Harry Potter with Technology System

Ch336- All Gathered

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Petunia tilted her head, watching the scene with fascination and disbelief. “Hey, there are your fans over there too!” she said, gesturing toward a group waving flags emblazoned with Harry’s face and name.

Harry turned his head and sighed when he saw them. A cluster of wizards—mostly teenagers—had set up a small but noticeable display. Bright green flags fluttered in the evening breeze, each featuring a crude sketch of his face accompanied by bold letters: POTTER, THE PRIDE OF SLYTHERIN! Another banner proclaimed: FASTEST SNITCH CATCHER IN HISTORY!

Petunia raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “You’ve made yourself quite the celebrity. Three years of breaking records tends to do that.”

Harry didn’t respond immediately. It wasn’t just the records that had garnered attention. Opening Hogwarts Quidditch matches to the public had been his idea—a move designed to elevate the game’s prestige, foster school pride, and, of course, make a little gold on the side. That decision had turned him into a household name within the British wizarding world. His unprecedented record for the fastest snitch capture during his first year—a mere three seconds and a quarter—was still talked about as if it were the stuff of legend. Which was still lauded as the unbeatable record for eternity. 

Shaking his head, Harry was about to say something when a blur of yellow darted toward him. Astoria Greengrass threw herself into his arms like a streak of sunlight, her voice ringing out above the hum of the crowd.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, clinging to him with a grin that could brighten a dungeon.

Harry caught her easily, his arms instinctively steadying her before setting her down with a smirk. “Astoria, you’ve got to stop attacking me like this. One day I won’t be paying attention, and you’ll end up tackling me into the mud.”

Astoria beamed up at him, completely ignoring the complaint. “But I missed you! You’ve been avoiding us for ages. What’s your excuse this time?”

“I don’t avoid anyone,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow at her dramatics. “You're thrashing my bedroom just a few weeks ago in my birthday.”

Before Astoria could fire back with one of her typically dramatic quips, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis walked over, both greeting Harry with brief but warm hugs, then turning to Petunia. Their mothers, the elegant Helena Greengrass and the more talkative Marianne Davis, followed close behind. Both women smiled graciously, exchanging pleasantries with Petunia. Cyrus Greengrass and Jonathan Davis lingered a step behind with 

“Harry,” Daphne said, her tone calm but carrying a faint edge of exasperation, “you’ve been avoiding us. Again.”

“Daphne,” Harry replied smoothly, ignoring the accusation, “it’s good to see you, too. Didn’t you just have dinner at my house two weeks ago?”

Tracey grinned, clearly amused by her friend’s scolding. “You know what she means, Harry. You’ve been too busy for us lately. Scheming away in your lair, no doubt.”

Astoria, not one to be outdone, folded her arms and gave Harry a pointed look. “Exactly. And we demand compensation for your neglect.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the trio, smirking faintly. “Compensation, is it? What do you want? Galleons? My Quidditch records? Or perhaps you’re after my throne?”

Astoria rolled her eyes but grinned. “Oh, please. As if anyone could dethrone you.”

Daphne’s lips twitched, betraying the faintest hint of a smile. “We’ll settle for your company tonight. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

“Fair enough,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’ll allow it.”

“Gracious of you,” Tracey teased, nudging him lightly in the arm.

Pansy strolled over with her mother, Cassandra Parkinson, the latter’s finely tailored robes catching the evening light as they joined the growing group near Harry’s tent. Pansy smirked, her voice carrying over the chatter. “Emperor Potter is offering his throne? Rich!” She pulled Daphne and Tracey into quick hugs before turning to Astoria, ruffling the younger Greengrass’s hair with practiced annoyance.

“You’re just jealous, Parkinson,” Astoria shot back, smoothing her hair down with a huff. “He wouldn’t give it to you.”

“Who says I would want it?” Pansy replied, grinning. “Too much paperwork, too many peasants to manage. No thanks.”

As Cassandra moved to join Petunia and the other adults, Pansy turned her attention to Harry, her smirk softening just slightly. “Missed you, Potter. Still plotting world domination, or is tonight just about Quidditch?”

“Why not both?” Harry replied, his tone light but his expression unreadable. “I like to keep my options open.”

Before Pansy could retort, Luna Lovegood appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her usual smile in place as always. Ginny followed close behind, with a brilliant smile of her own.

