HP and the Parseltongue Chronicles - Chapter - 11

The second week back at Hogwarts saw Harry, Neville, and the Weasley twins gathered in front of the Godric’s Vault, brimming with excitement. It had become their tradition to explore this treasure trove of forgotten artifacts and oddities. Armed with enchanted lanterns and their wands, they descended into the depths of the vault, ready for another round of discovery.

"Alright," Harry said, rubbing his hands together, "our goal this time: more old furniture, broken pieces, and anything that looks remotely valuable. The usual."

Fred grinned. “By ‘valuable,’ you mean ‘looks like junk but isn’t,’ right?”

"Exactly," Harry replied. "Remember, the Muggle antiques we found last year paid off more than we could’ve imagined. Let's dig deep this time."

George clapped Neville on the back. “And you, Neville, are our resident plant expert. If you see anything growing that shouldn’t be, holler. It might just be another magical herb worth a fortune.”

Neville chuckled nervously but nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

The team moved systematically through the vault, wading through centuries of forgotten possessions. Old trunks, chests, and broken furniture were piled high in certain sections. The vault had an eerie atmosphere, with the flickering light of their lanterns casting long shadows on the walls.

“Look at this,” Fred said, pulling out what looked like a broken chair. “To most people, it’s firewood. But for us? It’s a gold mine.”

Harry nodded. “Send it to Highgarden. Remus will handle the rest.”

With a wave of his wand he stacked all up, Harry summoned Norky, his ever-loyal house-elf. Norky appeared with a pop, bowing low.

“Master Harry, what can Norky do for you?”

“Take this to Highgarden,” Harry instructed, gesturing to the broken furniture. “Make sure Remus gets it.”

“Right away, Master Harry,” Norky replied, snapping his fingers. The furniture disappeared instantly.

As they worked their way deeper into the vault, Neville stumbled upon a small chest. “Hey, Harry, this looks different.”

Harry knelt beside Neville and carefully opened the chest. Inside was a collection of Muggle items: old coins, pocket watches, a dusty typewriter, and a beautifully carved wooden clock.

Fred whistled. “Now that’s what I call a find.”

Harry grinned. “We’ve hit the jackpot. These are exactly the kinds of things Mr. Granger told us to look for. He’ll know how to auction these off for a fortune.”

George, examining the typewriter, added, “It’s amazing how much Muggles are willing to pay for their old junk. Who knew nostalgia was such a profitable market?”

With each item they deemed valuable, Harry summoned Norky or Rosley to transport the goods to Highgarden. From there, Remus would oversee their delivery to the carpenters or ensure the antiques were appraised and prepared for auction.

“Rosley’s going to have a lot of work today,” Harry remarked as he sent off a particularly large pile of broken tables and chairs.

Fred laughed. “Well, if we keep finding this much stuff, Remus is going to need a bigger carpenter’s shop.”

George added, “Or hire more carpenters. We’re digging up enough furniture to furnish all of Diagon Alley.”

As they worked, Neville paused, holding up a tarnished lamp. “Do you think this is worth anything?”

Harry inspected it closely. “It’s old, but it’s not magical. Still, Muggle collectors might pay a good price for something like this. Send it to Highgarden.”

By the end of the day, the team had uncovered enough items to fill several large trunks. They were sweaty, dusty, and tired, but their spirits were high.

“Every time we come down here,” George said, wiping his brow, “it’s like digging up gold.”

“Better than gold,” Fred added. “It’s gold people think is trash. Easy to profit from.”

Harry grinned at his friends. “Let’s call it a day. We’ve done enough for now. But remember—this is just 15% of the vault. There’s so much more waiting for us.”

Neville nodded. “We’re not just treasure hunting. We’re making history.”

Sundays had become sacred for Harry, Neville, and the Weasley twins—not for rest, but for exploration. The allure of Godric's Vault was too strong to resist, and they treated each visit like an adventure. After a hearty breakfast in the Great Hall, the four of them would make their way to the hidden door leading to the vault, always ensuring they weren’t being followed.

