"Legendary Wizard... I think that could work."
"Magical Legends... This one might be worth submitting to..."
"Trendy Wizard? Sells a lot, but not suitable... Why would a second-hand bookstore even take these kinds of magazines?"
"Wizard Monthly... Worth a try..."
"Contrarian Voice? Doesn't sell well... but judging from the content, it could work. I'll give it a shot."
"Magical Reader? ...Wow, this chicken soup is pure. I might actually be able to add some of my own. I think I've got this..."
In a room at the Leaky Cauldron, Andrew flipped through the day's loot while discussing with his owl where it would be flying to next. The poor feathered employee had no idea that every nod meant another trip to make. For now, it simply cooed along in clueless agreement.
"Inspiration's here. I'll test the waters with Magical Reader first," Andrew said, getting excited. He unrolled a piece of parchment and, with some difficulty, started scribbling with a quill. Before long, a fresh manuscript was born.
"Still a few grammatical issues... but close enough."
After quickly inventing a new pen name for himself, Andrew tied the letter to his owl and sent it off.
"By the time I'm back at the orphanage tomorrow, I should get a reply. Judging by the quality, it shouldn't be hard to get published."
He patted his owl on the head and attached the hastily written article. To avoid being targeted for writing about controversial magical topics, he had written a nostalgic piece praising the old magical world while critically reflecting on the current one.
To his surprise, the owl returned that same evening—with eight Sickles and an enthusiastic acceptance letter. The editor said Andrew's article would appear in the next issue of Magical Reader, and hinted that if he wrote another piece on pureblood and Muggle-born education as thoughtfully as this one, they'd double the payment rate per word.
"Yeah, no thanks. I don't want to get cursed just because someone figured out who I am..."
Despite having just made enough for a day's food and board, Andrew decided not to submit to them again—it just wasn't worth the risk. In the magical world, curses weren't metaphorical. He even severed the magical link between himself and the pseudonym he used—an entry-level spell that allowed owls to find the writer. (The method was so basic it wasn't even taught in a class. Even Sirius Black had used it to block his name's link without a wand after running away from home.)
"Well, it's not easy money, but at least we've got a good start."
Andrew lifted his owl in both hands, rubbing its head with his thumbs. "Next, we tackle the Lockhart books."
Since they were expensive, Andrew only bought the two best-selling titles in the series—but even that nearly busted his budget.
"I feel like I'm getting sidetracked," he muttered, spreading open a book, "but if what Hogwarts Legacy showed was real, I have to try mastering ancient magic. Even if it requires a bloodline, there are still... alternative methods. And if not, then runes, transfiguration experiments, alchemy—everything takes money. You get me, buddy?"
"Making a few Galleons now is like sharpening the axe before chopping wood. Once we've got enough startup funds, I'll make something to help me organize my memories—then I won't need to split my attention with money-making anymore." He tapped his owl on the forehead and began reading Lockhart's story.
An excellent story—though Andrew didn't have time to savor it. He skimmed it at breakneck speed.
"Great setting, solid presentation, perfect character image, and above-average grammar," he admired. "If it weren't for the lack of originality, I'd be nervous about even imitating it."
+++++
"Wingardium Leviosa. Three segments."
Watching the magical stone rise, the young Gryffindor wore a blank expression, a trace of self-mockery on his lips. His tight grip on the wand had caused his nails to break the skin of his palm, sending a sharp pain through his hand.
...
The method for testing under-11s in pureblood families differed from others. They used a special anti-magic stone, seeing how high it could be levitated. The higher the stone, the stronger the innate magic—and the higher their potential.
...
"All that hard-earned magic, and it's being swallowed by the wand I picked at Ollivanders... Is this really the wand for me?"
...
"House of Haerpo... Thirty years east of the Thames, thirty years west. Never underestimate the poor!"
...
"So this... is the legendary Elder Wand?"
...
Ravenclaw frowned and stepped behind the crowd (cut scene—Andrew reconsidered. Not every story needs a noble ensemble. Better to keep the focus on a single protagonist.)
About a week after Andrew returned to the orphanage, manuscripts like this landed on the desks of the editors at the magazines he had carefully selected.
Though it was only an early draft—with some famous scenes removed and characters that couldn't be adapted replaced—Andrew had inserted elements like the Elder Wand, ancient potion recipes, and ancient spells. Whole chapters had been slashed to make it more concise, which caused some structural issues, but the story still had enough allure for its time.
So replies came quickly.
Only Contrarian Voice rejected it—saying the story was "too serious," and that if he'd added things like the Goblin Rebellion or army integrations, it might have been acceptable.
The others offered different prices. After some consideration, Andrew chose Magical Legends—they said the manuscript only needed light editing, they promised anonymity, and they offered the second-highest pay.
The only catch? They would list a second author on the work—both to justify edits and to protect Andrew's identity.
It was a fair trade. Andrew agreed to the contract after some thought.
——
"All right, that's done!"
"My writing and market research may not be perfect, but the story's legendary!"
"Chief, are we really going with this plan?"
"Why not? We've got interview rights—and compared to that fool Rita Skeeter, our changes are nothing."
"That's true. Rita said way worse stuff and got away with it—we even did a feature interview on her once."
At the Magical Legends editorial office, something Andrew hadn't anticipated happened—because of one notoriously shameless figure in the industry, his editor, eager to boost sales, made bold and sweeping changes to the story.
"Gryffindor's tale is too distant—no selling point. How can it compete with Lockhart?"
"Change the protagonist to Dumbledore. Just say it's an authorized adaptation based on our interview!"
"We'll call it—Dumbledore: A Legend Begins!"