Hogwarts: Card System

Leaving the orphanage, Ted took a detour through the Muggle shopping district, picking up a few interesting trinkets for his wizarding friends.

With bags in hand, he made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Oi, Old Tom! Look what I brought you!" Ted called, grinning as he set a sleek glass bottle on the counter.

The barkeep squinted at it. "Hmm... what's this then?"

Ted wiggled the bottle between his fingers. "Muggle drink. Thought you might appreciate something different."

Tom uncorked it, took a cautious sniff, then a sip. His eyes widened. "Blimey, lad, that's sweeter than a Honeydukes toffee! What's it called?"

"Coca-Cola," Ted said with a chuckle. "Muggles brew it in bulk, way cheaper than wizarding drinks. Mass production and all that."

Living in the magical world for over a year, especially working in Diagon Alley, had made Ted painfully aware of just how overpriced many things were compared to the Muggle world.

Wizards had spells to assist with crafting, sure, but without factories, everything was handmade or small-batch.

That kind of production drove prices sky-high.

But Ted wasn't just buying Muggle goods because they were cheap—he enjoyed the novelty of sharing them.

Most wizards barely interacted with the Muggle world. 

Half of them would probably get lost trying to buy a train ticket, and the other half wouldn't even know where to start.

The reactions alone were priceless. Like Ron, who had nearly passed out from the sugar rush after trying some Muggle candy Ted had brought back.

That evening, Ted sprawled across his bed at the Leaky Cauldron, staring at the ceiling instead of diving into a book for once. 

An idea that had been lingering in the back of his mind for months took full form.

A second-hand trading platform.

Not a typical second-hand shop like the ones in Knockturn Alley, but something broader—something more like an online marketplace. 

The wizarding world needed a way to buy and sell used magical items, and Ted was determined to make it happen.

Magical items didn't lose their value quickly. 

Unlike Muggle tech, which became obsolete every few years, a well-made enchanted object could last generations. 

The problem was that not everything remained useful forever. T

ake an enchanted lawnmower, for example. 

If the owner decided to turn their yard into a vegetable garden, that mower would just collect dust. 

Selling it to a second-hand store meant taking a massive loss since most of those shops paid only a fraction of an item's worth. 

They had to, to stay in business.

But what if there were a way to connect buyers and sellers directly? Cut out the middleman?

The more Ted thought about it, the more it made sense. Wizards weren't like Muggles—they didn't have a thriving marketplace for second-hand goods. 

With the British wizarding population being so small, it was difficult to find buyers for niche magical items. 

Some wizards were downright hermits, living in the middle of nowhere with little contact with society. 

That made transactions even harder.

This was an untapped market, and Ted saw the potential.

Of course, making it happen wouldn't be easy. 

He needed money, connections, and most importantly, influence. 

The Ministry had control over a lot of commerce in the wizarding world, and anything too disruptive would be met with resistance.

Not that Ted was planning to challenge the Ministry anytime soon—right now, he just wanted to use this project as a way to hone his skills. 

Specifically, his identification abilities.

Lately, he had hit a wall with his identification spells. 

No matter how much he practiced, his progress had stalled. 

He figured there were two possible solutions—either he needed to increase his psion level, or he needed to push himself by identifying more complex and powerful objects.

There was one surefire way to make a breakthrough: identify Dumbledore himself.

Ted had already used his identification abilities on several professors, gathering all sorts of useful information. 

But the idea of trying it on Dumbledore? That was terrifying. 

The headmaster wasn't just some powerful wizard—he was the powerful wizard. 

Ted was certain Dumbledore would notice if someone tried poking around in his magical signature.

Still, he had gotten results when he had identified Voldemort during the whole Philosopher's Stone fiasco. 

Even though Voldemort had been weak at the time, the experience had leveled up Ted's skill faster than anything else. 

If he could successfully identify someone as powerful as Dumbledore, the benefits would be incredible.

The problem was, he wasn't about to risk it. 

The last thing he wanted was to end up on Dumbledore's radar for something like that.

So, instead, he'd take the long way around.

By creating a second-hand trading platform, Ted could expose himself to a vast range of magical items. 

Ancient wands, forgotten tomes, rare enchanted objects—every transaction would be a new learning opportunity. 

He'd not only improve his identification skills but also get a broader understanding of the wizarding economy.

One thing was clear—if he wanted to make this happen, he needed support. And the first person he had to convince? Mr. Jiggers.

"You mean, you want to set up a stall right outside?"

"That's not the real question here. The question is, what exactly are you planning to do? Sell things? Read wizard fortunes?"

Mr. Jiggers's expression was priceless—like someone had just suggested setting up a joke shop in the lobby of Gringotts.

He was a wizard through and through, which meant his business sense wasn't the broadest.

So, Ted explained, "It's like this. I solved a magic puzzle on a wall in the Hogwarts library and got some ancient enchantment left behind by an unknown wizard. 

It seemed to unlock some hidden talent of mine—an ability to identify the properties and history of magical items."

Of course, that was only half true. He got his Identification from the Psionic Power Manual (Blue)] that he got from his talent.

