Chapter 32: Birthday Surprises

It was April First. All Fool's Day. More importantly, it was my birthday. And what made this particular birthday so special was that it was my 18th birthday, according to my forged muggle birth certificate.

I was now an adult in the mundane world. I could vote, I could buy property, I could do all sorts of stuff with my ascension to adulthood. It was liberating, in a way.

'Now if only it wasn't raining cats and dogs,' I grumbled despondently as I sloshed through another puddle as I walked the short distance from the bus stop to Archibald's office building. It was hard to get into a festive mood when the weather was so poor.

"How are you doing today?" Archibald asked politely as I entered his office. I was wet from the rain that was drenching the city, and uttered a huff as I gave silent thanks to my warming runes sewn into my coat.

"Soggy," I replied. Springtime in London was a rainy time. He just nodded in sympathy and switched to a different topic.

"I have good news," he said. "I got you a recommendation letter to Oxford, just as you asked."

"Yes! That should help a lot," I said with a grin. "And with the one I'm getting from the Finch-Fletchley's, I'll be a shoo-in!"

"Tuition costs won't be cheap, even with those scholarships you're applying for," Archibald cautioned me.

"That's why I'm stepping up production on my products," I declared as I sat down. "Do you have any more information on the storefronts available that I asked about?"

"I do," he said, taking out a folder for me to peruse. "Of course, buying a place to start your business and all those supplies will be expensive as well. It won't be easy to pay for both your education and your business, even with a loan and scholarships."

"I'll make do," I said. It was more of a vow, in truth. I wasn't going to let anything stop me.

Archibald stared at me for a moment, before nodding. "Very well, then. I'm just here to advise you, after all."

He leaned back in his chair. "So, how is school going?"

"Top of my class, but that's no big deal," I replied. "Graduation is only a couple months away and there's no way I can flunk the exams."

'And Harry will be back around then, too. Late afternoon on June 26th is when the Hogwarts Express is due back. I can't wait! I hope he likes his welcome home present,' I thought to myself. I wasn't going to let Harry spend more time than necessary at the Dursleys. He'd spend the minimum two weeks – fifteen days at most, just to be on the safe side – to recharge his Love Barrier and the Blood Wards protecting the house, and then I was whisking him away to my apartment. I'd get a spare cot set up if I had to. Or maybe I'd smuggle him to the Weasleys. Yeah, that would work. But first, he'd be going with me to France!

'Note to self, have Inky be on the lookout for Dobby,' I mused idly as I thought about the events of Book Two. If I could convince the Malfoys' abused House Elf to work with me in protecting Harry, then I hoped he wouldn't try any funny business with blocking Harry's mail or messing with the Bludgers.

I then dismissed those thoughts for the moment with a bit of Occlumency, and returned my attention to the contents of the folder.

It contained a number of different storefronts and buildings that were within my price range and had good – or at the very least decent – rents or leasing agreements. I wasn't going to be able to outright buy anything, not yet, so this was what I'd have to live with.

In the end, I narrowed my choices down to two – a former bakery, and a laundromat. The bakery would be good as potion brewing was very much like cooking, and the layout of the electrical wiring meant I would be able to move in and set up my mixers and other brewing items without issue, as well as it having a good-sized storage area. The laundromat had similar benefits, but was closer to the city and was thus more expensive. It was also part of a chain of buildings, mean there were stores built above, below and to the side of it. I'd get more foot traffic too, compared to the bakery, which was located firmly in the suburban outskirts of London.

"I'll have to keep thinking on it," I said after passing my choices back to Archibald. "Let me know if somebody else tries to horn in on either."

"I can do that. By the way, Happy Birthday, Edward," Archibald said, giving me a nod.

"Thank you," I said, touched by his words. I then stood and shook his hands. "I hope to keep doing business with you in the future."

He nodded in agreement. Squibs gotta squib together, after all.

After my short meeting with Archibald, I had another one to get ready for later in the evening. I had a dinner planned with my mother, but before that I was going to see a movie with Sam and his family.

