Harry and Ron’s shock from last night was still visible on their faces, and the atmosphere at breakfast was somewhat muted.
Ron angrily poked at sausages on his plate with his fork, sending juice splashing everywhere.
“Damn it, that Malfoy didn’t even show up!” Ron complained indignantly.
“He’s a liar!
A total coward!” Harry patted his back to comfort him, though he was equally frustrated.
Not only had they gone for nothing, but they had almost become midnight snacks for the three-headed dog.
If they hadn’t run fast, people might have had to look for Harry’s glasses in its droppings today.
And then the papers would read: “The great Savior Harry Potter died in the jaws of a giant dog, leaving behind only a dung-covered pair of glasses for posterity to admire.” Just then, a sarcastic voice sounded out.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our famous Potter and Weasley?” Malfoy strutted over with Crabbe and Goyle, a smug, punchable look on his face.
“I heard you had a great time on your nighttime stroll yesterday?” He deliberately raised his voice, drawing glances from surrounding tables.
Ron’s face flushed crimson.
“Malfoy!
You dirty cheat!
You didn’t even show up!” “Show up?
Why would I duel someone like you?” Malfoy picked at his ear exaggeratedly.
“I just played a little trick, and you foolishly jumped right into it.
Is your brain that of a troll?
Oh, I forgot, even a troll might be a bit smarter than you.
You’re a total disgrace to pure-bloods.
Did you pick up trash someone threw away?
Might be worth a Knut to plump up your wallet.” This remark humiliated Ron and trampled the entire Weasley family underfoot.
“You!” Ron stood up abruptly, reaching for his wand.
Seeing his reaction, Malfoy laughed even more happily.
He scanned the Gryffindor table and landed his disdainful gaze on Rayleigh, who was quietly eating bread.
“Look at your lot—a Scarhead, a pauper, and…” He drawled out.
“…some guy who emerged from goodness knows which mud pit.
Birds of a feather flock together, isn’t that right?” Rayleigh, who had been enjoying his breakfast and couldn’t be bothered to care about kids squabbling, stopped what he was doing.
He unhurriedly set down his half-eaten bread, wiped his hands with a napkin, and stood up.
“Yo, yo.” Rayleigh cleared his throat.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it instantly commanded the attention of the entire hall.
“So this is the famous honor of the Malfoy family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, is it?” He looked around and opened his hands to the Slytherin students watching the scene.
“I’ve learned something today.
I really have.” “I always thought a wizarding duel was sacred—the most noble way for two men to resolve a dispute.
After all, even the beggar around the corner from my house knows that if you make a date for a fight, you show up.
Whether you win or get knocked down, at least you’re a man.” Rayleigh paused, stepped over in front of Malfoy, and looked him up and down.
“But today I finally understand that a pure-blood family’s ‘sacred duel’ means tricking someone into a midnight stroll while hiding under your covers snicker-laughing.
How is this a duel?
It’s cheap and dirty.
Is this what’s trendy in pure-blood circles nowadays?” Malfoy’s face began to turn pale.
He wanted to retort, but found that Rayleigh’s words choked him so badly he couldn’t get a single word out.
“Defiling the sacred nature of a duel and trampling pure-blood honor.
Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Rayleigh shook his head with an expression of grief.
“Malfoy, you haven’t just lost your own face; you’ve ground eighteen generations of your ancestors’ faces into the mud.
If I were your father, I’d rush over right now and shove you back into your mother’s womb for a do-over!” “Pfft!” Someone burst out laughing first.
Immediately after, insuppressible giggles broke out across the Great Hall.
The Slytherins who took pride in pure-blood status looked at Malfoy with undisguised contempt and hostility.
In their eyes, Malfoy’s actions had indeed tarnished the traditions they were so proud of.
Malfoy felt pressure coming from all sides, especially from his own house.
His whole body trembled, his lips quivered, but he couldn’t say another coherent word.
Finally, he glared viciously at Rayleigh and fled the Great Hall in embarrassment with his two lackeys.
“Cool!
Rayleigh!
That was so cool!” Ron’s eyes sparkled with tiny stars of admiration.
