But Tom was still not satisfied.
His original plan had been to complete the five million Galleon objective before the end of the year. At his current rate… with October already approaching, that seemed increasingly unlikely.
Still, if things continued steadily, it would not take too long.
"I need more channels…" Tom muttered, his hands moving faster as he worked.
...
With the arrival of October, Hogwarts turned cold.
Short sleeves disappeared, replaced by thick robes and wool sweaters. Some students had bundled up early, especially the members of the various Quidditch teams. Flying against the biting wind without proper warmth was a guaranteed way to fall ill the next day.
Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, had reached near obsession.
For several years in a row, Gryffindor had failed to win the Quidditch Cup for one reason or another. This year was Wood's seventh and final at Hogwarts. If he did not claim the Cup now, he would never have another chance.
The team understood his mindset. They endured his devilish training schedule without complaint, practicing four days a week.
This weekend was no exception. From the pale gray of six in the morning until ten, they trained relentlessly before Wood finally dismissed them.
The Weasley twins trudged back toward the castle, dragging their Cleansweep Five brooms behind them.
"Wood's completely lost it. I swear if we don't win this year, he'll try to repeat seventh year."
"Doubt Dumbledore would allow that."
"McGonagall definitely wouldn't. Though she wants us to win too."
"We've got a good shot this year. As long as we beat Slytherin, we've got an eighty percent chance. Harry's got that secret weapon."
"Shame Wood won't let him use it in practice. Would've liked to see it."
"George. Fred."
The twins froze mid whisper. Someone was calling them.
They turned toward a nearby window and saw Tom seated at a round stone table, casually waving them over.
"There's money to be made."
Their eyes lit up in perfect unison.
They did not even bother with the door. Instead, they vaulted through the window, sprinted across the grass, and dropped into the seats opposite him.
"What kind of money?" Fred demanded eagerly.
Tom did not answer immediately. He tapped the stone table lightly with his fingers. Plates of pastries and steaming tea appeared.
"Eat first," he said, lifting his cup and taking a slow sip.
After the twins had devoured a few bites, Tom smiled.
"I hear you've invented quite a few interesting little products."
George narrowed his eyes. "Ginny told you, didn't she?"
Tom inclined his head. "She mentioned Extendable Ears, Daydream Potions, Dungbombs, and something called Punching Notebooks. Sounds promising."
"Of course it is," Fred declared proudly. "Premium Weasley innovation."
Fred rubbed his hands together in a shamelessly merchant like manner. "Want to prank your dorm mates? Want a break from endless homework? Want to overhear scandalous gossip? The Weasley line of joke products will not disappoint."
"Care for a bundle, boss?"
George leaned in. "I recommend our Bad Breath Chewing Gum. Slip one to someone you hate and they'll stink up the entire day. Five Sickles a box. Buy two, get a free Dungbomb."
Tom shook his head. The twins' expressions fell instantly.
"I didn't call you here to shop."
"Then what's this about making money?" Fred slumped dramatically.
Tom set down his teacup with a soft click.
"I won't buy your stock. But I can help you sell it. My Helder Magic Workshop doesn't just sell WhatsApp anymore. We've added several beauty products. They're doing quite well."
Quite well was an understatement. The purchasing power of witches was staggering. Zabini was nearly overwhelmed managing orders, and Tom had even recruited Penelope Clearwater to assist with potion production.
Penelope's academic performance was strong, especially in Potions, where precision and discipline mattered more than raw talent. In her sixth year, she already operated at near graduate level.
More importantly, she was happy to help.
No one wanted to be a decorative vase, least of all an older one. Lately, most of Penelope's free time was devoted to brewing, stabilizing supply.
"So you want to sell our products in your shop?" George asked cautiously.
The twins exchanged a glance. They both saw the same spark in each other's eyes.
Their dream had always been to open their own shop in Diagon Alley. Testing the waters through Tom's store could be invaluable experience.
"That's part of it," Tom replied. "But more importantly, I want to help you dominate the school market through WhatsApp."
Selling products was nothing compared to building a platform.
The profits from a few joke items were negligible. What Tom truly wanted was to experiment with the wizarding world's first wave of digital commerce.
Not quite online shopping yet. The infrastructure was too primitive.
More like… social selling.
And the Weasley twins would become its pioneers.
"Care to elaborate?" George asked, intrigued but cautious.
Tom pulled out his notebook and demonstrated.
As the pages displayed messaging features, promotional channels, and order systems, George and Fred's eyes widened.
"This is brilliant," Fred breathed. "Better than advertising in the Daily Prophet."
"Right," George nodded eagerly. "So what's the fee?"
Tom closed the notebook slowly.
Now it was his turn to smile like a seasoned merchant.
The twins shuddered instinctively.
They had a terrible feeling they were about to be fleeced thoroughly.