The evening meeting of the CAM club in the Room of Requirement began with a long wait.
Not everyone could make it here right after dinner, and even Hannah and I had to spend a little time first gathering data on our house clubs—the third month of the school year had begun, and it was time to update the documentation. Fortunately, the club heads proved to be responsible enough, and we collected all the paperwork right in the common room, after which we headed to the eighth floor to the painting of Barnabas the Barmy.
The Room of Requirement, just like during previous club meetings, looked like a large, spacious hall with a massive amount of open space, bookshelves lining the walls, tables, sofas, and armchairs. And, of course, there was the invariably large number of cushions of various shapes and colors, along with a dozen caricature training dummies.
When we arrived, about half of our entire club had already gathered. Some were reading books, like the slightly strange Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood. Some were practicing spells, doing so with obvious glee. Really, what could be more fun than sending a friend flying across the room at the risk of breaking their neck? The twins, as always, were actively trying to offload their merchandise to anyone and everyone, and they hadn't even skimped on making, ordering, or perhaps simply transfiguring large fold-out display cases with their logo—they'd already designed one.
Catching sight of me, the twins approached immediately.
"Hello, hello, comrade prefect," Fred smirked.
"How are things, how are you feeling?" George immediately followed up.
"Got a little business to discuss, shall we step aside?"
Despite the questioning intonation, they didn't require an answer. A couple of seconds later we stepped aside to one of the bookcases. I beat the twins to it and cast a few privacy charms.
"It's a simple matter," Fred smiled, pulling a small, handmade pouch from his inner robe pocket. "All the pendants are sold out..."
"...and they aren't asking for refunds."
They spoke in their usual manner, finishing each other's sentences. Accepting the money and putting it in my backpack, I decided to clarify a couple of things.
"I heard, guys, that you want to open your own joke shop."
"Listen to him," the twins exchanged glances, continuing to smile. "Yeah, we've talked about it ourselves more than once or twice."
"And what do you need? From what I can see, you have more than enough ideas."
"Only the actual shop is missing," although there was a joke in Fred's words, a degree of seriousness was unavoidable.
"We don't have enough money, what else?" George nodded. "Our products are selling pretty well even now. Making about thirty Galleons a week. But you understand..."
"Of course," I smiled. "A cut for reagents, a cut for this and that, and in the end, the net profit isn't all that much."
"The biggest problem is our small reach. Many prefer Zonko's products simply because they come from an actual shop..."
"...and with our current sales rate, we'll save up for our own shop..."
"...in about two years."
The thought that money should be working was scratching at my mind persistently enough that I decided to voice an idea.
"Guys," shifting my gaze from one twin to the other, I continued: "I have a business proposal."
The twins exchanged glances again, holding a silent dialogue with their eyes for a couple of seconds, and only then looked back at me.
"We're all ears," they answered simultaneously.
"How much money do you need, according to your calculations?"
"I doubt you have enough..." Fred chuckled.
"...but since you asked, how much was it again?" George looked at his twin.
"Nine hundred and forty Galleons at an absolute minimum right now," Fred answered quickly. "Ideally—one thousand one hundred and forty. Just like that."
"Not a small amount."
"You bet," the twins answered simultaneously again, nodding.
"And therefore," Fred continued, "don't you want to make a feasible contribution by buying some of our products?"
"Why?" I smirked. "After Umbridge stopped teaching, the merchandise isn't as popular? I suppose people aren't in such a rush to skip other classes."
"Oh, you have no idea how much Snape's teaching style scared many people about the prospect of taking DADA with him..."
"...so there is demand, even if it's a bit lower. Snape can instantly sniff out the effects of anything potion-based."
"I see. But my proposal is of a different nature. I can finance you, providing the missing amount."
"What's the catch?" The twins showed no joy at all, becoming even more serious than before.
"A small equity stake in your enterprise, which will allow me to receive a passive income," I spread my hands as if laying all my cards on the table. "Nothing more, nothing less."
