Bringing Fairytales to Hogwarts!

Bringing Fairytales to Hogwarts!

"Not some… thing—it's the magical materials exchange market, Professor Vanderboom."

The goblin leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

"There's extensive trade between magical communities around the world. And among them, the materials market is the most critical. If you could predict precise fluctuations—when prices will rise or fall—Gringotts could begin stockpi—no, preparing necessary supplies in advance to ensure no wizard ever runs out of core magical materials!"

"And if that's too troublesome," the goblin added hastily, "we'd be eternally grateful if you could predict trends in the Muggle stock market…"

The more the goblin spoke, the wilder it got. Yet it only grew more animated, launching into economic jargon like "bottom-fishing," "speculative risk," and "early-stage capital." Its gaze on Viktor was beginning to resemble religious worship.

Viktor cut him off mid-ramble.

"Do you really think I can do all that?" he gave the goblin a strange look. "If I could predict those things precisely, why wouldn't I just invest and make money myself?"

The goblin froze, visibly short-circuited. It took a few seconds to return from its financial daydream before stammering:

"W-Well… because you're noble? You don't want to profit from prophecy?"

"It's not about profit," Viktor shook his head again.

"To predict the future with precision always comes with a price. And it's never a monetary one. The cost is something meaningful—like emotion, desire… or a part of your body."

"And not everyone qualifies. Only those with intense enough willpower—or unique talents—can even initiate such a trade."

The goblin sat motionless, stunned.

Viktor picked up the account number card from the desk, nodded politely, and said softly:

"My address is No. 7 Wisteria Lane. If you're still interested, feel free to contact me again."

Just as he turned to leave, the goblin suddenly stood and bowed low—so low its hooked nose nearly touched the marble desk. Under the golden glow of hundreds of hovering candles above the vaulted ceiling, the gesture carried a kind of solemn reverence.

Its voice had changed—formal and weighty.

"No need, Professor Vanderboom. We accept your terms."

"Every goblin is willing to part with hair, eyes, even a liver or heart, in exchange for gold. If you demand it—yes, even our very desire to seek gold can be traded."

"If you're willing to consider this… our Director has been awaiting you for quite some time."

It was 3:00 p.m. The Grangers had already exchanged their Muggle currency for Galleons but were still waiting in the main hall. Viktor hadn't reappeared.

When they inquired with a passing goblin, the only response they received was, "Please wait a moment longer."

Mrs. Granger sighed anxiously, counting their coins again.

"Five pounds for one Galleon, and there's a limit to how much we can exchange. Hermione, you'll have to spend carefully."

"It's fine, Mum," Hermione reassured her, "Professor McGonagall said Hogwarts is a boarding school. I won't need to spend much at all."

"I hope so. It's just… it doesn't feel very fair."

"That's enough, Mary," Mr. Granger interjected gently. "Let's not talk about this in front of the child."

Hermione looked between her parents, confused. She wasn't yet emotionally attuned enough to fully grasp what they meant, but the Grangers had noticed something during the exchange process.

The goblins had treated them with clear impatience.

Sure, wizards may not openly discriminate against Muggle-borns—but when it came to actual Muggles, the prejudice was more obvious.

If not for the respectable attitude shown by the Hogwarts professors, the Grangers might've seriously reconsidered enrolling Hermione in the school.

Ten minutes later, Viktor finally emerged from a private room, followed by a goblin who was practically groveling with respect—bowing again and again as he walked him out.

The Grangers were visibly shocked.

Was this the same kind of goblin who'd barely looked at them earlier?

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Viktor said, approaching them.

"Not at all, Professor," Mr. Granger replied. "Was there a problem?"

"Not really," Viktor replied casually. "Just discussing financial investment strategies with Gringotts."

"They're one hundred and twenty percent satisfied with the potential side effects of doing business with me."

"…Is that a good thing?" Mr. Granger asked, puzzled. "I suppose it must've been a win-win arrangement?"

