[Andromeda Black's POV]
I've never liked leaving things to the last minute.
Most Hogwarts students, especially the upper years, rush through Diagon Alley in the final days before term begins as if time had ambushed them by surprise. I can't stand that energy. It feels… disorderly.
That's why I was here, with my complete list of fifth-year school supplies, accompanied by my younger sister, Narcissa, who, as always, walked beside me with that dignified stride that would make our mother smile with pride.
"Shall we go to Scribbulus first?" I asked, though there was no need for her to reply. We were already turning toward the most traditional writing-supplies shop in the entire Alley.
The interior was calm. Lit by floating candles, with that scent of fresh ink, new parchment, and worn leather that felt… comforting. Like a routine that never changes.
Cissy naturally headed toward the shelf of metal-tipped quills, searching for one with precise writing. I lingered a few seconds closer to the entrance. Something had caught my attention.
A small crowd had gathered around the central counter.
And in the middle of that semicircle, I saw him.
Ryan Ollivander.
Of course I recognized him. It's hard not to. Golden hair, almost silver under the light; a posture both relaxed and insolent. And that voice. That way of speaking that carried a touch of theatre and a touch of mockery, as if everything amused him more than it should.
Gryffindor. Same year as me.
We had never really spoken, but we had shared classes. Transfiguration, Potions, Ancient Runes… He had always been the type who seemed present without being present.
Passing without studying much. Mocking without shouting. Blending in, and at the same time, not at all.
Now he seemed different. Straighter. More focused. With an expression somewhere between arrogant and confident, as though he had finally decided to stand tall and start taking his life seriously.
He was selling something.
"What's he doing here?" Narcissa murmured beside me, watching too without appearing to.
Of course she recognized him. My sister, though she would never admit it aloud, was a great admirer of Iris Ollivander.
She had been fascinated by Transfiguration since she first stepped into Hogwarts. And not just the theory—the control, the aesthetics, the symmetry of change.
And Iris Ollivander was the ideal made flesh: a recognized witch, brilliant, beautifully composed, with that kind of elegant, golden beauty that looked as if it had been painted into a portrait of magical nobility.
"I think he's selling some quills…" I replied, watching the scene discreetly.
Ryan held up a quill and then wrote in the air. To my surprise, he managed to write: Elinor in bright violet. Floating letters, precise. Clean.
They didn't disappear.
The girl, Elinor, let out a small cry of delight. The father, visibly defeated, asked the price.
"Ten galleons," Ryan answered without hesitation.
Ten.
For an eagle quill.
I blinked once. Almost smiled. The audacity was impressive.
A quill of that kind cost, at most, ten sickles. Though a quill enchanted for quick-writing could go for around five galleons. So, considering this was most likely an invention of his own, and something new, the price of ten galleons made sense.
The father paid. And then Ryan turned, with that subtle theatricality of his, toward the shop's owner, Mr. Perks.
I couldn't help but sharpen my hearing.
They negotiated. Perks tested him. Ryan didn't rush. He played his cards well. Offered exclusivity. Kept his tone low but firm.
In the end, Perks agreed: ten quills. Seven galleons each.
Seventy galleons.
Narcissa, beside me, pressed her lips ever so slightly. Even without looking at him directly, she had observed everything. It was her style.
"Well, at least he'll finally stop embarrassing his mother," she murmured under her breath.
"He's an Ollivander," I said, picking up a bottle of permanent black ink from a shelf. "You should never underestimate one of them."
We walked toward the counter, our purchases already gathered—quills, inks, parchment, seals, everything neatly in order.
And just as we arrived, he turned.
Ryan looked at us. Just for a second. His expression didn't change. No surprise. No smirk. No exaggerated recognition. Just a direct gaze, a little sharper than the one he usually wore in class.
He didn't greet us. We didn't greet him. And then, without pause, he walked toward the door. With a casual wave of his hand in Perks's direction, he said:
"See you in four or five days. I'll be back with another batch."
Four or five days.
It wasn't even a guess. It was a statement.
As if he already knew the quills would sell. And as if he knew we had watched his little presentation for the girl Elinor, and might buy them ourselves.
I stood still for a moment.
Then I turned toward Perks, who was already quickly tallying our items.
"Misses Black," he greeted respectfully, "Always a pleasure to have you here. Altogether, that will be six galleons and three sickles. Would you like the seals wrapped separately?"
"Yes, please," I replied with automatic courtesy, reaching for my purse.
But before handing it over, the question slipped out before I could stop it.
"Could you… show us one of those quills that write in the air?"
Perks raised both eyebrows in genuine surprise.
Not only because I had asked, something I rarely did, but because he had just received the first batch only moments ago, and already had an interested customer.
"Of course… with pleasure, Miss Andromeda," he said, pulling from beneath the counter the cases of quills Ryan had sold him.
Narcissa said nothing. But she stepped half a pace closer.
Enough to make it clear she wanted to see it too. And that… was no small thing.
Perks placed a quill on a small padded stand. It was elegant. Eagle feather, light wooden body, silver details. Nothing extravagant, but aesthetically pleasing.
"May I…?" I asked.
"Of course."
I took it between my fingers and, with a gentle motion, traced a letter in the air. And there, before us, floated an "A."
Light, bright, sky-blue.
No flickering. No fading. I continued and wrote out my full name.
A N D R O M E D A B L A C K
The letters remained suspended as if the very air had sculpted them.
Narcissa watched in silence, her blue-gray eyes reflecting the floating script.
