"I'll see," Ryan murmured as he picked up the two cases and stepped out of his room.
The wood creaked under his steps as he descended the stairs. The house was quiet, except for a female voice drifting from the sitting room.
"The Principle of Gamp, Joseph, isn't just some arbitrary theory. It's a boundary structure of what can be conjured. What you're suggesting breaks the essential foundation: transformation cannot create true substance where there is no origin."
"And yet," replied his uncle Joseph, who, though a Squib, was an expert in magical theory, "they manage to conjure fire. Doesn't that contradict your sacred principle?"
Ryan smiled. He had found them right in the middle of one of their favorite debates: Transfiguration and the theoretical limits of magic.
His mother, standing by the window with a cup of coffee floating at her side as if it were an extension of her arm, turned her head slightly when she saw him enter.
"Oh, the young magnate," she remarked, one brow raised, giving him a slight bow. "Have you come to offer us shares in your quill company?"
"For the moment, I'm a closed corporation…" Ryan replied with mock solemnity. "Today I've come to make you my official guinea pigs."
"What an honor," said Joseph, folding his arms with a small smile. "Are you giving us another quill? I saw you were selling peacock ones, very expensive. I'd like one of those exclusives."
"Mmm, no. What I've brought you today is much better than a quill that writes in the air," Ryan answered with a mysterious smile.
"Oh? And what is it? Go on then, young businessman," said Iris, curious.
Ryan placed the two cases on the oak coffee table in front of them.
Both looked at him, then at the cases. Iris was the first to take hers and open it.
A light silence spread.
"Glasses?" asked Joseph as he opened his as well. "Are you calling us blind? We're still young."
"They're not for correcting vision. They're Quick-Reading Glasses. They increase reading speed, maintain clarity, and reduce eye strain. And yes, they work. I tested them," said Ryan.
Iris took hers out, analyzing every detail. The design was fine, elegant, professional. She touched the arm and noticed the runes on the frame.
She frowned. "Are those… runes?"
Joseph examined his pair as well. "They don't look decorative. What did you do, engrave them with magic?"
"Yes," Ryan said without hesitation, though without going into detail. "Let's just say… this time it wasn't only enchantments. The quills were simpler. These glasses required precision, resilience, stability. The structure of the object needed to hold the spell. The runes help with that."
"But you inscribed them?" Iris asked again, looking up at him. "Personally?"
Ryan nodded, arms crossed. "With patience. And many mistakes."
"This is… unusual," Joseph muttered, studying the frames closely. "At Hogwarts, Ancient Runes is completely theoretical. Translation, cultural interpretation, magical semantics… Nobody professor how to inscribe runes. That's the work of a runemaster."
"Well," said Ryan, arching a brow with theatrical flair, "I must tell you… I discovered the lost legacy of an ancient runemaster, hidden in a crypt guarded by mythological magical creatures. It was a perilous journey, but I emerged alive… and with forbidden knowledge."
Iris stared at him in silence for two seconds. Then simply shook her head. "Idiot."
"Thanks," he replied with a slight bow, still with arms crossed.
Joseph chuckled under his breath as he continued examining the runes. "So you're not going to tell us how you really did it, are you?"
"A magician never reveals his secrets," Ryan said with a faint smile.
Iris put the glasses on and murmured something softly, almost to herself.
Ryan looked at her and said, "Your pair has silver detailing because I know you hate gold."
"I noticed. Thank you," said Iris, raising her gaze and smiling.
Ryan had made the runes invisible on the quills because it was easier that way, and it meant he didn't have to explain much about how he knew how to inscribe runes.
The glasses, however, were more fragile, more expensive, and the process slower. Adding another step to make the runes less visible was risky and could ruin everything. So he left them visible.
He couldn't hide forever from his family the fact that what he was really doing was a mix of rune inscriptions and enchantments.
Joseph already had his on, examining the inside of the frame with a blend of curiosity and fascination.
"Do they work immediately?" he asked, turning toward his sister.
"There's only one way to find out," Iris replied, walking toward the bookshelf.
She pulled down one of the volumes on advanced Transfiguration and opened it to a dense page full of annotations, heavy theory, and explanations almost illegible to the average reader.
Joseph grabbed an identical copy.
"On the count of three," he said, sitting beside her with a competitive smile.
"You're really going to turn this into a race?" Iris asked, one eyebrow raised.
"As if you could resist."
Ryan watched from the back of the armchair, amused.
"One… two… three."
They both began to read. Within ten seconds the difference was obvious. Iris had already turned the first page while Joseph was moving nearly twice as fast as usual. Their eyes flowed smoothly, without pauses or regressions. The lines seemed to slip by as if dictated directly into their ears. Even their facial expressions sharpened, more focused.
"Merlin…," Joseph muttered, already on the second page. "This is insane. It's like the words arrange themselves!"
"And it's not just faster reading, the comprehension is there too… Ryan!" Iris said, astonished.
"Yeah," Ryan replied, playing with his personal quill that cost around twenty galleons. "It works, doesn't it?"
