"You really know your stuff! Not many young wizards these days can recognize these!" Hagrid's eyes sparkled with delight.
"That's right—Runespoor eggs! Remember what happened last time? That little beauty was a lady, which is why she was so large."
"Professor McGonagall told me these are all meant as compensation for you. So, don't worry—no one's going to come after you again."
Hagrid launched into another enthusiastic explanation.
Among all known magical creatures, only the Runespoor lays its eggs in its mouth.
But it's not just the bizarre way they lay eggs—Runespoor eggs have special properties. Used in potion-making, they can sharpen the mind and quicken thought.
Naturally, wizards have always coveted potions that boost intelligence, and so Runespoors were hunted relentlessly.
It wasn't until the species was on the brink of extinction that the wizarding world finally came to its senses. They established a sanctuary in Burkina Faso, the Runespoor's native land, allowing the species to survive.
Even so, the trade in Runespoor eggs continued, mostly on the black market.
Still, Wyzett couldn't help but recall the snake in question—it had been ancient, almost withered. Why did Hagrid always call it a "lovely lady"?
"Excellent quality, very fresh! At current rates, these twenty eggs... I can offer three hundred Galleons."
In a dim corner of the apothecary, the potioneer put away his magnifying glass and lowered his voice to quote the price.
"Three hundred Galleons?" Wyzett was genuinely surprised. That was a fortune.
He'd already toured Diagon Alley, buying all manner of things, and had a decent grasp of wizarding prices by now.
By his reckoning, three hundred Galleons was worth at least ten thousand yuan—a sum that, with careful planning, would let him leave the orphanage and live on his own for a year.
"Don't think it's too little," the potioneer added, clearly practiced in such deals. "We have to process these properly, and that takes a fair bit of work."
Just then, Hagrid arrived, cauldron in hand. "We've got a signed certification from Mr. Scamander—these aren't black-market goods!"
"Hagrid?" The potioneer clearly recognized the Keeper of Keys and Grounds. "Can I see the certification?"
"Of course," Hagrid set down the cauldron and produced an envelope.
"Lumos!" Instead of lighting the envelope itself, the potioneer illuminated the tip of his wand to examine it.
Once satisfied, he handed over a finely embroidered pouch. "No problem! Here's five hundred Galleons. Who's taking the money?"
"Not so fast." Hagrid shook his head. "We still need to get all the supplies for a first-year. Deduct that from the total, will you?"
"A first-year?" The potioneer paused, then curiously moved his lit wand toward Wyzett. "You're Wyzett? The Obscurial?"
"That's me." Wyzett noticed the color drain from the man's face, leaving him as pale as the glow of his wand.
Wyzett trundled along with a small trolley, glancing back every so often.
The little cart was loaded with a cauldron, and inside it were scales and potion vials. School robes and all sorts of stationery were strapped on top.
Suddenly, he spotted a familiar figure slipping into Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour not far away. "Hagrid, did you see Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"No..." Hagrid quickly scanned the crowd. "Are you still thinking about what happened earlier?"
He added gently, "Wyzett, don't pay any mind to how people look at you. You're a good kid."
"I'm not bothered," Wyzett shook his head. "I know how dangerous an Obscurial can be. I just didn't expect everyone to know what I am."
"It's all because of The Daily Prophet! They report on this every single day!" Hagrid's voice rose with frustration. "That Rita Skeeter—she just loves making up stories and blowing things out of proportion!"
"The Daily Prophet? Rita Skeeter?" Wyzett was curious about these new names.
"Yeah, it's the most influential newspaper in the British wizarding world," Hagrid pointed ahead.
"You'll see for yourself... Actually, best not to look. That woman's words are poison!"
Flourish and Blotts—a true ocean of knowledge.
Shelves packed with books of every shape and size stretched up to the ceiling.
Some tomes were as big as paving stones, while others were tiny enough to fit in your palm.
These enchanted books seemed almost alive. Some covers had letters that danced and jumped, while entire volumes squirmed and rattled, eager to break free of their shelves.
Two shop assistants waved their wands repeatedly, coaxing the books into behaving so the shelves wouldn't collapse.
At the Lovegood home, the only reading material Wyzett had was The Quibbler.
They used to own plenty of books, but after Luna's mother's accident, those volumes vanished along with her.
It was still early, so few wizards lingered in the shop.
Wyzett wandered inside and immediately spotted The Daily Prophet in the periodicals section.
"Obscurial Wyzett Defeats XXXXX-Class Magical Creature—What Else Is He Hiding? What Is Dumbledore Really Planning?" blared the front-page headline.
Wyzett skimmed the article and finally understood why people reacted so strangely when they heard his name.
They saw him as a born Dark wizard, a walking powder keg—dangerous in the extreme.
All those descriptions came straight from the article, and the "XXXXX-Class Magical Creature" in the headline was never mentioned again—clearly just a ploy to grab attention.
"Galloping Gorgons! Rita Skeeter is a menace!" Hagrid fumed. "Headmaster Dumbledore went out of his way to keep things quiet—how does she know so much?"
"Hey! I'm here!" A wizard in black robes, head bowed, appeared at the door.
"Wyzett! I've got some errands to run!" At the sound of that voice, Hagrid perked up, his tone booming like a drum.
"Go on, then!" Wyzett was already mesmerized by the sea of books. "How should I find you later?"
"If you don't see me, just head to Ollivanders. Choosing a wand takes ages." Hagrid strode off toward the wizard. "I'll be back soon!"
Wyzett didn't think much of it. He picked up a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and settled against his cauldron.
The book was packed with fascinating information—hundreds of magical creatures from around the globe, each with vivid, moving illustrations that brought their habits to life.
Before he knew it, Wyzett had finished the entire book, his understanding of magical creatures deepening with every page.
"Hagrid's still not back..." He glanced around, but there was no sign of Hagrid inside or out.
Just then, a subtle shift occurred in his mind.
A copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them appeared in his mental library, right next to The Wizard's Practical Combat Guide.
Wyzett focused his thoughts and opened the new book in his mind.
"It's exactly the same—how is this even possible?"
Delighted, he reached for another book.
He didn't bother to parse every sentence, just skimmed through at lightning speed, determined to finish as quickly as possible.
Sure enough, another book appeared in his mind—Defensive Magical Theory.
Wyzett's eyes lit up. "So I just have to skim these books to record them in my mind?"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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