Man of Archives

The journey home was peaceful. I said my goodbyes to the girls, and then my father picked me up. Slowly, I began to accept the reality that I would never return to Hogwarts as a student. If I’m being honest, I truly enjoyed my time in that ancient castle.

 

"What are your plans now?" my father asked during dinner. My mother had prepared an incredibly delicious meal, topped off with a beautiful celebratory cake to mark the end of my schooling.

 

"Getting my school diploma," I replied calmly. "After that, I’ll continue studying magical subjects."

 

"You’ve finally decided to take the exam," my mother said with a satisfied smile. "I’ve already prepared a study program for you."

 

"Yes," I nodded. "Thank you."

 

The program looked interesting. It included subjects like physics, chemistry, biology, English classical literature and language, history, and mathematics. Each subject had seven books, corresponding to each year of study.

 

The best part was that I could scan the books and send them to the Archive for analysis. I had some doubts about whether it would work with non-magical books, but I was wrong—they scanned flawlessly.

 

However, there was one issue: analyzing books from the non-magical world took longer than analyzing magical ones. But the process was underway, and that pleased me.

 

Maggie and Tamara were also proving to be quite a headache. Both kept calling and asking if I’d come over. I would have, but for now, it was more important to finish analyzing the non-magical books and prepare for my meeting with the Malfoys. The date was approaching fast. I knew what they wanted… likely to get me into bed and keep me there for at least a day. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind, if not for other pressing matters. Maybe in the future, though I should still check on Tamara.

 

Physics and chemistry turned out to be the hardest subjects for me. Math was similar to numerology and arithmancy, though I’d say it was easier since there was no need to factor in magical quirks like the phase of the moon or time of day. English, literature, and biology were also fairly simple subjects. In general, as they say in this world, "The devil is not as frightening as he's painted." The local school turned out to be quite manageable for me.

 

The exam registration went through the Ministry of Magic. I could have registered through the regular Ministry of Education, but the problem was that the diploma would have been plain, without a prestigious name. However, through the Ministry of Magic, I could choose a diploma from one of England’s most renowned private schools.

 

After discussing it with my mother, who works as a teacher, I chose Queen Ethelburga's College. It’s one of the best schools, producing the future elite of the country. It seemed like the perfect fit for me.

 

The exam application cost fifty galleons. Without hesitation, I paid and waited for the exam date. Since I applied through the Ministry of Magic, everything was arranged surprisingly quickly. I believe my master’s ring played a role in speeding things up, which I didn’t bother to hide during registration.

 

I’d become quite a topic of interest in the magical world of England. The first newspaper I received after returning home had my portrait splashed across the front page of The Daily Prophet. It was surprising how the journalists managed to take the photo without me noticing.

 

"The youngest Master of Transfiguration of this generation" was the headline. Following that was a lengthy biography about me, with a special emphasis on my victory at the Olympiad. There were pictures of me interacting with other participants or dueling.

 

Now, all of England that reads the paper knows of my achievement. I’m sure it’s being discussed in other countries as well, since a Master from the Guild would receive various honors abroad—unless traveling incognito, of course.

 

The exam on non-magical subjects went by quickly… almost too quickly, I’d say. I scored top marks and received my official diploma the next day. The official results of my N.E.W.T.s hadn’t even arrived yet, and I already had a diploma from a Muggle school. Their efficiency was surprising.

 

In general, non-magical knowledge is both fascinating and useful. Physics, in particular, stood out because it described natural phenomena. Immediately, I had ideas and questions I wanted answers to, but I held off, making notes in my journal so I wouldn’t forget them later.

 

The second celebration was a bit more crowded, as my mother had invited some of her relatives. They were eager to boast about their son, who had graduated from a prestigious school with distinction. It brought them great joy, and I learned they had been bragging to their friends, showing off how "advanced" their relative was. No one asked about my future plans, respecting my right to choose in my own time—if I wanted to share, that is.

 

But those were mundane matters. Magical affairs, on the other hand, were gaining momentum, especially for me. Isolde had left for Ireland to study under a Charms master. She could have studied with her father, but I understand why that might not have been the most appealing option. Nymphadora, meanwhile, was already attending the Auror Academy, and I was genuinely happy for her.