We ended up watching Cape Fear, a thriller by Martin Scorsese, even though Kate and Mrs. Parson had tried to get me, Sam, and Mr. Parson to watch a rom-com called Father of the Bride. I couldn't recall seeing either film in my past, so it was a treat to experience something new.

But once that was done, and I'd bid the Parson's farewell, I hurried back to my apartment to change and get ready to meet my mother at Lumpkin's Patch.

"Inky, how do I look?" I asked the loyal old House Elf as I put on my dress robes and a tie.

"You look excellent, Young Master Eddy," Inky praised.

"Great! Mind popping me over to the house?" I requested, and he snapped his fingers. We went from my bedroom to Lumpkin Patch's living room.

'Hasn't changed a bit,' I mused thoughtfully.

"Edward, welcome home," Wisteria Hunch said, having heard the telltale popping sound of displaced air that accompanied Inky's teleportation.

"Hello, mother, how have you been?" I inquired, stepping forward to give her a fond embrace of greeting. She looked good, wearing an upbeat expression as I hugged her. She smiled so much more often compared to before that day.

"I am well," she replied. "Come, sit, and talk."

She led me into the dining room where plates had been set up for a meal for two. There was soup bubbling in a pot on the stove and the smell of garlic suffused the air, making me drool a bit in eager anticipation of the feat to come.

"Son, before we start to eat, I need to talk to you about something," she said, her voice unusually stern, and I was immediately on guard.

"About what?" I asked, careful to conceal any of my panic of fear from her.

"You are sixteen now, but to the muggles, you are older. An adult, in their world. Not to mention you're about to finish your schooling," Wisteria said, and I sagged a bit in relief at what the topic was about. Unfortunately, she took my reaction the wrong way, and immediately tried to reassure me.

"No, no! It's not what you think, I am not throwing you out or anything! You're always still welcome here, at home, whenever you need!" she hastily said.

"I see," I replied neutrally, recomposing myself. "What, then?"

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something, but struggled to find the words. Eventually, though, she declared, "I'm proud of you."

"Huh?" I uttered, confused.

"I was always worried you would struggle to fit in. Here or in the muggle world. But now… now I'm not. You have done so well for yourself. Far better than I ever imagined, or dared to hope," Wisteria Hunch said, and I flinched a bit at that. Even though she was trying to be supportive, her words still stung unintentionally.

"That's why… oh, I'm not good with words right now. Here," my mother said, passing me a slip of parchment. I took it, and then blinked in surprise when I saw what I was holding. It was a bank draft for a little over one thousand galleons!

"It's not much, but that is the money we would have spent on your seven years of schooling at Hogwarts," my mother told me. "It's yours to do with as you wish. Open up that business of yours, or whatever else you want to do!"

"It costs over a hundred galleons a year for admission?" I asked, surprised.

"Well, yes. Where did you think the school got its money to pay for the professors and everything else, like food and sundries?" Wisteria Hunch chuckled. "Plus, the books and other supplies cost a pretty sickle."

"Good point," I murmured. "I always thought Hogwarts was free, or at least ministry sponsored."

"Hogwarts predates the Ministry," my mother tutted, amused to be teaching me for a change.

"Then how did poor students pay in the past? And I highly doubt many Muggleborn in the past could afford a hundred galleons a year."

A hundred galleons might only be half a grand in Pounds Sterling now, but for the 90's that was still fairly expensive as far as schooling went. And the price disparity would have been even worse centuries ago as most wealth was owned by nobles, and peasants would have had next to nothing. Hell, even fifty years ago a hundred galleons would have been more than a middle-class factory worker could afford to pay for their kids!

"There are a number of options. And in the old days, Hogwarts would pay for students who couldn't afford it by having the students work for the school during summers and holidays. That's where the Prefects position originated from. They were students who were paying off their debt to the school," my mother explained. "Also, many of them might become apprentices or teachers themselves. Nowadays, though, the ministry offers several loans and deals as does Gringotts. Though their loans generally stipulate that you are agreeing to work for them upon graduation, and your wages are garnished until you pay your debts back."

