Wayne paid no mind to Aragog's wariness and hostility. "Don't be so cautious. We're all old friends here. I just came to see you after not meeting for a few months."
"And I should thank you for that?" Aragog sneered. Even Hagrid wouldn't fall for such nonsense.
"You really should thank me," Wayne said with utmost seriousness, nodding. "Because I've brought you a gift."
"No need."
Aragog refused without hesitation.
Whatever gift this little wizard brought, it probably wasn't roasted spider legs.
Ignoring him, Wayne casually pulled three large glass bottles from his pocket, uncorked them, and placed them on the ground.
A cold breeze swept by, carrying faint traces of scent into the air. The nearby Acromantulas suddenly grew restless, closing in on Wayne.
"Stop! Stop!"
Aragog commanded in spider tongue, and his offspring reluctantly halted.
"What is this?"
Taking a deep breath, Aragog asked. Even he felt an inexplicable aroma and desire, urging him to drink the liquid inside.
Animal instincts were sharp, and spiders were among the keenest. Aragog could sense that this liquid held significant benefits for him.
Wayne chuckled. "A specially brewed tonic for spiders. Pretty thoughtful, eh?"
"You're that kind?" Aragog didn't believe him.
"Well, we're both Hagrid's friends," Wayne said earnestly. "I was worried you'd lost too much venom and might get eaten by other creatures, so I prepared this."
"Alright, the gift is delivered. Time for me to go. See you."
With that, the boy waved without a hint of reluctance. Beneath him, Hestia transformed into a streak of white light, retracing their path and leaving a crowd of bewildered Acromantulas behind.
Once Wayne had completely vanished, the other Acromantulas began stirring again. Aragog kept two of the bottles for himself and ordered a few spiders to test the potion.
After a long while, seeing them happily consuming it without any ill effects, he finally relaxed slightly.
Yet doubts lingered. Could this little wizard truly have no ill intent?
Wayne, of course, harboured no malice.
In fact, he now regretted having killed so many Acromantulas back then—they were excellent milk cows, after all.
From Newt, Wayne had learned much about magical creatures and discovered that Acromantula venom had a wide range of uses.
Not only could it be used to concoct nutrient solutions, but it also promoted the growth of magical herbs—knowledge even Snape hadn't imparted.
Newt truly was the premier magizoologist.
Previously, Wayne had thought his stockpile would last until graduation. But now, with more mouths to feed, it likely wouldn't hold out much longer.
To keep the milk flowing, the cows' health had to be ensured. The spider tonic he'd given Aragog contained venom from a Swooping Evil, which was highly effective.
As long as the Acromantulas were well-fed, he could return in a few months to milk them again.
Returning to Hestia's dwelling, Wayne dismounted and patted her head.
"Alright, I'll come see you again in a few days. Bye."
"Kreee~"
Ho-Oh grasped the boy, and in a flash of firelight, both vanished.
Thus, Wayne spent the first day of the new term productively.
Thankfully, with the Meditation Technique, a mere two or three hours of sleep each night sufficed—otherwise, he'd never manage everything.
...
The next morning, after breakfast in the Great Hall, Wayne intercepted the Weasley twins as they arrived.
"Are you planning to back out now?" George asked.
"It's not about the bet," Wayne waved his hand dismissively. "How's the new product coming along?"
He was in desperate need of points, and after much deliberation, the quickest solution still seemed to be dipping into the young wizards' pockets.
Deducting points was actually a decent alternative, but Wayne sadly realised he was too well-behaved—hardly any professors bothered to take points from him anymore. Even Snape couldn't be bothered with him.
After Christmas and New Year's—though Britain didn't have the tradition of lucky money—many young wizards had likely received fresh pocket money.
"We've got some stock, but sales haven't taken off yet," Fred said. "We tried promoting it in the Common Room last night, but the response was underwhelming."
"Why?" Wayne frowned.
"Everyone still prefers Zonko's Joke Shop," Fred shrugged helplessly.
"Then just do a product demonstration," Wayne facepalmed. The twins were still too green—how could they not think of something so simple?
"Get someone to test the product in front of everyone. Once they see the effects, someone's bound to show interest."
The twins' eyes lit up—that was indeed a brilliant idea.
"So, who should we ask?"
"How about Lee?"
"Not ideal. We just pranked him yesterday—if we go again, he'll murder us," they debated potential targets until Wayne cut in decisively: "Just use Ron."
Fred hesitated. "That might not be great. Picking on Ron for no reason—he'll go running to Mum."
"Then pay him," Wayne interrupted.
Clap!
