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Harry Potter: I Get Stronger by Taking Loans - 187
🕑 Added 2025-12-21 15:58:08 +0000 UTCChapter 187: Malfoy’s Flying Practice, Slytherin Publicity
The Room of Requirement.
“Harry, this thing works better than a wand,” Ron said, practically buzzing. “No incantation, just press the button. Shame it only does one thing.”
He held up something shaped a bit like a Muggle hairdryer and excitedly explained what it could do. When the training dummy wobbled closer on its track, Ron aimed the “hairdryer”, pressed the switch, and runes on the casing flashed.
A transparent blast of compressed air shot out like a cannon, slamming into the dummy and sending it skidding back hard.
The noise drew attention. The others who were practising Defence Against the Dark Arts and duelling techniques all looked over at once, curiosity and confusion written on their faces.
Ron cradled the device and jogged over to Leonardo. “Leonardo, have a look. Did I do it right?”
Leonardo took it and examined the structure.
This was the rough concept Leonardo had proposed, with a few explanations and bits of guidance along the way. The rest Ron had built himself, a simple alchemical tool with a very casual name: the Air Gun.
It combined basic charms, a sealing charm, a compression charm, and an acceleration charm, condensing air and firing it in a burst. The power was decent. If it could blast a dummy away, it could blast a person away too.
It would not cripple anyone, but its real advantage was speed. For an inexperienced wizard, it was faster than fumbling through a spell.
This term, Leonardo had begun formally teaching Harry and the others Defence Against the Dark Arts. They sparred in pairs, in small groups, and sometimes one against many—because only through real combat could what they learned become true skill.
Everyone’s progress was solid, some with talent, some with strong fundamentals.
Ron was the exception, and it was not entirely his fault. His wand dragged him down. Using an older brother’s hand-me-down meant the fit was poor, and that always affected casting.
Still, thanks to Leonardo’s earlier reinforcement and modifications on the flying car, Ron’s wand had not snapped in the crash. At least it would not backfire spells into his own face.
Ron had fretted over the wand issue. Leonardo had thought he might be able to replace it early, considering his twin brothers had started making money.
It was obvious that, even if the twins loved winding Ron up, they were protective of him. Around the Christmas holidays, they would probably take him to buy a new wand, a wand that actually suited him.
So for now, Leonardo let Ron work on simple alchemy like this, things that could be adjusted and improved as he went. Once Ron had a proper wand, he could focus on spells and duelling in earnest.
“Not bad,” Leonardo said, then pointed with his fingertip. “But this rune line here, and this junction…”
With Leonardo’s explanation, Ron immediately understood the issue. He scampered off to fix it, almost tripping over his own feet.
When he finished, he tossed his wand aside and started happily firing the Air Gun at the dummy, bang bang bang. He muttered that it was just convenient, and that Muggles had something similar too, some sort of metal wand…
The tutoring session ended quickly.
After everyone else left, Draco Malfoy drifted over to Leonardo’s side and asked casually, “Leonardo, I remember you’re very good at flying. So how are you at Quidditch, like Seeker?”
Leonardo looked at Malfoy’s expression, the way he wanted to laugh but kept holding it back, and thought it was odd. Malfoy was in Slytherin. It was not like Cho Chang from Ravenclaw, constantly trying to recruit people into the house team.
Then Leonardo remembered. This was the year Malfoy planned to sponsor Slytherin. Lucius Malfoy would buy the team Nimbus 2001s, and Draco would slide neatly onto the team as Seeker.
“So,” Leonardo said, “planning to settle things with Harry on the pitch?”
Malfoy’s mouth finally broke into a grin. “Ha. Leonardo, you really do see everything. Gryffindor won’t be kissing the Quidditch Cup this year.”
“I’ve already got Flint’s approval,” Malfoy continued, meaning Marcus Flint, Slytherin captain. “I’ll be the team Seeker soon. Since your flying’s so good, could you give me some guidance, and maybe practise with me?”
He paused, then hurriedly added, “Of course. The tutoring fee is separate.”
Malfoy pulled out a magic book and stuffed it into Leonardo’s pocket as payment. Leonardo opened the pocket without fuss, while thinking, so much for the idea that foreigners do not understand social etiquette.
“If you want practice,” Leonardo said, “doesn’t the team train together?”
Malfoy clicked his tongue, looking annoyed and a little embarrassed. “Leonardo, do you remember Slytherin’s playing style? I can’t just fit into it that quickly, so…”
Slytherin’s style.
Leonardo thought back to the matches he had watched last year. Slytherin was the most savage of the lot. It was less Quidditch and more hitting people while technically holding a ball.
And Quidditch rules even built in legal aggression. Beaters could smash Bludgers at opposing players. An attack mechanic, written openly into the sport.
Only the wizarding world could play like that. Here, shattered bones and concussions counted as minor injuries.
Leonardo remembered Flint too, broad as a wardrobe and built like he enjoyed headbutting walls. As captain, he naturally set the tone for the entire team.
He looked at Malfoy’s slim frame. Yes. It really did not match Slytherin’s usual brute-force vibe.
But a Seeker needed agility. More importantly, a Seeker needed sharp reflexes and excellent flying.
Leonardo was confident he could tutor Malfoy for Quidditch. Flying skill was only part of it. Magic Sight gave Leonardo an absurd vision, the kind that completely crushed high-speed tracking.
Besides, he had been working on broom design lately. He had even bought several popular brooms on the market to study them.
This was a perfect chance to gather data and test ideas.
Broomsticks were a huge market.
First, there was demand. Quidditch was practically the wizarding world’s national sport. Wizards’ enthusiasm for it did not need proving.
It was not only professional teams. Plenty of wizarding families played casually too. When Leonardo visited the Burrow, he had played a few rounds with Ron and the twins.
Second, there was competition. The strongest brooms on the market were the Nimbus line, which outclassed Comet and Cleansweep by a wide margin. As for the Firebolt, that was not even on the scene yet.
Leonardo was confident he could develop a broom faster and better than the Nimbus.
That confidence came from being Nicolas Flamel’s student and from having SS plus alchemy talent.
“OK,” Leonardo said. “No problem.”
Malfoy looked like he was about to celebrate when Leonardo added, “Oh, right. Your custom map is ready. Want to check it?”
The moment Malfoy saw the map in Leonardo’s hand, that restrained, refined elegance to it, his grey eyes lit up.
This money had been well spent.
Worth every Knut.
…
The Slytherin common room.
A crowd of students surrounded Malfoy, fascinated by the exquisite map spread across a table.
“So many routes. And it can pick the fastest way?”
“So Hogwarts really has secret passages. We should go look tonight.”
“Wait, why does it show a name? Argus Filch… Filch?”
“And Mrs Norris. It even shows Filch’s cat.”
The more energetic students, the ones with a taste for sneaking about at night, immediately understood the map’s value. Yes, you could fool a Squib and a normal cat with magic, but if you noticed too late, you still got caught.
Meanwhile, some students who had bought ordinary maps stared harder, growing unhappy.
“The patterns are so detailed. Why doesn’t mine look like that?”
“Exactly. Why doesn’t mine show Filch and that cat’s location?”
“Draco, didn’t you buy yours from the Seventh Workshop too?”
A few wealthy pure-bloods had purchased the most expensive, most comprehensive standard map. Now they took theirs out and compared it directly to Malfoy’s.
Malfoy enjoyed being the centre of attention. The envy in their eyes made his lips curl. He gave a small cough, as if granting the room permission to admire him.
“This was custom-made for me by Leonardo,” he said. “Of course it’s not some mass-market thing.”
He tapped the map with his wand. When his magic flowed over it, the most prominent area revealed the Malfoy family crest.
Black, green, and silver, with a fire-dragon and serpent motif.
Across a silver ribbon was written tiny Latin text:
“Sanctimonia Vincet Semper”
Meaning: “Purity Will Always Conquer”
There was also the Slytherin crest, a lively serpent winding in a circle, and faint, gleaming gold edging that shimmered in and out of view.
There were a lot of elements, but they were combined with remarkable finesse. It did not look cluttered. It looked luxurious.
The students holding ordinary maps felt sick. Compared to this, their maps really did look like cheap standard versions.
“See?” Malfoy said, enjoying it. “This is made personally by Leonardo, and it even has an exclusive logo.”
