"So many?" The shopkeeper's tone was laced with surprise.
"There are a few I'm really torn about," William said, trying to negotiate. "How about three Galleons each, and I'll take them all? Otherwise, I'll have to put two of them back."
"Three Galleons is impossible," the shopkeeper replied with a generous smile. "But I can offer you a little discount. If you buy all of these, I'll throw in two more books for free. There must be a couple you had a hard time giving up, right? Pick two more, and they're yours."
Hissss--
William took a sharp breath. Merlin's socks.
He knew how much effort it had taken to put those books back earlier. Now, being offered two more felt like both a blessing and a curse; he was about to bleed his wallet dry again!
Despite the inner turmoil, William quickly dashed back into the shelves and grabbed three books he deemed essential. If he had the chance to pick two, why not push for three? He wanted them all!
When he returned, the shopkeeper gave him a knowing smile.
"Forty-four Galleons in total," the shopkeeper announced. A hefty sum.
As William counted out the Galleons one by one, he swore he could hear his money pouch weeping.
Just as he was about to leave, the shopkeeper called out to him.
"Hold on, young man. No need to rush. I've got a little something extra for you."
With a tap of his wand on a brick beneath his rocking chair, the shopkeeper reached in and pulled out a paper bag, handing it over to William.
"Take it. We don't sell these items here. They're just gifts for special visitors."
The bag was heavy. If it wasn't filled with bricks, it likely held three more books.
The shopkeeper gave him a conspiratorial wink before settling back into his chair, rocking contentedly.
William tucked the bag into his coat and used a rope, borrowed from the shopkeeper, to tie up his purchases.
With a flick of his wand, the books floated into the air. He grabbed the rope as if holding onto a balloon and waved goodbye to the shopkeeper before heading back toward the inn.
What was supposed to be a simple outing had stretched into the entire afternoon.
He had spent hours browsing random books. While he'd found some useful ones, the time and money spent felt like a significant loss.
Hopefully, Tom will lay off for a few days now and stop nagging me to go out every single day.
Although William knew Tom was only trying to keep him from feeling trapped, as if he were still imprisoned, there was no way for him to share his current emotions.
Putting aside the confidentiality agreement he'd signed with Hogwarts, even if William told Tom about the dangers awaiting him there, the old man would probably still encourage him to enjoy life in the magical world; even if it meant losing an arm or a leg. After all, in the wizarding world, such injuries weren't considered a big deal.
Even if someone did lose a limb, William, with his current skills, could brew a potion to regrow it within a week, as long as the wound wasn't tainted by dark magic or some other contamination.
This was exactly why William was determined to immerse himself in the wizarding world. Once you've seen the sea, no other water will do.
Muggle technology in the '90s was decent, but even thirty years later, it still wouldn't match what magic could achieve.
Take, for instance, the simple pursuit of immortality.
Throughout history, countless Muggles had sought eternal life. But as a self-sustaining potioneer, William knew well the pinnacle of magical achievements like alchemy and potion-making...
The Philosopher's Stone.
With the Philosopher's Stone and the right potion, one could create the Elixir of Life. And someone had actually succeeded, living for several centuries.
Unbelievable.
***
Lost in these thoughts, William made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.
By then, the pub was packed. The kitchen hadn't saved him any food, so, like the other drinkers, he'd have to wait for the late-night snacks.
"You went out to stretch your legs and ended up at a bookstore? Just to read all over again?"
Tom grumbled as he eyed the book balloons floating behind the guy. William just chuckled, then dashed upstairs.
After securing the books and hiding the paper bag, he locked the door and went back down to the bar to find a seat.
All that reading had kept him focused earlier, but now that it was over, he was parched.
He ordered two beers, downed half of one, and then slowed his pace.
"William! Haven't seen you in days. What brings you here tonight?"
The question came from a wizard whose name William couldn't remember. The man was overly friendly, and William had shared a few meaningless conversations with him when he'd stayed late for a meal.
"Been busy lately. Finally had some free time, so here I am," William replied, fabricating a story.
No one took things too seriously in a place like this, where alcohol flowed freely. People just wanted entertainment.
Tall tales paired well with drinks. No one cared how much you exaggerated. If anyone got curious enough, they could find out he lived upstairs, but clearly, no one had that much interest. They were all just here to boast.
"To your fortune!" The wizard raised his glass in a toast.
William smiled and returned the gesture, taking another swig.
"Hey, remember that unicorn you mentioned last time?"
"Of course, of course," William replied casually, racking his brain to recall what nonsense he might have spouted.
"Yeah, you said it only shows up near certain Muggles--"
He vaguely remembered saying something like that. But wasn't that just drunken rambling? Who could tell fact from fiction when it came to wizarding rumors, let alone Muggle ones?
"You know unicorn tail hair is worth a fortune, right?"
"Yeah, insanely expensive!"
"I'm telling you, I found a spot where a unicorn might be lurking. If that legend you mentioned is true, we could hit the jackpot."
This guy was clearly drunk. His story had no logic.
William sighed, playing along. "I'm busy right now. Let's do more research. Next time, for sure. Next time."
Unicorn tail hairs went for seven Galleons each, no haggling. Hunting a unicorn based on Muggle myths? What a joke!
"Come on, I'm serious. Do some research. Unicorn… hic--I really found one."
"What unicorn?"
A massive shadow suddenly loomed over William.
It was Hagrid.
He took a seat on a magically reinforced chair; miraculously, it didn't even creak.
***
Note: The price in Half-Blood Prince was ten Galleons, but wartime inflation on strategic resources seems reasonable, doesn't it?
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