"That's surprisingly sensible," I mused. "And those who can't do either of those things? Are there any charities?"

"None for Muggleborn, and you'd need to be a Pureblood or a well-connected half-blood to benefit from anything like that," my mother said with a shake of her head. "And if a Muggleborn can't afford Hogwarts, or are unwilling or unable to take a loan or attend any other school, then the Ministry binds their magic and Obliviate the student and parents."

'Eeesh, no wonder the magical population is dwindling with responses like that,' I thought darkly. 'Student debt is no joke even in the magical world it seems.'

I then sent my mother a warm smile. "Thank you for the gift, mom. I'll spend the money wisely."

I looked down at the slip of parchment in my hands and tried not to jump in joy. Almost a thousand galleons! That was about five thousand pounds! And for the current time period I was living in, that was a lot. It could cover a down payment of a loan for my business! Or ease the burden of tuition for college!

But then a crazy – and risky – thought struck me. I knew things. Things about the past from my world that might apply to this one's future.

Who'd won the European Football (or Soccer) Cup in 1992? Denmark, that's who. At a score of 2 to 0 against Germany. Though that was only because Yugoslavia was disqualified due to no longer being a country anymore, or some other issues on the international stage.

I knew this somewhat useless fact because 1992 was the year I'd been born in my last world, and I'd looked up a bunch of random factoids about the year of my birth just because I could. The 25th Olympics opened in Barcelona in 1992. Also, it was the year the Cartoon Cable Network – or the channel more commonly known as Cartoon Network – first premiered.

Would that be the same in this world I was in? Could I… could I bet on what was going to happen?

I'd already made plans to take advantage of the late 1990's tech bubble in America, but that was some years away. I needed money now, and if things followed through the same here as they did there…

"Edward, I know that look on your face," my mother scolded me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What? I was just thinking about business opportunities!" I protested.

"I know," she said with a smirk. "Now's not the time for that, though. Today's your birthday. So put those thoughts away. It's time for dinner."

I huffed but nodded, tucking the bank draft into my pocket and focusing on the dinner that Inky was bringing out for us.

When dinner was over, Inky returned me to my bedroom, where I quickly got ready for bed. But I found wasn't able to sleep, despite needing to rest for school tomorrow. Instead, my thoughts whirled. I couldn't stop thinking about the money I'd received from mother.

Thinking about my sudden windfall had also gotten me thinking about economics in general. And from there, I began to dredge through my mind using Occlumency for what I may have learned in school back in my old life to try and help me with finding a way to invest my newfound wealth.

Looking through my memories of the 'past,' I stumbled across something from one of my college classes that made me very nervous.

Black Wednesday. A day in September of 1992 where the value of the British Pound Sterling crashed violently due to its exchange rate doing poorly. The government lost over three billion pounds and the value of its money dropped badly, causing terrible inflation and a housing market crash.

'Damn it,' I thought to myself as I rolled out of bed and fetched some pen and paper. 'I'm going to be tired in the morning!'

It had been a long time since I'd had the urge to write down any of my knowledge. Not since my Occlumency training had progressed to the point my memory recall worked on command, at least.

But the thought of an economic depression scared me enough to want to jot some feverish notes down, just to clear my head. Black Wednesday was, from what I recalled, the beginning of a slow spiral for the pound and British economy that it never really recovered from, even several decades later in my timeline.

Yet, it also excited me!

So many possibilities! So many chances to exploit my future knowledge for my own benefit!

But I would need help. Lots of it. What I was able to recall was limited. My finance classes in college had been for the credits, not because I'd been interested in the world of business or money at the time, so I had to dig very dig into memories to get what little I had.

I'd not yet reached the point in my Occlumency training where I could delve into my own memories and view them as if they were a movie or still photo. To do that required what was called a Mind Palace, and that took even talented mental masters decades to properly construct.

Right now, all I could do was perfectly recall the information I'd read or heard, which was still a boon, but was more temporary and I couldn't hold onto my information for long before it faded back into the depths of my mind and I had to use Occlumency to recall it again. Hence the note taking.

