When it comes to aesthetic preferences, British and Chinese people often differ significantly.
For instance, many Chinese might not understand the global obsession with the Kardashians' famous S-shaped figures—considered the ultimate defensive force for social media superstars.
But in the West, they are undeniably the world's top influencers, drawing athletes like moths to a flame.
If such is the case with Western ideals, then the gap becomes even more apparent when it comes to perceptions of beauty among Asians.
Take Cho Chang, for example…
It was clear that Cedric found her attractive—her exotic features, twin pigtails, and delicate complexion were all in line with a Western standard of beauty. Fine, she was cute, William had to admit that.
But to him, raised with a Chinese sense of aesthetics, Cho wasn't overwhelmingly stunning. She certainly wasn't at a "goddess" level, at least not yet—especially since she was only eleven years old.
Meanwhile, Cedric was cradling the unconscious rabbit, acting the part of a caring boy-next-door, just one step away from giving it mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
He reassured Cho, "It's just a little frightened, nothing serious."
William let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness the rabbit wasn't dead. Otherwise, Cedric would've likely killed him in a fit of rage.
Seriously, rabbits were such fragile creatures.
They ranked just a tiny notch above mice on the food chain. Their species' survival advantage lay solely in their numbers—they didn't really care about the quality of individual lives.
Often, they'd just drop dead out of sheer fright, leaving their owners helpless.
Seeing that her pet was unharmed, Cho finally relaxed a little, though she let out an icy huff and stopped talking to the two boys.
This left Cedric visibly frustrated, still wanting to say something but now unsure of how to mend the awkward silence.
Was giving the rabbit mouth-to-mouth really the only way to fix this?
Cedric gave William a meaningful look, clearly hoping his best friend could be a wingman and help create an opportunity for him.
William rolled his eyes. Flirting with girls was an art form, a skill he definitely didn't possess. If he had, he wouldn't have been single in his previous life.
He remained silent, giving Cedric a knowing glance, as if to say, "Just pretend I'm not here. Do whatever you need to do. Don't hold back. I'm cheering for you!"
Cedric shot back a glare, his expression saying, "Yeah, sure, and get thrown into Azkaban for it? And then have Dementors suck out my soul?"
William: "I'm telling you to go after her with confidence, not break any laws! Wait a second... Cedric, what on earth were you planning to do that would get you thrown into Azkaban?!"
Cedric cleared his throat awkwardly, ending their silent exchange.
William glanced over at Cho, who was still blissfully unaware, playing with her little rabbit—completely oblivious to the life-threatening crisis she had narrowly avoided!
Pulling up his spellbook, William tried to hide his face and sink into the background, hoping to make himself as invisible as possible.
Cedric sighed and reluctantly pulled out Ollivander's notebook from his pocket.
The compartment fell into an eerie silence, with each person quietly immersed in their own world. It was, in fact, a rather awkward scene.
After a while, the door to the compartment slid open again.
—It was the Weasley twins, accompanied by a boy with dreadlocks.
"Oh, sorry, wrong compartment," Fred said apologetically, about to shut the door.
But George held it open, saying, "No, it's not the wrong one."
Fred's expression turned exaggerated. "With this atmosphere, I thought we had stumbled into the library."
Fred plopped down beside Cedric, while George and the dreadlocked boy took the seats next to Cho.
"Come on, mates, we're on the Hogwarts Express! Studying should be reserved for the two weeks before exams… William, what are you even reading—"
"—The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2? Are you insane? Or planning to skip ahead to second year already?"
George snatched the book from William's hands.
Fred stood up and cautiously glanced out the window before pulling the curtains shut.
Cho, now pressed into the corner, looked completely bewildered as she stared at the group of suspicious characters who had suddenly invaded her space.
George tapped his knuckles on the table, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "It all started this summer… Fred and I got in touch with some of the top students in each year, and we compiled all their homework answers into booklets. Then, we sold them in batches."
William nodded. He was well aware of this.
The twins had even borrowed Cedric's homework.
Cedric hadn't agreed at first, but after William had nagged him with endless persistence and carefully laid-out arguments, Cedric had finally caved—begrudgingly.
Of course, the twins had to pay a hefty sum for exclusive rights to Cedric's answers, and as the middleman, William naturally received a decent cut of the profits.
But William didn't pocket the money. He left it with the twins as an investment—his contribution to expanding their business.
This was how you achieved the magic of capital accumulation: reinvesting to grow wealth.
Fred's expression was deadly serious. "Since it was our first time running a business like this, we offered a free trial—check out the goods first, pay later. But now that the payment deadline has arrived, a small group of students are refusing to pay!"
The dreadlocked boy scratched his backside, then sheepishly rubbed his flushed face. It seemed as though Fred's words were hitting a little too close to home… no, they were directly aimed at him.
He was one of those students who hadn't paid up!
Suddenly, he slammed his fist on the table in righteous fury. "Those people are outrageous! I'll help get the money back!"
"Lee, calm down," Fred quickly glanced out the window again, "we don't want to attract the attention of any Prefects."
George added, "We worked hard all summer for that money. We can't just let them get away with it. So, I propose we take action and strike back!"
"We'll show them what Gryffindor's wrath looks like!" Lee Jordan shouted, sounding like an overexcited—and somewhat clueless—teen hero.
The poor rabbit, which had just woken up, fainted again in terror.
Cho shot Lee a death glare that could have melted stone.
Cedric glanced at Cho. Desperate to salvage his image, he was about to stand up, intending to take the moral high ground and protest.
But William beat him to it, waving a hand dismissively. "We're not Gryffindor students, so… we're not really obligated to help with this collection, are we?"
"William, aren't we friends?" George draped an arm around William's shoulders.
"Don't drag feelings into this—it's bad for business!"
After much negotiation, the twins finally agreed to pay William and Cedric each two cups of Fizzing Whizzbees—honey-flavored candies that made you float in the air. They were only available at Honeydukes in Hogsmeade.
Hagrid had sent William some over the summer, but most of them had been devoured by Annie. Still, they were delicious.
Lee Jordan wasn't getting paid anything. He was working off his debt for not paying for his homework answers.
This made him the true master of freeloading—a wizard who could conjure profits from thin air!
"So, who's the target?" William asked.
"A group of Slytherin students," George replied casually, as if talking about a swarm of annoying insects.
"The evil Slytherins," Lee muttered with a vengeful tone.
Of course…
William had heard about the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin from Cedric and knew a bit about their ongoing feud.
He had a sneaking suspicion that the twins had deliberately sold faulty answers to the Slytherin students, just to stir up trouble.
The Slytherins might not be entirely wrong—there probably was something wrong with the answers.
But in typical Fred and George fashion, they managed to swindle the Slytherins and make a profit. And if the Slytherins didn't pay up, no problem—they could always have some fun at their expense during the journey!
William suddenly felt like he was being underpaid. Two cups of Fizzing Whizzbees? No way—he should be demanding at least two buckets of them!