Chapter 151: The Celebration Party
"Alright then. See you later," Russell said. He figured that whatever conversation was happening between the two brothers would take quite a while, so he headed back to Hogwarts alone.
Not long after Russell left, Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the back room.
"So what now?" Aberforth Dumbledore asked with open sarcasm. "Have you decided to stop grooming your so-called savior, Harry Potter, and pick a replacement instead?"
"No," Dumbledore replied calmly, shaking his head. He didn't take offense at the mockery—he was already used to it. In fact, this kind of barbed exchange was practically the normal way the two brothers communicated.
"I simply wish to have another option."
"You're really going to place your hopes on a schoolboy?" Aberforth frowned in disbelief. "You're the most powerful wizard alive. Why are you still so wary of a failed dictator?"
"Don't tell me it's because of that ridiculous prophecy."
He snorted.
"I've never believed in prophecies. Most of those so-called seers are just fame-seeking frauds—like the one you hired."
"Aberforth, you shouldn't say that," Dumbledore sighed rather than getting angry. "Her everyday predictions may be… unreliable. But when it truly matters, she has proven remarkably accurate."
"After all, even Lord Voldemort believed in that prophecy, didn't he?"
Dumbledore knew very well that true seers did exist. One of them had been his old companion, Gellert Grindelwald.
For years, Dumbledore had wondered whether Grindelwald's actions back then were influenced by something he had foreseen. Yet whenever he asked about it, Grindelwald always evaded the question, never revealing the truth.
"And besides," Dumbledore continued softly, "it was that prophecy which led to Voldemort's downfall that night… and left Harry behind."
"Suit yourself," Aberforth muttered. "Just hope you don't end up regretting it. Like you did when—"
He cut himself off abruptly and said nothing more.
"I know," Dumbledore replied quietly. "I know."
His voice grew softer and softer, until the words faded into silence.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere on Russell's side was far more cheerful.
Although Rita Skeeter would be coming the following weekend to interview him, it did nothing to dampen his mood. After all, he already had a firm hold on her biggest secret.
The party was once again held in the Hogwarts kitchens. This time, Russell had brought so many sweets that every house-elf could receive a share.
"Thank you, Mr. Fythorne! Mr. Fythorne is so kind!"
The house-elves stared up at him with watery eyes, each clutching piles of candy taller than themselves as they struggled to express their gratitude.
"I should be thanking you," Russell replied with a smile and a nod. "You provide me with different delicious meals every single day."
Unlike the last celebration—held for Wednesday Addams—this gathering had three additional guests: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom.
"Wow—Fizzing Whizzbees!" Ron's eyes lit up instantly. He popped one into his mouth without hesitation.
Moments later, his body slowly floated into the air.
"That's incredible!" Harry exclaimed. He and Neville quickly tried some themselves.
Neville had hesitated about attending. He wanted to come, but he worried that sneaking out at night might cost Gryffindor house points. He had already lost enough points before—losing more might make the rest of Gryffindor resent him.
In the end, Ron and Harry, with Hermione's help, had finally convinced him.
Russell had invited Neville partly because Neville's grandmother once asked him to look after the boy. But more importantly, Neville was genuinely kind—and he had heroic parents.
At least the son of heroes shouldn't be treated like this, Russell thought.
Still, this was Neville's first private gathering with so many people. Surrounded by classmates he thought far more talented than himself, he felt nervous and spoke very little.
"I heard the Order of Merlin comes with prize money," asked Hermione Granger curiously. "Is that true?"
"Yep. Two thousand." Russell gestured with his hand.
"Two thousand Galleons?!" Ron stared at him with pure envy.
"I'm putting another thousand into the Dark Moon Circus," Russell said boldly. "I think it's time we start developing new products."
"That makes sense," said Fred Weasley while crunching on an Ice Mouse that squeaked and struggled between his teeth.
"Our revenue's dropped lately. The joke items sell well, but they're cheap—there's only so much profit with those materials."
Seeing the mouse reminded George Weasley of something.
"You know, every time I see a rat, I think of Scabbers. And when I think of Scabbers…" he said with a wicked grin, clapping Fred on the shoulder, "…I think of Peter Pettigrew."
"So tell me, Fred—how does Pettigrew taste?"
"Bleh! Bleh!" Fred spat immediately, disgusted.
Ron made exactly the same face, which sent everyone bursting into laughter.
Knock knock knock.
Russell tapped on the table, drawing everyone's attention.
"I've got an idea," he said. "High profit. Low risk. Want to try it?"
"What kind of idea?"
At the mere mention of Galleons, nearly everyone perked up.
Russell explained his plan in detail.
Fred inhaled sharply. "That's bold. You're trying to break the monopoly of wizard chess!"
"Well," Russell said calmly, "that game's been around for ages. Wizards could use something new to enrich their entertainment."
The twins exchanged a thoughtful look.
"It's doable," they admitted. "But the production cost will be high, and the craftsmanship complicated. We'll need to think it through."
"No problem," Russell said casually. "For now, we only need to make one prototype."
"Alright!"
Cedric Diggory suddenly stood up.
"Then let's celebrate!"
Butterbeer mugs clinked together.
"Cheers!"
---
On the way back, Ron was practically glowing with excitement.
"Russell's amazing, isn't he? He even gave me a chance to make money!"
After pestering Fred and George for ages, Ron had finally secured a small job handing out flyers. If anyone ordered products through him, he'd receive a commission depending on the price.
It wasn't much—but to Ron, it was a delightful surprise.
"Yeah," Neville said shyly with a smile. "He's really nice… letting me join in like that."
His pockets were stuffed full of sweets. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were carrying just as many.
"Well, that's true," Hermione admitted. "But it would've been better if the party had been during the day. Then we wouldn't have broken school rules."
"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron groaned. "Do you really have to ruin the mood right now?"