Hogwarts Raven (Harry Potter)

She always offered just a little better service to handsome young wizards.

"I'd like to sell some potions here," Ian brought up his idea.

"Huh?" The freckled girl clearly hadn't expected this. She paused briefly, then quickly regained her composure and responded with polite regret:

"I'm sorry, we have designated suppliers. We don't usually accept items from outside vendors."

That answer didn't surprise Ian.

He'd expected it.

But,

"My name is Ian Prince, that Prince, of the Prince House. My uncle is Severus Snape, and all my potions are refined under his professional supervision."

Ian was already fully aware of how much weight the Prince name carried in the potions community.

Sure enough, upon hearing that, the freckled girl immediately showed a shocked expression.

"You... you're that Hogwarts Guardian?" She was clearly someone who kept up with recent wizarding world news. And with all the public promotion from Old Dumbledore and Grindelwald, it was hard to miss.

"Shouldn't we be focusing on my potions?" Ian blinked innocently.

The freckled girl immediately looked slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry."

She glanced toward the back room.

"I need to inform the boss."

With that, she quickly jogged into the back. A few minutes later, she returned with a mature woman who had both capital and curves, clearly someone with authority.

"Hello, Mr. Prince. I'm Luanne Lilyvee. I heard you're interested in selling us some potions?" The woman asked cautiously.

"That's right." Ian got straight to the point and took out a batch of potions he had stockpiled. None were illegal, just products from his practice batches used to train proficiency, though not particularly useful in a practical sense.

"What excellent quality… These are definitely much higher-grade than what our regular supplier provides. Are these all refined by you personally?"

After examining the potions, Lilyvee couldn't help but praise them. When Ian nodded, she let out a heartfelt sigh, her voice full of emotion.

"No wonder... A true descendant of the Prince House. I'd wager that even in your family's long history, you're a rare genius. Perhaps one day, you may even surpass your Master uncle."

Luanne Lilyvee did not hold back on the compliments.

Ian thoroughly enjoyed the praise.

"So, can I sell them to you?"

Of course, this was the part Ian cared about most.

Upon hearing the question again, Lilyvee chuckled softly.

"Normally, aside from works from well-known masters or certified experts, we rarely purchase potions from individual suppliers, no matter how good they are."

"But… who could stick to principle when it's you handing them over?"

Her words clearly meant the deal was going through.

"Principle is the Prince House's golden reputation?" Ian mused aloud.

However, Lilyvee shook her head at his guess.

"No, the principle… is that deed in your hand." She gave an answer that left Ian visibly confused. He quickly pulled out the big ring of keys at his waist to check something.

"So you were one of mine too."

Ah. The burden of being a landlord.

Apparently, he had missed a few properties the last time he came to Diagon Alley to "inspect" his estate.

"Don't worry, we'll definitely give you the highest possible purchase price. I just need to ask: how much of this potion stock do you intend to sell?" It was clear from her confidence that Lilyvee had the backing of a major and sacred House.

"This much." Ian held up five fingers.

"Five pints?" Lilyvee guessed.

Ian shook his head.

"Fifty pints?" She was visibly startled.

"Fifty kilograms, ma'am." Ian then pulled out a few massive barrels, so large that Lilyvee and the freckled girl looked like their eyeballs were about to pop out from shock.

…

By the time Hermione had finished purchasing all her supplies, Ian had also completed a massive business transaction.

He cleared out a large chunk of unnecessary inventory, and walked away with a big chest stuffed with gold coins.

"I should probably go to Gringotts and open an account," Ian muttered, estimating the gold Galleons he was carrying. Even with weight-reducing charms, it was still a considerable burden.

"Then let's go see the wizarding bank too. We can also exchange this year's allowance while we're at it," Said Mrs. Granger, clearly someone who knew how to manage a household well.

And that was fair, only a fool wouldn't take advantage of available benefits.

The Ministry of Magic's Muggle-born New Student Exchange Policy actually had a pretty generous exchange rate. On the way to Gringotts, Ian explained the situation about Voldemort and the Potter family to Hermione and Mrs. Granger.

"He defeated a Dark Lord at such a young age?!" Hermione was stunned.

