered Wayne's advice—so no matter how much Snape nitpicked, Harry just kept his head down and focused on brewing.
In the end, Snape docked him twenty points for "disrespecting a professor," and then another ten from Neville.
Wayne struggled to keep a straight face. His stomach hurt from trying not to laugh, but he maintained a thoughtful expression.
Of course Snape would be mad! The one thing he cared most about was Harry's eyes—eyes exactly like Lily's. If Harry didn't look at him, it would piss him off.
"Tough situation, Harry…" Wayne clicked his tongue. "Seems like Snape really has it out for you."
"How about this—try giving him a Christmas gift to smooth things over. You're going to be in Potions class for at least five years, after all."
Harry nodded, thinking it sounded reasonable. "What should I give him?"
"Shampoo," Wayne suggested with a straight face. "Look at that greasy hair—he clearly hasn't washed it in ages. Shampoo would be perfect."
"Would that even work?" Harry looked skeptical. "He's a professor. He can't not afford shampoo."
"Well, he is a Potions Master—maybe he just doesn't care about stuff like that," Wayne said, laughing. "Maybe he forgets to buy it or just doesn't bother."
"Just buy the best one, the most well-known brand."
"If Snape sees that you're so sincere, even if he doesn't go easy on you, at least he might stop picking on you."
Hagrid opened his mouth to speak.
The best shampoo in the wizarding world… that was Potter's Sleekeazy Hair Potion, wasn't it?
That was how the Potter family originally made their fortune. Though Harry's grandfather later sold the formula in exchange for a huge sum of gold, so the product no longer had anything to do with them.
Hagrid scratched his head. Something felt off about all this, but he couldn't put his finger on what.
So he just stopped thinking about it.
Wayne was Harry's friend—and a kind, trustworthy Hufflepuff. There's no way he'd try to scam a friend.
Smiling, Hagrid brought over another batch of freshly baked cookies and hot tea.
An hour later, the little wizards staggered out of the hut, clutching their stuffed stomachs.
"Don't even need dinner now," Ron yawned. "Harry, want to play a bit of wizard chess? One candy wrapper per game."
"Sure."
The two waved goodbye to Wayne and left.
Their relationship with Hermione wasn't great—especially Ron, who thought Hermione was too rigid and nosy.
Girls tended to mature faster than boys, and Hermione, now entering her early teen years, had little patience for two mischievous pranksters.
She found them childish.
"Want to head back to the castle?" Wayne asked.
Hermione thought for a moment. "Let's take a walk. I'm a bit full too—need to walk it off."
Wayne had no objection.
They strolled slowly along the Black Lake. The water shimmered in the autumn breeze, sending ripples across the surface. Occasionally, a fish would leap out of the water—only to be snapped up midair by a Grindylow.
A cold gust blew past. Wayne was fine—his cloak was temperature-enchanted—but Hermione shivered and pulled her robes tighter.
It was almost October, and the Scottish Highlands were already below ten degrees Celsius.
Wayne kindly cast a Warming Charm on her. Hermione immediately felt much better.
"Wayne, how do you know so many spells?"
"Just study and practice more—it's not that hard," Wayne said casually.
Hermione quietly pouted.
She'd also self-studied many spells, but her progress was slow. Simple spells were easy to pick up, but the harder ones took serious time and effort.
To avoid being demoralized further, she changed the subject and said softly as she looked at the lake:
"I read in a book that there's a whole merfolk colony living in the Black Lake. I wonder if that's true."
"It is," Wayne said, skipping a stone. It bounced three times before sinking.
"You can even see them sometimes through the windows in the Slytherin common room."
"But they're really ugly," Wayne added with a sigh. "Nothing like the beautiful mermaids from legends."
Hermione crossed her arms and sneered, "And if they were beautiful, what would you do?"
Wayne grinned. "Then I wouldn't mind keeping one as a pet."
"Hmph!" The little witch pinched Wayne and stormed off.
"Hey! Why are you randomly pinching people again?"
"None of your business!"
"Seriously?" Wayne laughed. "That unreasonable, huh?"
"What, got a problem with it?" Hermione shot back with a smirk. "I just can't stand your daydreaming. If you've got the guts, catch a real mermaid and raise her."
"And if I do?" Wayne raised an eyebrow.
"If you actually catch one… I'll… I'll do whatever you want!" Hermione declared.
She recalled that Fantastic Beasts said mermaids didn't exist—it was all a myth. Feeling confident, she made the bet.
"Alright, you'll see," Wayne accepted. "If I don't find one before we graduate, I'll grant you a wish instead."
"Deal!"
They high-fived, both smiling victoriously.
Back in the common room, Cedric and the others had returned from Hogsmeade.
Cedric handed Wayne a butterbeer, then leaned over and whispered:
"I put what you asked for in the dormitory. I'll bring it to you later."
Wayne nodded, showing no rush.
Cedric also shared some sweets from Honeydukes.
"Where are we meeting tomorrow to work on the map?"
"Just grab a random classroom—the common room is too crowded."
Popping a milk toffee into his mouth, Wayne completely lost interest in dinner.
Hufflepuff students were true foodies—almost all of them had brought snacks back from Hogsmeade, and many generously shared them with Wayne.