 

For my meeting with the Malfoys, I purchased an expensive but very comfortable robe in Diagon Alley. Of course, it needed some additional enchantments to make it even more comfortable. I’m sure that with master-level knowledge, I could transform the robe into something extraordinary. But for now, it’s just a well-enchanted, apprentice-level robe, in my opinion.

 

Early one morning, I spotted a Ministry owl perched on my windowsill, curiously surveying the room. After letting it in, I received a hefty letter from the Ministry. The owl hooted and flew off. Inside the letter were my N.E.W.T. diploma, with "Outstanding" grades, and a certificate of completion from Hogwarts. I could now officially consider this chapter of my life closed.

 

I prepared seriously for the meeting with the Malfoys, knowing it wouldn’t be just a friendly chat. It was a meeting with someone who wielded significant influence in magical Britain. Rumor has it that the Malfoys also hold considerable power in the non-magical world.

 

I wore a black robe—excellent and very comfortable. I decided against wearing a hat, even though it’s part of traditional gentleman’s attire. I added a few artifacts and enchantments to boost my confidence. Finally, I adorned myself with a silver brooch, a gift from my grandmother. The brooch, shaped like a bee with amber eyes, was exquisitely crafted. I had laid a few spells on it but was considering ways to make it even more useful.

 

I Apparated to the designated coordinates—a small, green meadow. The arrival point was surrounded by large stones, shielding it from view. But as soon as I stepped out, I noticed several excellent vantage points where someone could easily observe new arrivals.

 

After taking a few steps, a house-elf appeared before me, dressed in a gray, dirty tunic. Its large eyes looked at me with submission and quiet resignation, as though expecting death. One of its ears was almost completely torn off, healed with a nasty scar. Its long fingers bore cuts and marks from severe burns. This must be a very devoted, perhaps even fanatical, elf.

 

"Good day, kind sir," the elf spoke first. "You must be Master Timothy Jody?"

 

"That’s right," I replied.

 

"Allow me, Quinpy, to take you to the masters' home."

 

"Lead the way," I nodded.

 

The elf approached, took hold of the edge of my robe, and transported us. The movement was smooth, and I’d say, rather convenient. We found ourselves in front of a mansion with a large summer terrace on the second floor. Green plants cascaded down from it, though I couldn’t identify them. Judging by their menacing aura, they didn’t seem harmless.

 

Quinpy led me inside and handed me over to a tall man with an indifferent expression. I subtly probed with my mental skills and detected a flicker of interest. It wasn’t a direct attack—or even an attack at all—but it was enough to make me relax slightly.

 

The Malfoy country estate wasn’t as small as I’d expected. Two floors with a spacious reception room. It wasn’t large enough for grand gatherings or balls, but I assumed it could host a small party or two.

 

The Malfoys greeted me at the stairs leading to the second floor. Lucius Malfoy immediately stood out, observing me with mild interest and a faintly appraising gaze. His eyes skimmed over my clothing, clearly drawing some conclusions. He was dressed in a dark-gray robe with green patterns that shimmered with golden threads. His hair was slicked back, nearly plastered, and his face was meticulously groomed—no one could have such pale skin without some cosmetic enhancement. In his hand was the familiar cane that likely housed his wand.

 

In general, canes were a popular way to carry wands during the period between the First and Second World Wars. The World Wars and the involvement of wizards hold a notable place in the historiography of the magical world. However, after the wars, new holsters and methods for carrying wands emerged, considered more ergonomic and practical. Rumor has it that Albus Dumbledore developed the prototype for the modern wand holster. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know, as I never really cared about the topic.

 

Narcissa Malfoy, standing slightly behind her husband, looked divine. A light summer dress hugged her stunning figure, revealing just enough to stir the imagination. Her light makeup only enhanced her natural beauty. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind having such a woman. But… for now, it seems I’m only destined for situations where I’d ask, "What just happened?" I'd prefer to avoid that kind of extremity.

