Profiteer

Snape might be ruthless when it comes to taking kickbacks, but he hadn't lied about one thing: the owner of a shop near Knockturn Alley was indeed willing to sell it.

Diagon Alley was the heart of the British wizarding world's commerce. Owning a shop here was like owning a golden goose—money flowed effortlessly as long as the wares weren't too bizarre. Most shop owners clung to their businesses, preferring to collect rent rather than sell. Even a fortune could eventually be spent, but a shop ensured a steady stream of gold Galleons.

However, the store Snape acquired was in a dreadful location, sitting right at Knockturn Alley's exit. The alley's reputation was enough to send passersby hurrying along without a second glance, making business suffer. This was why the owner was willing to part with it.

Seeing that Blake and Snape were on the verge of a heated argument, Old Lepp intervened.

"Leave it to me," he said. "It may not look promising now, but…" He raised his wand. "For a wizard, magic is everything."

With a casual wave, the tiny, grimy shop transformed. Space expanded in an instant, dirt vanished, and aged walls and floors renewed themselves. Stains from years of neglect disappeared, and the once-cramped windows grew large and pristine. The shop, which had been dark and uninviting moments ago, now looked modern and spacious.

Snape watched, astonished. He could modify a shop with magic, but not with this level of expertise. The spells used—Traceless Extension, Cleaning Charms, Restoration Charms—required immense skill. Even knowing the spells didn't mean one could perform them at this scale. Only wizards like Dumbledore could achieve such effortless transformations.

Snape studied Old Lepp with newfound wariness. Who exactly was this old wizard? His abilities rivaled Dumbledore's, yet he seemed unusually invested in Blake's success. Was this part of Dumbledore's grand plan for Blake?

Blake, however, ignored Snape's thoughts. He was busy directing others to adjust the furniture salvaged from Snape's office, ensuring the chairs and tables were comfortable. The sheer utility of magic struck him—why spend money on renovations when magic could do it instantly?

Still, he couldn't shake his irritation at Snape's cut. "Snape, give me back my money!"

Snape smirked, tossing a Galleon into the air. "Hey, this Galleon is right here. If you call it, will it answer you?"

Once the Disappearing Cabinet was placed inside the store, Blake left. Old Lepp and the others stayed behind to fine-tune the shop, while Agatha worked on concealing the cabinet in the back room.

Back at school, Blake wrote to Grindelwald. The Traceless Extension Charm required Ministry approval, and since his shop used it, he needed official authorization. But with Grindelwald's influence, bureaucracy wouldn't be an issue.

That evening, as Blake finished his meal, Grindelwald's response arrived. As expected, the approval had gone through smoothly. Alongside the permission document was something unexpected—a medal. The Order of Merlin, Second Class.

Blake placed the medal aside and focused on the letter:

[...Your life-extending potion has been tested and proven to have miraculous effects! As the inventor, you rightfully deserve this medal. Honestly, this should have been a First-Class Order of Merlin, but those old fools refused because of your age!

They squander their years, so they assume everyone else must do the same. The world must change! Perhaps it's time for a revolution... Ahem, we'll discuss that later.

After Dumbledore testified that you were indeed the potion's creator, they begrudgingly awarded you a Third-Class medal. I wasn't having it—I blew up their conference room. If not for Dumbledore's interference, I'd have demanded First Class!

In the end, those stubborn geezers upgraded it to Second Class but refused to hold a ceremony.

Dumbledore, ever the pacifist, told me it was enough. Rubbish! You deserved better. But don't worry—I've already set the Daily Prophet on them. Rita Skeeter will make sure the whole world knows about their injustice!

By the way, you should consider transferring to my school. There are plenty of beautiful girls here.]

Blake raised an eyebrow at the last line. "This old man… What does that have to do with me?" He pulled out parchment for a reply but hesitated before sealing the envelope. With a smirk, he added:

[...Beautiful girls? No pictures, no proof!]

With the Order of Merlin officially recognizing his potion, he could now sell it through proper channels. Only approved potions could be marketed openly, and only those with Ministry approval would buyers trust. This was a significant milestone.

Knowing that Skeeter would sensationalize the story meant free publicity for his potion. Blake had a strong feeling it would be a massive success.

"Only selling life-extending potions? You must be mad," Snape scoffed upon hearing Blake's plan.

The potion's ingredients were expensive, and production was limited. Selling only that would mean minimal inventory.

"Who said we'd sell the finished product directly?" Blake countered.

"What do you mean?"

Blake slid a parchment across the table. "Look at this."

Snape picked it up, frowning. "A diluent formula? What is this?"

"As the name suggests, it dilutes the potion." Blake grinned. "One bottle of my life-extending potion can be diluted into a thousand smaller doses and sold."

Snape's lip curled in disgust. "And you say I have a bad heart? A thousand bottles from one? Do you even hear yourself?"

Blake shrugged. "You know how potent my potion is. You also know how expensive it is to produce. If I sell it undiluted, only the ultra-rich can afford it. But by diluting it, it's still effective—just a lighter version. It delays aging, boosts energy, and will be priced at a fraction of the original cost."

Snape was silent. He had personally experienced the potion's effects and knew that an undiluted bottle would have to sell for at least a thousand Galleons to be profitable. But realistically, how many could afford that?

A diluted version, however, would still offer benefits and be accessible to more people. The magic shop would flourish, and the potion would reach a wider market—a win-win situation.

"How much will a diluted bottle cost?" Snape asked.

Blake held up three fingers. "Three Galleons per bottle."

Snape's eye twitched. "Three Galleons?!"

"It's the perfect price," Blake reasoned. "Not too cheap to seem worthless, but not too expensive to discourage buyers."

Snape's mind reeled. A single bottle worth 1,000 Galleons was being turned into 1,000 smaller ones and sold for a total of 3,000 Galleons.

"Blake, you're a complete profiteer."

Blake scoffed. "And you aren't? You sell a bottle of Felix Felicis for 20 Galleons! I'm offering a life-extending potion for three!"

Snape clenched his jaw. This brat was a profiteer, no doubt. But somehow, compared to Blake, his own schemes seemed almost… ethical.

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