"And how much is this stake?"
"You can figure that out yourselves," I said. Even though money should work, first and foremost it's a tool, and in this case, helping future entrepreneurs and genuinely talented guys was a pretty good "job". Income was secondary. "As much as won't squeeze you. And I'll leave you the option to buy out the share later. Or I can just loan it to you, so we don't have to overcomplicate things."
The twins exchanged glances again. Perhaps they really did hold silent dialogues this way—who knows how the aptitude for magic manifests in twins?
"We need to think about it..."
"...but it's a good offer..."
"...and we will definitely give you an answer soon."
Finishing our conversation on that note, we headed back to the groups of students we preferred to hang out with. I, for instance, walked over to our 'Puffs.
"What were you chatting about, if it's not a secret?" Justin immediately inquired.
"Nothing special. Just asking how things are going with their idea to start their own joke shop."
"They'll definitely make it happen, rest assured," Hannah joined the conversation. "They're far too active and stubborn... Looks like everyone has gathered."
Glancing at the doors, I noticed Harry and Ron walking briskly inside. Malfoy and Daphne were also here—they'd arrived a minute earlier. The Slytherins had immediately scattered to different corners of the hall to continue reading books that interested them.
Literally right on the heels of Potter and Weasley, Hermione entered, clearly having rushed here as fast as she could—she looked a little out of breath.
The club meeting began with Potter announcing a slight change in the training course due to the "truth" about counter-spells revealed by Snape.
"Previously," Hermione spoke up, "I believed, and so did many of us, that counter-spells were specially developed to counter a specific spell. Nowhere in the textbooks did it mention such an unusual application of perfectly ordinary spells, although, if you think about it, it seems obvious."
"We'd better figure out," Ron interjected, "how Snape found out about our club."
"He's a Head of House," Malfoy scoffed, "and, as unfortunate as it is, he's subordinate to Dumbledore. However, thanks to that very fact, he has access to all sorts of information about what happens in the castle."
"And I think someone just flat-out ratted us out," Ron didn't accept Malfoy's arguments, looking at him with obvious accusation in his eyes.
"Will you ever let it go, you blockhead?" Malfoy looked upset, though it wasn't clear exactly why. "I told you about the contract. Does it just go in one ear and out the other with you?"
"I remember perfectly well what you said. I just don't trust you. And you're a sly slug—you could have come up with something to spite Harry and all of us."
"Stop it," Hermione decided to halt the rather pointless argument. "Malfoy is telling the truth about the contract; besides, we drafted it quite solidly—I double-checked it many times."
"Fine, whatever," Ron sulked.
Once again, as before, the practice of classic spells began, but this time not everyone engaged in it—slightly less than half of the students set about studying the books provided by the room, searching for the counter-spells Snape had mentioned. This promised to be a time-consuming task. I worked in a pair with Daphne, and I must say that even though she very rarely took an active part in the Dueling Club's activities, her wand magic was quite good, which I was quick to tell her.
"I'm surprised myself," she smiled, standing ten meters away from me with her wand at the ready.
You couldn't help but admire her—whether it was her gorgeous blue-black hair, or her perfectly symmetrical face with distinct features, slightly sharp in the English manner but without a single trace of the angularity typical of the "islanders." And, of course, the school robes might hide everything, but certain features and lines were revealed in motion.
"Is it really that surprising?"
"To some extent," Daphne confirmed with a slight nod. "Not long ago I had to put in significantly more effort to master wand magic. And now everything comes far too easily."
"The main thing is not to relax. If you want to be effective at this, of course. Maybe it's just the overall volume of practice starting to show. Take Potter, for example. He grasps new spells almost on the fly, as long as he's even slightly interested. If he were less dependent on his moods and more disciplined in studying magic, he would have surpassed many, I suppose."
"But not you?" Daphne smiled slyly.
"Not me."
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