Sacrifices of the Past

Just as expected.

No matter where you were, some things were universal.

Since it was homework,

how could it possibly be easy to complete?

Ian felt certain he would become the most unpopular student at Hogwarts. Hermione from The Golden Trio merely pushed her peers and classmates a little harder.

But him?

He had not even enrolled yet,

and he was already beginning to study a subject that Hogwarts students could only qualify to encounter in their third year. It was an elective course, basically offered only to top students who found themselves at ease even while handling their usual coursework.

Study King.

This was probably what it meant.

"Ah, the capable learn more. Who told me to have such a clever brain?" Ian carefully put away the Gown Fragment, extinguished the Lumos, and climbed back into bed.

He had a night full of dreams.

The next morning, just as the sun rose, Ian hurriedly got up, tidied himself, and rushed to the bookstore in Hogsmeade Village—many people probably did not even know there was a bookstore here.

In fact,

most Young Wizards attending Hogwarts might not notice it until graduation. Behind the Literati Residence Quill Shop in Hogsmeade Village stood an inconspicuous secondhand bookstore.

Though this bookstore was so shabby it did not even have a sign, every year it received large quantities of unsold textbooks and various backlogged old books from Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, then resold them to students wandering through the village on weekends. Of course, few Young Wizards who came to Hogsmeade Village ever thought of visiting a bookstore.

After all, most people came here simply to relax. Still, that did not prevent the bookstore from existing. Heaven knew what the Bookstore Owner lived on!

"Hello, do you have any learning materials on Runes?"

Ian had lived in Hogsmeade Village for about a week, and this was his first time visiting the bookstore. As soon as he entered, he saw an old man lying in an old-fashioned rocking chair.

The old man had a ruddy complexion and graying hair, sparse and silver-bright like pine branches covered in the first snow of winter. A pair of somewhat worn round-rimmed glasses rested on his nose.

He had an unmistakably scholarly air.

"You're the Young Wizard who has been living in the village recently?"

The Bookstore Owner seemed to have heard about Ian. It was indeed rather rare for an unenrolled Young Wizard to temporarily stay in Hogsmeade Village before the school term began.

"Yes, sir."

Ian maintained his usual politeness.

"For a Young Wizard your age, it's still a little too early to begin studying Runes." The Bookstore Owner remained in his rocking chair without moving.

"I'm just very interested in this field and want to start learning early... Well, I believe I'll definitely become an outstanding scholar of Ancient Runes in the future."

Making use of his young age, Ian put on an expression full of longing and dreams.

"Not bad. Lofty ambitions."

The Bookstore Owner looked Ian over again.

At last, he sat up.

"Still, ideals and reality are ultimately different. Most Young Wizards struggle even with the basic courses." Though he kept muttering, the Bookstore Owner still went inside to search for books for Ian.

His movements were somewhat slow, and his body swayed a little. Yet although he looked frail in motion, his complexion did not carry the slightest hint of old age.

It was a rather strange situation.

"You said it yourself, that's only most of them. Aren't there still a few exceptions?"

When Ian smiled, his teeth were neat and white.

"Hm?"

The Bookstore Owner turned and gave Ian another look.

"Young, handsome, full of yourself... Perhaps you do have some talent. It seems you'll become a Slytherin." The Bookstore Owner passed his judgment.

Then,

he began searching through the bookstore.

"Let me look carefully. I've only taken over this shop for three months. The previous owner wasn't someone who liked keeping things organized. Hmm, I suppose I'm much the same."

The Bookstore Owner poked fun at himself.

"I'm not in a hurry, sir."

Ian waited quietly.

He had already grown accustomed to hiding beneath the guise of a "good child."

"Found them. Here they are."

After only a few slight movements, the Bookstore Owner was already breathing heavily. Ian had no idea whether he had suffered some injury in his youth that affected his physical functions.

As he spoke,

he selected three books from the large pile scattered across the floor rather than placed on shelves, then handed them to Ian with slightly trembling hands.

Ian noticed a lifelike tattoo on the inside of the Bookstore Owner's arm. It was a Golden Snitch—as someone with a Chinese soul, Ian was indeed easily drawn to tattoos.

"It's really beautiful."

Noticing that the Bookstore Owner was watching him, Ian hurriedly tried to make up for his lapse in manners.

"Yes, it used to be beautiful."

The Bookstore Owner's answer was somewhat baffling. However, Ian noticed the dimness in the man's eyes and did not continue asking about the story behind the tattoo.

Presumably,

it was either some melodramatic romance,

or an unforgettable gay love affair?

Things in England.

Who could say? Really, who could say?

"How much are they altogether?"

Ian was not in the habit of prying into strangers' pasts, so he naturally changed the subject.

"Six Galleons."

The Bookstore Owner lay back in his rocking chair.

"Gasp, that expensive?!"

Ian immediately sucked in a sharp breath.

"That's already the price for used books. If you went to Diagon Alley to buy new ones, the price would be double. It didn't become an elective merely because it's difficult to learn."

The Bookstore Owner seemed to be implying something.

"..."

Ian finally understood why every era produced a group of academic oligarchs who monopolized knowledge. Sure enough, the profits from selling knowledge were beyond imagination.

"All right, thank you."

Ian did not suspect the other man of overcharging or cheating him. Even if he did, it would be useless. He could not go to Diagon Alley himself, so why maliciously speculate about others and make himself miserable?

He took out the much more shriveled Money Bag from his trouser pocket, carefully counted out six Galleons, and placed them on the counter the Bookstore Owner pointed to.

"If you decide to give up studying, I'll buy them back for three Galleons." The Bookstore Owner spoke with a cheerful smile, as though certain Ian would choose to give up.

"I don't think that will happen."

Ian smiled politely.

He picked up the three books and left.

In the quiet bookstore,

only the aged Bookstore Owner remained, sinking once again into silence.

After a long while,

perhaps because Ian's words had stirred something within him, the Bookstore Owner sighed softly in his rocking chair. He raised his slightly withered arm and gently brushed it a few times with his other hand.

The Golden Snitch tattoo,

beneath the sunlight,

seemed to carry him back to a memory of swearing loyalty unto death.