I raised my free hand and passed it gently over the first letter.
I passed through it.
The letters stayed intact, as though they couldn't be bothered to notice my attempt to touch them. No vibration. No flicker. No erasure.
"How do you erase it?" I asked at last. I hadn't caught all the details when Ryan had done his demonstration.
"With a quick tap of the tip on the stroke," Perks explained, in a professional tone.
I did as instructed. The tip touched the "A."
The letter unraveled instantly, dissolving into the air like candle smoke.
"Interesting…" I murmured, as I erased the entire name.
Narcissa, still gazing at the empty space where the letters had floated, spoke in her most diplomatic tone: "And how long does the enchantment itself last?"
Perks blinked, surprised by the direct question. "Young Ollivander assured me the quill retains its functionality for a full year, provided it's well cared for and not damaged. Like any enchanted object, of course. Not indestructible, but stable."
Narcissa nodded. I could see the calculation in her eyes. For a moment she looked as though she might say that ten galleons was still excessive for an eagle quill, but she didn't. She was thinking. Weighing. And, from her posture, approving.
So was I. Though I am a Black, I am not a fool who squanders family money. But considering this was a new invention, and that enchanted quills normally cost five galleons, ten was not so excessive.
"What colors are available?" I asked, finally convinced.
"The colors in this first batch are ten," Perks replied with a slight smile, consulting a small folded parchment. "Sky blue, violet, garnet red, dark green, midnight blue, silver, burgundy, gold, emerald, and brown."
Not my favorite.
But still, there was something in the design, in the feel, in the tangible usefulness of the quill…
That made it worth it.
"How long do the words written in the air last?" I asked.
"Four hours, unless erased earlier," Perks replied.
"Very well, I'll take one," I said decisively.
"What color would you like, miss?"
"Garnet red," I answered after a brief second. Formal and elegant.
"I'll take the gold one," Narcissa said at my side, as if the decision had been made from the beginning.
Perks nodded, visibly surprised.
His movements were quick, yet careful. He handed us both quills in individual cases.
"Ten galleons each," he said, with the courtesy of a man who had just secured his day's profit.
I produced the coins without hesitation. Narcissa did the same.
And I noticed how the shopkeeper restrained a smile. He had paid seven galleons apiece.
And had just sold two, minutes after receiving them.
Six galleons in profit. Exactly the same as Narcissa and I had just spent on school supplies.
I could see in his eyes that he was already thinking of raising the price.
And it wouldn't be unreasonable. Twelve galleons. Fifteen, even.
My sister, that girl's father, and I myself had all found it reasonable to pay ten galleons for the object after seeing it in action.
It wasn't a scam. It was a new invention.
"Thank you, Misses Black," Perks said, inclining his head slightly.
We bid farewell and left the shop, bags in hand, our quills carefully stored.
---
[Ryan's Point of View]
A day had passed since Ryan visited Diagon Alley with thirty eagle quills inscribed with magical runes that allowed writing in the air.
After the first sale to Perks, Ryan went to Amanuensis Quills, a specialized shop devoted solely to quills. The boutique was run by an elderly couple, the Flumes—both strict-eyed, dressed in robes embroidered with the tiniest but most flawless details.
He didn't sell in bulk, but after half an hour of discussion and negotiation, he managed to sell them five units, each at nine galleons. The price was higher because the elderly pair quickly realized these quills could sell for more than ten galleons, twelve, or even fifteen, as Garrick had bought from Ryan.
That brought him forty-five galleons.
Finally, he visited Creepy Scrawlers Stationers: the most eccentric shop. Its owner was a witch named Indigo Skale. Early thirties. Round glasses. Dark-blue hair braided with silver threads. A bohemian robe. Creative energy everywhere.
Ryan sold her seven quills at eight galleons each, earning fifty-six galleons.
Altogether, yesterday he had sold twenty-three quills and earned 181 galleons. That left him with a stock of seven quills.
His current total capital was 225 galleons. Ryan couldn't help but smile at how quickly his fortune had grown. The old Ryan had managed to save eighty galleons. Now he had almost triple that, and he had only been in this world for twenty-two days.
But money… flies. It's part of the process, the economic cycle.
The first purchase Ryan made with his newfound fortune was: Quick-Reading Glasses (x2). Price? 100 galleons.
The requirements for their creation, according to the system, were:
– Practical Rune Manual I (already read 100%)
– Theory of Enchantment I (not yet purchased)
These glasses weren't just a useful tool like the air-writing quill, which made studying more comfortable or gave researchers and professors a handy classroom aid.
These glasses truly helped one read faster. Twice as fast.
However, it wasn't only a matter of inscribing a rune into the glasses—he also had to enchant them. Which meant he needed the book Theory of Enchantment I, which he bought for ten galleons.
This book had almost the same number of pages as the previous one. And it wasn't a collection of charms like Alohomora or Expelliarmus. No, nothing like that. It was a theoretical and practical manual on how enchantments work on objects to grant them specific functions: durability, extension, and so forth.
One of the paragraphs at the beginning of the book read:
To enchant an object is to instruct. It is to imprint a will within a material structure.
The style was technical, direct, without embellishment.
In total, he spent 110 galleons, leaving his capital at 115 galleons.
On top of that, he still had the seven leftover quills plus three more he made that day. He decided to take a small break and not craft his usual five or six, so he could focus on the new book.
...
Read 20 chapters in advance on my patreon: p@treoncom/Redniro