But, what little I knew and remembered about Black Wednesday was bleak. It started when Sir John Major, the Prime Minister, pegged the pound to the German Mark in the European Monetary System in the hopes of controlling Britain's inflation. The EMS was basically a system for deciding the exchange rate between European currencies, a precusor to the Economic Monetary Union which birthed the euro.

Unfortunately for Britain, this act of following the Deutsche Mark failed. There were several reasons, but the big one was Germany was struggling with its own inflation and debts as it attempted to assimilate the former Soviet East Germany back into itself. Given how poor East Germany was, this meant the Federal Republic had to spend massive amounts out of its own pockets to get basic infrastructure and utilities up to standard. East Germany was a time and money sink and would take many years to recover. And some places never did.

Seeing where things were going, Sir John Major and his cabinet then panicked and tried to recoup their loses by increasing the interest rates charged by the Bank of England. That meant loans, mortgages, and currency exchange rates rose drastically. Too much for the economy to stand up to, as it turned out, leading to a burst of inflation that made the pound drop in value, and a collapse of the housing market on September 16th and onwards.

The government tried to stop the abrupt change by suspending the Pound Sterling's participation in the EMS, but it was too little too late, and the government lost three billion pounds in a single day. Black Wednesday's ripples led to the creation of the euro in an effort to avoid such a collapse on the mainland in the short term, and Brexit in the long term.

If I wanted to avoid this collapse, or at least not be crushed by it, I would need to carefully work out a plan and avoid keeping too much British money on hand, turning it into galleons or US dollars instead to get the most out of the situation.

'And I need people who know how to do that, as well as some assistants who understand the economy far better than I do,' I mused to myself.

After thinking it over, I decided to place a call.

"Edward? It's quite early… shouldn't you be at school?" Archibald inquired curiously over the phone. He was the one contact I actually had that could possibly help, and I hoped he knew some ways to do so.

"That doesn't matter right now! Archibald! Do you know any financial experts or investment people?" I demanded urgently over the phone.

"What? I, yes, I know a few," he replied, surprised by the tone of my voice.

"I need you to get into contact with them."

"Why?"

"I've been playing around with some divination, and I've got a really bad feeling," I told him, lying a bit to avoid explaining my knowledge of the future. "I want to talk to them. As soon as possible!"

"Divination? Wait, have you been using magic to play the stock market?" he asked incredulously.

"So what if I have?" I retorted.

"Huh, that's actually brilliant, wish I'd thought of that," I heard him mutter over the phone. He then cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll see what I can do. I know a few people like us who are in the financial world."

"Wonderful, calm me as soon as you can," I sighed with relief. I hung up, then called the school and told them I was sick. Claimed I'd caught a cold from yesterday's rain. Another lie, but again, a necessary one. I wouldn't be able to focus at all at school with my mind churning with numbers. And this gave me today and Friday off as well.

Still buzzing with energy, I decided to actually do a bit of Divination practice as I claimed I had done with Archibald on the phone.

I got out my velvet bag full of bone-dice and a turtle shell that had been cleaned and then delicately engraved with more Divination runes. The turtle shell bowl method of divination was an old one from Asia. Different parts of the engraved hexagram ward schema represented different outcomes, and dice or coins were tossed into it to determine the future.

To advance my Divination skills, I had created my own method by taking the unique hexagrams of the turtle shell method and combining it with the runic method my knucklebone dice relied on. Depending on where my dice landed inside the hexagram, the result could be either neutral, and mean exactly what the rune represented, positive, and thus mean the rune was connected in a positive connotation, or negative, and mean the rune was warning of danger. And the way my runes landed could also influence the outcome. A rune that was upside down in relation to me was considered inverted, and thus the opposite of what the rune actually meant.

Take for instance if I rolled a single die six-sided die that had the four classical elements, plus light and dark, on its sides. If the die landed with the 'Fire' rune upright and in the neutral section of the hexagram, that meant literal fire was in my future. It could be anything from needing a new lighter to accidentally burning dinner to suffering a house fire. If the Fire rune was inverted in the negative section, it meant water was in my future, and that it was dangerous. How dangerous? Maybe I'd choke while drinking some water, or perhaps I'd slip and fall in the shower. Maybe it would rain soon, or my apartment's water bill would go up.