The twins high-fived in unison. Made sense!
With their target set, the twins sprang into action.
By lunchtime, they'd cornered Ron and Harry from both sides.
"Ronnikins, our dearest little brother," Fred cooed in a sickeningly sweet voice. Harry shuddered and promptly abandoned Ron without hesitation. "They're here for you—I'm off."
With that, under Ron's stunned gaze, Harry slipped into the Great Hall. Ron tried to follow but found himself firmly sandwiched between the twins.
"W-what do you want? I'll tell Mum!" Ron threatened.
'Always running to Mummy', Fred thought irritably, though he kept his smile plastered on. "Why would I ever trick my darling baby brother? Relax, Ronnikins."
"You've tricked me plenty!" Ron said indignantly. "When I was six, you nearly made me sign an Unbreakable Vow—thank Merlin, Dad saved me!"
The twins' smiles faltered. That... had admittedly been their fault.
With only one younger brother and sister in the family—and Ginny being the absolute treasure—the twins had long concluded that pranking Ron resulted in lighter punishments.
Seeing their little brother being so uncooperative, George dropped the act. Even he'd been nauseated by his own saccharine tone earlier.
"Enough. We need your help demonstrating our new product in the Common Room."
"What?!" Ron yelped, shaking his head violently. "So you are setting me up! No way!"
He'd seen what happened to Harry after eating the Ton-Tongue Toffees at Christmas—that tongue had been larger than a cow's. And that was just the basic stuff—rumour had it they had even wilder products. Ron refused without a second thought.
"We'll pay," said Fred.
"How much?" Ron was somewhat tempted.
"Five Sickles."
Ron continued shaking his head.
"Eight Sickles."
"I'm your own brother."
"Twelve Sickles."
"Will the consequences be serious?"
"One Galleon, take it or we'll ask Lee instead."
With that, George grabbed Fred and turned to leave, but Ron quickly stopped them.
"Hold on, I'll do it! So what if I'm the test subject? Deal!"
A whole Galleon—that would last him ages.
Eager to secure his earnings, Ron began his performance that very evening, Galleon in hand.
First was the Babble Beverage Bubblegum. He spouted nonsense for a full ten minutes, his mouth firing like a machine gun, utterly unstoppable.
Then came the Nausea Nougats. After eating one, Ron could barely walk straight and nearly vomited.
The little lions' interest was thoroughly piqued, and they were convinced of the twins' claims from yesterday—only Percy looked displeased.
In his eyes, his younger brothers were wasting their time, always tinkering with these pointless inventions.
For the final product, the Puking Pastilles, Fred stopped Ron from trying them. "That's enough, Ron. The demonstration's been brilliant."
After all, he was their brother. Three prank products in a row—the twins worried he wouldn't sleep tonight.
Dizzy and disoriented, Ron clutched the Galleon tightly. "S-so I'm not giving this back, right?"
"Keep it. The results were fantastic—we'll even throw in another Galleon."
Fred was already surrounded by eager students, while George pressed another Galleon into Ron's palm.
Instantly, Ron's dizziness vanished, his mouth stopped feeling dry, and his nausea disappeared—he was back to normal in a flash.
He seized George's hand, eyes brimming with tears. "Fred, I finally believe you're my real brother!"
"Anytime you need me for stuff like this, just ask—but... it'll cost extra!"
George sighed. "Maybe we should disown this brother..."
...
Meanwhile, far away in the Hufflepuff Common Room, Wayne also noticed the frequent system notifications popping up.
None of the three products was expensive—the priciest, the Babble Beverage Bubblegum, cost only three Sickles—but the rapid frequency of system alerts confirmed strong sales. Little by little, the profits added up.
"Wayne."
Wotley approached him.
"What's up?" Wayne looked up, puzzled.
"The Quidditch match is next week. I wanted to ask—are you officially joining the team?" Wotley asked hopefully.
With Wayne's flying skills and his strength in fights, even if he didn't play as Seeker, he'd excel in any other position.
Wotley had already discussed it with the other team members, and no one objected to Wayne joining—even if it meant he himself might be benched.
As long as Hufflepuff's Quidditch strength improved, it was worth it.
"Sorry, Wotley," Wayne declined, shaking his head.
"I don't have the time, and I'm not that interested in Quidditch. I won't be joining the team."
He was already swamped. Adding Quidditch training to his schedule was the last thing he wanted.
"The Seeker doesn't need to coordinate with others or attend every training session."
"If you'd like to be Seeker, I could switch to Chaser," Cedric added, joining the conversation.
"With you on the team, the House Cup is as good as ours this year."
