Snape Was the Real Sales Champion

Silan used the Levitation Charm to move the podium into place so they could install the props.

George held up a lamp nearby to provide light.

The lamp was actually just a glass bottle containing a flickering flame he had conjured with the Fire-Making Charm. It was not particularly bright, but it was cheap to make.

Fred mysteriously produced a box and proudly showed it off to Silan.

"Allow us to solemnly present the George and Fred Special Dungbomb Hammer."

"This ultimate weapon was made with six Dungbombs. The ratio of wet to dry was absolutely perfect, preserving the Dungbomb's most authentic aroma."

When he opened the box, Silan saw a strangely shaped hammer.

Calling it a hammer was a stretch. It looked more like a toilet plunger. Its "hammerhead" was absurdly large, easily big enough to envelop someone's head.

Silan could not help wondering whether, if it struck someone on the head, it might suction itself tightly onto their skull.

"We improved it too, added a little water. After fermenting with the Dungbombs, these juices became highly penetrating," George said excitedly, clearly very pleased with their creation.

"Even Professor Quirrell's turban won't stop it. The juices will seep right through and give the back of his head a nice bath."

Silan looked at the bizarre "Dungbomb Hammer" and silently nodded.

He genuinely could not find anything to say about it.

George and Fred had probably cast some sort of magic on the Dungbomb Hammer in advance to keep its smell from leaking out.

Otherwise, this enclosed classroom would probably have been filled with an indescribable stench.

"Who knows what he's hiding on the back of his head? He keeps it wrapped in that turban all day, like he's terrified someone might see it." Fred climbed onto the podium and began installing it.

George used his wand to float the lamp over and illuminate the work.

"Who knows? Maybe he has a girl tattooed on the back of his head?"

The two of them got more outrageous with every word.

Silan thought to himself that there definitely was no delicate little girl in white stockings on the back of Quirrell's head, but there was an old relic... half of one, anyway?

Fred's hands moved swiftly and neatly, but his mouth did not stop either. "I heard he was very clever when he attended Hogwarts. Then he ran into vampires and an old witch in the Dark Forest. When he came back, he was like this. He was probably scared out of his wits."

"What's so strange about that? None of Hogwarts's Defense Against the Dark Arts professors have ever been normal," George picked up.

"Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that year was a real Dark wizard, an Azkaban escapee. Aurors dragged him away right in the middle of class."

"And the professor from the year before last loved dueling Dark creatures. He insisted on demonstrating his dueling skills during class."

"And then?" Silan asked.

Fred and George both laughed. "He lost. His wand even got snapped. If Dumbledore hadn't arrived in time, he wouldn't be lying in St. Mungo's Hospital now. He'd be lying peacefully in a graveyard."

"Honestly, who knows where Dumbledore found all these weird professors..." George added.

This was the first time Silan had heard about these things, and he found them quite interesting.

So it was not just the later Defense Against the Dark Arts professors who got crazier and crazier. The earlier ones had been no better. If someone recorded the exploits of every Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, it would probably make for a thoroughly entertaining book.

It seemed Voldemort had really held a grudge over not getting this job.

The curse he put on the position was remarkably effective.

It was a bit like a college student swearing never to buy anything from a company again after being rejected in an interview.

As the three chatted, Fred had already finished installing the Dungbomb Hammer.

He also cast a Disillusionment Charm on it, making the box blend almost completely into the wall.

"The ceiling's too high, so we could only install it on this wall."

"How can we be sure the Dungbomb will hit Quirrell?" Silan asked.

This Dungbomb Hammer clearly did not have an automatic targeting function.

If Quirrell did not stand in a fixed spot, it would probably miss.

"Don't worry. Quirrell just hugs his textbook and reads during class. He doesn't change positions for the entire lesson." Fred moved the podium back and pointed to where Quirrell usually stood. "As long as he stands here, he'll definitely get hit."

"To increase the odds, we also prepared this."

George winked at Silan and installed a small box on the podium.

Clearly, they had considered that possibility as well.

When this inconspicuous little box was opened, a note could be seen stuck inside.

It read: "Professor Quirrell is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. We admire you so much."

"This note will automatically pop out after class. As long as Quirrell is drawn to it, you recite the incantation and trigger the Dungbomb Hammer. If he isn't drawn in, then wait for another opportunity."

After saying that, George taught Silan the incantation to trigger the Dungbomb Hammer.

"This incantation is very simple, and the mechanism is extremely sensitive. You can activate it without a wand, so it's very discreet," Fred quickly added.

"And once the mechanism is triggered, the note and the remnants of the props will burn themselves up. Not a single piece of evidence will remain."

Professional. Far too professional.

The Weasley twins had considered every possible situation, and Silan was very satisfied with that.

With the serious business finished, the three gathered around a desk to hold a closed-door meeting between business partners and privately divide the profits from their early collaborative venture.

Simply put, they were splitting the loot.

George and Fred brought out all the money they had earned from selling maps.

Piled in front of the three of them, it looked like a small mountain of silver.

"This is the money from the maps we sold earlier. Twelve maps, sold for a total of ninety-six Sickles."

Looking at the little mountain in front of them, George and Fred could not help marveling inwardly.

This was practically robbery!

Ninety-six Sickles!

The cost of those maps had not even reached three Sickles!

They could not help admiring their little cousin.

The two of them had saved for so long and had less than fifty Sickles between them. Their little cousin had earned nearly a hundred Sickles in just two days by selling maps.

He was a genius!

If he were our real little brother, the Weasley family probably wouldn't be so poor, the Weasley twins thought at the same time.

Silan was also somewhat surprised as he looked at the pile of silver Sickles on the table.

"How did these maps sell so quickly?"

"We have Professor Snape to thank for that." Fred and George both wore smiles. "The first-years were so scared of him that they rushed to buy them without us even needing to do much selling."

Who would have thought Professor Snape was actually the sales champion?

Sure enough, Professor Snape's reputation was known from Slytherin to Gryffindor, from Hufflepuff to Ravenclaw.

Silan decided that later, he would use the money earned from selling maps to buy a case of Potter family shampoo as a reward for the sales champion.

Having decided on the sales champion's prize, Silan began dividing the loot.