 

And then, there was Draco Malfoy. The boy was dressed in the latest fashion, wearing the most expensive clothes money could buy. But what stood out most was the genuine surprise on his face. It seemed someone had told him about a meeting with the youngest master in England. If he read the newspapers, he would have already known about me. But clearly, he hadn’t, and now he stood there, looking at his parents in disbelief.

 

"Mr. Jody, it’s a pleasure to meet you," Lucius Malfoy said. "At last, I can introduce myself to the youngest Transfiguration Master."

 

"I’m pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Malfoy," I replied, returning the greeting. We both gave slight bows, following proper etiquette.

 

"You’re already familiar with my wife, but as a courteous host, I must formally introduce her to you," Lucius said, gesturing toward his wife. "Narcissa Malfoy."

 

"Nice to meet you," I said with a pleasant smile, nodding at her.

 

"And this is my son, Draco Malfoy," she said, gesturing toward her son.

 

"Young Malfoy," I nodded at him. "Glad to see you in good health."

 

"Thank you, Master Jody," Draco replied, adhering to proper etiquette.

 

"Let’s not stand here," Lucius said. "I invite you to our veranda, where the finest chefs have prepared their masterpieces."

 

"Thank you," I nodded.

 

Lucius escorted me, not forgetting to point out his various treasures along the way—paintings and other ornaments, all displayed with impeccable taste. It was clear that a woman's touch had been involved. I wondered if it was Narcissa or someone else?

 

We reached the veranda through a long corridor. When we stepped outside, I saw a table set for four, complete with silverware and a covered dish in the center. There were a few salads and something else that caught my eye.

 

"Please, have a seat," Lucius gestured.

 

Once everyone was seated, a familiar butler appeared, placing a few additional dishes as well as a bottle of wine and some other liquor. I didn’t need to be asked twice to serve myself, especially since the hosts were doing the same.

 

"How are you, Mr. Jody?" Lucius inquired. "What are you currently working on?"

 

"Hmm," I mused. "Everything is fine. I’m currently planning my next journey."

 

"You’re planning to travel?" Narcissa asked, her interest piqued. "Have you already chosen which countries?"

 

"It’s going to be a round-the-world trip," I replied after a moment's thought. "There are many fascinating places I’d like to visit."

 

"A round-the-world trip," Malfoy echoed. "And when do you plan to depart?"

 

"That’s a good question," I said, drawing out the words. I hadn’t made any concrete plans yet. "I think I’ll start somewhere in Europe. Perhaps Italy."

 

"Italy is a wonderful country," Narcissa remarked, then turned to Lucius. "Remember, you promised we’d go there?"

 

"I’ve told you several times that I don’t have time for that," Lucius replied with a hint of exasperation. It seemed this was a topic the lady of the house brought up whenever she had the chance.

 

"Hmph," Narcissa huffed. "Mr. Jody, would you bring me some souvenirs from Italy?"

 

"Of course," I nodded. "No problem at all."

 

"Thank you," she smiled. "By the way, I’ve heard you have a great relationship with the Marigold heiress."

 

"Yes, we’re very good friends," I nodded again, sensing a subtle trap but unsure of its nature.

 

"Of course," Narcissa smiled slyly.

 

"Tsk," Lucius clicked his tongue. "Mr. Jody, do you have any academic plans moving forward?"

 

"Certainly," I nodded at him.

 

They expected me to elaborate on my plans, but I wasn’t about to reveal my intentions of earning titles in other disciplines. My first choice was Charms because it’s both simple and complex at the same time. I still don’t know all the levels of knowledge I need to master to earn the Master title, but I don’t think it will be too difficult. I’ll need to write to Headmaster Dumbledore for further consultation. I’m sure he’ll be happy to guide me on what I need to do to achieve my goal. Will my world tour interfere? Not much, honestly, as I’ll be stopping in various places and continuing to train and improve my skills.

 

"How’s the food?" Narcissa asked, breaking the pause.

 

"Oh, the chefs have truly outdone themselves," I said, extending the compliment. "It’s fantastic. I especially liked how the chicken was prepared."

 

"Of course, they’re the best chefs in England," Narcissa replied proudly.

