"Runespoor eggs", Hagrid announced proudly, holding the orange-red patterned spheres in his massive hands. "Remember that snake from before? That little cutie was a lady — big as she was!"
Vizet wasn't quite sure how to respond to Hagrid's description of the terrifying creature as a "little cutie," but he nodded politely, letting Hagrid continue.
"Professor McGonagall made sure you were compensated properly after everything you went through," Hagrid added with a reassuring smile. "She also wanted to make sure you don't have to worry anymore — nobody's coming after you again."
Among magical creatures, Runespoors were particularly unique. Known for laying eggs through their mouths, they were highly prized for their potent effects. When used as an ingredient in potions, the eggs could enhance a wizard's ability to think quickly — a trait in high demand.
Unfortunately, this demand had pushed the Runespoor to the brink of extinction, prompting the wizarding community to establish a protected reserve in its native Burkina Faso. Despite this, illegal trading of the eggs persisted, mostly confined to the black market.
Vizet glanced at the eggs skeptically, recalling the giant snake that nearly ended his life. He struggled to reconcile that terrifying creature with Hagrid's affectionate term, "cute lady."
In the dim corner of the apothecary, the potion master examined the eggs under a magnifying glass. After a few minutes, he straightened and spoke in a hushed tone. "These are of excellent quality — fresh, too. I can offer 300 Galleons for the lot."
"300 Galleons?" Vizet's eyes widened in astonishment. He had spent the morning walking through Diagon Alley, gaining a rough understanding of wizarding prices, and this sum felt staggering.
In his previous life's terms, 300 Galleons was equivalent to more than 7,000 pounds. With careful budgeting, that kind of money could support him for a year.
"Don't think it's too little," the potion master said, sensing Vizet's surprise. "Processing and cleaning these takes time and skill, not to mention the risk involved."
At that moment, Hagrid arrived, balancing a massive cauldron under one arm. "We've got Mr. Scamander's certification for these eggs," Hagrid declared. "They're no black-market goods!"
The potion master squinted. "Hagrid? Really? Can I see the certification?"
"Of course!" Hagrid placed the cauldron down with a loud clang and pulled an envelope from his pocket.
"Lumos Revelare" muttered the potion master, the tip of his wand illuminating to inspect the parchment. After careful examination, he nodded in approval.
He handed over a finely embroidered cloth bag. "No issues. Here's 500 Galleons. Who's keeping the money?"
"Not so fast," Hagrid interjected, shaking his head. "Take out what we need for this young man's first-year potion supplies, and deduct the cost from that."
"First-year supplies?" The potion master looked surprised and leaned closer, his illuminated wand casting a pale light on Vizet's face. "Wait — are you Vizet? The Obscurial?"
"It's me," Vizet replied evenly. He noticed the potion master's face lose its color, turning almost as pale as the light from his wand.
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Vizet pulled the small trailer along, glancing back occasionally. It was filled with his school supplies: a cauldron holding potion materials, neatly folded uniforms, and bundles of parchment and quills.
As they walked, a familiar figure caught his eye, disappearing into Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour nearby. "Hagrid, did you see Principal Dumbledore just now?"
"No..." Hagrid quickly scanned the surroundings. "Are you still thinking about what happened earlier?"
Lowering his voice, Hagrid added gently, "Vizet, don't pay attention to what they think. You're a good lad."
Vizet shook his head, his expression steady. "I'm not bothered by their fear. I've always known people are wary of Obscurials. I just didn't expect everyone to know it was me."
"It's that blasted Daily Prophet! They reported everything," Hagrid growled, his voice rising. "That Rita Skeeter — she thrives on gossip and exaggeration!"
"Daily Prophet? Rita Skeeter?" Vizet tilted his head, intrigued by the unfamiliar names.
"Biggest newspaper in the British wizarding world," Hagrid explained, pointing ahead. "You'll see it soon enough — though I'd say it's best if you don't. That woman's quill is sharper than any blade."
They arrived at Flourish and Blotts, where towering shelves were crammed with books of all shapes and sizes.
From massive tomes as large as paving stones to pocket-sized volumes, the bookstore was alive with magic. Some books had characters that danced across their covers, while others rustled, shivered, and even tried to escape their shelves.
Two overworked clerks waved their wands furiously to calm the chaos, keeping stacks from toppling over.
Vizet couldn't help but compare the lively shop to Luna's home, where the only reading material had been The Quibbler. Once, the house had been filled with books, but they had vanished after Luna's mother's tragic accident.
Drawn by the colorful covers, Vizet wandered into the newspaper section and froze when he saw the headline of the Daily Prophet:
Vizet the Obscurus Repels XXXXX-Level Magical Creatures—What Else Is He Hiding? What Is Dumbledore Planning?
His stomach twisted as he skimmed the article. It painted him as a born dark wizard, a volatile danger to the magical world. Words like explosive and unstable leapt off the page, describing him as a living hazard.
Even the tantalizing mention of "XXXXX-level magical creatures" in the headline turned out to be nothing more than a baiting exaggeration.
"Blasted Gorgon!" Hagrid fumed, shaking with anger. "That Skeeter's the worst! Dumbledore sealed this information — how did she get her hands on it?"
Before Vizet could respond, a robed figure entered the store, his face shadowed under a low hood. "Oi. I'm here," the wizard said, his voice gruff.
"Vizet, I've got some errands to run," Hagrid announced, his tone brightening as he spotted the man. "Don't worry, it won't take long."
"That's fine," Vizet said, nodding as he eyed the rows of books with fascination. "How will I find you later?"
"If I'm not back, head to Ollivander's for your wand. It takes a while to find the right one!" Hagrid waved and turned to speak with the hooded wizard, his booming voice already carrying across the room.
Vizet picked up a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and leaned against his cauldron to read.
The book captivated him, filled with vivid descriptions of magical creatures from around the world. Hand-drawn, animated illustrations brought the creatures to life, their movements perfectly capturing each animal's unique habits.
By the time he finished the book, Vizet had learned a great deal about magical beasts. Yet, he couldn't help but notice that Hagrid was still absent. He looked around, but the half-giant was nowhere to be found.
As he pondered what to do, something strange happened. A mental image of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them appeared in his mind, as though the entire book had been copied into his memory.
He sank into his consciousness and went through the newly appeared book.
"It's the same content," Vizet whispered, his eyes widening in disbelief. "How is this possible?"
Testing his newfound ability, he grabbed another book, Preventing Intrusion: A Brief Discussion of Protective Magic, and skimmed through it in record time.
As expected, the book joined the others in his mind.
"I just have to flip through them," Vizet murmured, astonished, "and the books are recorded in my memory..."