"Precisely."

They didn't press the issue, and together they headed off to begin their school shopping.

Before stepping out of Gringotts, Viktor slipped a small pouch into his pocket without fanfare.

As they exited, the goblins at the doors—clearly forewarned—bowed low and murmured:

"Gringotts is always at your service, sir."

Back outside, they were once again in the bustling heart of Diagon Alley. A warm breeze swept through the cobbled street, chasing away the gravity of the moment before.

Directly across from Gringotts was a Quidditch supply shop. The window display showed two sleek broomsticks crossed behind a sign that read:

"Nimbus 2000 – The Fastest Yet."

But first-years weren't allowed their own brooms, so Viktor took Hermione to Madam Malkin's for their robes first. They each ordered three tailored, pitch-black cloaks before heading across to Flourish and Blotts.

The bookstore was packed floor to ceiling with tomes of every kind. Though spacious by ordinary standards, the towering bookshelves and mountains of volumes made it feel almost claustrophobic. Even the open aisles were filled with browsing witches and wizards.

"Let's see... I still need Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 and Intermediate Transfiguration. Ugh, I really don't want term to start."

"Fred! Watch your language!"

Near the entrance, a red-haired mother scolded her son as they leafed through a book with a constantly shifting cover. Hermione, curious, turned to look.

To her surprise, the red-haired boy gave her a warm smile.

Hermione smiled back shyly, for once feeling welcomed.

Finally in a good mood, she turned her attention to the books.

After passing the redhead pair, she pulled out a small checklist she'd written in advance. First, she picked up the standard schoolbook set for new students. Then she approached a staff member and asked:

"Excuse me, sir. Do you have books on history, culture, or magical artifacts?"

Her serious little face made her look like a tiny librarian, immediately catching the clerk's attention.

He bent down slightly to speak kindly.

"We do. For history, our most popular titles include A History of Modern Magic, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Significant Magical Events of the 20th Century, and for newcomers to our world, A Guide to Notable Modern Witches and Wizards. We don't sell Hogwarts: A History here though—it's available in the school library."

"Anyway, which one would you like?"

"All of them."

"All?"

The young clerk blinked, stunned.

He had freckles on his cheeks and looked barely out of Hogwarts himself.

"Yes, all," Hermione nodded with determination. "If I want to score full marks on my year-end exams, I need to master the full magical curriculum at least a month in advance. That includes history and charms. To be on par with other magical students, I must understand key magical events and facts before term begins—so I don't fall behind just because I miss a joke in class. Which means I should finish all five introductory texts before the semester even starts."

She blinked up at him with sincere eyes.

The clerk and Viktor both sucked in a breath.

Viktor looked at her with open admiration.

"…I-I'll go get your books."

The clerk turned and hurried off.

Hermione noticed the awkward pause, glanced at Viktor, and asked tentatively:

"Professor Vander… I mean, Professor Vanderboom, was I wrong to say all that?"

"Just call me Professor Viktor, Miss Granger," he replied with a smile. "And no, you weren't wrong. But it wouldn't hurt to pace yourself a little."

Hermione looked up at him, surprised.

"You mean… you didn't work this hard?"

Viktor was silent for a moment.

How to answer that? Honestly—no, he hadn't.

He was naturally lazy. Even after all his time in the magical world, he hadn't read half the books Hermione just ordered.

After all, from the day he arrived, it had been clear: there weren't many in the wizarding world who could rival him.

Still, after a pause, he replied with conviction:

"Let's put it this way, Miss Granger.""Where I come from, if I worked too hard… it would make other people very unhappy. So for the sake of harmony, I try not to overdo it."

And it was true.

If Viktor ever really applied himself, entire divisions of magical law enforcement would lose sleep trying to catch up with him.

If he got too ambitious—say, setting a five-year plan to build a monopoly—he might've already earned a new nickname:

"That Damn Overachieving Demon Lord."

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