 

"Have you already decided on a topic for your research?" Lucius asked. "I’m always interested in new directions in magic."

 

"Well, I’ve been considering a few possibilities," I answered vaguely. The idea for my thesis had come to me, influenced by the new knowledge I’d gained from non-magical sciences, but I wasn’t quite sure how to apply it to magic yet. I’d need to think it over, just as I needed to consider how best to study the Philosopher’s Stone. So far, I hadn’t had the chance to dive into it more thoroughly. "But I don’t have a direct plan of action yet."

 

"You see," Lucius began, "some time ago, I established a special fund to support masters of various guilds in their research toward earning a Magister title. Should you have the need, you’re always welcome to reach out to me, and the fund will finance your studies."

 

"Thank you," I nodded. This method of working was common in academic circles. And, of course, such research often had a direct beneficiary. For example, once I received the funds, Malfoy could start requesting data and information on the subject. I wasn’t interested in that for the time being. "I’ll keep that in mind."

 

The conversation paused as the plates vanished, replaced by dessert. It was vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate shavings and strawberry sauce. It looked and smelled divine!

 

"This ice cream is made with milk voluntarily given by a unicorn mare," Malfoy informed me.

 

"I’m impressed," I said after taking the first spoonful. The ice cream was delicious. No, it was more than that—it was heavenly. I don’t think any other ice cream could ever compare to this. "It’s truly, devilishly good."

 

"And expensive," Malfoy chuckled. "But Narcissa enjoys it, so… why not, right?"

 

"Of course," I agreed simply.

 

The conversation didn’t touch on any more important or interesting topics after that. It was mostly an exchange of thoughts on various events. For the most part, I listened, as I couldn’t form an opinion on topics I knew little about, nor could I comment on rumors if I hadn’t heard them or didn’t know the people involved.

 

Overall, I had an excellent time. After lunch, I joined the Malfoys for a small game of Quidditch. The teams rotated, giving me a chance to play with Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco. The most active—and perhaps the best—player among us was Draco. They had a full set of Nimbus 2000s, subtly hinting at their wealth.

 

I even witnessed Draco pleading with his father for the new broomstick model, the Nimbus 2001, which was due to be released in August. After the game, we had a small snack before saying our goodbyes.

 

The return home was peaceful and uneventful. My parents were out, leaving the house entirely to me. So, I decided to make the most of my time and begin the preliminary analysis of the Philosopher’s Stone.

 

The Philosopher’s Stone wasn’t large; it fit comfortably in the palm of my hand. Its color was blood red, with a shiny coating. The sensations the stone gave off were varied, but one thing was certain—it was a treasure worth killing for.

 

During my time at Hogwarts, I had uploaded and analyzed a book on how to use the stone. It wasn’t even a formal book but a journal kept by two people: Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald remains imprisoned, though I suspect he could escape if he truly wanted to. But that’s none of my concern.

 

Enhancement through the stone is possible, and that’s what I plan to explore. The first version of the potion was taken by Grindelwald, which left a mark on his appearance—turning him into a figure with white hair, heterochromatic eyes, and a face pale as white paint. Dumbledore learned from his friend's mistakes and brewed a potion that no longer caused such bodily changes. However, there were still some side effects, such as slightly dulled taste buds. This immediately explained his fondness for lemon drops. Such side effects didn’t appeal to me.

 

Fortunately, Dumbledore had conducted further research and improved the final formula, which, according to his calculations, should have almost no side effects. The only caveat was that the potion could only be used once in a lifetime. Both Dumbledore and Grindelwald had come to this realization after initially hoping to grow stronger quickly. But it didn’t work out as they had anticipated.

 

The journal also contained some rare spells that would be perfect for my personal research of the stone, but not only that. I’m not particularly interested in immortality at the moment, but enhancement, even if only temporary, is my main goal.

 

First, I needed to recalculate all the formulas and optimize them. More precise calculations would lead to better final results. That’s what I set out to do. A calculator and a large notebook became my companions until evening. With the formulas already laid out, it was easy to plug in the right numbers, and the results were intriguing. According to my precise calculations, some ingredients needed to be used in slightly larger quantities, while others in smaller amounts. A few grams here and there made all the difference, as did the temperature.

 

After going over the theory, I encountered the issue of not having the necessary tools and ingredients. Fortunately, that wasn’t a huge problem. I just needed to buy them according to the list. Dumbledore and Grindelwald had done excellent work, allowing me to build on their research.

 

That night, I returned to analyzing the books I had uploaded during my time at Hogwarts, expanding my knowledge base.

 

The next morning, I was surprised to see a familiar owl. It had been a while since I’d last seen it. Letting it in, I retrieved the letter and poured some food into a small dish. The owl pecked at the grains, making a clacking sound.

 

The letter was from Broc Tannerberry, inviting me to meet with him to discuss an interesting and important project. Of course, the hunter didn’t say this outright, but the offer was implied between the lines. He congratulated me on achieving the Master title and mentioned that he had never doubted I could do it. It was a show of respect and a subtle nod to etiquette.

 

I replied with my acceptance, mentioning when I was available. The owl gave me a plaintive look, as if to say, "Why me? Leave me alone. I just want to rest." But still, it flew silently out the window, disappearing into the morning sunlight.

 

I went out for a light walk around the neighborhood to reflect on what I hoped to gain from my round-the-world trip. Why was I embarking on it? The answer was simple: to expand my knowledge, see something new, and gain a deeper understanding of the world. There are many fascinating approaches to magic that could prove useful in situations where traditional wand-based magic might not be suitable.

 

For many Hogwarts graduates, their round-the-world trip begins in London and ends in New York. After that, they return the same way. The Atlantic Ocean is notorious for being particularly dangerous for wizards. The monsters that inhabit it are beyond imagination. Traveling by non-magical means is seen as a sign of weakness among wizards, and sea monsters of various sizes don’t take kindly to such trickery. Wizards who attempt this are often cursed by these creatures with afflictions as severe as those of unicorns. However, those who cross the Atlantic even once are considered experienced and powerful wizards, as the ocean leaves its mark. Some wear that mark visibly, while others do not. Afterward, subsequent crossings become much easier—it’s just a matter of time.

 

Back home, I returned to analyzing the books I had uploaded from Hogwarts. Broc’s response didn’t take long, which pleased me, but it also indicated that the meeting was important to him. The time for our "meeting" was set for the next day at the Leaky Cauldron at ten in the morning. Additionally, the letter mentioned that the Hunter’s Guild was offering me a one-time contract, as a Master of Transfiguration, with a substantial payment of five hundred galleons.

 

I replied with my acceptance. Extra money never hurts.

 

The next day was cloudy. Gray clouds covered the sky, obscuring the blue from view. Even the sun seemed dim and unremarkable. Apparating to Diagon Alley, I calmly walked into the Leaky Cauldron and immediately spotted Broc.

 

The hunter saw me as well and stood up, waving. A bright smile spread across his face. Sitting next to him was a boy of about sixteen, watching me with great interest—probably Broc’s new apprentice.

 

"Hello, Broc," I greeted him. "Good to see you."

 

"And you, Timothy," he replied, shaking my hand firmly. "Allow me to introduce my apprentice, Antonin Quegmaier. Tony, this is Timothy Jody."

 

"Nice to meet you," I nodded at him but didn’t extend my hand. The boy didn’t seem to mind, as he didn’t offer his either.

 

"Take a seat. Would you like anything?" Broc asked eagerly.

 

"Tea will be fine," I nodded.

 

The hunter quickly ordered mint tea and some sweets. There’s nothing better for a light conversation than tea with desserts. Some might say alcohol, but I’m not a big fan of strong drinks.

 

"It’s amazing how much you’ve progressed in skill and rank since we last spoke," Broc said with respect.

 

"Yeah," I replied. "Constant hard work and a bit of luck."

 

And, of course, the Archive, though I wasn’t about to share that detail with anyone, ever.

 

"Learn, Tony," Broc said, nodding toward his apprentice. The boy subtly rolled his eyes. Emotionally, I could sense his deep interest in interacting with a master, even though he hadn’t spoken a word yet. "Patience and hard work will get you far. If something isn’t working, you just need to work harder. It’s simple—not like your uncle’s approach."

 

"Are you two related?" I asked, ignoring the boy’s sour expression.

 

"He’s my nephew," Broc waved his hand dismissively. "But never mind that. I read your response saying you’re ready to take on the Guild’s task today. Is that still the case?"

 

"Yes," I nodded. "But the letter didn’t specify exactly what the job entails."

 

"I don’t know all the details myself," Broc admitted, "but I do know that you’ll need to transfigure some kind of training aid. The old one’s fallen into disrepair."

 

"Alright," I nodded as the tea was brought to us. "We’ll see what needs to be done. By the way, Broc, I read in the paper that you fought against some cult of dark wizards."

 

Broc’s face darkened slightly. This topic wasn’t an easy one for him.

 

"Tsk, yeah," he said with a sigh. "That was a Ministry contract, specifically from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We spent a month investigating alongside the Department of Mysteries, the DMLE, and the Aurors. It was a massacre."

 

"But what kind of cult was it?" I asked, perplexed. "Who were they worshiping?"

 

"I don’t have the full picture," Broc said. "But I know they were worshiping some demon in hopes of gaining more power. If I’m not mistaken, the demon’s name was Archimonde… something like that. The only thing I’m sure of is that the area is now off-limits to all wizards except employees of the Department of Mysteries."

 

"Amazing," I commented. "Fighting demon worshipers must have been quite an experience."

 

"An experience I could’ve done without," Broc chuckled bitterly. "I only survived thanks to an artifact I found during my travels."

 

"Incredible," was all I could say. "I saw in the photos that they had some strange magic. Is that true?"

 

"Yes," Broc nodded gravely. "It’s hard to describe."

 

We talked a bit more about that operation and then discussed the latest news among hunters. Broc shared information with me freely, but this couldn’t go on forever—we still had work to do.

 

We headed to the Guild building, where I was immediately greeted and asked to sign a contract. The contract outlined in more detail what needed to be done, as well as the payment I would receive. It was just as Broc had said: I was to transfigure a training aid for one of the Guild’s most famous monsters—a troll. While I wasn’t overly familiar with troll anatomy, I had enough knowledge to get by. Fortunately, they had a troll in a cage on one of the lower floors. Using a spell to scan the creature’s organs, I was ready to begin the task.

 

I was directed to a workspace where the training aid was set up, along with some basic specifications. Transfiguring the troll wasn’t easy, as I had to create each organ separately and then transfigure the ability to extract certain parts of the body.

 

The whole process took about seven hours. I must have sweated ten buckets, but overall, it was a fascinating experience. Plus, I managed to practice a few spells.

 

"Excellent," I exhaled, adding the final touch.

 

"Superb," Broc said, having been present throughout my work. His apprentice was there too, watching with wide-eyed fascination as the troll’s body appeared on the blank space. The senior hunter inspected the work and nodded approvingly. "A fantastic job."

 

I was issued a check for five hundred galleons. It was still a good sum, but for a job like that, I should have charged more. I should have asked more questions beforehand about the exact nature of the task.

 

"Thank you," I said, pocketing the check. "If you have any more offers in the future, I’d be happy to take them. Though, the price will be a bit higher."

 

"Heh-heh," Broc chuckled with mild embarrassment, realizing they had "shortchanged" me. Or rather, I had allowed them to fool me by not inquiring in detail about the task.

 

"Well, take care."

 

I cashed the check at Gringotts, immediately paying a ten percent tax. Fifty galleons gone right off the bat. Another fifty went to the Guild tax. In the end, only four hundred galleons made it to my account. I kept the payment receipts. If any questions or audits come up in the future, I’ll just show them, and that’ll be that.

 

Yes, members of the Transfiguration Guild also pay a ten percent Guild tax if the contract is made directly between the client and the transfigurator. If the contract is through the Guild itself, the tax is deducted upfront. Sometimes, direct contracts turn out to be cheaper for the client.

 

The next thing I did was buy some supplies for my journey. Yes, a wizard can live almost anywhere. A master can live comfortably almost anywhere. But that’s still not quite the same, because if something goes wrong, comfort can quickly turn into discomfort.