Vague and not very useful, right? Well, that's why I rolled a combination of rune-dice, always in sets of three, five, or seven (magic numbers for the win!) to narrow down what was supposed to happen. It was all very complicated, but it allowed me to have a far broader set of answers.

I carefully thought about the questions I wanted to ask before randomly grabbing a few bone-dice and then rolling them inside the turtle shell. I asked them out loud, because that seemed to work better than asking it in my head, for some reason, and spent the next hour tossing my rune-carved sheep knuckle-bones into the turtle shell at my dining table.

The outcomes were surprising, to say the least.

Using Arithmancy to predict the future was entirely possible, but it used the same methodology as mundane predictive algorithms worked; they observed and followed trends. Input the data-numbers and a NEWT level Arithmancer could calculate the most likely outcome with ease. However, unforeseen variables could throw said results wildly off course.

Divination on the other hand was both more and less successful. Most of the time, Divination was utterly useless. Scrying was the only useful art the average witch or wizard would be capable of, and even then, most of those methods, like tea leaf and palm readings, were painfully imprecise. And Scrying's main purpose, locating something or someone far away or hidden, could be done with modern spells like the Point Me charm. Sure, advanced Divination could pierce through Unplottable charms, but any wizard worth their wand would know (or learn) how to cast wards that would deflect Scrying attempts.

Ultimately, the most 'useful' form of Divination was Prophecy, but only Seers could have them, and even then, it was rare. Like, once a century rare. And Seer bloodlines were finicky, and rarer than even Metamorphs and Parseltongues.

But! Divination, when right, was right. I wasn't sure if knowing the outcome of the future set it in stone or what, but once a prediction was made, it would happen, and no 'unforeseen variables' could change it like with Arithmancy based predictive models, save for the outcome or interference of another prediction.

As such, when I wanted or needed to use Divination, I relied on using rune-bones, one of the oldest and most reliable methods of Scrying-type Divination magic known to man. I also had a strange amount of success with them, which was why I kept using that method so often.

'Did my ancestors have ties to some Seer blood? Am I perhaps related to Professor Trelawny? Her family is the only one in all of Britain that has a direct lineage connected to Seers,' I mused thoughtfully. The old saying that every pureblood was related to each other rang in my head, and I couldn't deny that it was highly likely I had some relation to the Hogwarts Divination Professor. Hell, I had distant – very distant! – blood ties with the Blacks and Potters. Though not since well before the Statue of Secrecy, at least.

I pushed my mind back to focusing on what the rune-bones were telling me, and grimaced. One of the questions I had asked them was 'Will Harry Potter encounter the Philosopher's Stone before the end of his time at Hogwarts this year?' and my dice had told me in several different ways 'Yes.'

My next question was 'Will there be an economic recession on September 16th?' This one was less definite and more vague, due to the fact several months separated me from the event in question, but the bones had still come up with various degrees of confirmation. Sort of. If you squinted and looked at the answers from the right angle.

Smaller things, like if it would rain today or tomorrow, or what color of shirt Sam would wear on various days, were asked, and I got a bunch of answers I would have to get confirmation on later. But, if the small stuff came true, then so too would the bigger events.

I took a deep breath, then picked up my rune-bones for one more toss.

"Will Dumbledore try to interfere with me helping Harry over the course of Summer Break?" I asked out loud, before grabbing five bone-dice at random and tossing them into the special scrying bowl. They clacked and clattered loudly within the shell before coming to a rest.

I stared into the turtle shell bowl and grimaced at the result. "Damn it," I grumbled.

The rune for 'Yes' was face up in the middle of the shell, right in the neutral position, and the rune for 'New Encounters' had collided with the one for 'Danger,' leaving both in the negative hexagram. Meanwhile the 'Opportunity' rune was inverted in the positive section along with the rune for 'Wisdom.'

