Hogwarts' school library was never lacking in people.
As long as the library was open, there would always be some bold soul peeking at the Restricted Section, hoping Madam Pince would make a mistake while chasing off other students, giving them a moment to try their luck.
Yes—try—because most of the books in the Restricted Section could only be viewed by their covers. To read their contents, you had to go through Madam Pince to formally borrow them. As for the ones not sealed by borrowing protocols, opening them would produce noises loud enough to echo through the entire library.
But that had little to do with Andrew—just studying Transfiguration was already more than enough for him. There was so much legitimate knowledge to absorb that he had no time or energy to get distracted.
While searching for books, he once again marveled at Hogwarts' abundant collection, then buried himself back in his research.
But today felt a bit different.
Shortly after sitting down, someone took the seat at the table next to his. The newcomer was also reading diligently, but ever since he sat down, Andrew had felt occasional glances in his direction.
?
He paused, looked over his own outfit and school bag—everything looked perfectly ordinary. Nothing out of the ordinary, no flashy accessories or anything that hinted at ancient or mysterious themes.
What's going on? Someone picking a fight with me?
After confirming once more that the person was indeed looking his way, Andrew stood up with a book in hand and walked over to sit at their table.
"Hi, is there something I can help you with?"
"Ah? No... no, yes…"
The person panicked, their face turning red then white, then red again. Clearly, whatever opening line they had rehearsed had been thrown into disarray by Andrew's direct approach.
"Um… I noticed you really like reading?"
The intended opener was probably supposed to sound cooler, but now it just came out stammered.
"Not exactly—I'm just interested in Transfiguration."
"Then have you ever thought about turning your knowledge into a bit of pocket money—uh?"
The other person rambled on with strange suggestions, only realizing too late that Andrew had already responded.
"We're not scammers… it's just that the money has to be found in history… it's one of those rare—"
"I already have a club," Andrew cut him off mid-sentence, pulling a badge from his bag—the one he received after officially joining. "Recognize this?"
"Oh. Sorry to bother you."
Just like that, the trouble disappeared. The person grabbed their things and fled like they were escaping a plague.
Were they after money, or just manual labor?
Andrew wasn't sure, but he leaned toward the latter—posing as people who exchange money for knowledge, they probably tricked others into doing tedious research in the vast sea of library books, only to hand over a meager payment in the end...
A more refined form of recruiting student workers, really, targeting those who loved spending time in the library.
Hogwarts' library was just too big, too complete. While professional subjects at least had structured guidance, wannabe adventurers often needed specific niche information. Without indexes, it made perfect sense to trade a few Sickles for students' labor.
Their scam wasn't even particularly clever—Andrew spotted the signs immediately. But his awareness came thanks to the so-called internal materials of his club…
While Andrew thought his club was a bit hypocritical—always scrutinizing others without self-reflection—he had to admit their records were impressively thorough.
After generations of accumulated experience, they had extensive documentation of Hogwarts' student gray zones, even covering many scams in the wizarding world—though the latter could only be accessed by fifth-years and up.
Things like selling good-luck charms before exams, memory potions, brain boosters—those were child's play. Their archives also included nearly a hundred fights, methods for smuggling contraband into school—anything that could get Filch excited had been well-documented.
Of course, Andrew didn't yet have access to the deeper records—same rule: fifth-year access only.
Those records were compiled by older students, and without contributions, you didn't get to see them. Besides, those weren't meant for school reporting—they were used internally for determining resource distribution…
And the so-called "internal resource distribution" was also something not to be discussed… also a fifth-year secret.
In short: magical nonsense at its finest.
Andrew had no intention of getting too involved. He was just along for the ride—clocking in, borrowing the club's reputation, and waiting to be phased out with time.
Can't deny it—some students in our house are far more motivated than others when it comes to exploiting the freshmen…
Now that the new students had settled into their routines, those with devious minds were beginning to size them up, preparing to make a move—which explained why Andrew had run into a would-be scammer.
And technically, it's not even a scam—because they do pay… Can't exactly punch someone for that…
He shook his head in resignation and prepared to immerse himself back in his studies.
But then, from behind a bookshelf, he heard something similar.
"…turn your knowledge into a little money."
"Is that okay? Kind of, I guess?"
"Quite a bit actually. Just by studying seriously you'll get base pay—five Knuts per hour. And if you find the right info, you can get up to one Galleon!"
"One Galleon… Oh, never mind then…"
???
Andrew was stunned, and the voice also faltered—this time, it was a girl.
They even use same-gender agents to reduce suspicion? And come on, a Galleon is obviously just a carrot on a stick. But what freshman wouldn't be tempted by a whole Galleon?
Andrew was a rare exception—not to brag, but he'd been better off financially before even setting foot in Hogwarts than many graduates. What first-year would be so nonchalant about money? Had she run into one of those loaded Slytherin kids?
Curiosity piqued, Andrew peeked over under the pretense of finding a book—and quickly retreated, feeling guilty.
He recognized the girl who didn't fall for it. She was famous even within Ravenclaw—Granger, the prospective top student.
And the guilt?
The scammer was from his own house…
Yeah, aside from a few in their club, most Ravenclaws had no sense of house bias—good in many ways, like in competitions, games, or social activities. But also bad, like the person just now, practicing equal-opportunity scamming.
T/N: For twenty chapters ahead on all my fics become a P@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle