Chapter 3 Small yet Big Moves
Half a year had passed since my deep talk with Henry about life, and we'd fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Today, we were sitting at the shop counter, a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone between us. Henry had been urging me to read it, and though I wasn't the biggest fan of fantasy and already did read it before , I decided to give it another try.
"I don't buy it," I said, flipping the book closed and leaning back in my chair. "Any kid who went through what Harry did wouldn't act like that. No way he'd be so forgiving to his aunt and uncle after being treated like dirt. And trusting people so quickly? Especially Dumbledore? If I found out I was famous overnight, I'd be questioning everyone's motives. There's no way I'd just take it all at face value."
Henry chuckled, folding his hands on the counter. "You're not wrong, Ethan. Harry's childhood should have made him more suspicious. But he's also just a kid—a lonely kid who'd never been shown love. When someone finally treated him with kindness, wouldn't it make sense that he'd cling to it? Maybe he didn't trust easily, but he craved connection. That's human."
I thought about it, tapping my fingers against the counter. "Maybe, but he still seems too naïve. The way he just dives into all these situations without questioning them. And don't get me started on how conveniently everyone around him knows more than they're letting on. It's like Dumbledore's whole plan relies on Harry not asking any questions."
"You're not wrong there," Henry admitted, smiling. "It does feel a bit orchestrated, but that's part of the charm, isn't it? It's a fantasy, after all."
Before I could respond, Mary, the florist's daughter from next door, walked in with a bright smile and a playful wave. "Are you two seriously overanalyzing Harry Potter? It's just a fantasy book! You're reading too much into it. Sometimes, you just have to let yourself enjoy a story for what it is."
Mary was in her early twenties, fresh out of law school and taking a break before diving into what she often called her "grind years." With blonde hair that always seemed perfectly in place, sharp black eyes, and a confident posture, she had the kind of presence that made you believe she'd achieve whatever she set her sights on. She was ambitious and knew it, always talking about landing a job at one of the top law firms in New York.
"Well," I said, smirking, "if you're going to write a story, at least make the characters realistic. Even fantasy has to have some grounding."
Mary laughed, shaking her head. "Spoken like a true cynic. Anyway, I'll leave you two to your heated literary debate. just don't get lost in your discussion and come to have some of my mom strawberry Cheesecake, she made your Favorite Ethan, and maybe sometimes, it's okay to just enjoy things."
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Later that afternoon, I sat at the old PC tucked in the back corner of the shop while Henry busied himself managing the inventory. From where I sat, I could see him at the counter, calculator in hand, muttering numbers under his breath. It was the perfect time to focus on my side hustle.
Over the past six months, I'd built a decent freelance coding gig—or at least that's what I told myself. In reality, I was running circles around the tech of 2006, and companies like Yahoo had no idea how to keep up.
It all started when I hacked their systems—nothing major, just enough to identify a few glaring vulnerabilities. I sent their higher-ups a polite/rude , anonymous email outlining the issues and suggesting fixes. Of course, I kept the biggest security flaws to myself. I wasn't stupid.
When they realized I wasn't bluffing, they came running. From there, it became a game. Every few weeks, I'd point out another small issue, they'd pay me to fix it, and I'd pocket the cash. If they ever hesitated, well, let's just say locking them out of their own systems while forcing their monitors to display memes worked wonders. Back then, no one even knew what memes were, so the sheer absurdity of it pushed them to comply.
Getting paid was easy, too. In 2006, it was laughably simple to fake online bank accounts. With a few lines of code, I could create a network of fake accounts spanning multiple countries and banks. By the time the money reached me, it was practically untraceable. Sure, Yahoo tried to track me down, but after hitting the eighth bank and the sixth country, they gave up. It was cheaper and less of a headache to just pay me.
In six months, I'd earned over $500,000. Not bad for someone pretending to be a bored Kid playing on a dusty old computer.
But having that much money sitting around wasn't enough—I wanted it to grow. Investing seemed like the logical next step, but the tricky part was figuring out how to do it legally. My current methods weren't exactly what you'd call "above board," and I wasn't naïve enough to think I could use the money without raising suspicion.
I started thinking about companies with potential, the ones that would explode in value over the coming years. Tech was the obvious choice—Google was already gaining traction, and Facebook had just started making waves. Then there were companies like Amazon, which I knew would dominate retail, and Apple, which was on the brink of releasing the iPhone. The opportunities were endless if you had the foresight and patience.
But there was the challenge: how to invest in a way that wouldn't draw attention to me or my newfound wealth. Especially considering my age, where i cant even open a Bank account, or should not even have the money. I needed a way to funnel the money legally, possibly through a trusted adult or an anonymous entity. The thought of bringing Henry into this crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. He was too honest, and I didn't want to burden him with something that could complicate his life.
I would need to get creative—find a way to establish a clean identity or channel the money through a legitimate front. It was a puzzle, but one I was confident I could solve. After all, I'd managed to outmaneuver Yahoo. which is not something any sane person who lived in 2035 would even brag about, heck it could be something they are ashamed to even mentioned. Also How hard could it be to make my investments look squeaky clean?
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That evening, as we sat down for dinner, Henry looked at me with a thoughtful expression.
"Ethan," he began, setting his fork down, "I've been thinking about something I wanted to share with you. It's about what I used to do before handling the shop myself."
I leaned forward, intrigued. Henry rarely talked about his past beyond the shop and his late daughter.
"What did you do?" I asked.
He smiled faintly, his gaze distant. "Let's just say it's a story worth telling. Tomorrow i would take you with me to, to see old colleague and a dear friend of mine, he has been wanting to meet you for a while."
I nodded, curiosity piqued. If Henry's past was anything like the man he'd become, I knew it would be a story worth hearing.