HP: A Magical Journey

Chapter 191 - Going Around, A Letter

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Quinn stared to his front with one eye with a charming smile on his face. He was dressed sharply and sat with his best posture — he was trying to be the best he could be, and except the eyepatch, he was. . .. . perfect.

"Quinn, dear, do you want more," said the lady sitting in front of him. She had short brunette hair, wearing an apron over a long light blue midi dress, and Quinn could see the resemblance she bore with her son.

"Yes, Mrs. Carmichael, I would love to have more," said Quinn, setting his glass on the table for a jug to float over it, refilling it for another serving of reddish-pink punch. "Thank you, it's delightful, Mrs. Carmichael," smiled Quinn, "especially this shortbread. . . . it's so good! No wonder Eddie is always ranting about the food at school."

"He does, doesn't he," said Eleanor Carmichael, glancing at her son who was sporting messy bed hair and sleep clothes, staring at the scene with discomfort, "what would I do with you, Ed? You knew Quinn was visiting today, and look at you — you didn't have the decency to wake up early in the morning even when I woke you up," she gestured towards Quinn, "Look at your friend; he's so well mannered and even brought gifts for us. Grow up a little and learn from Quinn."

Eddie could only nod at his lovely mother's rant in fear of being hit with her mighty ladle. But when he glanced at Quinn, he saw his best friend grinning deeply into his glass. Eddie fought the urge to throw the platter on the table at Quinn — the bastard was acting like he was the best-behaved person in the world.

"How's your eye feeling dear," asked Mrs. Carmichael.

"It's growing properly, ma'am," said Quinn, "though it's a little itchy."

"This year wasn't good at all," she sighed, "first Ed got into that accident playing quidditch, and then you lost your eye — and now, all the news about You-Know-Who and how Dumbledore has been saying that he has returned."

"Things had been quite chaotic these few days," said Quinn smiling while picking himself a slice of cake, "I'm sure it will all settle down quite soon. I'm just hoping that it doesn't get too hot this summer. You know how it gets. . . ."

"Yes, it gets quite bothersome," Mrs. Carmichael agreed, "now dear, I hope you're hungry and staying for lunch."

"Yes, of course, ma'am," smiled Quinn; he was always ready for food, "I ate a lot of the food you sent to Hogwarts. I'm pretty sure that Marcus and I ate half of anything you sent."

Mrs. Carmichael stood up and smiled, "It's good that you did. I sent it for all you three boys. Now, let me set up the table, and we will be eating soon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael," said Quinn as the woman exited the room. He turned to Eddie and smiled, "Your mum is nice. . . . and I have to say, a great cook."

". . . . You know what's going to happen when you leave," said Eddie, "she'll hound me for the entire day about Quinn this, Quinn that and then bring you up time and time again to win arguments. . . . couldn't you have reeled it in a little."

Quinn raised his hand and wiggled his index finger a little — Eddie shivered a little when he felt his hair stand up before settling down; his sleepwear got ironed, his shirt got tucked in, and the top button tied up. He touched his head to see his bed hair was now combed.

"See, much better," said Quinn, "you could've done this before coming down; you would've been fine."

"Unlike you, you wandless dipshit, I can't use magic without a wand and can't unless I want a letter from ministry up my arse."

"Oh, I forgot about that," smiled Quinn, "it's not like you'll get a letter, you know? The letter won't come if you do magic inside your house. . . . the tracker will classify it as your parents doing the magic."

"Even so, I can't. My wand is in my luggage, and mum stashed it in the attic."

"Always keep your wand with yourself with you, mate — you never know when you need that zap of magic," said Quinn before switching to something of more importance, "how's it looking? Does it look like your parents will allow you to come to Hogwarts?"

"Hmm? Ah, that, huh. . . . well, as you saw mum, she doesn't think much of it, but dad has been worried a little, but not to the level that they won't allow me to go back to Hogwarts."

"That's good to hear," smiled Quinn, "Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you there cursing at me daily."

"You bet it won't, you little bitch."

"Hey, Woah, Hey. . . ."

