The following couple of months passed far more peacefully than the previous term.
Without the pressure of spending every night inside the Room of Requirement, I finally found myself with something I hadn't experienced since arriving at Hogwarts.
Free time.
It was a refreshing change.
Our decision to limit research to three hours each night had proven to be the correct one. Both Blake and I were performing better in class, our spell practice no longer suffered, and we no longer walked through the castle looking like sleep-deprived ghosts.
The projector had been completed.
Now it was simply a matter of preparing everything around it before its release during the summer holidays.
With the largest burden temporarily lifted from my shoulders, my daily routine became considerably more relaxed.
Most evenings were still devoted to the Study Club.
The atmosphere surrounding Hogwarts had changed.
Arguments that once would have become house-wide disputes were now often settled with an agreement.
"Three rounds on the platform after dinner."
It was a far healthier way of resolving disagreements.
Outside the Study Club, I unexpectedly found myself spending more time with Fred and George.
Over the past several months, the twins had become... suspiciously familiar with Hogwarts.
They always seemed to know about abandoned classrooms, hidden passages, and shortcuts that even seventh-years struggled to remember.
Watching them disappear behind tapestries only to emerge from entirely different corridors had become an almost daily occurrence.
Neither of them ever admitted how they knew so much.
They simply grinned.
I didn't ask.
I already knew the answer.
The Marauder's Map.
Some things were simply better left alone.
If I ever managed to get my hands on the map, I would undoubtedly spend weeks studying every secret passage, hidden chamber, and forgotten corridor within Hogwarts.
Unfortunately...
I had only just escaped one major research project.
The last thing I needed was another.
For once, common sense won over curiosity.
Business preparations also continued steadily.
Uncle Snape had accepted his role far more seriously than I had expected.
Using his reputation within the Potions community, he contacted several of his former students who had distinguished themselves after graduation.
Those with considerable experience would become senior brewers and supervisors.
Students due to graduate this year would be offered junior positions where they could continue refining their craft under Snape's guidance.
The structure suited both sides perfectly.
Experienced brewers received an opportunity to work under Britain's finest Potions Master.
New graduates gained employment that would rapidly improve their skills.
As for Uncle Snape...
He gained complete authority over maintaining quality standards.
One decision we both agreed upon immediately was the salary structure.
Every brewer would receive a fixed wage.
However, they would also receive part of the profits on potions they brew.
The projector wasn't the only invention I hoped to commercialize in the future.
Creating an environment where talented people wished to remain with the company would prove just as valuable as the inventions themselves.
Meanwhile, Uncle Ted handled the legal side of the projector with his usual efficiency.
The patent applications moved surprisingly quickly.
Our previous publication in Charms Monthly had established clear evidence that Blake and I were the original creators of the Projection Charm.
By the end of April, every important document had been filed.
The projector itself remained hidden.
But legally...
It already belonged to us.
Griphorn's investigation also progressed steadily.
Several owls arrived over the following weeks containing reports regarding Britain's werewolf population.
The information was... troubling.
Independent packs still existed.
So did families desperately attempting to live ordinary lives despite the prejudice they faced.
Unfortunately, Greyback's influence reached farther than I had anticipated.
Many young werewolves had never truly been given a chance to become anything except criminals.
Employment.
Education.
Housing.
Almost every door remained closed to them.
I carefully filed each report away.
Helping them remained a possibility.
But it would require considerably more planning than I had originally imagined.
For now...
The reports could wait.
Oddly enough, none of those matters occupied my thoughts.
Not the projector.
Not the patents.
Not the werewolves.
Not even the Potions shop.
Instead...
My attention had been captured by something far older.
It had happened almost by accident.
A week earlier, I had finally decided to clean my dormitory properly.
Between research, classes, and club activities, books had gradually accumulated in every available corner.
Some rested beneath my bed.
Others were stacked beside my trunk.
Several had somehow migrated onto the windowsill.
As I sorted everything into neat piles, my hand brushed against a book buried beneath a stack of Charms notes.
I frowned.
"...What's this?"
I pulled it free.
A thin layer of dust covered the dark green binding.
I stared at the familiar cover.
Then my eyes slowly widened.
"...You're kidding."
I had completely forgotten about it.
Not for a week.
Not for a month.
For almost an entire school year.
Across the front cover, embossed in fading silver lettering, were the words:
Founders Unveiled: A Slytherin Account of the Four Who Built Hogwarts
By Aurelian Thorne.
For several moments, I simply stood there holding the book.
A faint laugh escaped me.
"How did I forget this?"
I remembered borrowing it shortly after arriving at Hogwarts.
At the time, I had wanted to understand the Founders from a historical perspective rather than through the distorted lens of modern politics.
Then one thing had led to another.
The Hourglass Incident.
The Study Club.
Blake.
The projector.
Business.
Research.
Without realizing it...
The book had quietly disappeared beneath an ever-growing mountain of responsibilities.
I brushed the dust from its cover.
Strangely enough...
Perhaps now was the perfect time to read it.