Dungbombs are magical prank items that emit a putrid, rotting stench, first invented in the 1880s.
They were a particular favorite of the Weasley twins.
Once, they had slipped a Dungbomb right under their Great-Aunt Muriel’s chair.
It had infuriated her so much that she vowed never to set foot in their house again.
She had even gone out of her way to state in her will that she wouldn’t leave either of them a single Knut.
Even so, the Weasley twins’ love for Dungbombs remained deep and unwavering.
In fact, they would actively peddle them whenever they got the chance.
“If I remember correctly, those are banned items, aren’t they?” Neville swallowed hard.
“Headmaster Dumbledore has repeatedly stressed…” George and Fred both puckered their lips in unison, looking completely indifferent.
“Dumbledore only keeps stressing that Dungbombs are banned because Filch practically begged him to.” “Even if you don’t plan on pulling a prank, you can always buy one for self-defense,” Fred said, opening his bag to show off his little beauties.
“If anyone tries to bully you, just chuck one right at their head.” George instantly picked up the thread.
“And if they don’t happen to know [Scourgify], then the real fun begins.
That stench will cling to them forever—it’ll be crawling right up their nostrils even while they sleep.” “So, want one?” “Buy now, and we’ll throw in a custom detonation spell for free.
Guaranteed to work!” Fred chimed in seamlessly right after George finished.
Then both of them turned their heads at the same time and said in unison, “These are our little babies!” Neville shook his head frantically.
He hadn’t even mastered Scourgify himself; there was no way he was touching these things.
“How much for one?” Caelan, however, asked about the price with quite a bit of interest.
He was actually rather intrigued by them.
Back in Potions class, hadn’t those two little lackeys next to Nott been talking behind his back?
He was a vengeful sort.
Even if he hadn’t heard their insults with his own ears, he still intended to settle the score.
And he would make them pay interest.
Since they dared to spew filth from their mouths, he would treat them to something even filthier.
An eye for an eye, with a little extra seasoning thrown in as his personal touch.
As luck would have it, those two seemed to be roommates, which made things incredibly convenient for him to make his move.
Fred and George exchanged a glance, raising their eyebrows.
In their experience, a customer asking for the price was always an excellent sign.
“Four Silver Sickles.
But we’re running a special discount right now, so let’s call it three Sickles apiece.” The price was actually a bit higher than what you’d pay outside, but for Hogwarts, it was a very fair price.
After all, these were contraband items, and they had to bear the cost of smuggling and hiding them.
So, it wasn’t a rip-off.
“I’ll take two.” “Deal!
Thank you for your business!” After teaching Caelan the spell to detonate the Dungbombs, the Weasley twins bid him farewell and departed.
As they walked down the corridor, Fred glanced back and asked in a low voice, “Do you think we overcharged him?” “Not at all.
That’s the same price we charge everyone else.” “But what if he really is Uncle’s kid?
That would make him our cousin.” George was momentarily speechless.
“Well…
we’ll worry about that when the time comes.” The two immediately began plotting again.
Should they buy more joke items, or save the money?
They had always wanted to open a joke shop and had been saving up for it.
That was the primary reason they were peddling Dungbombs.
*** The news of Snape awarding points to Hermione in Potions class spread like wildfire.
Just like with Nott’s previous apology to Neville, the students didn’t care about the actual details; they insisted on elevating it to a matter of house pride.
Students from both Gryffindor and Slytherin were abuzz with gossip.
The only difference was that the Gryffindors were actively searching for Hermione, hailing her as a brave warrior who had managed to wrest points from Snape’s iron grip.
The Slytherins, on the other hand, were absolutely indignant.
“This is ridiculous.
There’s definitely something fishy going on!” “It must be that Caelan fellow!
He probably slipped Professor Snape a Love Potion!
Why else would Snape ever give points to Gryffindor?” “It makes absolutely no sense!” In the Slytherin common room, Noah Bulstrode and Oliver Baker were thoroughly bashing Caelan, treating him like a traitor who had aided the enemy.
These two were the very same ones who had given Caelan and Hermione nasty nicknames during Potions class.
As they spoke, their eyes kept darting back toward the entrance of the common room.
Whenever someone walked in, they would abruptly shut their mouths, only resuming their slander once they confirmed the newcomer wasn’t Caelan.
After grabbing a quick dinner in the Great Hall, Caelan returned to the common room.
The two boys, who had been chattering away so grandly just moments ago, instantly went quiet like chickens caught by the throat.
Not a single peep escaped them as they guiltily looked away.
*Heh, just the two I was looking for,* Caelan sneered inwardly.
Caelan walked over to them and asked, “Do either of you know how to cast Scourgify?” The two assumed he was trying to show off some new spell he’d learned, and their irritation flared up instantly.
Noah Bulstrode, who came from a pure-blood family, let out a cold sneer and spoke in an incredibly arrogant tone.
“My family has house-elves.
I would never need to stoop to doing such trivial chores myself.” Oliver, who was a half-blood, refused to be outdone.
“We have servants at my house, too.” The two of them seemed to find a sudden sense of superiority in this, mockingly sneering.
“So what if you know how to cast Scourgify?
It still won’t wash away that pathetic, impoverished stench of yours.” Oliver waved his hand in front of his nose, eyeing Caelan’s second-hand robes.
“Mr.
Prewett, why don’t you do us a favor and keep your distance?
The stench of your poverty is quite overwhelming.” Caelan simply nodded.
After weeding through all their useless bluster, Caelan had gathered the only detail that mattered: neither of these fools actually knew how to cast Scourgify.
Perfect.
That made things much easier.
“Gentlemen,” Caelan said, smiling warmly at them.
“I hope you have sweet dreams tonight.” Hearing Caelan say this, the two boys were momentarily taken aback before convincing themselves that he was simply terrified of them.
Their egos ballooned rapidly.
“He’s not nearly as tough as the rumors say.” “Exactly.
Next time, we’ll teach him a real lesson!” “Yeah, we’ll make him get on his knees and beg!” Just as their boasting reached a fever pitch, the common room door swung open.
Malfoy strutted in, flanked by his two usual lackeys.
Noah and Oliver closed their mouths out of sheer reflex.
Only after a while did they realize that Caelan had already walked away.
He was already gone, so what was there to be afraid of?
So, they went right back to their mental gymnastics, muttering grandly to themselves once more.
*** Back in his dormitory, Caelan didn’t rush to bed.
Instead, he opened *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3* and began flipping through it.
After all, he had a special activity planned for later.
[Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] After reading for quite a while, Caelan estimated that the timing was just about right.
He got up, left his room, and made his way down the corridor until he reached the door to Noah and Oliver’s dormitory.
Caelan gave the handle a gentle push.
As expected, it was locked.
The two of them were surprisingly cautious.
Unfortunately for them, Caelan had mastered the Unlocking Charm long ago.
“Alohomora.” The door clicked open.
Staring at the two fast-asleep boys, Caelan let out a cruel smile in the darkness.
Dungbombs couldn’t be handled directly with bare hands, unless one wanted to get dirty.
So, Caelan used his wand to levitate them into the air.