"It's already out, can't take it back," said Eddie quickly, "what about you?"

"I'm definitely coming. No opposition from my side."

"Great."

Mrs. Carmichael entered back into the living room. "Come, you boys, the table is set," she asked when she saw them smiling, "what are you talking about?"

Quinn leaped onto his feet, "We were talking about the OWLs. . . . Eddie was telling me—"

"Oh, OWLs! How did you do on your OWLs, Quinn," asked Mrs. Carmichael.

"I think I did great," smiled Quinn, "though I'm a little worried that I didn't get enough time to study with the quidditch tournament. . . "

Eddie watched as Quinn walked with his mother while giving him a wink. Quinn had just made the aftermath that much worse.

"Motherfuc—"

"EDDIE CARMICHAEL!" yelled Mrs. Carmichael.

"Quinn kissed the French Veela champion in front of everyone!" blurted Eddie for no reason.

Quinn turned to Eddie and threw his hands up with a 'what' expression before turning to Mrs. Carmichael. "Eddie has gotten very close to his Yule Ball date, Tracey Davis," he turned to Eddie and maliciously grinned, "I have pictures."

The expression of pure curiosity that bloomed on his mother's face caused Eddie to let out a soundless scream.

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The British summer was at its peak with the sun throwing its death beams of heat at the habitants, making their life quite miserable. The non-magical media declared the summer of 1995 as the hottest summer, breaking all records and setting new ones.

"Marcus. . . ." hummed Quinn, his voice flowing with pleasurable delight.

"Hmm?" came the reply.

"Why didn't you say that your house had a pool?" asked Quinn.

Currently, he was floating weightlessly on his back inside the pool in Marcus's home's backyard. He had sunglasses with a blue tint on and was dressed only in a conjured pair of swim trunks.

'I should ask Ms. Rosey to build a pool at home,' he thought, 'or maybe I should do it on my own.'

"You never asked," replied Marcus in a similar state as Quinn.

"This is the life, my friend," said Quinn.

". . . . don't pee, okay," said Marcus, but where he didn't hear a reply, "don't pee in the pool!"

"I won't, I won't, don't worry~."

"Quinn, which NEWT level classes are you going to take? Didn't you give OWLs for all twelve subjects?"

"Yeah, I did," even though Quinn didn't study Muggle Studies and Divination, he gave the OWLs for both of them — he wanted twelve Os on his diploma, "I'm going to take all NEWT-level classes except Divination, Muggle Studies, and maybe Care of Magical Creatures. . . . I will study Care after Hogwarts as that will be more extensive, but I'm not sure if I want to learn it in Hogwarts."

"But you're going to give NEWTS for all, correct?"

"Yeah, that goes without saying."

"What should I take?"

"Just take whatever subjects that interest you."

"Subjects that interest me. . . . I'm not big on Care, Divination, and Herbology. . . , but brewing potions can be fun, so I can't discard Herbology."

"Then take whatever you think you want to study, and then you can decide in the seventh year if you can keep it up or not," said Quinn, "and as long as you don't want to become something like an Auror or Healer, you don't have to score Outstanding across the board, as long as you have Exceeding Expectations, you'll be fine. . . . marks on your degree becomes redundant after a few years."

Of course, as Marcus was Quinn's friend, Marcus would get admission to any apprenticeship programs funded by the Wests or a job in the business. Quinn left that unsaid as he didn't want Marcus to become lax — he would tell Marcus this near the end of their seventh year, during the career counselling period.

"Okay," said Marcus, "do you have any plans for next year. Anything grand like the quidditch tournament?"

"No, oh no," replied Quinn, "the quidditch tournament was too much work to be done in a year. I don't want to do that amount of work for a while."

Then Quinn groaned. He put his hands on the surface of the water and pushed himself up, pulling his body out of the water, and soon he was standing on water. It was okay because Marcus and Quinn were alone at Marcus's home as his parents were out shopping for the Belby family's trip to Turkey.

"That won't get old no matter how many times I see it," commented Marcus.

"You want to do it?"