Before Rayleigh could sit down, two figures rushed out from behind, slinging an arm around each of his shoulders.
“Our little hero!” “Gryffindor’s King of Debates!” Fred and George chimed in, exaggerating as they hoisted Rayleigh up like a king and paraded him past the Gryffindor table.
“For Rayleigh!” “For the glory of Gryffindor!” Rayleigh was hoisted up, feeling caught between laughter and tears, but this suited his purpose.
He had serious business to handle.
“Alright, alright, put me down, I’ve got something good to show you,” Rayleigh lowered his voice to the twins.
Hearing “something good,” Fred and George immediately perked up.
They set him down with a hustle and bustle, then crowded around him into a secluded corner.
Confirming no one was around, Rayleigh mysteriously pulled two small vials from inside his coat.
One glass bottle contained swirling green gas, while the other held a thick yellow liquid.
“What’s this?” Fred asked curiously.
“Good stuff,” Rayleigh swirled the bottles.
“This one, Gas Potion, can poison people.
This one, Explosion Potion, explodes when thrown.
As for power…” Rayleigh thought for a second and gestured.
“About equivalent to a fifth-year student using all their strength to cast an Exploding Charm.” Fred and George’s eyes instantly lit up.
This was practically tailor-made for them!
“Rayleigh, you really are our blood brother!” George said excitedly, reaching out to grab them.
Rayleigh pulled his hand back, preventing them from touching.
“I obtained these by chance, and they’re quite potent, so go easy with them,” he warned with a serious face.
Thinking it over, he still felt it was risky, so he pulled another small bottle with clear liquid from his coat.
“This is an Antidote.
If you accidentally inhale the gas, take a quick sip.
I don’t want to see you two in the hospital wing tomorrow.” “We want these!” the twins said in unison.
“Here,” Rayleigh stuffed all three bottles into their hands.
“But I have one condition.” He took out ten Gold Galleons and placed them in Fred’s hand.
“These ten Gold Galleons are seed money.
Go research them and see if you can replicate them, or develop new prank items.
For all new products developed from this technology in the future, I want a fifty percent share.” Fred and George exchanged glances and nodded without hesitation.
“Deal!” Watching the twins pocket the items and gold coins, excitedly running off to discuss how to make a splash, Rayleigh smiled with satisfaction.
The prank item issue was sorted.
As long as they could figure it out, connecting with the Ministry of Magic through the Weasleys’ channels for patent applications and sales, becoming the Stark Industries of the wizarding world was just around the corner.
However, analyzing the Minor Healing Potion and Mana Potion would be tricky.
That involved advanced Potions knowledge, and Hermione was only a first-year; he couldn’t count on her at all.
As for Rayleigh himself…
he could be said to utterly detest Potions class.
Why did you have to stir counter-clockwise three times and clockwise five times?
I won’t!
I’m going to stir clockwise eight times!
The result was that the potion, which should have been pale green, turned into a disgusting heap of dung-yellow with weird bubbles popping out.
He gloriously had five points deducted from Gryffindor by Severus Snape for it.
Rayleigh seriously suspected that his unique wand core was affecting the potion’s stability.
So he decisively gave up struggling.
As for homework, heh heh, with top student Hermione around, it wasn’t a problem at all.
Speaking of wands, Rayleigh thought of Ollivander.
When that master saw the wand that chose him, his expression was full of surprise, mixed with an indescribable pity.
In the end, Ollivander not only didn’t charge him a single coin, but actually gave him ten Gold Galleons instead.
The only requirement was that Rayleigh write to him regularly to report how the wand felt in use.
What an odd person.
As for what Rayleigh’s wand core actually was?
Heh, even if the story finishes, flops, or gets canceled, he’ll never let anyone else know!
———- In the afternoon, an owl flew into the common room and dropped a letter in front of Harry.
Harry opened it, a look of joy spreading across his face.
“It’s Hagrid!
He’s inviting us to his place for tea!” He looked at Ron and Rayleigh.
“Do you guys want to come along?” Rayleigh was blooming with joy internally.
Go to Hagrid’s hut?
That was fantastic!
Hahaha, my Horadric Cube, this time you’re actually going to come in handy!