The night allowed me to be alone with the big-wave senior. That's just the kind of irresistible charm I possess.
"Let's go!"
Penelope reached out her hand for Ethan to pull her up as they exited the lounge together.
Here at Hogwarts, she wasn't worried that Ethan might betray her. Descending the spiral staircase, Ethan immediately pulled out a tattered piece of parchment—the Marauder's Map.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Pointing his wand at the map and reciting the phrase, streaks of ink began spreading across the page, outlining the entire Hogwarts castle. It revealed Filch prowling the west side of the third floor and Dumbledore still in his office on the eighth.
Seeing this for the first time, Penelope was stunned. A magical item that could show the real-time location of everyone in Hogwarts? That was borderline terrifying.
No wonder Ethan dared to sneak around at night so recklessly—getting caught would be nearly impossible with this map in hand.
But something didn't add up. Alchemical tools like this were normally passed down in pure-blood families. Ethan was Muggle-born, just like her. Where did he get it?
Judging by its worn-out appearance, it had clearly seen years of use.
Ethan noticed the confusion in Penelope's eyes and offered an explanation.
"This is the Marauder's Map. Saying the phrase I just used activates it. You saw how it works. It was created by a group of students who've already graduated. Fred and George stumbled upon it and gave it to me."
"Fred Weasley and George Weasley?"
Even though she wasn't in their year, Penelope certainly knew about the infamous Weasley twins—mostly because of how ruthlessly they deducted points from others.
Not to mention their older brother, Percy Weasley, had once confessed to her in her third year. She had turned him down, of course.
"That's them," Ethan confirmed.
"You're close to them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
This was no ordinary artifact. No one would give it away without a good reason.
"They're good friends. We even went to Hogsmeade together this afternoon!"
"You went to Hogsmeade?"
Penelope found herself more and more puzzled by this first-year. Just what did he think the Hogwarts rules were for? Was he sure he belonged in Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor?
"That's right. Is there a problem?" Ethan replied with unbothered calm.
"Do you even realize that I'm a prefect? And you're telling me this right to my face?"
Penelope sighed. In front of this younger student, her authority as a prefect seemed to vanish entirely.
"Senior, are you going to report me to Professor Flitwick?"
Ethan turned to her with a cheeky smile.
Penelope tapped him on the shoulder, returning the smile. "Next time, senior will take you!"
When it came to flirting, it was clear the senior had the upper hand.
The two continued chatting as they made their way to the eighth floor.
"Are you taking me to the Headmaster's office?"
Aside from that, Penelope couldn't think of any other reason to visit this floor. Practicing magic here was a big no-no—any strong disturbance could alert Dumbledore himself.
"Just trust me and follow," Ethan said, stopping in front of a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach ballet to trolls.
"The Room of Requirement. Have you heard of it, senior?"
"The Room of Requirement?" she repeated in disbelief. "A room that fulfills any requirement?"
"Walk in front of this wall three times while thinking about the room you need. It'll appear. But senior, please don't go around telling others about this."
"Don't worry, I get it," she said. "Let me give it a try."
Penelope walked back and forth three times with focused intent, and just like that, a smooth wooden door appeared out of thin air.
Ethan was curious—he had no idea what kind of room she had imagined.
"Are you a little girl?" he blurted out when he stepped in behind her.
It wasn't a training room, or a study space filled with books. It was a dazzling crystal palace straight out of a fairy tale.
"Is there a problem?" Penelope asked, clearly delighted.
What girl hadn't dreamed of being a princess at some point? Hogwarts Castle was practical, but not exactly royal.
After exploring her dreamlike castle, Penelope helped Ethan conjure a room suitable for magic practice. Ethan initially wanted to practice alone, but she insisted they stay in the same room.
"Senior, try this."
Ethan handed her a small vial of green liquid.
It was a potion brewed under his guidance by his dormmates. Now, he needed Penelope to try it out and, hopefully, promote it.