Inside the vault, their routine was well-practiced. Fred and George focused on furniture and antiques, meticulously sorting through what appeared to be junk to uncover treasures. “This,” Fred said, holding up a cracked, intricate chair leg, “isn't just a piece of wood—it’s a luxury once Remus and his team work their magic.”

George nodded, adding it to the pile. “It’s amazing how wizards from centuries ago just tossed this stuff in here. Their loss, our gain.”

Harry instructed his house-elves to carefully transport each selected item to Highgarden. Norky and Rosley worked tirelessly, popping in and out of the vault as the pile of treasures grew. “Send this lot to Remus,” Harry would say, pointing at a collection of broken desks and cracked wardrobes. “Let him decide what’s salvageable.”

The vault’s muggle antiques section was particularly fascinating. The twins had initially dismissed these items as useless but now gleamed with excitement at every discovery. From ornate lamps to vintage tools, Harry and his friends realized the value these objects held in the muggle world.

“Think about it,” George said as he examined an old pocket watch. “A muggle collector would pay a fortune for this.”

“And we’ve got plenty more where this came from,” Fred added, carefully placing a bundle of rare coins into a chest.

During the week, life was a whirlwind of activity for the group.

Fred and George’s Experiments

Fred and George dedicated their time to experimenting with magical concoctions and pranks. Their dream of opening their own joke shop drove their creativity, and the Gryffindor common room became their unofficial lab.

“Try this,” Fred said, handing Neville a piece of candy. Before Neville could protest, he popped it into his mouth and immediately sprouted antlers.

“It works!” George exclaimed, jotting down notes.

Neville sighed but laughed along with the twins. “One day, you two will blow up the common room.”

Fred grinned. “One day? Have some faith, mate—it’ll be sooner than that.”

Neville, meanwhile, had struck up an unlikely friendship with the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. They respected his reverence for nature and allowed him safe passage to collect rare herbs. His dream was to discover a new magical plant and make his mark in the wizarding world.

One Sunday evening, he returned with a peculiar-looking vine wrapped around his wrist. “It’s called Silvertangle,” Neville explained to Harry. “The centaurs say it only grows in moonlit glades. If I can study it properly, it might be used for advanced healing potions.”

Harry nodded, impressed. “You’re going to be famous one day, Neville.”

Harry spent most of his free time in his secret base, crafting more broomsticks. The success of the furniture shop had made him realize the importance of having a long-term plan. He knew the supply of magic-resistant furniture in Godric’s Vault wouldn’t last forever.

Each broomstick he created was a masterpiece, designed with precision and care. “These will sell like hotcakes,” Harry mused, inspecting a newly completed model. “Not just to students, but to professional teams too.”

Despite their individual pursuits, the group remained united. On Sundays, as they worked in the vault, they often shared their dreams.

Fred leaned back against a stack of old trunks. “Imagine it—a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes shop right next to Stars Furniture. Customers would never leave the alley.”

George added, “And the best part? We’d sell brooms made by the one and only Harry Potter.”

Neville, carefully wrapping a rare herb, smiled. “And when your customers get injured using your products, they can use my potions to heal.”

Harry laughed. “Sounds like we’ve got a solid business plan.”

As they climbed out of the vault one Sunday evening, covered in dust but brimming with excitement, Harry looked at his friends. “We’ve only scratched the surface of what’s in there,” he said. “We’ll explore even deeper. Who knows what we’ll find?”

Fred slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Treasure, glory, and more broken chairs, probably.”

George added, “And we’ll turn every single one of them into gold.”

Neville looked at the horizon, where the Forbidden Forest loomed. “And I’ll discover something that’ll change the wizarding world.”

Harry was in the Gryffindor common room when the owl arrived, clutching a letter from Remus. He immediately recognized the handwriting and untied the parchment from the bird's leg, rewarding it with a small treat from his pocket. Sitting down by the fireplace, he began to read the letter, his friends looking on curiously.


