On the way back to the dormitory, Malfoy looked like a zombie. His hair, normally immaculate, was dull and lifeless.
Hall remembered the rumours about the Malfoy family. They adored anything glittering — even themselves. The Malfoys were the single largest customer of Primpernelle's Radiant Glow Potions.
"You look terrible," Hall said.
"What?!" Malfoy whipped out a mirror and examined himself frantically. His skin was dull. His hair had no shine. Damn Potter and his Gryffindor failures!
Hall pulled out a bottle of Radiant Glow Potion. "This'll fix it."
Malfoy's eyes locked onto the bottle. "Radiant Glow Potion? I need it." He grabbed it and drank it in one go.
The rumours are true. The Malfoy obsession with appearance is hereditary.
"Henry, do you have another one?" Zabini asked, eyeing the colour of the potion. It was brighter than the one at Primpernelle's — he'd gone there with his mother. He remembered the price: thirty-five Galleons a bottle.
Hall held out his hand. "Friend price. Thirty Galleons. Thank you for your patronage."
Malfoy, now literally glowing with radiance, went speechless.
Pansy Parkinson, who'd reached into Hall's bag and grabbed a bottle, went speechless.
Zabini, leaning in for a closer look, also went speechless.
As expected.
After a moment of stunned silence, Malfoy bought everything Hall had left — exclusively the beauty products. Zabini and Pansy each grabbed a bottle.
[Ding — Panel Update]
Available Galleons: 1,168 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 23 Knuts
"Thank you for your patronage," Hall said warmly.
"By the way," Zabini asked, "do you make deodorising potions?"
Malfoy made a gagging face. "During Defence Against the Dark Arts, a student was so disgusted by Professor Quirrell's stench that he threw up." He mimed vomiting. "They took him to the infirmary. Respiratory infection. He'll be on potions for weeks."
Hall's memory clicked.
Garlic. Quirrell always smelled of garlic. In every story, in every account, the man was wrapped in so much garlic it was like a shield. Strong enough that even Hall — who was used to strong food — found it overwhelming.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The garlic wasn't for flavour. It was to mask something else. Something rotting.
Because Quirrell was hosting another being inside his body.
The garlic was the lid on a coffin.
Hall thought about it. A deodorising potion would only treat the symptom, not the cause. The real problem was the second soul sharing Quirrell's body, accelerating its decay.
Remove the soul, remove the rot.
He calculated. He'd need to upgrade his magic level and prepare — that would cost at least a thousand Galleons.
There were twenty-two other students in his year besides himself. Not unreasonable to charge fifty Galleons each for solving a problem that was making their lives miserable.
"A hundred Galleons each," Hall said.
"What?" Zabini blinked.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "He's asking for money."
Hall snapped his fingers. "I can fix Professor Quirrell."
"A hundred Galleons is too much," Pansy grumbled. "And why do we all have to pay?"
"If only Zabini pays, I'll just give him a potion to block the smell," Hall said, arms crossed. "But if everyone contributes, I can address the root cause. The whole school benefits."
"Slytherin doesn't do charity," Malfoy said.
"Then figure out how to make it worth your while. You've got until tomorrow morning to decide."
"How about a discount?" Zabini tried. "We're classmates. And what if you fail?"
Hall pretended to consider. "Sixty Galleons. Friend price."
"We'll pay after you succeed," Malfoy added.
Hall nodded and waved goodbye. The deal was done.
Now he needed to buy some specific materials. And he knew exactly who to ask.
There was only one pair of students at Hogwarts who could get their hands on anything from anywhere.
The next morning, Hall found the twins waiting.
The next morning, Hall carried the accumulated homework from both Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years down to the dungeons — to Snape's office.
He knocked.
The door opened. Snape sat behind his desk, writing furiously.
"Professor Snape. Homework."
Hall placed the stack on the desk. Snape grunted acknowledgment. Hall turned to leave.
"William."
Snape opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Sign it."
It was the patent and confidentiality agreement. Even if Hall signed his real name, no one outside the organisation would see it. He hadn't expected Dumbledore to move so fast.
Snape saw Hall studying the contract and assumed he didn't understand it. Remembering Dumbledore's request to mentor the boy, he explained: "If you sign this, all subsequent agency rights and research remain yours."
"Thank you, Head of House." Hall signed his real name.
He hadn't expected Dumbledore to give up all profit. But then he understood — the potion was being sold through Hogwarts, and Hogwarts' reputation was Dumbledore's reputation. He didn't need a cut.
"Head of House, I'll take my leave."
"From now on, report to my office every evening at eight o'clock." Snape's voice hardened. "And put my cauldron back on my lectern."
Hall feigned innocence. "Professor, you're the Head of Slytherin. I'm a student of Slytherin. We're family. How can you call it stealing when it's family property?"
Snape stared at him. "Get out."
"One more thing, Head of House. Do you know of any potion that can perform an exorcism?"
Snape's expression shifted. "There is. But that's not within your scope of study." His voice turned cold. "Mr. William, if you want to live a long and comfortable life, set aside your excessive curiosity. I don't know what you're planning, but if I find out you're involving yourself in things you shouldn't — you'll spend the rest of the term processing raw ingredients in the Potions storeroom."
Hall left, unbothered.
Snape wasn't going to tell him. Fine. He had a backup plan.