'Yes' being in the neutral hexagram was obvious. It meant Dumbledore was definitely going to try and do something to interfere over the summer. However, the next set of runes revealed that I was going to meet somebody new, and they were likely very important to my plans. This could mean I'd meet Dumbledore face to face, or perhaps it would be somebody associated with him. Lastly, inverted Opportunity mean misfortune, but combined with 'Wisdom' in the positive hexagram meant I could turn my bad luck around if I played it smart.

This changed things. And I didn't like it.

"At least I have a few weeks to prepare," I muttered.

Harry POV

"…and it says here, on chapter fourteen, that this is indeed the best way to counter a Jelly-Legs Jinx!" Hermione shouted at Ron.

"Merlin's sake, Hermione, that's not going to be on the test!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

"How can you be sure?!"

"Because we haven't even gone over it in class yet!"

"But that doesn't mean it won't come up later!"

"Quirrell hasn't even gotten to chapter nine! No way he's gonna get to chapter fourteen by the end of the school year!"

"Are they still going at it?" Susan whispered to Harry, who nodded weakly.

"Yeah, it's… almost impressive."

"I'm surprised Madam Pince hasn't thrown us out yet," Neville said nervously as he glanced over at the stern librarian.

"I think that's due to the newest charm Hermione learned the other day," Hannah guessed.

"Which one?" Susan asked her fellow Puff.

"The Sound Muffling Charm," Hannah replied.

"Makes sense," Harry said, returning to his book. It was a guide to brewing potions, and Harry would be damned if Snape tried to pull a fast one with his test just to make his grades slip in that class!

Despite being the last weekend of April, Hermione was already pushing for their group to begin studying for the upcoming exams.

Harry loved the bushy-haired bookworm like a sister, but she was crazy when it came to schoolwork. It was like a switch was flipped in her brain when the words 'test' or 'exam' were uttered by a teacher, and she went mental trying to prepare and impress the professors.

Thankfully, Neville – and to a lesser extent Susan and Hannah – were able to talk Hermione out of going completely bonkers, and reduced their pile of studying to a simple one subject a day for two hours after classes were done.

It calmed the Gryffindor girl somewhat, but had made her double-down on following a strict schedule for what they needed to go over in order to score well on their tests.

Harry had invited the other First Years (yes, even the Slytherins, because it was polite, and not because he expected anyone to take him up on his offer) to a couple sessions, but Hermione's fervor had spooked most of them, so they only showed up every once in a while, to get help with a subject they were struggling in.

'I'll just ask them again when it's closer to exam time,' he decided. 'Maybe then Hermione will have become less manic.'

Harry shot a glance at his friend from across the library table the group was sitting at, and grimaced as Hermione muttered to herself as she wrote out a very detailed schedule that calculated everyone's bathroom breaks down to the minute. 'Or maybe she won't.'

"I wonder when the thief will strike?" Harry wondered aloud, successfully distracting Hermione from her imminent meltdown.

"What do you mean?" Susan inquired, and the rest of the study group all turned their head his way at the non-sequitur.

"Well, we're reasonably certain it's one of the professors who is going to try and steal the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said, which had the others at the table nodding in agreement. "So, when would be the perfect time to strike?"

"It'll have to be before finals, or after," Ron said.

"Why?" Hannah asked, curious for his reasoning.

"It's simple. The two weeks of finals will be busy. The busiest week of the year for the teachers. If the thief really is a teacher, they'll be unable to sneak away thanks to all the testing going on. It'd be too obvious. OWL and NEWT tests are done in the week before the rest of the years take theirs, and that means the thief will have to act during the first week of June, before the tests, or the last week of June, after said tests are done."

"That's… very smart," Hermione said, as if she couldn't believe she was saying those words about Ron Weasley of all people.

"Brilliant tactical thinking, Ron," Harry praised. He knew the red-head was smart when he cared to apply himself, just look at his winning streak in Wizard Chess. But it seemed he had a real knack for critical strategic thinking that went beyond merely chess strategies.