Marcus stirred in the water, "I can do that?"

"Well, you can't do it on your own, but I can make it so you can stand on water."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Quinn pointed at a place of water near Marcus for it to glow in an aqua-blue color, "that lit-up spot is essentially solid, so use it to pull yourself up."

Marcus was doubtful, but when he touched the aqua-blue, it really seemed solid, and even when he put some weight, it didn't collapse or let his arms slip into the water. He gingerly used the glowing platform to pull himself out of the water.

"W-Woah," chuckled Marcus amid balancing himself on the water. But his eyes widened in shock when the glow vanished, and he instinctively closed his eye, but he didn't enter the water like he expected.

"That glow was just for marking purposes," snickered Quinn, "you can walk anywhere inside the pool."

Marcus took hesitant and careful steps on the pool, checking twice for the structural integrity. It took him a couple of minutes before he started walking normally, but that was the extent Marcus was ready to test the limits.

Quinn, on the other hand, was doing cartwheels, summersaults, backflips on the pool. Which did nothing but provoke his balance disorder, and he came close to puking all over the pool.

Pool time ended with Marcus rubbing Quinn's back as the two friends kneeled on the pool's surface.

When it came time for Quinn to leave, Marcus asked him to wait for a moment before he went running up to his room.

"What is it?" asked Quinn when Marcus came back.

"Here, this is for you," said Marcus, placing a small ring box in Quinn's hand.

"Yes, yes, yes — a hundred times yes," grinned Quinn, "when's the wedding?"

"Oh shut up," said Marcus, "open it; you'll be surprised with what's inside."

Quinn followed Marcus' words and opened the velvet-covered box with a smile — the smile which drained when he saw what was inside.

"This is. . . ."

Inside the box was a burnt, pitch-black sphere that was missing a lot of its parts.

"After you collapsed, and the maze was cleared out the obstacles, I went into the labyrinth to see if I could find the eye," shrugged Marcus, "I thought you would like to have a look to see what went wrong with your magic — luckily, I was able to find it."

Quinn stared at the charred artificial eye before gazing up at Marcus. "You went out looking for this because of me?"

"Yeah," nodded Marcus, "I know how important magic is for you. So, I went out. . . . it's not a big deal."

"No, no, no," said Quinn, "what do you mean, it's not a big deal? This is a big deal, Marcus," he stepped close to Marcus and engulfed him into a tight hug, "this is a huge deal for me that you did this."

Marcus couldn't do anything but hug Quinn back, and he had to admit it, the hug felt good — it was nice to be thanked. . . .

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"What are you doing here?" asked Ron Weasley, seeing Quinn West sitting in the middle of Burrow's dining room while the family was busy packing up for a move.

"I don't know," said Quinn being honest, "I was going home after visiting Luna when your two older twin brothers cornered me and dragged me here."

The Weasley twins were like a typhoon and had crazy persuasion skills that Quinn didn't know, but before he knew it, he was sitting in the Burrow with a bowl of Raspberries in front of him. And

"I let my guard down," said Quinn, and he didn't mind it at all because all he could think was that his investment was going to give him great returns in the future.

". . . . and why is there paint on your face?" asked Ron because, with the eyepatch, the drawn up beard, and scar lines, Quinn looked like a pirate, and all he needed was a hat.

"I was visiting Luna," said Quinn as if it explained everything. He didn't have time to remove it — he was going to remove it when he was a little distance from Luna's house, but just when he got far enough, the twins ambushed him.

"Are you guys doing a summer cleaning?" asked Quinn, looking at the boxes everywhere.

"Y-Yeah, something like that," said Ron. He couldn't tell Quinn that they were going to move a secret headquarter. . . . the thing was the Ron didn't need to say anything; Quinn already knew his thoughts.

"Where are my brothers?" asked Ron.

"They went up to their rooms to get some stuff."

And on cue, the Weasley twins came down to the dining room with two big boxes.

"Quinn, here take a look at this—" "—this is what we have come up with for next year—" "—some of them are complete—" "while others are still under development."

