The negotiation for Scabbers had ended in a stalemate. Despite Fred's enthusiastic attempts to auction off the rat's safety, Percy had ultimately clutched the mangled gray creature to his chest and retreated. Albert wasn't entirely surprised. The Weasleys might be struggling with their vault at Gringotts, but their loyalty to anything they considered 'family'—even a balding, lazy rodent—was ironclad.
"I still don't get why you're so obsessed with a mouse," Lee Jordan muttered as they trudged through the rain-slicked paths toward the greenhouses for Herbology. The wind was whipping the rain sideways, turning their umbrellas into useless sails.
"It's for the Mandrake project," Albert explained, keeping his voice low as a group of Hufflepuffs hurried past them. "I've successfully managed to store the frequency of a Mandrake's cry into the silver cylinder I modified. Now, I need to know if the recording carries the same magical weight as the source. A mouse is the perfect baseline for a non-lethal test."
Fred's eyes lit up like a pair of Snitches. George, walking beside him, let out a low whistle of pure astonishment. They stopped just outside Greenhouse Three, shaking the water off their cloaks.
"Wait," George whispered, his voice thick with realization. "Are you saying you've essentially built a portable 'fainting bomb'?"
"A sound-based deterrent," Albert corrected with a slight, enigmatic smile. "Think about it. In a duel, everyone expects a flash of light or a jet of fire. Nobody expects a sound that knocks you unconscious before you can finish your incantation. It's a very difficult thing to shield against if you aren't wearing earmuffs twenty-four-seven."
"That's... actually terrifying," Lee Jordan said, a shudder running down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "Why would you even want to build something that dangerous, Albert? We're second years."
Albert paused, stroking his chin as he looked at the misty windows of the greenhouse. He thought for a moment before answering with a seriousness that caught them off guard. "In this world, Lee, it's always better to be the person with the deterrent than the person without it."
The three of them exchanged looks, struggling to parse the weight behind his words.
"I can choose to never use that power," Albert added, his voice barely audible over the drumming rain. "But I must possess the ability to use it. It's like gold. You might not need a thousand Galleons to buy a loaf of bread, but wouldn't you feel better knowing they're sitting in your vault just in case?"
"I'd definitely feel better with a thousand Galleons," Fred muttered, and George nodded fervently. For the Weasley twins, the concept of 'excess' was a foreign language they were dying to learn.
They entered the greenhouse, where the air was thick, humid, and smelled of rich rot and damp earth. Professor Sprout was standing by a long wooden table covered in what looked like jumping brown lumps.
"Gather 'round, everyone!" she called out cheerfully. "Today, we're dealing with the Flutterby Bush mushroom. Mind your fingers, they're feeling a bit spirited this morning!"
The Flutterby Bush wasn't a bush at all, but a strange, sentient fungus that looked like a cross between a toadstool and a restless toad. It didn't grow on dead trees; it lived in moist, nitrogen-rich soil that required—as Sprout delicately put it—'organic animal remains' to thrive. It was a carnivorous mushroom that had a nasty habit of trying to leap out of its pot.
"Hogwarts professors really are sitting on a gold mine," Albert remarked, watching as a particularly large mushroom tried to hop toward his elbow.
"Gold mine? It's just a jumping fungus, Albert," George said, pinning his specimen down with a trowel.
"That 'jumping fungus' is a core ingredient in the Baruffio's Brain Elixir—or as the black market calls it, the Chatterbox Potion," Albert replied, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the market value of the greenhouse's inventory.
"The what?" Fred asked, suddenly very interested.
"It's a cognitive enhancer," Albert explained, falling into his lecture mode. "It's as rare as Felix Felicis because the brewing process is a nightmare. If you mess up the ratios, it doesn't make you smarter—it turns your brain into literal mush. But if done correctly? It increases mental capacity, sharpens focus, and speeds up thought processes. It's the ultimate 'cheating' potion for exams."
"Wait, is that legal?" Lee Jordan asked.
"The Ministry hates it. They've banned its sale because it gives students an unfair advantage, and the long-term side effects of a bad batch are... messy," Albert muttered. "The recipe calls for Runespoor eggs, dragon claw powder, and this—the Flutterby Bush. Disgusting, expensive, and dangerous."
[System Notification: New Tasks Available] [1. Expand the Mind: Brew a successful batch of Baruffio's Brain Elixir. Reward: 1000 XP, 1 Skill Point, Unlock: 'Active Mind' (Passive)] [2. Black Market Dealer: Sell the elixir to desperate students. Reward: 500 XP, 1 Skill Point, 100 Galleons.]
Albert looked at the screen and suppressed a grin. The system was practically begging him to become a potion mogul.
"How much would a piece of that mushroom go for?" Fred whispered, his eyes fixed on the fungi.
"A piece that size? Three Galleons on the open market. Double that if you find a buyer in the middle of OWL season," Albert replied.
Fred and George's eyes turned into dinner plates. To them, three Galleons was a fortune. To see it hopping around on a dirt table was almost more than they could bear.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Lee Jordan chuckled, looking at Albert. "You've got that 'I'm about to break several school rules' look on your face. Are you planning on making 'Smart Juice' to sell to the Ravenclaws?"
"I hadn't considered it until five minutes ago," Albert lied smoothly. "But now that you mention it, it's not a bad business model. The demand is infinite, and the supply is... well, right here."
The silence that followed was heavy with greed and ambition.
"We could do it," George whispered. "We believe in your Potions skill, Albert. You're already writing to Dagworth; you could brew this in your sleep."
"We'd need more than just the mushrooms," Albert warned. "And we can't exactly walk into the apothecary and ask for Runespoor eggs. Those are Grade A non-tradeable goods. You only find those on the black market, and half the time, they sell you painted dragon eggs instead."
"What about Snape's private store cupboard?" Fred suggested, his voice barely a breath. "He's got everything in there. Probably stuff the Ministry doesn't even know exists."
Albert immediately held up a hand, his expression turning sharp. "Do not—under any circumstances—try to rob Severus Snape. That isn't a suggestion; it's a survival tip. The man has more protective charms on that cupboard than Gringotts has on its high-security vaults. You'd be lucky to get out with your skin, let alone your house points."
"He's right," Lee Jordan said, though he looked a little disappointed. "The difficulty level is too high. Even for us."
"But we aren't going to fail," Fred insisted, looking at Albert with unwavering confidence. "If Albert says he can make it, he can make it. We just need a plan that doesn't involve suicide."
Albert nodded, his mind already spinning through the logistics. He had the talent, he had the initial capital from his previous ventures, and most importantly, he had the system rewards to guide him.