"This is worth a fortune!" Joseph exclaimed. "If you sold these…"
"I know," Ryan said, not looking up. "But I'm not sure yet. They're more expensive to make than the quills. And more delicate. I can't make five a day. I barely managed these three over several days, and after plenty of failed attempts."
"How much did they cost you?" Iris asked, removing the glasses carefully.
"The frames, about four galleons each. Though since these were gifts for you, I bought the nicer ones. The custom lenses, three galleons each. Then the clarity enchantment, the resilience enchantment, and the runes… that price was time and frustration. A lot of frustration."
"Worth it," Joseph said, cleaning his glasses on the hem of his robe. For him, being able to read twice as fast without even needing magic made them invaluable.
Ryan looked at them in silence, and for a moment, his smile softened. "I'm glad you liked them," he said, with an honesty he rarely showed without a mask of sarcasm.
"We loved them," Iris corrected, looking straight at him. "This isn't just a gift. It's a work. And a sign that you're growing… fast."
"Very fast," Joseph added, with that blend of pride and mild concern only adults who've raised a gifted child can understand.
Ryan shrugged, then suddenly straightened with dramatic flair.
"Prepare yourselves…" he declared, raising his arms as if delivering a prophecy, "for in a few years the Ollivanders won't just be wandmakers. We'll be magnates! Magnates, I say! The Blacks? The Malfoys? Pfft! They'll line up for our products, beg for an appointment, and even then their fortunes won't be enough to pay for what our creations will be worth."
Joseph chuckled softly and settled into the armchair. "Iris, I think you've raised a little dictator of magical commerce."
"I was going to say precocious entrepreneur, but yes, that works too," she replied with a sly smile.
"Now seriously," Ryan continued, lowering his tone a bit though the spark of amusement in his eyes remained, "don't show these glasses to the grandparents, all right?"
"Why not?" Joseph asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because Grandmother will demand a pair with dark violet frames, golden edges, explosion resistance, and then claim I don't value her unless I present them with a ribbon on top."
"True," Iris murmured.
"And Grandfather… he'd immediately start interrogating me about how I inscribed the runes, though of course, he'd also want his own pair. Which might be my first real sale…" Ryan said, hand on his chin in mock contemplation, as if weighing whether enduring Garrick's artisan-to-artisan questioning was worth it.
Joseph and Iris shook their heads. Ryan would be the only grandchild bold enough to charge his own grandfather. Then again, Garrick respected that sort of thing, and would pay, if he found the object useful for his daily life.
"So what you're saying is…" Joseph began.
"That I don't have any more units right now, and I don't want diplomatic incidents at tonight's family dinner," Ryan finished.
The two of them laughed and agreed. Tonight was Ryan's last evening before returning to Hogwarts, and the family was gathering for a farewell dinner.
The moment lingered a few seconds. Then his mother looked at him with a mix of tenderness and pride. And something else—a shadow of nostalgia.
"You're leaving tomorrow…" she said softly.
"Yes. Academic stress awaits me," Ryan replied.
Iris smiled, but said nothing more. She only brushed his shoulder gently before standing up.
Evening fell slowly, and by the time the sun had set, the warm lights of the dining room were already glowing. The aroma of baked bread and stew filled the house.
Ryan entered the dining room in a black shirt, open at the collar, his school robes draped loosely, faint ink stains still clinging to his fingers. Garrick was already seated at the head of the table, as always. Margaret, upright as though she were a queen from another century, oversaw the alignment of the silverware. Iris set the plates with Joseph's help, and the room carried that soft hum of home, spoons clinking, quiet conversation, the crackle of candle flames.
"The magnate arrives," Joseph declared solemnly as soon as he saw him. "Lord of quills, future scourge of every schoolchild's wallet."
"Thank you, Uncle," Ryan shot back. "You could be my personal assistant, managing my packed schedule. I'll need someone to remind me to eat between one invention and the next."
"Only if I get a percentage," Joseph replied, clapping him on the shoulder as he sat down.
Ryan greeted his grandparents with a slight nod. "Grandmother. Grandfather."
Margaret merely inclined her head with dignity. Garrick, as always, said nothing, but the fleeting glint in his gray eyes was enough.
Dinner passed in a warm haze. They laughed, shared old stories, and for one night, sarcasm became disguised affection. The conversation drifted between jokes, subtle praise, and the kind of technical remarks only a family like the Ollivanders could enjoy.
Later, in his room, Ryan closed his trunk with a soft click. Everything was ready.
His owl slept peacefully in its cage. His fifth-year textbooks were neatly stacked, his robes clean and folded, his wand resting in its personal case. He had triple-checked the inventory: parchment, quills, ink, cauldron, potion ingredients. All high quality, all in order.
He also carried his small stock of leftover enchanted quills, intending to sell them at Hogwarts. He wouldn't need an official pitch. He only had to wait for his previous customers to use them in their common rooms, in class… The quills would handle the rest. Free publicity.
And he would be there. To close the deals in person. Without middlemen.
He smiled to himself as he put out the lamp.
Tomorrow he was finally going back to Hogwarts.
Though truthfully… for the first time, he was really going to Hogwarts.
...
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