Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

If I then sold ten units of my Wiggenweld Creams for ten pounds a pop, I was looking at a sale of a hundred pounds! I also had to take into account other costs, namely the ceramic containers I used to put my cream into which cost three pounds each, so the total cost of making a single pot of healing cream was three and a half pounds sterling.

'Ten pounds sterling for the ingredients, then another thirty pounds sterling for the ten ceramic jars… that leaves me with sixty quid worth of profit!' I thought giddily to myself. 'And that's just a lowball estimate! If I use plastic instead of ceramic, and buy only the cheapest materials available, that could go up to eighty quid!'

I would have to rely on the Wizarding World for a while to source my ingredients. A galleon was the equivalent of five pounds, but a galleon had greater purchasing power in the magical world than five pounds did in the muggle side. A galleon was probably closer to twenty or so quid in actually value.

'At least some of the potion materials will be cheap. Plenty of magical folk don't bother with using the Wiggenweld Potion, as most adult witches and wizards can cast Episkey, the Healing Charm, which mends cuts and bruises as easily as the potion can. It's really only used in magical households for fixing burns, soothing headaches, or calming queasy, upset stomachs. And I've heard some use it for acne,' I mused to myself as I scooped the ten pots I'd made to give to my friends as free samples into my backpack. 'I should be able to get plenty of ingredients for cheap because of the low demand.'

The three biggest contributors to the magical world's economy were potions and their ingredients, enchanted objects, and government work. And easily a third to a half of all witches and wizards in Magical Britain worked in the former and latter. It was easy to see why. No need to pay for transportation costs when you can apparate or use Port Keys. Hundreds of pounds of weight worth of cargo could fit into expanded spaces and carried with you in the form of handbags and suitcases.

You could sell a single enchanted object for dozens of galleons with relatively few overhead costs, and there was a lot of profits to rake in for the really quality stuff. The magical world was rife with opportunities, but the witches and wizards were blind to them. But not me. If I couldn't wield magic then I'd just become rich.

'First, though, I have to finish school,' I thought with a grimace. I was not looking forward to that at all.

.....

A month later, and things had been going well. The initial sales of my 'home remedy' medicinal cream had gone well. I'd sold over twenty-five pots of the Wiggenweld potion-infused cream so far, and earned over five hundred quid in the process! Initially, people had been hesitant to trust a teenager's product, not to mention it was slightly expensive at ten pounds, but I used Sam's family to help spread the word, and soon a couple of Sam's mom's friends had taken me up on the offer. They certainly seemed to like it, as they'd raved about its effectiveness to their friends. Things were looking up either way!

That was why I was somewhat blindsided when Fate came up and slapped me silly. It was the first of October, and I'd been called in to speak with the guidance counselor about my choice of community service project.

Students at Woolingsby were expected to 'contribute to the community' as part of their graduation requirements. Several dozen hours' worth of community service were demanded of the A Level students, aka Years 12 and 13. The good news was that there was no rush. It could be done in a single semester if you crammed hard enough. And there were plenty of options, some even provided by the school itself. The easiest for me had been to sign up as a student mentor, or basically an unpaid tutor to one or more children from the lower years who were struggling academically.

So, I had been surprised when I was told they'd already found a student they needed me to tutor.

"Who is he?" I asked, curious. "And why does he need help so early in the school year? Did he fail to do his summer homework?"

"He did fail to turn in satisfactory work for his summer assignments, but in truth the student in question has been a bit of a problem for a while, academically as well as socially," the counselor, Mr. Garden, said, sighing a bit. "He was in danger of being expelled last year, and we want to head off any problems in the coming year."

"Eesh, sounds rough," I grumbled. "I guess I can try and help, though."

"Wonderful! I'm sure Mr. Potter will be grateful for your assistance."

"I-I'm sorry?" I uttered while blinking slowly, wondering if I had correctly heard what the guidance counselor had just said. "Who?"

"Mr. Harry Potter," the counselor said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Uh, is he a black-haired ten-year-old with glasses?" I asked hesitantly, and the teacher nodded.

"Yes, that's him! Currently in Year 6. Do you already know him?"

"I know his cousin is an asshole who tries to beat him up during recess," I blurted out unthinkingly, which got me a confused look.

"Beg pardon?" Mr. Garden inquired.

"Err, uh, I've heard some rumors that he gets bullied a lot," I said hastily. "Also, wasn't Harry Potter the one who climbed up onto the roof and had to be gotten down by the fire department that one time?"

"Ah, right, that unfortunate incident last year," the counselor sighed. "That's one of the reasons he's on thin ice."

"…Can I say 'no' to tutoring him?" I asked carefully, with a smidge of hope in my voice.

"You could," Mr. Garden said, expression twisting as if he'd eaten something sour. "But we think you and he could go well together."

....

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