"The teachers including the thief will be exhausted, and so will the students. And this will ensure nobody is going to be going near Fluffy's room. Not unless they absolutely have to," Neville said, nodding in understanding.

"But what about Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. "Won't he notice something is wrong?"

"Maybe. If he has a way to know if people get too close to the third-floor corridor, then he'd surely know we'd been there," Harry pointed out. "And yet he's never scolded us for it. Nor have we lost points for it. At least, I think we haven't."

"Perhaps he does know, but he doesn't care?" Susan guessed.

"Or more likely, he doesn't think the little we saw is worth punishing," Harry added.

"Then our thief will strike while Dumbledore is gone," Ron said decisively. "Dumbledore is the strongest wizard alive. He could easily catch the thief in the act if there are other traps besides Fluffy. But that's only if Dumbledore is in the castle at the same time."

"So, sometime in June is when the thief is gonna do his dirty deeds," Hannah mused. "Then we better make sure somebody is watching the hallway during that time."

"How?" Susan asked.

"Why not ask the House Elves?" Harry suggested.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot about them," Hermione admitted with a frown. "And after everything they did for us on Halloween."

"We can thank them when we go ask them for help with this stone problem," Neville said. "But I think Harry's idea works. I was going to suggest we ask one of the ghosts or portraits, but thinking on it, the House Elves would be more reliable."

"Well, now that we've figured this out… Hannah, I see you're making doodles instead of taking notes for history," Hermione said, turning back to what really mattered to her – studying.

"But Binns is so boring!" the blonde Hufflepuff whined. "And his lessons are literally word for word taken from the textbooks! Heck, I think whoever wrote the books just copied his notes from Binns' lectures and published them!"

"That… actually, that makes a lot of sense," Hermione mused thoughtfully. "It would explain some things…"

"See? I can be smart, too!" Hannah said, puffing her chest out proudly.

"Of course, of course! But if that's the case, what's with all these misspellings?" the bushy-haired Gryffindor demanded, jabbing a finger at a word on the page. "You don't spell 'Xavgor' with a 'Z'!"

"Gobbledygook is a hard language, okay?!" Hannah cried out, throwing her hands into the air, but Hermione was merciless and relentless.

"And Ron! Don't think I didn't see you sneaking peeks at Neville's Herbology homework!"

'I wonder what Edward is doing right now?' Harry wondered as he dove back into the study materials Hermione had given him in order to avoid suffering her wrath like Ron and Hannah currently were.

Edward POV

"If I ever find out who invented calculus, I'm kicking him in the balls," Sam griped.

"Save me some room in your time machine, Sam," I grumbled as I finished up the homework. Math was painfully tedious, and even if I knew every rule and step by heart, it didn't make it any less boring.

"Ugh! I can't do this anymore!" Sam groaned, flopping bonelessly onto my dining room table and pushing his pile of homework aside. "Let's do something else! Talk about things!"

"Okay, like what?" I asked, gratefully for any opportunity to put down my pencil.

"Well, how goes your little chemistry experiments?" Sam asked, waggling his eyebrows at me.

"Is that a lewd joke at my closeness with Delilah, or a euphemism for potions?"

"Both," he said with a cheeky grin. I rolled my eyes at my best friend's comment.

Sam had changed a lot since I'd met him all those years ago. He'd begun wearing his hair longer, keeping it tied back with a pony tail. He'd also begun experimenting with hair dye in all sorts of exotic colors. His parents were convinced he was either doing drugs or had become a rock metal fan.

Funnily enough, the first thing was technically the closest to the truth, since I was teaching him how to brew potions. Sam loved being able to do 'actual magic' even if he needed a crutch for it like I did. He had a real knack for potions. Better than I did. He was able to correctly identify when it was time to lower the heat on a boiling potion, or when was the correct moment to add a new ingredient.

He also liked cooking magical food with Inky and was a big fan of all the wacky candy the Wizard World had to offer. I planned on getting him a magical cookbook for his birthday. He'd certainly like that.