"So I figured, why not help people out? They can bring their magical items to me for identification, I'll write down the details on a board, and interested buyers can see what's available. It makes trading easier. Maybe even bartering..."

Mr. Jiggers listened, stroking his chin. The more he thought about it, the more interesting the idea sounded.

But there was one major issue.

"Ted, this isn't a joke. Appraising magical artifacts takes serious skill and experience. 

If you misidentify something, best case, you just lose money. Worst case? You get your face hexed off by some cursed object."

Ravenclaws were cautious by nature, and Mr. Jiggers was no exception.

Ted flashed a confident grin. "Mr. Jiggers, test me!"

Mr. Jiggers raised an eyebrow before pulling out three objects from his personal collection and setting them on the table.

"Alright, kid. Let's see what you can do. I'll warn you, these aren't simple trinkets. Give it your best shot."

He was fully expecting this cocky youngster to fall flat on his face.

Ted examined the first item—a small bronze statue, about ten inches tall.

 It depicted a strange, bulky creature with two heads. 

One had a single eye, the other had two, and both bared fangs while gripping wooden clubs.

A two-headed ogre?

Ted activated his appraisal ability. Mr. Jiggers, observing closely, noticed something odd—Ted's eyes seemed to gleam with an unnatural sharpness, but there was no visible pulse of magic.

Weird. What kind of ability is that?

"This is a two-headed ogre statue, crafted from enchanted bronze. It was infused with magic during its creation. It's not of this world. Within an eight-meter radius, it grants increased strength and gradually restores stamina... Did I get that right?"

Mr. Jiggers clapped his hands together, his eyebrows shooting up. "Ted, you really do have a talent for this! Spot on! Even more detail than I knew."

In reality, Ted had gleaned far more information: the statue's precise effect of +2 Strength, the need to heat it in flames every month to maintain its magic,

Next, he turned to the second item—a dusty gray stone. At first glance, it looked unremarkable, but upon closer inspection, it was actually a cloudy crystal.

"This is a magic spar from the Uruguay vein—a rare, naturally occurring crystal found only at the convergence points of magical ley lines. As for its use, I can tell it's meant for crafting magical artifacts..."

"Yes! Yes! When I bought it, the seller told me it was a Uruguayan magic spar. Looks like I wasn't tricked after all!" Mr. Jiggers beamed.

The last item was a strange fruit, deep red, with a tough, shell-like exterior. It vaguely resembled a mangosteen, but Ted had no idea what was inside.

"I can't discern much about this one. All I can tell is that it's a plant with potent medicinal properties… Where did you find it, Mr. Jiggers?"

"Ha! Don't know, do you? Well, neither do I!" Mr. Jiggers looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

"I stumbled across it while gathering potion ingredients last year. It's likely some kind of magical plant from another region—or maybe even another dimension. No one's studied it yet."

Ted breathed a silent sigh of relief. Good thing he hadn't blurted out the truth—that this was a Rowa Fruit, from Elden Ring. 

That would've been impossible to explain.

Some secrets were best kept close to the chest.

After all, he was just a twelve-year-old orphan wizard. If he wanted to survive, he had to play it smart. 

Too many reckless prodigies had ended up as cautionary tales. He, on the other hand, was an expert at flying under the radar.

With Mr. Jiggers' approval, the "Arcane Exchange" stall was officially open for business.

Soon, curious shoppers in Diagon Alley noticed a small table set up outside Jiggers' Apothecary. Hanging from the front was a sign that read: The Lazy Stall!

Upon closer inspection, the smaller text below the sign read:

The Arcane Exchange offers second-hand magical item identification, listings, guarantees, and more! We support money transactions, consignment sales, and bartering!

A few example listings followed:

80% new rainproof and moisture-resistant cloak

90% new automatic magical copper balance

Alarm crystal

 Biting Kale seeds

The first batch of items had been generously provided by Mr. Jiggers himself, just to give the stall credibility. After all, an empty market table wouldn't inspire much trust.

Ted had even personally acquired one particular item at a special insider price—a 1.5-meter-long wandwood trunk with the thickness of a grown man's arm.

Mr. Jiggers had acquired it last year while foraging for potion ingredients. 

After stunning a group of Bowtruckles with a mild sleeping draught, he had... well... borrowed it from a larger tree. 

Ethically questionable? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely.

As a small crowd gathered around, Ted raised his voice, launching into full market barker mode.

"Step right up, don't miss out! We've got rare finds from all over the wizarding world! Magical travelers, potion brewers, aspiring adventurers—this is where you'll find the deal of a lifetime!"

"TheArcane Exchange is the latest sensation—featured in wizarding newspapers, spoken of in Hogwarts corridors, even whispered about in secret wizarding gambling dens! If you haven't heard of it yet, maybe your information sources aren't as good as you think!"

Some people had no idea what he was yelling about—but the enthusiasm was contagious.

A passing witch squinted. "I don't know what this boy is selling, but he's got energy!"

Ted grinned. "Come on, give the Arcane Exchange a chance! Let me talk your ear off for a bit!"