A Small Windfall

Wingardium Leviosa!

As Eli gently raised his wand, the textbook on the table slowly floated up, as if an invisible hand had picked it up.

With a flick of his wand toward the door, the book immediately drifted over. Another flick, and it floated back.

When his wand lowered, the textbook settled steadily back onto the table.

"Hello, guest in Room 12. Your breakfast."

There was a knock at the door.

Alohomora!

Sitting at the table, Eli lightly tapped his wand, and the door opened by itself.

The waiter stood in the doorway holding a tray. The moment Eli saw him, he pursed his lips without changing expression.

This guy asked for tips every time he delivered food. Who knew how much money he had scammed out of people already?

Eli still did not move. With another tap of his wand, the food on the tray floated inside.

The waiter wore a fawning expression. "Oh, that was quite an impressive bit of magic. You see..."

Bang!

Before the fellow could say the word "tip," Eli flicked his wand and shut the door.

The waiter outside nearly had his nose smashed. After being rebuffed, he was so furious that even his beard curled up.

He stomped off with the tray.

Eli had no interest in the waiter's state of mind.

His funds were already stretched thin. Where would he find money for tips?

Aristocratic manners? Sorry, none here!

As for where all his money had gone...

Eli glanced at the pile of potion-making waste in the corner and the ruined cauldron that had exploded, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Recently, aside from diligently practicing magic, he had also been quietly studying potion-making.

This was the key to his future fortune, so he had no choice but to take it seriously.

Learning potions meant personally brewing and experimenting, and there would always be losses.

It had been especially bad at the beginning. He had made mistake after mistake and had even blown up a cauldron once.

But after all these days of experimentation, Eli had gained quite a bit.

Most potions were actually like chemistry experiments.

As long as one paid attention to the dosage of ingredients and the level of heat, even a Muggle could make them successfully.

Only a small number of potions required the help of magic.

However, while the wizarding world had potion masters, the human world had never had pharmaceutical masters.

That was entirely because the most fundamental difference between potions and ordinary medicine was that potions possessed magic.

Existing potion formulas were the safest and most reliable brewing methods that wizards had summarized over thousands of years.

Merely memorizing formulas could only make someone an ordinary potioneer.

Only by deeply grasping the principles behind every potion and the magical properties of every herb could one be called a potion master.

An outstanding potioneer could keenly sense a potion's magical fluctuations while brewing it and control those fluctuations through their methods.

Every potion master had their own understanding of potions.

Of course, that was getting off topic. Even something as ordinary as Polyjuice Potion did not require overly complicated techniques.

Nor did it require magic.

What mainly affected ordinary potion quality was the ratio of ingredients.

Eli had complained about wizarding potion textbooks more than once.

What did "a little," "a large amount," and "a few drops" even mean?

That was far too imprecise, okay?

As a transmigrator who had received a complete high school chemistry education in his previous life, Eli insisted on precision!

For that reason, he had even requested a set of chemical apparatus in his letter home.

Although Mr. and Mrs. Hall did not understand the connection between magic and chemistry, they immediately sent him a high-end set of chemical equipment to support his studies.

Thus, in a wizarding pub, a young wizard was using scientific-looking measuring cups, beakers, and glass stirring rods to brew potions.

It was so out of place that it was out of place all the way home!

Yet this method was extremely effective.

By repeatedly testing the optimal proportions of ingredients, Eli had worked out precise formulas for quite a few potions.

These counted as proprietary formulas.

Potions brewed with precise methods really did surpass the effects described in the textbooks.

This proved that Eli's idea had been completely correct.

The potion Eli was currently brewing was called Necromantic Potion.

Didn't that name sound like poison?

That was right. It was poison, and the particularly lethal and sinister kind at that.

Why was Eli brewing poison?

To poison Tom, inherit the pub, and run away with the money...

Of course not! He was brewing this poison to sell it.

His recent potion experiments had already begun to leave him short on funds.

Wizards from the Muggle world had limits on how much money they could exchange each year.

Mr. and Mrs. Hall had already given him all the money they could exchange that year.

Yet it had nearly run out in less than a month. Scientific research really was an expensive endeavor.

If Eli did not find a source of income soon, he would be sleeping on the streets before school started.

Then he would have to slink home and get thoroughly thrashed.

Left with no other choice, Eli decided to brew potions for money.

But why choose poison of all things?

Because he was going to Knockturn Alley, where dark wizards gathered, to sell it.

It was not that he was seeking thrills by insisting on going to that cursed place. It was because the potion shops in Diagon Alley simply would not buy his potions.

Even when he brought high-quality potions brewed with precision, they only responded coldly, "We have our own potioneers."

Eli vowed indignantly, Once I build a potion factory, I'll definitely show those competitors what cruelty is!

He had found the Necromantic Potion in Voldemort's memories.

It was specifically effective against the soul.

Its effects were powerful, and its formula was not widely known. Very few people currently knew it.

More importantly, this poison was relatively easy to brew and did not cost much, though its ingredients were extremely obscure.

Voldemort was not the only one who knew the formula, so there was no need to worry about anyone discovering anything.

It was simply perfect.

However, in pursuit of quality, Eli had spent quite some time figuring out whether the dosage of Pochi grass juice should be 0.2 milliliters or 0.25 milliliters.

But it was all worth it, because he had now successfully brewed a cauldron of high-quality Necromantic Potion.

Wisps of mist continuously rose from it, and even Eli felt his consciousness becoming hazy from the smell.

"Good stuff!"

One had to know that Eli's soul was unusually strong. If it had been any other young wizard, a single whiff would have killed them.

He bottled it up, filling a total of twenty small bottles.

Then he hid them in an Undetectable Extension Bag.

Night soon fell, and no one noticed that a short figure in a black cloak, with their face hidden from view, had appeared on the streets.

Everyone in the pub was drinking, and no one paid him any attention.

In Knockturn Alley, however, shady figures were everywhere.

He entered the largest shop, whose sign read: Borgin and Burkes.

It was a shop specializing in all sorts of bizarre and even evil magical items.

Neither the shop nor its owner was simple.

Even Voldemort had worked here as a clerk when he was young.

Though it was overly mysterious, an old establishment like this should at least have some credibility.

Eli entered the shop.

The interior was very dark and filled with a decaying air.

The shelves on both sides displayed many terrifying-looking goods.

A cursed opal necklace, bloodstained playing cards, and a glass eye that kept staring at people.

There was also a dried human hand resting on a cushion.

"The Hand of Glory. Place a candle in it, and it will give light only to the person holding it. A fine helper for thieves! You masked little runt."

A hunched man appeared behind the counter, repeatedly using his hands to smooth the greasy hair hanging over his face.

His voice was as greasy as his hair.

"It is a good item, but I probably have no use for it."

Eli answered with feigned calmness. The bizarre environment made him extremely uncomfortable on his first visit.

The man turned around. "Oh, so you're not a thief. You're a customer."

Eli walked to the counter and placed a bottle of Necromantic Potion on it.

"How much will you offer for this?"

His voice was somewhat hoarse. He had drunk a specific potion to prevent his identity from being exposed.

The man's face immediately fell. "So you're not a customer. You're a robber."

He took out a strange wand and tested the bottle on the table before picking it up for inspection.

He opened the stopper and took a light sniff. A trace of surprise involuntarily appeared on his face before being quickly concealed.

But Eli still noticed it.

The man immediately put the stopper back, though he kept the bottle tightly in his hand.

"One hundred Galleons."

Eli frowned. This damned profiteer—he had learned the price from Voldemort's memories.

Eli deliberately sneered. "You must be joking, sir. If you truly cannot afford enough Galleons, perhaps you should buy Polyjuice Potion instead!"

The man's expression immediately turned ugly.

"One hundred and fifty Galleons!"

Eli gave a soft laugh.

The man's expression grew even worse, but he could not do anything to this damned robber, considering that he could produce Necromantic Potion!

"Then how much do you want?"

Eli said calmly, "Five hundred."

The corner of the man's mouth twitched violently several times. This fellow was even more ruthless than he was!

"Two hundred!"

"Four hundred. I don't have many bottles left."

The man ground his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to hit this damned little runt with a few curses!

"Three hundred! I'll take however many you have!"

Eli could not help curling his lips. "Deal!"

He then pulled out bottles from his pocket by the handful.

Each handful he took out made the man's face darken another shade.

"Twenty bottles in total. Count them."

The man glared fiercely at Eli a few times before turning to retrieve a bag.

He placed it on the counter reluctantly.

"You certainly have some tactics, sir!"

Eli smiled faintly and took it as a compliment.

He also took out his wand and examined the bag. Once he confirmed there was nothing wrong with it, he opened it and began counting the money.

The man finally snapped. "No need to count! Six thousand Galleons, not a Knut short! Borgin and Burkes has at least that much credibility!"

Eli chuckled softly. Sure enough, not a single Knut was missing. "Then thank you, Mr. Borgin. Let's work together again next time!"

Then he turned and left.

Once Eli had left, the man quickly wiped the expression from his face and revealed a cold smile.

"Whose little wizard is selling Necromantic Potion? Hehehe..."

The laughter sounded somewhat terrifying in the dim surroundings.

He turned around and vanished into the darkness.