Chapter Fourteen: Negotiation

“I’ll go check over there. Don’t be shy—take your time looking around. If you find anything you like, buy some to take back. This is a great chance to train yourself,” Professor McGonagall encouraged Roger with a wink, signaling that he could take his time choosing.

Roger watched Professor McGonagall’s retreating figure and glanced toward the Gringotts Wizarding Bank, from which black smoke was billowing.

“It must be Crouch who blew up the underground vault at Gringotts,” Roger thought, clutching his wand as a strong sense of unease washed over him.

Ever since Harry Potter went to school, Voldemort seemed to have been awakened and began stirring up all sorts of trouble. The first year was manageable, as Dumbledore could mostly keep things under surveillance. But from the second year onward, the Chosen One became increasingly reckless.

Roger recalled that later on, some young wizards even faced death. He was not Harry; naturally, Dumbledore wouldn’t be watching over him. He couldn’t—and wouldn’t—rely on others for his safety.

Looking at his magic power level of 2.3, Roger took a deep breath. “Hopefully, I can find something to boost my magical energy.”

“Young man, although Professor McGonagall said that, I believe you’ll use these items eventually. Like these old wands!” Elvin handed over a pen stand and whispered into Roger’s ear, “Think about it—your wand will be monitored by the Ministry of Magic. An old wand costs just one Galleon. You can practice spells freely. Isn’t that great?”

“When you get to Hogwarts, while the other young wizards haven’t mastered spells yet, you’ll be able to perform them perfectly,” Elvin nagged on without tiring.

“The professors will give your house extra points, and your head of house will surely be proud of you. You’ll be called a prodigy, admired even by the young witches.”

“Mr. Elvin, I can cast spells without a wand,” Roger said, flicking his fingers as a small sparkle of light appeared before Elvin’s eyes.

Elvin quickly rubbed his eyes, making sure he wasn’t seeing things. “You’re really only eleven?”

“Is wandless magic difficult?” Roger’s big, innocent eyes looked up at Elvin.

Elvin sighed, speechless. “Wandless magic is an advanced skill. Normally, it’s not taught until the third year.”

“No wonder Professor McGonagall personally brought you to Diagon Alley. It’s been years since she took a new student shopping,” Elvin said, as if struck by a heavy blow, reluctantly admiring Roger’s talent.

“I only practice occasionally. There’s still a lot to learn,” Roger said with a humble smile, which only made Elvin more irritated.

“Mr. Elvin, may I look around on my own?”

“Go ahead, but if you break anything, you’ll have to pay for it,” Elvin waved his hand, already annoyed by Roger’s modesty.

---

Though Roger was gifted, years of imprisonment in Azkaban had left him with countless visible and hidden scars. He found a book on a shelf about magical power growth titled *The Natural Laws of Magical Power Development*. According to the author’s research, an eleven-year-old wizard’s magic power is about 5 points.

“I only have 2.3—less than half the usual magic power...” A cold light flashed in Roger’s eyes. He vowed he would never forgive the Dementors of Azkaban, including old Bartemius Crouch.

Fortunately, he possessed unmatched talent that allowed him to improve spell levels indefinitely through constant practice. Given enough time, even a trickle of water could flood an entire planet. Besides, he could use his simulation abilities to glimpse possible futures related to himself.

“I remember Ginny found one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes in a bookstore,” Roger said, scanning the secondhand books on the shelf and pulling some out to flip through.

He wasn’t entirely clear on all the details of Harry Potter’s story—for example, Tom Riddle’s diary was actually in Malfoy’s hands. After searching around, Roger didn’t find it. “Looks like I was mistaken.”

He shrugged—it wasn’t essential for him to have Tom’s Horcrux. Though with the help of the young Voldemort, his learning progress could accelerate.

“Mr. Elvin, look at how much these are worth,” Roger said after gathering mainly potion books and ancient texts like those on runes.

The potions would enhance his magical power, while the rune books would help him explore the vanished ancient magic of this world.

He had wanted to find some spell books to broaden his skills, but his magic power was too low. Rather than dabble superficially in many things, he preferred to master one technique thoroughly. His mother had told him his father was only skilled in wandless light magic but could still fend off old Bartemius.

“Young man, aren’t you going to look for some spell books? I have...” Elvin began.

“*Standard First-Year Spells* and *Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration* are enough,” Roger quickly cut off Elvin’s rambling. These two first-year textbooks would suffice before school started.

Elvin silently calculated the price of the books Roger had chosen: “This *Advanced Potion-Making* book is very old, at least ten years. I bought it for 3 Sickles and can sell it for 5 Sickles, so I can make a good profit. Charging a bit more wouldn’t be unfair.”

“The *Herbology Compendium* is in good condition—I’ll ask for 8 Sickles. Not too cheap, not too expensive. Yes, 8 Sickles! That price covers costs and some profit.”

“The *Ancient Runes Analysis* is a rare book. No one usually asks for it. I bought it for 1 Sickle, so I’ll price it at 3 Sickles. He probably doesn’t know the market price; he’ll have to accept whatever I say!”

“The *Ancient Charms Collection* cost me 4 Sickles. I’ll sell it for 7 Sickles, which is reasonable. I’m being quite fair here!”

...

While pondering, Elvin listed the prices he calculated.

---

“These books are from various places and are very rare on the market. For example, this *Research on Runes* isn’t even in the Hogwarts library...”

“Mr. Elvin, including all first-year textbooks and these supplies, please give me a total price,” Roger requested.

“All right, all right!” Elvin cleared his throat upon hearing Roger’s request. “You found ten rare, high-quality books. For Professor McGonagall’s sake, I’ll give you a discount.”

“Each book is usually between 5 and 10 Sickles. I’ll price them all at 5 Sickles each, so 50 Sickles in total.”

“Eight first-year textbooks plus quills, parchment, ink, and other stationery come to 25 Sickles.”

“The cauldron you want is a complete set—crystal, copper, and tin. I’ll charge you 30 Sickles. A glass potion bottle set is 2 Sickles. A brass balance set is 10 Sickles, and the telescope is 20 Sickles.”

“So altogether, that’s 137 Sickles. That’s a lot to carry, so I’ll sell you a bag with a permanent undetectable extension charm for 15 Sickles. That brings your total to 150 Sickles.” Elvin quoted a price that seemed like a good deal but actually worked in his favor, hoping Roger would accept it.

“You know the currency exchange rates, right?”

“Yes, one gold Galleon is 17 Sickles, and one Sickle is 29 Knuts.”

“Correct! So 150 Sickles is equivalent to 8 Galleons and 14 Sickles.”

“Mr. Elvin, your prices lack sincerity,” Roger shook his head, pointing at the pile of old books he’d picked out. “These books are bottom-shelf stuff, worth at most one Sickle each. If you don’t agree, I can always wait until school starts and check the library.”

“Impossible!” Elvin, like a mouse caught by the tail, immediately protested, pointing to the *Advanced Potion-Making* book. “A brand-new copy of this costs 9 Galleons!”

“All right, then I’ll just put it back,” Roger said indifferently, setting it aside without a trace of hesitation in his eyes.

“Wait!” Elvin hurriedly called out, realizing that the market for advanced potion books was very small and it would be hard to sell.

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