The twins dumped the boxes on the table for Quinn to see. Pirate-Quinn stood up and, with his one eye, started to shuffle through the things inside the box.

"Boxing telescope, Comb-a-Chameleon, Demon Box, Lucky Dip, Otters Fizzy Orange Juice, Magical Moustache Miracle Stubble Grow, Self-propelling Custard Pies, Unlucky Dip, Wonderous Wands, Dragon Roasted Nuts, Tiny Twister, Sticky Trainers, Mysterious Midnight Moon Madness, Exploding Whizz Poppers, Silver Sparkling Snakes, Thor's Thunder Cracker, Voodoo Fountain, Diabolic Dare Devils, Bang Bang Boggart Banger, Saunders' Invisible Silk, Miraphorus Magic Set, Eduardo's Unbreakable Eggs, Crush Blush, Flirting Fancies, Pygmy Puffs, Twilight Moonbeams, Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher. . . . "

One by one, Quinn took out the items, saw what they did, got descriptions from the twins, critiqued them, suggested improvements, and asked them questions on the future of the incomplete products.

"I'm assuming your mother isn't home," asked Quinn seeing all this stuff out in the open.

"Yeah, mum is out—" "—she went out just before you came—" "— that's why we invited you in—" "— we have a little time before she comes back."

The twins pointed at the family clock — the clock hand with Molly written on it was pointing at the "Shopping" tab.

"Eh? What's happening?" asked Ron. All the different products didn't faze him, but all the complex money and business talk that accompanied confused the hell out of him.

" "Nothing; don't worry your little head about it." "It will hurt if you do so."

"Huh?"

Quinn packed everything back and gave his final words, "The products have value and will do well with a younger crowd — Hogwarts and younger, which is fine for now as it's better to target a smaller niche at the start, but I will suggest that you start thinking and planning for things that cover an older demographic — it's good if you start thinking about these things early."

Twins nodded. They weren't amateurs when it came to sales. They had been doing it at an informal level for years; they just needed to convert that knowledge earned through experience to a formal level — Quinn's consultation provided them with a bridge to help them transition.

"We can't wait—" "—in just one more year."

" "We will have our own shop!" "

'And with it, a new stream of income for me,' thought Quinn, 'my first step on a journey as an investor,' he glanced at the twins, 'hell, these two even manage to bag defense contract in the future. . . . they just might become the crown jewel in my portfolio.'

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George West came down to the dining hall for supper in the evening to see that other than Ms. Rosey and Elliot, his two grandchildren were absent.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"Lia took a Portkey to France for a night out with her Beauxbatons friends," informed Ms. Rosey. Because of the volume of Lia's travels, she had learned to cast the Portkey spell for her travel needs. The young woman had more experience creating Portkeys than those her own age, who worked at Portkey departments in various Ministries.

"And what about Quinn? I made myself clear that he wasn't to remain outside after supper time."

"Quinn's having dinner at the Greengrass household."

"The Greengrass, you say," hummed George, his hand went into his pocket and came out an envelope, "I wanted to discuss something with him. . . ."

"What is it?" asked Ms. Rosey, noticing the unusual expression on George's face.

George slightly raised the letter and commented, "A letter came from the Abate-s."

Elliot and Ms. Rosey went silent with surprise. It had been a while since they had heard of that name.

". . . .What do they want?" asked Elliot.

"They want to meet him and are inviting him to visit," said George.

"And?" asked Ms. Rosey, asking for George's decision.

"You know I can't decide for Quinn, at least not for this. He'll decide if he wants to go and meet them."

That day, the dinner at the West manor went in silence as the three people ate in silence and thought.

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Quinn West - MC - On a tour of friends' homes.

Eddie Carmichael - Profanity machine - That went down the other way quick.

Eleanor Carmichael - Mother - Her ladle is mighty.

Marcus Belby - An Angel - Just what can one say about him.

George West - Grandfather - The Abate(s). . . .

FictionOnlyReader- Author - Next chapter we visit Greengrass and another one (Guess who, Quinn said he would visit this person.)

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