 

For my journey, I needed a tent-house, a bag with extended space, and a few additional artifacts. Bags with extended space come in all sizes. The most expensive ones can hold space equivalent to dozens of square kilometers. These are very popular among the most renowned magical creature researchers. Rumor has it that Newt Scamander’s bag housed an entire zoo of various magical creatures he collected during his youth. I didn’t need that much space, but having room for a lab and a few other rooms would be handy.

 

A tent-house is an essential artifact for travelers, allowing them to set up almost anywhere without worrying about bad weather, regular people, or animals. Protection from magical creatures would have to be cast separately. I already had one such artifact, but I wanted a bit more space and a few additional comforts. Those comforts included plumbing, sewage, and other things that improve the quality of life.

 

The next items I decided to purchase were tools for working with the Philosopher’s Stone, as well as tools for brewing potions. In addition, I bought a variety of ingredients that might be needed for various potions. Those four hundred galleons I earned disappeared as if they had never been there.

 

Returning home, I noticed a car in the yard that I didn’t recognize. Interesting... had my parents invited someone over?

 

Entering the house, I immediately saw three pairs of shoes. Two belonged to adults, one to a teenager.

 

"Timothy, is that you?" my mother called out.

 

"Yes," I replied.

 

Kicking off my shoes, I walked into the living room and saw the Grangers. Hermione was sitting with her parents at the table. My father and mother were on the other side. There was an empty spot next to them, clearly left for me.

 

"Good afternoon," I greeted them. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Hello, Hermione."

 

"Ah, Timothy," her father, the dentist, replied. "Good to see you. How are you doing?"

 

"Not bad," I said. "Just got back from Diagon Alley."

 

"Oh," he nodded. It seemed Hermione had told her parents quite a bit about the magical world. There’s nothing illegal about that, but of course, not everything.

 

My mother had made something delicious, so I didn’t hesitate to help myself to some food. I later learned that my parents had been socializing with Hermione’s parents more often, especially after I introduced them to the magical world and took Hermione around the shops in Diagon Alley. There was nothing wrong with that.

 

Afterward, Hermione and I went for a walk. Or rather, I walked her around the neighborhood, answering her endless questions about the magical world. The girl was as curious and eager to learn as ever, especially when it came to house-elves, about whom she knew very little.

 

"But why do wizards keep them as slaves?" she asked.

 

"Because they were created for that," I answered simply. "Actually, no… they weren’t created. They appeared naturally in places rich in magical power. Such places are often owned by wizards and other magical races."

 

"Then house-elves are native to such magical places?" she asked. "They should be free, though, since wizards also use those magical places."

 

"What if it’s the wizard who created the magical place?" I asked her. "What then?"

 

Hermione fell silent, unable to answer that.

 

"I still think they should be free," she insisted.

 

"When you meet them, I think you’ll change your mind about them."

 

"Why?" Hermione asked again.

 

"Because they can’t exist without wizards," I replied. "Other races, like goblins, consider house-elves parasites and kill them without a second thought. Centaurs don’t like them either and drive them away from their lands, which means a slow, painful death. For trolls, house-elves are just a tasty snack. In fact, for many magical races, house-elves are either food, competitors, or simply dirt underfoot that needs to be wiped out."

 

"Then we need to teach them and explain that they shouldn’t treat other sentient beings that way," Hermione suggested naively.

 

"I’d love to see you try telling that to the goblins," I smirked. "Have you already learned about the goblin wars in History of Magic?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then think about what goblins will do if wizards show up on their territory and start imposing their own rules…" I said calmly. "They’ll probably just throw those wizards into a pot as an extra snack. Or maybe there’ll be another war. It’s that simple."

 

"But why?" Hermione asked.

 

"You can’t apply the norms of the non-magical world to wizards and magical creatures," I explained with a sigh. "What seems barbaric to any non-magical person is the norm for a wizard. When you’re in the magical world, forget about the rules of the non-magical world. They’ll only get in your way."

 

"I still don’t agree," Hermione stubbornly replied.

 

"Live a little in the magical world, and you’ll understand," I shrugged.