“Hello, Harry!” Luna said, her gaze drifting upward as if something fascinating were floating just above his head. 

Ginny gestured toward a nearby food stand where the twins were animatedly haggling over what looked like a mountain of cauldron cakes. “Getting enough sugar to fuel another round of chaos, no doubt.”

Before Harry could respond, the Weasley family arrived en masse, Molly leading the way with Arthur at her side. The younger Weasleys followed in a loose cluster, Ron trailing slightly behind as he took in the sights of the campsite with wide-eyed wonder. Molly greeted Petunia warmly, the two women quickly falling into conversation as Arthur enthusiastically inspected a collection of enchanted camping equipment a vendor had set up nearby.

“Harry, my boy!” Arthur called over his shoulder, holding up what appeared to be a self-stirring teapot. “Have you seen one of these before? Fascinating bit of charm work!”

Ginny giggled. "That’s Harry’s handiwork, Dad. He wants the whole world to know the proper taste of tea, the British way.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up as he examined the self-stirring teapot with childlike wonder. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant, Harry! Tell me, where can I get one of these? It’s positively fascinating!”

Harry smirked, folding his arms. “You’re holding the prototype, Mr. Weasley. It’s part of a little side project of mine. Give it a few months, and I’ll have them ready for sale. Wizards can enjoy their tea without butchering it.”

Arthur beamed, clutching the teapot as though it were a priceless artifact. “You’re a visionary, my boy. Molly, did you hear that? A self-stirring teapot—no more burned leaves!”

Molly barely glanced up from her conversation with Petunia. “That’s lovely, dear,” she said absently before returning her attention to the discussion about herbology charms for household plants.

Entering the tent, the group naturally began splitting into smaller clusters. The adults gravitated toward one side, leaving the younger crowd to mingle freely on the other. Voices filled the space, bouncing between discussions about the match and the Ministry’s endless Obliviation efforts.

Harry, after a few polite exchanges, excused himself from the lively circle of his friends and walked over to where Cyrus Greengrass, Agusta and Arthur Longbottom, and others were seated. A quiet but businesslike atmosphere hung around them. Harry slid into an empty seat with a brief nod to the group.

“Long Green Pot is a great success,” Cyrus began, his tone even but carrying a hint of pride. “Our supply chain now covers the entire magical world.”

Long Green Pot was one of Harry’s most profitable ventures, a joint collaboration between the Greengrass, Longbottom, and Potter estates. What had started as a small-scale basic potion business had expanded into a powerhouse in the potion-making industry. With the Longbottom family providing expertise in herbology, the Greengrasses handling distribution, and Harry’s own mastery in Potioneering, the enterprise was flourishing.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Hannah's father, Thomas, adjusted the collar of his robe as he leaned back in his chair. "The new venture with Dragon Delights is going well," he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. “Last month’s sales alone cleared half of our startup investment. The fighting chocolates are quickly becoming a bestseller.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Good to hear, Mr. Abbott. I trust the enchantment formulas aren’t giving you or your team any trouble?”

“Not at all,” Thomas replied confidently, glancing at Cyrus Greengrass, who nodded in agreement. “The binding contract you devised was brilliant. None of our staff would dare tamper with or leak your runes and charms. And as for production, the simplicity of the spellwork you designed has made the process surprisingly efficient.”

Harry allowed himself a small nod, reaching for his drink. It had been a gamble at first. The concept of fighting chocolates—small dragon-shaped confections that could duel each other when activated—had been one of his many side projects. Initially, trademark disputes and production issues delayed the launch. However, a binding magical contract, courtesy of his Gringotts contacts, had secured the exclusivity of his runes, ensuring no one could replicate or steal the charm design. Partnering with Thomas Abbott to handle manufacturing and distribution had been the final piece of the puzzle.

“The customers are loving the novelty,” Thomas continued. “Most of our pre-orders are coming from families with younger children, though I’ve noticed adult collectors are starting to take interest as well. Seems the older crowd enjoys the more intricate chocolate designs.”

“Of course they do,” Cyrus added, taking a sip from his glass. “You don’t see craftsmanship like this in the mass market. Each dragon’s movements are unique—none of that cookie-cutter rubbish you get from big companies like Honeydukes.”

“Flattery won’t get you a discount on the next batch, Cyrus,” Harry quipped, earning a chuckle from the older wizard.

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