If a first-year bragged about a potion, few would listen. But if a respected prefect said it worked? That was a different story.
"What's this?" Penelope examined the liquid with skepticism.
"Love Potion."
"Really? I doubt it."
Without hesitation, she downed it in one gulp. She wasn't that naïve—this clearly wasn't a Love Potion.
"Baruffio's Brain Elixir," Ethan clarified. "The effect kicks in when you study or practice magic. It lasts for about twenty minutes."
"I've been working on the Shield Charm recently. Let's test it out."
The Shield Charm was notoriously difficult—even many graduates couldn't perform it. But it was essential for anyone hoping to become an Auror.
Penelope had her sights set on the Auror exam. Getting into other departments in the Ministry of Magic was nearly impossible for someone like her, but the Auror path still had a glimmer of hope.
While she practiced the Shield Charm, Ethan focused on mastering the Fiendfyre Curse. He also trained with Mjolnir, the magical lightning hammer he had acquired.
She was deep in concentration when a sudden wave of heat made her look over. Her jaw dropped. Was this really a first-year?
The Fiendfyre was raging, powerful, yet under control. And that massive hammer…
Were they really attending the same school?
Only when the flames subsided did she approach.
"What spell were you using just now?" she asked, handing him a handkerchief.
"Fiendfyre Curse and Mjolnir," Ethan answered. "I think the hammer is some form of ancient magic."
She nodded slowly. "I've heard of the Fiendfyre Curse. There's a mention in the Ravenclaw library. It's not forbidden, just dangerous to control. But you—you handled it like a pro."
"And Mjolnir… that's Thor's hammer, right?"
"Exactly."
She didn't ask more. Some magic was better left unspoken. But the potion—now that intrigued her.
"That potion's no joke," she admitted. "I could think more clearly, and even my wandwork improved."
"Baruffio's Brain Elixir. Five Galleons a bottle. You sell one, and you keep a Galleon. How about that?"
Ethan had worked out the math. The potion oil cost about a Galleon per batch, and with help from his roommates—who earned one Galleon per cauldron—each batch could produce five bottles. The profit margin was healthy.
With Penelope's reputation and the Weasley twins' popularity, this could become a successful venture.
"So, you want your senior to help you with sales?"
She smiled knowingly.
"But sure. That's no problem."
She herself wouldn't buy such an expensive potion, but plenty of rich pure-bloods and half-bloods were desperate during exam season. They'd pay for any edge.
He was practically handing her money.
Chapter 45 – Hot Pot
That Sunday, while discussing sales strategies with the Weasley twins and holding several vials of Baruffio's Brain Elixir, Ethan met Cedric Diggory.
Fred and George introduced him.
"He'd be perfect for Hufflepuff sales," George said.
"Unlike us pranksters, he's actually respected," Fred added.
Cedric was indeed admired throughout Hufflepuff—not just for his good looks, but for his outstanding academic achievements and steady character.
After sampling the elixir, Cedric was sold.
"Leave Hufflepuff to me. You've no idea how stressed some of the fifth-years are—they've even lost their appetites."
For Hufflepuffs, not eating was a serious sign of distress.
Five Galleons was pricey, but many could afford it. Potions were expensive anyway.
"Cedric, we brought you in on a great deal," Fred said slyly. "Shouldn't you treat us to something good?"
The Great Hall's meals were decent, but fairly uniform. Hufflepuff's common room, however, was right next to the kitchens. With the right connections, they could request something special from the house-elves.
Most badgers didn't like troubling the elves, except on birthdays or big occasions.
But today counted.
"Of course," Cedric said. "Meeting Ethan is worth celebrating."
"Can we cook ourselves?" Ethan asked.
It was chilly—perfect hot pot weather.
Before Hogwarts, he often made hot pot at home in the winter.
He had even brought authentic hot pot soup base with him—purchased at a steep price from a Chinese restaurant in London's Chinatown.
Unlike the versions modified for British taste, this one was the real deal.
And tonight, he planned to introduce it to Hogwarts.