#95

Ted burst through the door of the Leaky Cauldron, grinning from ear to ear. "Haha! Old Tom, it's me again!"

Old Tom, who was behind the bar polishing a set of glasses, looked up and chuckled. "You again, lad? I figured Hogwarts was on holiday, but I wasn't sure if you'd be back."

Ted leaned against the counter with a smirk. "What, you think I'd miss out on the luxurious accommodations of my little cubicle?" he joked, his eyes twinkling.

Old Tom let out a raspy laugh, the deep wrinkles on his face smoothing slightly. "Well, you were making a habit of it. Figured you were getting attached."

Ted puffed out his chest dramatically. "Not this time! I'm upgrading to a first-class room—permanently! I've got money now!"

Tom raised an eyebrow and gave Ted a once-over. Sure, the kid looked a little taller and had the confident air of someone who'd seen a thing or two, but rich? He didn't exactly look the part.

"What, you struck gold at school or something?" Tom asked skeptically.

Ted just grinned. "Something like that."

"Alright, alright," Tom relented. "For the sake of old times, I'll give you a 20% discount. Here." He plucked a key from a bundle hanging on the wall and tossed it to Ted. "You know the way."

Ted caught the key effortlessly, saluted playfully, and headed upstairs to claim his new room. It was spacious, filled with sunlight, and far better than his usual cramped space. After tossing his trunk on the bed, he headed back downstairs and made his way to the backyard.

Pulling out his wand, he tapped a sequence of bricks on the wall, and with a faint rumbling, the entrance to Diagon Alley unfolded before him. Unlike some reckless pranksters he knew, Ted didn't need to move trash cans or climb over walls to get in.

His first stop: Gringotts.

Inside the grand marble hall, a goblin with wispy white hair and sharp eyes examined the gold nugget Ted had placed on the counter, using a magnifying glass and a set of scales.

The goblin narrowed his eyes, clearly doubting that a boy dressed in second-hand robes could produce such a high-quality piece of gold.

Goblins were experts at judging a person's financial status at a glance.

They knew who had wealth and who was just pretending.

But after multiple tests, the nugget proved to be real gold—exceptionally pure, in fact.

After some negotiation, Ted walked away 64 Galleons richer.

Jackpot!

And that was only a fraction of what he had. Thanks to his False Philosopher's Stone, he had three more gold nuggets tucked safely in his pocket. Not bad for a month's work.

With his alchemy skills alone, Ted was now earning at least 220 Galleons a month.

False Philosopher's Stone, you absolute legend!

To put things into perspective, Dumbledore had once paid Dobby, an unemployed house-elf, 10 Galleons per week—40 Galleons a month.

Meanwhile, mid-to-upper-level Ministry officials earned around 250 Galleons a month.

In short, Ted wasn't just comfortable—he was thriving.

Not only could he afford his daily needs, but he had plenty left over for magical research.

Before leaving, he decided to exchange another 20 Galleons for 100 British pounds.

The goblin handling the transaction raised a bony eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to exchange Galleons for pounds?"

Normally, Muggle-borns and half-bloods converted pounds into Galleons—not the other way around. Ted's request was rare, maybe even unheard of.

"Yeah, just 100 pounds. I need it for something," Ted said casually.

The goblin hesitated, then finally made the exchange. As Ted pocketed the crisp banknotes, he swore he heard the goblin mutter, "Strangest request I've had all year..."

With his finances sorted, Ted made his way to Jiggers's Apothecary. He still planned on working during the summer.

Last year, Ted and his fellow first-years had signed a magical contract with the Ministry of Magic, allowing their wands to be tracked outside of school. This restriction mostly applied to Muggle-borns and half-bloods, ensuring they didn't accidentally expose magic in the Muggle world. Pure-blood kids had an easy loophole—the Ministry couldn't tell whether it was them or their parents casting spells at home.

Ted didn't have that luxury. If he wanted to practice magic freely, he had to stay in Diagon Alley, where the Ministry wouldn't be able to pinpoint individual spellcasters.

Luckily, he didn't have to juggle multiple part-time jobs this summer. This time, he'd only be working at the apothecary, leaving the rest of his time for magical research and personal training.

As Ted stepped inside the shop, he was immediately hit by the sharp, earthy scent of dried herbs and potions in various stages of brewing. Mr. Jiggers, the shop's owner, was elbow-deep in work, sorting through an overwhelming pile of ingredients.

"Hey, Mr. Jiggers! Long time no see," Ted greeted, rolling up his sleeves as he walked in.

The elderly wizard looked up, his face lighting up with recognition. "Ah, Ted! On holiday, are you? Hope your time at Hogwarts has been as exciting as you imagined. Last I heard, you got sorted into Ravenclaw, yeah? Good choice—we Ravenclaws are the smartest, after all."

