During the second week of the Easter holidays, Kyle settled into a routine. Each morning, he left the Hufflepuff common room right after breakfast and wouldn’t return until evening. But instead of heading to the library or the Room of Requirement, he spent his days in an abandoned classroom on the castle's third floor, working on a secret project.
He wasn’t alone. Fred and George from Gryffindor, Cho Chang from Ravenclaw, as well as Kanna and Cedric joined him. The six of them were busy working in the small, dusty classroom.
“Kyle, can you check this pattern? Did I get it right?” Cho asked, setting down her pocketknife and wiping sweat from her brow. “Something feels a bit off.”
“Don’t worry about small flaws,” Kyle said without looking up. “No one’s going to examine these too closely. As long as it captures the general idea, it’ll be fine.”
He continued working with a knife in his left hand and a branch in his right—a branch from a Rowan tree he’d brought back from the Forbidden Forest. Carefully, he stripped off the bark and smoothed the surface before etching a series of irregular lines. Soon, he’d finished an oval wooden pendant, its surface engraved with a pattern of intersecting lines surrounding a carved wand and quill. Nearby, a growing pile of pendants took shape in various shapes—oval, triangular, and square.
Fred, looking at his own morning’s work, dusted woodchips off himself, squinting critically at his creation. “Kyle, are you sure anyone would want to buy these?”
At Fred’s words, everyone else looked up, visibly curious. They’d all been roped into this by Kyle two days ago, who had mentioned something about “a big opportunity.” After the success of their previous venture selling enchanted maps, everyone had been eager to join in without much question. But after two days of chopping and carving branches without magic, they were starting to feel a little puzzled.
“It’ll be fine,” Kyle assured after a moment’s thought. “Rowan tree amulets are still quite popular in the wizarding world.”
“Wait… we’re making amulets?” George asked incredulously.
His reaction was understandable. None of them had much experience with woodworking, and the odd shapes they’d carved were, to put it mildly, quirky. Even George couldn’t, in good conscience, call these crude creations “amulets.”
“What you and Fred made may just look like lumps of wood now,” Kyle replied, “but they’ll look different after Kanna and the others carve the patterns.”
The group exchanged skeptical looks. Unless these patterns were magical symbols, like ancient Runes or something, even a hundred carvings wouldn’t make these look like proper amulets.
“By the way…” Cedric asked, unable to contain his curiosity, “What exactly does this pattern mean? I’ve never seen it before.”
“It represents success in exams,” Kyle explained, “or more specifically, passing every exam. Back in 1790, the Wizarding Congress established the Wizarding Examination Authority, and Hogwarts held its first N.E.W.T.s that same year. Students who passed received letters with this exact symbol on the envelope—a crossed quill and wand. That symbol became a good-luck charm for exams, and graduating students would draw it on their belongings before exams. But after Professor Marchbanks took over as the Wizarding Examinations Authority, it was removed and replaced with an ordinary envelope.”
Fred and the others stared at Kyle in disbelief. “1790? That’s two hundred years ago! How do you know all this?” they asked.
“Read a book,” Kyle said with a shrug. “If you’ve read Hogwarts, A History, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”
Read a book… fair enough. Fred and George glanced at each other, then gave Kyle a thumbs-up. Hogwarts, A History was so thick it could double as a shield; the idea of actually reading the whole thing seemed absurd. Even Cedric hadn’t read it all.
But that wasn’t the point. After Kyle’s explanation, they saw his angle. While these carved bits of rowan wood weren’t “real” amulets, they would undeniably be appealing, especially around exam season. Even Fred and George felt a twinge of interest. If someone had been selling these before last year’s final exams, they might have actually bought one themselves.
“But Kyle,” Cho asked, her brow furrowed, “can’t we just use the Doubling Charm? It’d be so much easier, like with the maps.”
“We could, but that would put us at a different price point.” Kyle shook his finger, explaining, “This time, I’m planning three product tiers: high-end custom amulets for ten Galleons, handmade ones like we’re making now for two Galleons, and finally, disposable mass-produced amulets for five Sickles.”
“That’s pretty cheap,” Cho said, looking a little perplexed. The enchanted map they’d sold was ten Sickles each, and duplicating carvings was even harder than maps.
Before Kyle could respond, Cedric seemed to catch on and asked, “How much pocket money do you have left?”
“Pocket money?” Cho thought for a moment. “I spent a lot recently… but I think I still have about a Galleon left…”
Her eyes widened in realization.
“Exactly,” Kyle said with a grin. “It’s the end of the semester, so most people don’t have much money left. If the price is too high, they can’t afford to buy even if they want one. And this time, our market isn’t just first-years; we’re targeting the whole school, which is many times larger. So five Sickles is fair—and besides, it’s a way to make friends.”
The others exchanged knowing glances. Kyle had used the same “make friends” line when they sold the map, yet somehow he managed to make a tidy profit anyway. Five Sickles might make friends, but what about the other price points…?
Fred and George glanced down at the twigs in their hands, suddenly seeing them as potential Galleons in the making.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Kyle added, as if remembering, “for the ones we make by hand, be sure to engrave the year on the end.”