For the young wizards, last night's Halloween had been an absolute adrenaline rush.
A mountain troll had breached the castle, the professors had swooped in to defeat it, and Hogwarts was saved. It felt exactly like something out of an epic adventure story!
For the Weasley twins, however, the night was a massive letdown.
They had been fully prepped to peddle their new Dungbombs at the feast. But when Dumbledore suddenly canceled the banquet and ordered the prefects to escort everyone back to their dorms, their entire launch plan went up in smoke.
Fortunately, the Gryffindor lions were pretty annoyed about missing out on the feast, so they ended up throwing a makeshift Halloween party back in their common room. Seeing a golden opportunity, the twins aggressively pitched their Dungbombs and managed to salvage the night by selling about a dozen of them.
#### The Morning After
The night passed, and the sun rose over the castle. The students filtered into the Great Hall for breakfast.
"Man, last night was insane!"
"Professor Quirrell literally burst into the hall screaming, 'Troll in the dungeon!'"
"And then he just completely passed out."
Terry rolled up a piece of flatbread and stuffed it into his mouth. "Mmph, he is easily the most pathetic wizard I've ever seen."
Anthony grabbed a sandwich and nodded. "Agreed. If we took a school-wide poll right now, Quirrell would definitely win the 'Most Hated Professor' award."
Stephen shook his head. "Well, at least he doesn't point at your cauldron and say: 'I loathe people who manufacture vomit in my classroom!'"
"Hahaha!" Terry and Anthony cracked up.
You didn't even have to guess who Stephen was imitating. Honestly, Snape was the other most hated professor at Hogwarts—just in a completely different, much more terrifying way. The only people who actually liked him were the Slytherins he constantly showed blatant favoritism to.
Richie sipped his soy milk, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he listened to his roommates roast the faculty.
Right then, a flurry of morning mail owls swooped into the Great Hall.
#### A Letter from Home
"Oh, my Daily Prophet is here," Stephen said, catching the rolled-up newspaper dropped by a passing owl.
Meanwhile, Richie received a letter of his own. He tore open the envelope, scanned the parchment, and raised an eyebrow.
It was a letter from home. Mrs. Harland wrote how much she missed him, urging him to actually take a break for Halloween, pull some harmless pranks with his friends, and stop living in the library.
His dad, Denton, on the other hand, had a very specific business request. He wanted Richie to subscribe him to some wizarding newspapers so he could do some market research.
His exact words were:
> Since you're a wizard now, we need to set up some family assets in the magical world so things aren't as hard for you in the future.
> What's the newspaper business like over there? Are there any major publishers?
> Please subscribe me to a few magical newspapers. I need to study the market.
"Newspapers?"
Richie wiped a milk mustache off his face with a napkin and looked over at Stephen, who was currently flipping through the Prophet.
Out of all the guys in the dorm, Stephen was the only one who actively read the news, and Richie usually just mooched off his copy. After all, once you read the paper and caught up on current events, you basically just tossed it aside. To avoid wasting money, Stephen always shared it with the room—though honestly, besides Richie, no one else really cared to read it.
"Oh, did you want to read it? Nothing major happened today anyway." Noticing Richie looking, Stephen offered him the paper.
"Actually, I have a question for you." Richie took the paper but didn't open it, keeping his eyes on his roommate.
Stephen looked curious. "What's up?"
"Do you know how to set up a newspaper subscription for someone back home?" Richie waved the open letter. "My dad wants to see what the magical news looks like."
#### The Loophole
Stephen pushed his glasses up his nose. "Your dad... Richie, you're Muggle-born, right?"
Richie nodded. "My dad is a Muggle, and my mom is a Squib."
"Given that situation, getting a magical newspaper subscription for your dad is going to be pretty difficult." Stephen frowned, laying out the logistics. "The magical world operates under the strict limits of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. We are absolutely forbidden from leaking verifiable proof of magic to the Muggle world."
"Because of that, major publishers like the Daily Prophet won't deliver to Muggle addresses, even if you have a Squib in the house. Now, since you're a wizard, your household technically counts as a wizarding family. But the catch is, you can only receive the Daily Prophet at home while you're physically there on break."
Richie nodded in realization. He genuinely hadn't looked into the legalities of the wizarding postal service.
Stephen paused. If Richie's dad wanted to study the papers now, waiting until the summer holidays wasn't going to help. Since Richie rarely asked for favors, Stephen didn't want to leave him hanging. He thought it over for a second and leaned in.
"There is one publisher that might actually work..."
Richie looked at him, intrigued.
Stephen glanced around the Great Hall to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then lowered his voice. "There's a tabloid called The Quibbler."
"They constantly publish the most unhinged, ridiculous stories. Like, last issue's headline literally claimed that 'Goblins are using Galleons to mind-control the Ministry of Magic.' Everyone just treats it like a massive joke."
"Because the general consensus is that The Quibbler has absolutely zero journalistic value, hardly any wizards actually subscribe to it. And for that exact reason, the Ministry doesn't pay any attention to their distribution list. Honestly, I only subscribe to it sometimes because it's dirt cheap."
Richie didn't really care why Stephen was whispering. He rubbed his chin, instantly extracting the vital info. "So, basically, if a Muggle subscribes to The Quibbler, the Ministry won't investigate?"
Stephen shrugged. "If you set it up for your family, no one is going to care. The Ministry's logic is basically: 'If wizards don't even believe this garbage, Muggles will just think it's some weird sci-fi fantasy fiction.'"
Richie nodded. "So how do I set it up? Just write a letter to their office?"
"Yep," Stephen confirmed. "I actually brought a copy of The Quibbler with me today. Their mailing address is right on the back. Once we head back to the dorm, I can grab it for you."
"Thanks," Richie said.
Before coming to the magical world, Richie had never needed to subscribe to a paper. Denton literally ran the local newspaper business in their town, so Richie always got the news firsthand. And in his past life? Newspapers had been completely obsolete for years, entirely replaced by smartphones and digital media.
Later that afternoon, with Stephen's help, Richie drafted a quick letter and sent his owl off to The Quibbler's editorial office.