Thinking back to her earlier encounter with that boy, she could hardly believe someone so powerful had appeared before her, that he had actually defeated an evil demon overlord while still a baby.

"That poor child," Said Mrs. Granger sympathetically.

Unlike Hermione, she didn't focus on the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived, but was instead saddened by the tragedy that had befallen the Potter family.

"The wizarding world's little mustache-man… Good thing the dark times are over!"

She even had a lingering sense of fear.

If her daughter had been born in that era, she would never have let Hermione study magic.

"To me, that Dark Lord seemed more like the terrifying head of a cult than a proper leader," Said Mr. Granger.

His opinion aligned with Ian's, and with a few other clear-headed people. Though he was just a Muggle, he recognized that many dynamics in the wizarding world mirrored those in the Muggle world.

As they talked about Voldemort…

Gringotts came into view.

It was located in the very center of Diagon Alley's commercial district, a slightly aged but massive building that clearly outclassed the small shops around it.

After all, it was a bank, and in any world, banks never lacked grandeur.

Two goblins stood alert by the shining bronze front doors. Their unusual appearance made Hermione and her parents feel both curious and uneasy.

"Is this building one of your properties too?" Hermione must have overheard the conversation Ian had with the potion shop owner earlier.

"I wish it was mine. But unfortunately, it belongs to the goblins," Ian said with a regretful sigh. He truly didn't understand why wizards would entrust their banking system to a race they had defeated in war.

"More guests arriving," Grumbled the goblins by the door, bowing mechanically,

Without even lifting their heads.

They were clearly not enthusiastic.

Ian, Hermione, and the Grangers stepped inside, passing through a second silver door, where a prominent warning inscription immediately caught their eyes:

"Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed.

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there."

The inscription was written in Old English. But since everyone present was a straight-A student, reading it was no problem.

Inside, even more goblins came into view. One after another, these short creatures worked diligently behind long rows of counters, weighing coins with scales, inspecting gems with monocles. Each goblin was laser-focused, as if afraid a single misstep might cause a massive loss.

That's just the kind of race they were.

The glow of gold and jewels turned the entire hall into a glittering sea of light.

"Now this is a proper-looking place," Mr. Granger finally found something in the wizarding world that he could appreciate. But just as he was about to continue his commentary, a goblin wearing an earring approached them.

"Here to make a deposit? I can smell the gold Galleons on you."

Maybe he'd transplanted a dog's nose onto himself.

"They're here to exchange the Hogwarts new student allowance, and I'm here to open a vault. Yes, I have a lot of gold." Ian gave his coin chest a mighty shake as he spoke.

The earring goblin's face lit up instantly.

"Excellent! Right this way! Oh, by the way, I'm 'Hoopring.' You're welcome to deposit with me anytime!"

He led Ian, Hermione, and Mrs. Granger to one of the counters.

"Open a vault for this gentleman! He's depositing money!" Hoopring shouted to another goblin at the counter, who sported a ridiculous "chicken-comb" hairstyle. Meanwhile, Hermione and her parents still felt a bit uneasy around these oddly shaped creatures.

"No problem!" Hearing there was a deposit, the chicken-combed goblin perked right up.

"Name, please?" He pulled out a little ledger, ready to record.

"Ian Prince." The young wizard answered a bit cautiously.

He doubted how secure goblin anti-theft measures really were. This kind of name-registration system, wasn't it prone to identity fraud? Or maybe the vault key itself served as the primary security measure?

"Ian… Prince. Got it." The goblin recorded the name, then began sketching Ian's face for the record. Holding a quill, he rapidly drew in the ledger, occasionally glancing up to observe Ian's features.

But as time passed, his hand started slowing down.

"You…"

The goblin seemed troubled. He stared at Ian for a long moment, then put on a pair of reading glasses and climbed over the desk to get a closer look at his face.

Then suddenly,

"Hiiissss~"

The goblin gasped.

He clutched his face, his expression filled with absolute terror.

"It's him! IT'S HIM! SUPREME ARCHMAGE MEDIVH!!"

The shriek of fear rang through the young wizard's ears.

(End of Chapter)

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