Dear Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to update you on the progress at the shop. Everything is going splendidly—better than I could have imagined. The training broomsticks you sent were an absolute hit. I decided to advertise them as “Training Brooms by Harry Potter,” with your autograph prominently featured. They sold out almost immediately.

People are clamoring for more. It seems the Harry Potter brand still carries quite the weight in the wizarding world. While I understand you’re busy with school, if you could manage to send a few more broomsticks, I have no doubt they’d sell just as quickly. The demand is far greater than I anticipated.

Let me know if you need anything from my end. I’ve also been keeping an eye on the carpenters, and the furniture production is running smoothly. I’ll be sending you a detailed report of profits soon.

Best regards,
Remus Lupin


Harry set the letter down with a smile. “Looks like the broomsticks are a success,” he said.

Fred and George perked up from where they were plotting their next prank. “Of course they are,” Fred said. “Who wouldn’t want a broomstick made by The Boy Who Lived?” He made exaggerated air quotes, causing George to snicker.

George added, “You could probably sell rocks with your name on them, and they’d fly off the shelves.”

Neville, sitting beside Harry, leaned over to read the letter. “It’s not just the name,” he said thoughtfully. “Your brooms are actually good. You put a lot of effort into them.”

Harry nodded, his smile widening. “It’s nice to know that the work we’re putting in is paying off. I’ll have to spend more time making brooms in the base.”

Fred slapped Harry on the back. “Good thing you’ve got Sundays for vault-digging and every other moment for broom-making. You’ll be the wealthiest Hogwarts student in no time.”

George leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t forget your dear old friends when you’re rolling in Galleons, Harry.”

Harry chuckled. “You two are already partners in everything I’m doing. But if you want me to make special prank-proof brooms for your shop, you’ll have to wait.”

Later that evening, Harry pulled out his schedule and began planning. He couldn’t let the shop run out of stock, but he also had to balance his classes, club meetings, and personal projects.

“I’ll make another batch of twenty training broomsticks during the evenings,” Harry told Neville and the twins as they sat by the fire. “If I pace myself, I can send them to Remus by the end of the month.”

Neville nodded. “If you need help, let me know. I may not be great at broomstick crafting, but I can handle simpler tasks.”

Fred and George exchanged looks. “And we’ll help test the brooms,” Fred said with a mischievous grin. “For quality assurance purposes, of course.”

George added, “You wouldn’t want any defective brooms out there ruining your reputation.”

Harry rolled his eyes but appreciated their enthusiasm. “Alright, but no turning the test runs into a game of ‘who can crash the hardest.’ These brooms are for training, not for stunt flying.”

The twins saluted mockingly. “Yes, sir!”

That weekend, the group ventured back into Godric’s Vault. As usual, they dug through the vast collection of seemingly forgotten treasures. Fred and George focused on salvaging broken furniture, while Neville examined old herbal guides, hoping to find references to rare plants. Harry, however, was on the lookout for materials he could use for his next batch of broomsticks.

As they worked, Fred uncovered an intricately carved chair. “This one’s got potential,” he said, brushing off the dust. “A little polish, and it’ll fetch a fortune.”

George grinned. “Maybe we should start adding ‘Furniture Approved by Harry Potter’ tags to the pieces. That’ll double the price.”

By the end of the day, they had sent another haul of items to Highgarden via Norky and Rosalie, who had become indispensable in their operations. The house-elves worked tirelessly to ensure everything reached Remus, who would oversee the next steps.

That evening, Harry wrote a quick letter to Remus:


Dear Remus,

I’m glad to hear the broomsticks were a success! I’ll be sending another batch soon—twenty more training brooms. Please let me know if there are any other requests or adjustments we need to make.

We’ve also sent another shipment of furniture and antiques to Highgarden. Hopefully, this batch will keep the shop well-stocked for the next few months.

Thanks for all your hard work. I’ll try to visit during the winter holidays to check in on everything.

Best regards,
Harry


He attached the letter to Hedwig’s leg and sent her off, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Despite the challenges of balancing his various responsibilities, Harry was determined to make the most of his time—and his potential.