"Being a Seeker is so dull," Wayne said disdainfully. "All you do the entire match is chase after the Golden Snitch. No sense of involvement at all."
"Even if I joined, I'd be a Beater—at least you get to hit people openly."
Cedric had a dark expression. The Seeker was the star of the match; how could Wayne make it sound so unappealing?
"It's hitting Bludgers, not people," Wotley hastily corrected. "Beater is fine too. You can pick any position you want, as long as you agree."
"Give it a rest, Wotley. I'm swamped as it is," Wayne finally declined.
Though disappointed, neither of them pressed further.
...
The first week of term passed in a flash, and before anyone knew it, Friday had arrived.
After Snape had spent the week being conspicuously elusive, Wayne finally managed to corner him that morning.
"Professor, you're not planning to renege on our deal, are you?" the boy said warily. "If you've changed your mind, that's fine—just return Ho-Oh's tears, and I'll take my business to Professor Quirrell."
He made no effort to lower his voice. The surrounding students, spotting Snape, were already scrambling to keep their distance—no one would dare eavesdrop.
Snape's face turned ashen. "What do you take me for? And didn't you say six months? It's barely been any time at all!"
"If you're not reneging, why avoid me?" Wayne remained unmoved. "The six months I gave was the deadline. You haven't handed over a single potion yet. What if you use up the ingredients by then and leave me with no proof? I'd be at a huge loss."
Snape's hands trembled, his fingers twitching toward the wand at his waist.
In his thirty-odd years of life, this was the first time he'd ever been hounded for payment.
"Follow me!"
With an angry snort, Snape stormed downstairs, Wayne trailing behind.
Inside Snape's office, several cauldrons simmered on stands, their contents bubbling under wafts of steam.
Wayne relaxed slightly—these were all potions from the list he'd provided. After some rummaging, Snape produced a vial and a half of Felix Felicis, a bottle of Potential Elixir, and several other advanced potions, including Wolfsbane Potion.
"Take these now, and don't pester me for the next two months!"
Snape shoved the items toward Wayne, shooing him away like a fly.
"Professor, you didn't poison these, did you?" Wayne rubbed his chin, eyeing the potions suspiciously.
"Get out!"
Hmm, such agitation—probably safe.
Pocketing the potions with glee, Wayne remained grinning, showing no intention of leaving.
"What else do you want?" Snape was seething, yet utterly powerless against the boy.
In a duel, they'd likely end up evenly matched. House points meant nothing to Wayne, and if Snape pushed too hard, the boy had his supplier backing him.
What kind of badger was this?
More like a hedgehog!
"Nothing much, just another favour to ask," Wayne said, rubbing his hands together ingratiatingly. "You're the youngest Potions Master, Head of Slytherin House, a guest of honour among pure-blood families—your connections are vast."
"When I hit a snag, you're the first person I think of."
Flattery worked on everyone, especially coming from Wayne. Snape's stony expression softened slightly.
"What is it? I can help you, but it'll cost you Ho-Oh's tears. A tail feather would do too."
"Anything you want, as long as you can help me," Wayne nodded eagerly.
Snape glanced at the clock. "Hurry up and speak. I have a class to teach."
"It's nothing major. I just wanted to ask—could you get me a House-elf?"
"Goodbye." Snape abruptly stood up and made for the door.
If he had that kind of ability, he'd get one for himself first. Why would he spare one for you?
"Don't rush off, Professor!" Wayne quickly blocked his path. "I can pay—or whatever materials you need."
"Lawrence, do you even hear yourself?" Snape looked down at the boy. "Not even all pure-blood families have House-elves—take the Weasleys, for example. What makes you think I can procure one for you?"
"Unless you wipe out a pure-blood family that does have one. I could provide a potion to brainwash the House-elf, ensuring its complete loyalty to you."
"That... might work," Wayne mused.
Snape's eyelid twitched violently.
'I was just talking nonsense—why are you taking it seriously?!'
To prevent the boy from spouting any more outrageous ideas, Snape 'politely' shoved Wayne out of his office and slammed the door.
"Tch. Some Potions Master, you are—can't even handle a simple request."
Seeing his chances were truly dashed, Wayne muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Snape, who hadn't gone far, to hear.
Oh, wonderful.
Is this the true face of Hufflepuff?
The class bell rang, cutting short any retort Snape might have made. He ignored Wayne and strode off.
Entering the Potions classroom, Snape's veins bulged at the sight of Potter laughing and chatting with Seamus. Fury surged to its peak.
'You dare mock me, Potter? Prepare to suffer!'