He flipped the map over, revealing the mark in the top left corner. It appeared as magic poured in: an eagle formed of books, wings spread, and beneath it the initials in bold capitals, L.G.
Someone muttered under their breath, “Why does the custom one even have a prettier logo than mine…”
The younger students were mostly there for the spectacle, but among the sixth- and seventh-years who had taken alchemy electives, some of them saw something else.
They could not fully understand the alchemical craftsmanship inside this map, but they could sense it was not ordinary.
Leonardo Grafton was a familiar name. Last Halloween, he had set the Great Hall ablaze, and at the end of the year, he had won Ravenclaw the House Cup.
“Draco,” someone finally asked, “how many Galleons did this cost?”
Malfoy lifted his chin arrogantly, waiting for exactly this.
“Galleons?”
He repeated the word, light as air.
“For a Malfoy, value has never been measured in Galleons. It is measured in taste. Anything worthy of my approval is naturally a one-of-a-kind masterpiece.”
Plenty of people thought Malfoy was putting on an act. And yet the words hit them right in the chest.
Yes. Pure-blood. Nobility. Dignity.
Wasn’t the whole point being different?
Suddenly, Malfoy turned and gave Blaise Zabini a sideways look, smiling.
“Blaise. What do you think of this map? Look at the workmanship.”
He pointed at the golden-and-emerald stitched label that read VIP Map No. 1, bright and impossible to miss.
Blaise Zabini, a dark-skinned boy with narrow brown eyes, was in the same year as Malfoy and also pure-blood.
The question was abrupt. Worse, Malfoy’s tone and expression made Zabini uncomfortable for reasons he did not care to analyse. Zabini frowned. Since when was a map something worth showing off?
Even so, the design was tasteful, and the features were convenient. It did suit pure-blood elegance and image.
With a swift motion, Zabini stood. He did not say a word. He adjusted his collar and walked straight for the common room exit.
It was just a map. As if he could not afford one.
His mother had had seven husbands.
Seven.
And when those stepfathers died, the massive inheritances all went to Mrs Zabini.
The Malfoys had history, sure, but no one should underestimate Zabini and the bonds he had with his “dear stepfathers”.
And plenty of other pure-bloods were thinking along the same lines.
The Malfoys were doing well among pure-blood families, but everyone knew why. They had survived by picking sides at the right time. In plain terms, they were opportunists.
Still, that map looked genuinely impressive. Refined, elegant, and most importantly, it carried an exclusive mark. What true pure-blood could tolerate not owning something that loudly proved their status?
As for the older students studying alchemy, they were truly curious now. Was this kind of alchemical tool really made by a second-year student?
Even Ravenclaw, famous for wit and learning, should not be this absurd.
It was worth buying one to study. For most Slytherins, money was just a number.
Watching Zabini’s silent departure, Malfoy felt thoroughly pleased. He was also glad he had a connection with Leonardo. That was why the Weasley twins had let him cut the queue.
Otherwise, wouldn’t Zabini have stolen the spotlight instead?
…
After collecting the new custom-map orders and their detailed requests from the twins, Leonardo returned to the Ravenclaw common room.
He flipped through the stack, scanning the bizarre mix of designs and demands.
Some wanted their name engraved. Some wanted a family crest. Some wanted a motto.
And then there were the couples’ maps, filled with declarations of love.
Merlin.
Leonardo felt his skin crawl at some of the lines.
Still, it was not a bad idea. Bundled sales.
Link certain products to love or friendship, and sell a story along with the item. Like diamonds lasting forever, or rings you can only customise once in your lifetime.
All marketing gimmicks.
All effective.
Leonardo the black-hearted businessman could clock in now.
He put the stack away, quietly impressed by how well Malfoy’s “promotion” had worked.
When Leonardo handed Malfoy the map, he had only told him to spread the word a little in Slytherin about the custom VIP version. The rest had been Malfoy’s own performance.
Malfoy was loud by nature, and plenty of Slytherins knew him. He was practically born to advertise.
Clearly, he had riled up a lot of them.
Since Malfoy had helped so much, Leonardo decided that in the next flying practice session, he could push Malfoy properly.
No free lessons.
