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  No matter where you are, some things are universal. Si's homework, how could it be easy to plete?

  Ia like he was destio bee the most unpopur student at Hogwarts. Even Hermione from the Golden Trio only peted with her peers and cssmates.

  But him? He hadn't even started school yet, and he was already diving into subjects that third-year Hogwarts students could only access as electives— csses typically reserved for top students who found their regur coursework manageable.

  'A study mae. That robably what he looked like.'

  "Sigh, the capable learn more. Who made me so clever?" Ian carefully tucked away the piece of the dress, extinguished the Lumos spell, and climbed bato bed.

  He drifted into a night full of dreams.

  The m, as soon as the sun rose, Ian got up, tidied himself, and rushed to the bookstore in Hogsmeade Vilge. Many people might not even know there was a bookstore here.

  In fact, most young wizards attending Hogwarts might not even notice it by the time they graduate. Behind Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop in Hogsmeade, there was an inspicuous sed-hand bookstore.

  Though this bookstore was so shabby it didn't even have a sign, it received a rge number of unsold textbooks and old books from Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley every year, then resold them to students who wandered into the vilge on weekends. Of course, few young wizards visiting Hogsmeade would think to browse a bookstore.

  After all, most people came here to rex. Still, that didn't stop the bookstore from existing. Who knew how the owner made a living?

  "Hello, do you have any materials on studying Runes here?"

  Ian had been living in Hogsmeade for about a week, and this was his first time visiting the bookstore. As he walked in, he saw an old man lounging in an old-fashioned rog chair.

  The old man had a ruddy plexion, his hair streaked with gray, like pine branches dusted with the first snow of winter— sparse yet silvery. He wore a pair of slightly outdated round gsses perched on his nose.

  He exuded a schorly air.

  "You're the young wizard who's been staying in the vilge retly?"

  The bookstore owner seemed to have heard about Ian. It was indeed rare for a young wizard to stay in Hogsmeade before starting school.

  "Yes, sir."

  Ian maintained his usual politeness.

  "For a young wizard ye, studying Runes is a bit too early," The bookstore owner said, remaining reed in his rog chair.

  "I'm just very ied in it and want to start learning a bit early... Well, I believe I'll definitely bee a great student in a runic studies iure." Ian put on a face full of dreams and aspirations, taking advantage of his youth.

  "Not bad, you are ambitious."

  The bookstore ave Ian another look before finally sitting up.

  "But ideals ay are often different. Most young wizards struggle with even the basic csses." Though he grumbled, the bookstore owill went io search for books for Ian.

  His movements were slow, and his body swayed slightly. Though he seemed physically weak, his plexion showed no signs of aging.

  It was a strange tradi.

  "You said it yourself, that's most people. What about the minority?"

  When Ian smiled, his teeth were and white.

  "Hmm?"

  The bookstore Ian again.

  "Young, handsome, and a bit arrogant... Maybe you do have some talent. It seems you'll end up in Slytherin," He remarked, making his judgment.

  Then he began rummaging through the bookstore.

  "Found it, here it is."

  The bookstore owner seemed out of breath after just a bit of movement. It was unclear if he had suffered some injury in his youth that affected his physical abilities.

  As he spoke, he pulled out three books from a pile that was simply stacked on the floor of the shop. With a slightly trembling hand, he hahem to Ian.

  Ian noticed a vivid tattoo on the inside of the bookstore owner's arm— a Golden Snitbsp;

  "It's really beautiful," Ian said, admiring it.

  The bookstore owared at him, and Ian quickly tried to cover up his rudeness.

  "Yes, it used to be beautiful."

  The bookstore owner's response was cryptic, but Ian noticed a dimness in his eyes and decided not to pry further into the story behind the tattoo.

  Probably it wasn't some clichéd love story, but rather a deeply moving bromance?

  Engnd's affairs were hard to say, really hard to say.

  "How much for all of them?"

  Ian wasn't in the habit of gossiping about strangers' pasts, so he naturally ged the subject.

  "Six golden galleons."

  The bookstore owner y ba his rog chair.

  "Ouch, that's expensive!" Ian couldn't help but gasp.

  "That's already the price for used books. If you were to buy new ones in Diagon Alley, the price would double. It's aive not just because it's hard to learn," The bookstore owner implied.

  "..."

  Ian finally uood why every era had its share of knowledge monopolists. Ihe profit from selling knowledge was beyond imagination.

  "Alright, thank you."

  Ian didn't suspect the owner of overcharging or scamming him. Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. He couldn't go to Diagon Alley himself, so there was no point in harb ill will and making things harder for himself.

  Pulling out a much thinner money pouch from his pocket, Ian carefully ted out six golden galleons and pced them on the ter the owner poio.

  "If you decide to give up on studying, I'll buy them back for three golden galleons," the bookstore owner chuckled as if certain Ian would give up.

  "I don't think that will happen," Ian replied with a polite smile.

  He picked up the three books a.

  In the quiet bookstore, only the elderly owner remained, sinking bato silence.

  A long time ter, perhaps moved by Ian's earlier words, the bookstore hed softly as he y in his rog chair. He raised his slightly withered arm aly brushed it with his other hand.

  The golden Snitch tattoo, uhe sunlight, seemed to transport him baories of a time when he had sworn unwavering loyalty.

  (End of Chapter)