"Delilah and I are doing fine. Haven't done much besides a few kisses, and most of our 'dates' are actually business meetings," I replied.

"You can call it snogging, you know. No need to be all prim and proper about it," Sam teased.

"Well, anyways, things are fine and dandy," I said. "I've come up with a new potion, too."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Hangover potion," I replied. "Completely made out of mundane plants, though a magical stirring stick is still needed to make it work. Unicorn horn is preferable."

I'd found that different materials for making potion stirring rods could affect the outcome of a potion. Healing potions turned out better when brewed with a unicorn's horn, while dragon's bone was excellent for improving the length of time a potion's effects would last. A stirring stick made of Grindylow spines was best for creams as it made them smoother and silkier, and a Bowtruckle's branch vastly improved the quality of purely plant-based potions.

There were many more materials to experiment with, but what I had discovered was really improving my production.

"Neat! What's in it?" Sam asked.

"Coffee beans, mint, and duckweed."

"Gross," Sam winced.

"Yeah, it's taste ain't great, but it works. Consume before you go to bed after drinking, and you won't have a headache upon waking up. Or, drink it after waking up and ten minutes later your hangover will be gone."

"How did you test that, exactly?" Sam inquired. "You don't drink."

"No, but Mr. Finch-Fletchley does. He generously volunteered to test them once I'd confirmed they weren't in any way dangerous."

"Sounds like Duncan is doing lots of overtime," Sam noted, and I laughed.

"He doesn't complain since I give him plump and juicy crickets and mealworms all the time," I said with a smirk. Duncan the toad had really pulled his weight since I'd gotten him from Diagon Alley last year. He was fat and lazy and didn't do much except sit in his terrarium, which was good for me whenever I fed him eyedroppers full of potions to see what'd happen.

Did you know that if you replaced kraken blood with powdered moon jellyfish in the Water-Breathing Potion, the skin of the drinker would turn transparent? Weird, I know. But at least that was the only side-effect. And the potion still let you breath underwater! Duncan had looked very creepy without his flesh until the potion wore off.

"Hey, Ed? Can we can talk?" Sam asked, his mood shifting a bit, and I raised an eyebrow at that.

"Sure, but just so you know, those words put together in a sentence like that is rarely a good thing," I drawled, earning a snort of amusement from my best friend, before he turned serious again.

"So, uh, don't take this the wrong way, Ed, but I don't think I want to work with you in the potion making business," Sam said, fidgeting a bit. "I mean, I like it, don't get me wrong, but I don't think it's what I want to do with my life."

"I understand," I told him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I really do."

"You're not mad?" he asked hesitantly, and I nodded.

"Yeah. Honestly, I'm kinda glad you don't want to work for me. Friends working together is fine and all, but it gets awkward when one friend is the boss, and the other is being hired by them. We could probably have made it work, but I don't really want to risk our friendship over things like money and business."

"True, true," Sam said, a bit of relief in his voice that I wasn't mad, and that I understood how weird it'd be if he worked under me.

"What are your plans, then, for the future?" I asked curiously.

"Cooking school," Sam said. "I want to try and become a professional chef. And someday, work in a five-star restaurant I own myself!"

"That's a great dream to have!" I said, happy for him. "I'll bet you can do it, too!"

"Thanks for the support, Ed," Sam smiled. He then gained a pensive look. "Um, what do you think you'll do for hiring people, then?"

"I'll hire some Squibs, first. There aren't a lot of us, but there's enough out there who'd take any job. And a magical one that isn't in the Wizarding World? I bet I'll have plenty of applicants," I claimed.

'Gonna have to work on creating a magical contract to ensure they can't spill the beans, first, though,' I hummed. 'I'll need to look up the recipe for Oath Binding Ink before I forget.'

No way I was going into business without finding a way to bind my employees with a magical contract!

"In other news, are you excited for football season?!"

"Damn straight. World Cup is in Sweden this year, right?" I asked, and Sam nodded.

"Yeah! And England's gonna win! I know it!"

"We'll have to see," I chuckled. "We'll have to see."

'And if things work out, I'll be filthy rich!'