Little Ghost, You Can Leave Now

Newt Scamander had indeed mentioned this to him, although no one outside knew Aberforth's true identity.

No one knew the details of the feud between his son and Gellert Grindelwald, but it was no secret within the wizarding community.

The biggest information barrier in the world is never secrecy, but circles. If you're not in the circle, you don't even have the right to ask questions.

Once you're in the circle, many secrets become commonplace.

The Scamander family's reputation speaks for itself; although Aberforth disliked Albus Dumbledore, he couldn't bring himself to dislike an honest man like Newt Scamander.

Being friends with Newt Scamander is easy; you never have to worry about being betrayed. So, over the years, the two have maintained contact and collaborated on quite a few occasions.

Aberforth's expression softened somewhat, and he asked, "What's your name? What's your relationship with Newt Scamander?"

"Tom Riddle."

Aberforth suddenly raised an eyebrow, his tone strange. "What did you say your name was?"

Tom, feigning smugness, patted his chest. "Tom Riddle, huh? What? Even the owner of a shabby little pub in Hogsmeade has heard of my reputation?"

"A reputation?" Aberforth gave a forced smile, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"That name reminds me of many old times. Kid, how old are you? Which college are you in?"

"Second year, Slytherin."

"Hahahaha!" Aberforth suddenly burst into laughter, slapping his thigh with his laughter.

"Good! Slytherin is good! Tom Riddle should go to Slytherin!" What a dramatic fate.

This kid probably doesn't know that he shares the same name as that senior who once turned the wizarding world upside down.

He still enjoys the trust of his old, necromantic brother; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to obtain the approval so easily.

Albus, have you started reflecting on what happened back then?

Aberforth walked behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of rum, unscrewed the cap, and took a big gulp, treating it as his breakfast.

"Riddle, Newt Scamander told you about me, so it seems you have his approval. What message did he ask you to deliver?"

"He wants information about the poachers," Tom said.

"Two Louisiana Longhorn Water Snake were recently stolen from the swamp, and they're most likely heading this way."

"Horned Serpent?" Aberforth frowned and muttered, "That thing is a rare commodity; it's making me a little tempted."

"However, for the time being, I haven't heard any rumors."

The Horned Serpent is a representative Fantastic Beasts of Louisiana and even North America; otherwise, Ilvermorny wouldn't have named the college after it.

Its most precious feature is the gem on its head, which grants it the ability to fly and become invisible.

Wizards often use this gem to craft high-level Invisibility Cloak, as it is even more effective than the fur of Demiguise, making it a prime target for poachers.

Aberforth tapped his fingers on the bar, thought for a moment, and said, "I'll try to find out for you. I'll contact you if I get any information, Tom Riddle."

"Alright, kid, you can leave now. Don't disturb my sleep. The bar doesn't close until four or five in the morning, and I haven't had enough sleep yet."

He yawned and was about to go upstairs, but Tom reached out and stopped him.

Aberforth glanced at him sideways. "You have something else to do? Do homework for me? I don't have time for that."

"Someone did my homework for me." Tom couldn't help but smile as he thought of Hermione.

I bet Hermione's in her dorm right now, helping him finish his homework.

"I need a batch of Runespoor, both male and female, price negotiable."

If IChat Notebook, it would be snakeskin Runespoor.

This snake has three heads, is not very large, and is a favorite pet of dark wizards.

Their snakeskin has natural runes, and its ability to bear magical patterns far surpasses that of other materials.

IChat Notebook, it's actually a bit like Muggle programming.

Like nylon, it is the underlying code that resonates through magical connections.

Information is recorded in nylon and transmitted to the recipient's laptop, where it is then converted into human-readable text.

An adult Runespoor is only a little over a meter long, and a complete snakeskin can sell for 100 Galleon.

IChat Notebook, and the material cost for each one is about twenty Galleon.

This stuff is a specialty of Africa, monopolized by the Ministry of Magic of several countries, who have set up an industrial park for it. If you want to buy it outside, you can only try your luck on the black market.

Tom calculated that the cost of raising them himself was less than a third of the purchase price.

Sure enough, monopolies are the most profitable business. He didn't want to waste money on that, nor did he want to be controlled by those greedy guys, so he simply decided to raise them himself.

"Runespoor? Those are tough to get." Aberforth raised an eyebrow. "If you wanted snake eggs, I could probably figure something out."

"Don't try to fool me." Tom rolled his eyes. "The snake eggs that could be transported here are already dead. They're useless except for medicine."

"You want to keep Runespoor?" Aberforth scrutinized him, his tone serious. "Boy, do you think Albus Dumbledore would let you do such a thing?"

"This world isn't ruled by Albus Dumbledore."

Tom handed me a brand-new IChat Notebook, his tone earnest, "Everyone has their own pursuits, Runespoor are extremely useful to me."

" For the For the Greater Good, school rules have no choice but to be broken."

Aberforth's face flushed instantly; those words pierced his heart like needles, unbearably harsh.

"Who taught you that?" He didn't look at the notebook, but stared intently into Tom's eyes, suppressing his anger.

"Which sentence?" Tom tilted his head, looking confused.

" For the For the Greater Good."

"Oh, that?" Tom said matter-of-factly, "The Slytherin house motto."

"Ambition, shrewdness, and prioritizing profit—isn't that the very motto of our institute?"

Aberforth lowered his head and fell silent, lost in thought.

Tom ignored him and proceeded to teach him how to use the IChat Notebook, successfully drawing Aberforth's attention.

"Did you really invent this?" Aberforth picked up the notebook, tried it out a couple of times, and looked completely incredulous.

Could such a magical communication tool have been created by a second-year wizard?

Tom offered only one reason, which completely convinced him. "My mentor Nicolas Flamel."

Aberforth help but glance at Tom a couple more times, pleased that he was being treated differently by Albus.

He's close to Newt Scamander and a student of Nicolas Flamel —what's so special about this kid?

"So, you need snakeskin Runespoor to make this notebook?"

"That's right." Tom nodded. "I need to promote it extensively, so I have to reduce costs. It's not cost-effective to keep buying from outside."

"Newt Scamander's space will also help; raising several hundred will be no problem at all."

In nature, Runespoor molt only once or twice a year, but this can be mitigated if the environment is properly controlled.

When humidity exceeds 80% and temperature is above 28 degrees Celsius, the peeling cycle can be shortened by half.