Ever since Albus Dumbledore became Headmaster, he had rarely handled the enrollment of young witches and wizards personally.
The reason was simple.
Before his ascension to Headmaster, it was entirely reasonable for Dumbledore to visit Muggle-born families to explain the wizarding world to them; but if he still had to run those same errands after becoming Headmaster, what was the point of holding the highest office at Hogwarts?
Hogwarts graduates came and went in endless cycles, yet Dumbledore remained Headmaster year after year.
Watching the deeply revered Dumbledore move through the crowd, Isaac finally understood why Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, was so utterly paranoid of him.
Given Dumbledore’s staggering level of prestige, he did not even need to resort to grandiose, revolutionary rhetoric.
If he were to stand on the street today and declare, “I want to be the Minister for Magic,” someone within the Ministry would undoubtedly impeach Cornelius Fudge tomorrow, demanding he step down and cede his position.
In a subsequent vote, those in favor would far outnumber those who abstained.
As for the opposition…
aside from one or two of Fudge’s closest cronies, it was highly likely that no one would dare oppose him.
Under such immense pressure, as long as no major crisis arose, the Ministry of Magic could still maintain a peaceful coexistence with Hogwarts.
However, the moment a monumental decision had to be made, the entire wizarding community—including the employees at the Ministry—tended to look to Dumbledore to step in.
Cornelius Fudge behaved much like a newborn child, testing his boundaries with his “parents” through the clumsiest methods available.
At this stage, Dumbledore was clearly acting as the doting, overly indulgent mother, blindly tolerating Fudge’s antics.
Yet, if Dumbledore was the doting mother, Isaac could easily envision a strict father figure for the Minister.
Gellert Grindelwald would undoubtedly be the most terrifyingly strict father any Minister for Magic could ever cross.
Look at that—didn’t that tie everything together perfectly?
Snapping out of his stray thoughts, Isaac realized they had already arrived at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.
Along the way, Dumbledore had not slighted a single witch or wizard who approached him.
The crowd, in turn, refrained from imposing too heavily on his time.
After a brief, respectful exchange, they would simply stand aside, watching Dumbledore depart with longing, admiring eyes.
The moment they stepped into Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore manager rushed over to greet them.
“Professor Dumbledore, welcome!”
“Please prepare a complete set of first-year textbooks for this young man,” Dumbledore requested, gesturing toward Isaac beside him.
“Right away, Professor!” The manager responded without a second thought.
With a swift wave of his wand, a neatly wrapped stack of textbooks floated down from a nearby shelf.
Accompanying the books was a similarly wrapped package containing quills, parchment, and ink.
“Professor Dumbledore, here are all the required textbooks for a first-year curriculum, along with the complimentary parchment, quills, and ink that we include with every full set.”
Isaac was well aware of the stationery sets gifted by Flourish and Blotts.
The classic Hogwarts homework trio, wasn’t it?
One had to admit, the manager was thoughtful, ensuring that young students heading off to school wouldn’t lack the proper tools to complete their assignments.
Taking the organized textbooks and complimentary items from the manager, Dumbledore turned to Isaac.
“Flourish and Blotts is one of the largest bookstores in Diagon Alley, and their inventory is quite extensive.
If you ever find yourself searching for rare or obscure texts, you can even commission them to track the volumes down for you.”
The manager chimed in immediately.
“Yes, indeed!
We don’t charge an extra premium for locating specific books.
You only need to pay us a nominal service fee.”
Since transmigrating, Isaac had keenly felt the sharp contrast between Britain and his previous life.
Here, books were treated as genuine luxury items.
In the wizarding world, books represented knowledge, and knowledge was power—not in an abstract or spiritual sense, but in the most tangible, practical application possible.
Dumbledore was widely considered one of the most knowledgeable wizards alive, and he was consequently one of the most powerful.
Therefore, the policy at Flourish and Blotts to offer transparent pricing for their procurement services was remarkably generous.
For certain rare works, let alone buying them at face value, you might not even be able to purchase them if you offered a king’s ransom.
Isaac nodded politely, solemnly accepting the contact card proferred by the manager.
While Hogwarts undoubtedly boasted a massive library, who could guarantee that every single text he might eventually need would be resting on its shelves?
With his prophetic talent, if Isaac ever required a specific work that the Hogwarts library lacked, he could simply divine the book’s general whereabouts first.
Then, he could have the manager of Flourish and Blotts contact the owner directly.
Leaving professional matters to the professionals was always best; he only needed to pay a small service fee to have an experienced wizard do the legwork for him.
Isaac was acutely aware that this prompt service was a special privilege extended out of respect for Dumbledore.
In a magical society where knowledge equated to raw power, a bookstore like Flourish and Blotts was fundamentally no different from an arms dealer in the Muggle world.
“Would you care to look around and see if there are any other books in the shop that catch your interest?” Dumbledore asked kindly.
“No, thank you very much, Professor Dumbledore.
I don’t have any particular books I’m looking for at the moment,” Isaac replied, shaking his head.
He was lying, of course.
Having just entered the wizarding world and unlocked the location of its primary bookstore, how could Isaac possibly lack interest in the surrounding shelves?
In the original story, the protagonist was the Boy Who Lived, but Harry Potter was never particularly fond of academics—or reading in general.
Consequently, bookstores and libraries rarely took center stage in his adventures.
But in reality, this place represented a vast, uncharted ocean of knowledge waiting for Isaac to absorb.
His prophetic talent could even serve as a filter to weed out most of the useless information.
It could be said that Isaac was secretly itching to dive headfirst into the aisles of Flourish and Blotts.
The beautiful maiden known as Knowledge was practically begging for their prophet, Valdore, to favor her, yet he deliberately held himself back.
How could Isaac fail to notice that Dumbledore intended to foot the bill for this entire excursion?
There was absolutely no logistical reason for him to refuse the Headmaster’s sponsorship.
Isaac was a parentless orphan; Dumbledore’s willingness to extend financial support essentially placed him in the role of another benefactor—a benefactor much like Grindelwald.
Perhaps it was because his own Grindelwald-esque traits were so glaringly obvious that Dumbledore was projecting his complicated affection onto him.
Yet, while Dumbledore might choose to show him kindness for the sake of another, Isaac could not bring himself to shamelessly exploit it.
Throughout history and across cultures, those who practiced genuine gratitude were universally respected and well-liked.
No one tolerated an ungrateful wretch who took advantage of someone else’s good nature.
Therefore, while Dumbledore was entirely willing to offer, Isaac knew he could not be so mapless as to demand things recklessly.
Isaac’s reservation was exceptionally well-hidden.
Unfortunately, he was attempting to deceive an old fox who had lived for over a century.
Without pressing Isaac further for his opinion, Dumbledore turned directly back to the manager of Flourish and Blotts.
“Before Mr.
Isaac Valdore graduates from Hogwarts, all of his educational expenses here at Flourish and Blotts are to be billed directly to my personal account.”
A master of magic naturally possessed the unique privileges of his station—and for a wizard like Albus Dumbledore, who held unmatched magical power and immense political sway, those privileges were exceptionally numerous.