Mr. Jiggers, it turned out, was also a proud Ravenclaw alumnus.

Ted grinned and wasted no time getting to work. 

Slipping on a pair of dragon-hide gloves, he began sorting and weighing ingredients, carefully wrapping them in parchment for storage.

Last summer, he'd had to learn seven or eight new medicinal ingredients a day, memorizing their properties, effects, and uses. 

Mr. Jiggers hadn't expected much from him at first, but Ted had quickly earned the title of "Little Genius."

To be fair, he had a secret weapon—the "Memory Palace" technique, combined with his [Restore Energy (Green)] skill. 

Without those, there was no way he'd have survived the workload.

Now, though? He could do this job in his sleep.

As he worked, Ted adjusted the scale to make sure each batch was precisely measured, wrapped them neatly, and placed them aside for storage.

Ted leaned against the counter with a grin. "The school year was like a dream—well, except for Professor Snape. Everything else was perfect."

"Oh, Snape! Yes, my God," Mr. Jiggers scoffed, shaking his head. "That man always looked like he had just bitten into a lemon. I can't even imagine what he's like as a professor."

Mr. Jiggers had been at Hogwarts a few years after James Potter, Sirius Black, and Severus Snape, so he had witnessed their legendary schoolyard feuds firsthand.

"That said," Jiggers continued, sorting through a bundle of dried nettles, "his talent in potions is undeniable. Honestly, I'd wager that in some areas, he's already surpassed Professor Slughorn—oh, he was our Potions Master before Snape took over. Former Head of Slytherin, too."

Last year, when Ted had worked at the apothecary, he had been just a curious kid taking his first steps into the magical world. 

Now, he was an actual Hogwarts student—and a fellow Ravenclaw at that! 

Their relationship had shifted; now, they had common ground, and conversations flowed more easily.

Ted sighed dramatically. "Don't even get me started on the potions textbooks! Half of what we learn is either outdated or barely useful outside the classroom. And the way it's structured? A complete mess."

Jiggers let out a frustrated groan. "Tell me about it! My father learned from those same books when he was at Hogwarts! And if nothing changes, my son will probably be stuck with them, too."

He gestured at a worn, dog-eared copy of Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. "Don't get me wrong—it's a solid book, but it was published decades ago! Just in the last twenty years, at least a dozen new medicinal ingredients have been discovered, and none of them are in here!"

Jiggers held up a bundle of fresh Night orchid Flowers, their deep blue petals shimmering faintly. "Take these, for example. They were discovered just twelve years ago, and since then, researchers have found six major uses for them in potion-making. 

But because no one wants to take on the monumental task of writing a new textbook, students are still stuck brewing the same old potions. It's ridiculous!"

Ted nodded in understanding. It reminded him of scholars in the Muggle world—spending years studying a distant star, only for it to go supernova before they could even finish their research. 

That kind of setback could crush a person.

They worked for another two hours, sorting and packaging herbs, before Jiggers finally checked the time. "Alright, enough of that. Stay for lunch—I insist."

Ted didn't argue. 

He had spent the morning buried in herbs and potions, and he wasn't about to turn down a free meal.

As they ate, Jiggers leaned back in his chair and gave Ted a calculating look. "So, you're not planning to stay in the Muggle world for the holidays, huh? 

Why don't you keep working here? You already know how crazy things get in the summer—half the time, I don't even have time to eat, and I'm constantly running out of common potions. I could use the help."

Ted grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that. I'd love to stick around and learn more."

Jiggers wasn't Snape—far from it—but unlike Snape, Jiggers actually wanted to teach. That made all the difference.

After lunch and a bit more work, Ted headed out. His next stop was the orphanage.

It had been a while since he had last visited, and as soon as he stepped through the door, the familiar scent of old wooden furniture and freshly baked bread wrapped around him like a warm embrace.

He found Mammy in the sitting room, knitting by the fire. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. "Ah, my boy! Come, sit! Tell me everything."

They talked for hours, catching up on everything—school, friends, magic. Eventually, Ted reached into his pocket and placed a stack of neatly folded banknotes on the table.

"Mammy, I'm doing great at school. I even got a part-time job, so I have some savings. I want to help the orphanage. Please, take it."

Mammy shook her head, pushing the money back toward him. "You already sent some for Christmas, and you're still young! You need to save your money. There's a lot you'll need it for."

Ted smiled, nudging the money closer. "Mammy, you're forgetting something—I can sing! I plan to work and perform over the holiday. Trust me, I'll be fine. You can accept it. Please."

She hesitated for a moment, then sighed and patted his hand. "You've got a good heart, Teddy. Just promise me you're taking care of yourself, too."

Ted grinned. "Always."

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Word count: 1780

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