The allure of easy gold has a way of making even the most sensible wizard act like a Niffler in a jewelry shop. Smuggling, as it turns out, was proving to be an exceptionally lucrative career path for Kenneth Towler.
Word had spread through the dormitories like a wildfire in a dry forest: Kenneth had somehow secured a "reserve batch" of Babbling Beverage. He wasn't just selling it; he was auctioning off the future success of fifth and seventh-year students who were staring down the barrel of their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. The Galleons were pouring in so fast that Fred, George, and Lee Jordan looked physically pained every time they saw Kenneth's bulging coin purse.
"It's not fair, is it?" Lee grumbled one evening, watching Kenneth slip into a corner with a desperate-looking Hufflepuff. "We're here inventing jokes and trying to make a honest Nut, and he's out there making enough to buy a professional broomstick just by playing middleman."
Hogwarts was a strange place for economy. Most students were perpetually broke, relying on their parents for every Sickle. Someone like Albert, who seemed to have a bottomless supply of gold and the connections to match, was an anomaly. But for the graduating classes, the pressure was different. Parents who would normally baulk at a three-Galleon textbook were suddenly more than happy to "invest" in a potion that promised a Ministry career. It wasn't cheating, they told themselves; it was just... supplementary assistance.
Of course, the buyers weren't stupid. They knew Snape was prowling the corridors like a hungry ghost. The vials were hidden in hollowed-out books, secret pockets, and even inside socks. No one wanted a "chat" in the dungeons. But where there is success, there is envy. Anonymous tips began flooding Snape's desk, sent by students who were either too poor to buy the potion or too moral to tolerate the curve being ruined.
Kenneth, however, was surprisingly smug. When confronted by a hovering, livid Snape, he simply blinked innocently. He wasn't selling "Babbling Beverage," he claimed. He was merely a "facilitator for cognitive enhancers." Nootropics were a grey area; they were in the textbooks, after all. And since the school didn't have a formal ban on "brain food," Kenneth felt he was on solid legal ground.
"He's playing with dragon fire," Albert remarked a few days later, though he wasn't in the common room.
He was in the Room of Requirement, the space transformed into a cozy, quiet study hall. Across from him sat Isabelle, the elder McDougal sister. While the rest of the school was losing its mind over exams and potions, these two were tucked away in their private sanctuary, surrounded by piles of parchment.
Isabelle looked up from her Charms homework, her sharp eyes catching the title of the essay Albert was currently polishing. "You're writing about the stabilization of neuro-active fluids again," she noted, her voice smooth and knowing. "This whole mess with Towler... it's got your fingerprints all over it, hasn't it?"
Albert didn't look up, his quill scratching rhythmically against the parchment. "You have a very suspicious mind, Isabelle. I simply sold a man a piece of information he desperately wanted. What he does with his 'procurement' is his business."
"Information that led him to a batch of diluted, potentially lethal sludge," she countered, a small smirk playing on her lips.
"I told him it was dangerous," Albert pointed out, finally setting his quill down. "But Kenneth has a very selective memory when it comes to warnings. He heard 'profit' and stopped listening at 'poisonous.' Besides, he didn't brew it. He's sourcing it from some back-alley brewer who thinks 'close enough' is a valid measurement."
Isabelle reached over and pulled the parchment toward her. It wasn't a school essay. It was a technical breakdown of the Babbling Beverage formula, specifically focusing on the flaws in the traditional recipes found in most library books. "Katrina mentioned she was curious about it," she said softly. "She's been working herself to the bone for the exams. Have you actually taken the real stuff?"
"I have," Albert admitted. "The genuine article, brewed by a Master, is like clearing a fog you didn't know was there. Everything becomes... quiet. Linear. But it's a double-edged sword. If the balance is off by even a fraction, the mental clarity is replaced by a permanent stammer or, worse, a complete 'reset' of the personality. It's like Felix Felicis—miraculous in the hands of a genius, catastrophic in the hands of a hack."
"And you think Kenneth is a hack?"
"I think Kenneth couldn't brew a cup of tea without burning the water," Albert said. He took back the parchment, looking at the refined notes he had gained from his recent level-up in Potion-making. This was the data he intended to send to Hertok Dagworth. The existing recipes were fundamentally broken; they relied on older, more volatile ingredients that had long since been superseded by better alternatives. He was hoping Dagworth could use this to revolutionize the field.
"You're not short on Galleons, are you?" Isabelle asked, watching him. "Why do you care so much about the business side of it?"
"Money is just a tool," Albert replied, leaning back. "But it's a tool that grants independence. I'm not interested in living off a Wildsmith inheritance or waiting for a Ministry pension. I want my own foundation. If I have to navigate a few 'accidents' to learn how the market works, so be it."
Isabelle nodded, her expression unreadable. "You're very different from the other boys here, Albert. Most of them are just trying to survive the week. You're building a kingdom."
"Just a very comfortable house," he corrected.
When they eventually packed up and left the Room of Requirement, they parted ways at the corridor junction. Albert hadn't walked ten paces toward the Gryffindor tower when the air beside him seemed to shimmer and ripple.
Fred, George, and Lee Jordan materialized out of thin air, looking far too excited for a Tuesday night. They had been under a Disillusionment Charm, a trick they were becoming far too proficient at.
"Aha!" Fred shouted, startling a nearby portrait of a sleeping monk. "The secret rendezvous! And it wasn't even Katrina this time. You've been holding out on us, Anderson."
"We were studying," Albert said, rolling his eyes as he kept walking. "She's in the Ancient Runes club and the Charms circle. We were reviewing each other's research papers."
"Right, 'research papers,'" George teased, wagging his eyebrows. "Is that what they're calling it these days? She's a Ravenclaw genius, Albert. You're a Ravenclaw genius. It's like a match made in a library."
"You guys really have too much free time," Albert sighed. "Weren't you supposed to be testing those new sneezing sweets?"
"Oh, we were," Lee Jordan said, his face suddenly turning serious, though his eyes were still dancing with glee. "But something big happened. Something that makes sneezing sweets look like a bedtime story."
"What now?"
"A Slytherin," Fred whispered, leaning in close. "Seventh-year. Big guy, wanted to be an Auror. He took a double dose of Kenneth's 'Special Reserve' Babbling Beverage before his practice exam today. Five minutes in, he didn't start answering questions. He started barking. Like a dog. Then his skin started turning a very vibrant shade of violet."
"He's in the Hospital Wing now," George added, grinning widely. "Madam Pomfrey had to use a Silencing Charm just to get him onto the bed. And Snape? Oh, Albert, you should have seen it. He looked like he was about to set the castle on fire. He stormed into the common room and practically dragged Kenneth out by his ear."
The four of them climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, which was buzzing with the news. Kenneth was nowhere to be seen, likely currently undergoing a "interrogation" that would make a Dementor look friendly.
"I knew it," Albert muttered, taking a seat by the fire. "Kenneth made the rookie mistake."
"What, selling poison to Slytherins?" Lee asked. "I thought that was a public service."
"No," Albert said. "The taster's rule. In the professional world, if you brew something as volatile as Babbling Beverage or Felix Felicis, you are the first person to drink it. It's like a chef with fugu fish. If you aren't willing to bet your own life on the stability of the brew, you don't serve it. Kenneth was so blinded by the Galleons that he never bothered to check if his supplier was selling him moonshine."