Fred gestured for Damian to quickly open the gift.
Damian carefully unwrapped the box. He still couldn't forget the previous "surprises" the Weasley twins had brought him, like that incredibly pungent Dungbomb-flavored cake.
Damian had no idea how they had managed it. The cake had smelled perfectly normal, but the second it hit his tongue, it tasted exactly like a Dungbomb. Granted, Damian wasn't entirely sure if that disgusting taste was an accurate representation, having never eaten a real Dungbomb before. But Fred had proudly assured him it was.
Inside the wrapping sat an exquisite, compact wooden music box.
Damian raised an eyebrow. Wasn't this the dark artifact he had asked them to repair earlier? He had picked the music box up from a Dark Wizard. In its damaged state, it could slightly interfere with a wizard's magical flow, so he had let Fred and George tinker with it.
"We fixed it, and it even has a little extra functionality now," George said with a mischievous grin. "As long as it's playing, everyone nearby will start dancing to the rhythm. Give it a try!"
The twins had a natural talent for inventing prank items, though Damian wasn't sure if the repaired box still retained its original, darker effect.
"Dancing? Are you sure that was the original function?" Damian asked doubtfully, winding it up.
A small wooden puppet popped out of the top. It spread its arms, striking the pose of a dancer about to begin a performance.
"Quick, put it on the ground!" George urged.
Damian was puzzled but set the box on the floor. An ethereal melody echoed through the corridor. A few seconds later, all three of them began to dance.
"Why am I dancing too?!" Damian demanded. He was currently bowing forward, his feet shuffling wildly while his hands swung back and forth in a bizarre rhythm.
"The user dances along, too!" Fred laughed as he and George broke into a synchronized cha-cha.
"Is there a way to avoid it?" Damian asked, his dance morphing against his will into a deep right lunge with aggressively shaking shoulders.
"As long as you can't hear the music, you're fine. The effective radius is about three meters!" George explained as the twins transitioned into a new routine.
Damian's posture forcibly shifted again. He found himself with one hand on his stomach and the other waving theatrically in front of his face. To his horror, a few students were approaching from the far end of the corridor, giving the dancing trio very strange looks.
Damian urgently circulated his magic to resist the music box's influence. After a few seconds of struggle, he managed to break free from the physical compulsion.
However, the melody still caused a slight, lingering interference with his magical core. He cast a quick Lumos and immediately felt the sluggishness; his casting speed was noticeably delayed.
Thinking fast, he conjured a pair of invisible earplugs to block out the sound. The moment the music faded from his hearing, his magic flowed smoothly once more.
When the song finally ended, Fred and George stopped dancing. The little wooden puppet took a dramatic bow, reached up, and pulled the lid shut.
Damian was incredibly satisfied. The original music box had only caused minor magical interference—barely even qualifying as a dark artifact. Now, the crowd-control effect was potent and covered a wide area. It had taken him nearly five seconds to break free, which was more than enough time to turn the tide in a real duel. Even better, breaking the physical compulsion didn't stop the magical interference. An enemy would have to figure out how to deafen themselves just to cast properly, buying Damian critical seconds in a fight.
Damian removed his earplugs and smiled. "Thanks. I actually really like this gift."
George winked at his brother. "See! I told you he'd appreciate the dancing feature."
Fred sighed dramatically. "We originally wanted to make people sing along to the music, but the charm work was too finicky. So, we went with George's dancing idea instead."
Good grief, so dancing really wasn't the original function, Damian thought.
George looked slightly disappointed. "The inner workings of that box are incredibly complex. We wanted to make replicas to sell, but every prototype failed. If we could mass-produce it, it would definitely replace our Ton-Tongue Toffees to become the flagship product for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
Damian looked at them in surprise. "You've actually got Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes up and running?"
He knew opening their own joke shop had been their lifelong dream.
Fred looked dejected. "Barely. Right now, we only have three reliable products: Ton-Tongue Toffees, Self-Inking Quills, and Dungbombs. We just don't have the funding to bring our bigger ideas to life."
Damian thought for a moment. Considering their undeniable talent for magical invention, acting as their financial backer could be highly lucrative.
"Do you need an investment?" Damian asked with a smile. "I happen to have some spare cash."
Fred and George's eyes lit up simultaneously.
"Oh, great and noble Black!" Fred gasped dramatically.
"Of course we do!" George cheered. "You absolutely will not regret this! It'll be the best investment you ever make!"
"I'll give you three hundred Galleons upfront for research and development. I expect to see some new prototypes by next year."
Damian pulled out the gold from his magically expanded pockets. With a flick of his wand , he transfigured a scrap of parchment into a sturdy leather pouch to hold the coins.
The twins nodded vigorously. "No problem! Three hundred Galleons is more than enough to get our best ideas off the ground."
Fred took the heavy pouch with trembling hands. "Once we start selling, we'll split the profits with you fifty-fifty."
Damian nodded. "Consider this a seed investment. Once you graduate, you can establish a proper storefront in Diagon Alley, and we can discuss formal shares."
The twins stared at him, slightly stunned. They had always dreamed of a shop, but having someone treat their ambitions with such serious, business-like validation was entirely new to them.
George nodded firmly. "You have a deal."
"We won't let you down, Damian," Fred added, his usual joking tone replaced with rare sincerity.
After saying his goodbyes, Damian continued down to the Slytherin dungeons. To his surprise, he found Nox dragging a bulky package toward the common room entrance.
It was a joint gift from Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville. They hadn't been able to catch Damian in the Great Hall, but they had bumped into the cat wandering the corridors and entrusted the package to him.
Damian opened the wrapping to reveal a magically moving painting. Inside the frame, a figure in green robes soared through the air on a broomstick, gripping a Beater's bat and smashing a Bludger into the distance. It was a portrait of Damian playing Quidditch.
He was genuinely touched. Given the magical capabilities of the Gryffindor first-years, enchanting a portrait to move seamlessly must have taken immense effort. They had likely needed to ask a professor for help with the charm work.
Speaking of professors, only Snape had sent him a birthday gift: a densely annotated copy of Potion Ciphers. The theories inside went far beyond the standard Hogwarts curriculum.
His roommates had been equally generous. Jerry had gifted him a premium Cauldron Care Kit, while Geralt had provided a rare potion recipe copied from his family's private grimoire.
The rest of the pile consisted mostly of Quidditch supplies and sweets. Chocolate Cauldrons and Sugar Quills were the most common, usually accompanied by heavily perfumed love letters.
Damian carefully took stock of the gifts, noting down the name of every sender. He made a mental note to return the favor when Christmas arrived next month.
Once the mountain of presents was finally sorted, Damian sat down at his desk. He pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote a warm reply to Luna, telling her how much he loved the scarf.
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