After gathering such a perfect crowd, Wayne took the opportunity to promote his custom quills again.
At two Galleons each, they weren't cheap—but that didn't matter, because Hufflepuff had plenty of struggling students.
Hannah looked tearful as she pulled out another two Galleons and bought a Babble Quill.
She'd only been at Hogwarts for less than a month, but the girl had visibly chubbed up a bit. Most of her pocket money had gone toward sweets and snacks.
Wayne couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. He gently suggested:
"Hannah, how about getting a Copying Quill too?"
"No thanks," the girl sniffled, "No one lets me copy their homework anyway."
"I can let you borrow mine."
"R-Really? Then… I'll take one more." Hannah reluctantly pulled out another two Galleons from her nearly empty pouch and handed them over with great reluctance.
Cedric looked at Wayne like he was seeing a ghost.
You seriously don't feel even a tiny bit guilty?
Still, that was another 100+ Galleons earned. Wayne was more than satisfied.
Next, he planned to talk to Malfoy. How could a noble like Draco Malfoy be using such basic models? Wayne had specially prepared high-end versions made from unicorn hair and augurey feathers. Premium craftsmanship at a modest price.
Just ten Galleons each.
Sunday.
In the morning, Wayne was scheduled to teach Cedric how to create the map. The two found an unused classroom on the second floor.
Wayne took out a blank piece of parchment and a bottle of special ink, then began explaining the process.
The basic version wasn't too hard. You used enchanted ink to draw the map, labeling each staircase with its corresponding code. That would allow the map to sync in real-time with Hogwarts' constantly shifting staircases.
What Cedric needed to learn was the marking charm and the activation spell for hidden content.
They ruined several sheets before Cedric finally grasped the technique.
But the Pro version was a lot more complicated. The biggest challenge was displaying real-time positions of students. That required a very specialized tracking charm and a magical link spell to bind each student's magical signature to the parchment.
Even after a whole week, Cedric had only barely managed to cast it. His success rate was still very low.
So Wayne had to turn into a pseudo Charms professor, explaining some advanced casting tips.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Someone suddenly knocked on the door. Startled, Cedric messed up his casting again.
"Who is it?" he called out in frustration.
When he opened the door, he saw two grinning faces outside.
"You guys? What are you doing here?"
"We're here for Wayne, of course."
Cedric stepped aside and let the twins in, still looking puzzled.
"How did you even know he was here?"
"No comment."
"It's a twin secret."
George and Fred chimed in perfectly together, walking up to Wayne with wide, flattering grins.
"Master Lawrence, how was your weekend?"
"If you felt too lonely, we could introduce you to some hot Gryffindor girls in Room 803."
Wayne shuddered and shoved them away. "Get lost. If you've got business, speak. Don't disgust me."
The twins exchanged a glance and then said in unison:
"Wayne, can you teach us how to make those custom quills?"
Fred quickly added: "We're not asking for free—just name your price. We'd go hungry if we had to, we'll still pay."
Cedric rolled his eyes. "The school provides free meals."
"Shut up!"
George punched him in the arm and turned back to Wayne with hopeful eyes.
Yesterday in the common room, they had seen Harry frantically writing his essay using the Babble Quill—and were completely awestruck.
The twins thought it was absolutely brilliant. It was like they'd suddenly found their life's purpose.
When they asked about it, of course the answer was: Wayne.
They were floored. Not only had they not figured out how the Marauder's Map worked, but now Wayne had invented new tools.
They couldn't hold back anymore. After a night of back-and-forth, they shamelessly decided to come ask for help.
In the wizarding world, academic secrets weren't guarded too heavily—but once profits were involved, it became serious business.
If they hadn't been that curious, they wouldn't have taken such a bold step.
But they had made up their minds: no matter what conditions Wayne gave them, as long as it was doable, they'd accept.
Fred and George looked so earnest and sincere that Wayne almost didn't recognize them.
He thought for a moment, then said:
"I don't mind teaching you. I'm currently showing Cedric how to make the map."
The twins turned simultaneously to stare at Cedric, as if to say: How dare you keep this to yourself?
Cedric panicked and said quickly, "Don't look at me—I'm just working for Wayne."
"Exactly." Wayne nodded. "I provide the materials and the knowledge. He handles production and sales—but he only gets 20%."
"If you can accept the same deal, I'll teach you too."
"Oh—right." Wayne added just as they were about to agree. "I want something else too. That map you have."
Fred's eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"
That map had been their biggest find of the term so far. They hadn't even fully figured it out themselves—how could Wayne know about it?
"Back in the Trophy Room—you two were way too slow," Wayne said with a smirk. He was very interested in the Marauder's Map.
In Harry's hands, it was just a handy little escape tool—good for dodging Filch.
But in his hands? That was top-tier research material. Its value would be multiplied many times over.
So: hand it over.
The twins huddled up and whispered for a while before finally replying:
"Alright, we agree. But can we hold onto it a bit longer? We haven't fully mapped all the secret passages yet."
"No problem," Wayne said breezily. "Give it to me after Christmas."
Only Cedric stood there, completely confused. "What are you all even talking about?"
~~----------------------
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