– Mr.
Granger’s Crash Course in Magic 16: Chapter 16: Naturally Evil Waldore!
– Mr.
Granger’s Crash Course in Magic Mr.
Granger had always been solid at the real-world game.
Not some elite grinder, but definitely one of the players who actually enjoyed the ride and came out ahead.
He figured once he raised his little overachiever daughter, life would be complete.
Nice house, successful practice, kid at the top of every class—what more could a guy want?
Then middle age hit and Earth Online dropped the magic DLC nobody asked for.
In the normal world, Mr.
Granger moved like a boss.
Money, connections, smooth sailing.
But the wizarding world?
Complete blackout.
He had no idea where to even start if something went sideways with Hermione.
He could throw cash and pull strings back home.
Here?
Wizards didn’t give a damn about pounds.
They used their own weird currency and acted like Muggle money was Monopoly cash.
He’d hoped to corner a Hogwarts professor for some real talk, maybe get the lay of the land.
Snape shut that down fast—cold as ice, zero patience for questions.
Now he finally had Isaac.
The kid seemed willing to talk, and Mr.
Granger had a whole list of burning questions he’d been sitting on for weeks.
Isaac caught the vibe right away.
Plenty of time before the ladies got back, so why not throw the worried dad a bone?
His own knowledge of the wizarding world was limited too.
Yeah, he had the prophecy gift, but he wasn’t one of those obsessed seers who lived inside their visions 24/7.
Grindelwald had drilled that into him early: a real prophet’s worst mistake is drowning in futures all day.
Prophecy is a tool, not a lifestyle.
Coming from a guy who’d actually crashed and burned at it once, the advice landed hard.
So before Hogwarts, Isaac treated his gift like a search engine.
After the letter arrived?
It turned into his private online class hack.
Most seers barely tapped one percent of what the power could do.
Isaac wasn’t about to waste it playing street mystic for pocket change.
Bottom line, even half-informed, he was still miles ahead of Mr.
Granger’s total cluelessness.
Mr.
Granger rubbed his hands together, voice a little rough.
“So, Isaac… Hermione said you gave her a prophecy.
Do wizards actually have that kind of talent?” Isaac shook his head.
“Nah.
That wasn’t a real prophecy.
Just smart guessing based on stuff I already knew.” He kept it gentle.
Straight talk?
It was a con job dressed up nice.
No need to spell it out like that.
“Wizards and witches are drawn to each other.
I could tell your daughter was an un-schooled witch the second I saw her.
Plus I’d just gotten my own Hogwarts letter that same day.
The rest was luck.
My usual customers don’t care about the fine print—they just want a couple pretty words and they tip heavy.
That’s the real secret behind the ‘prophecy’ business.” Isaac spread his hands.
The fewer people who knew how prophecy actually worked, the better.
Especially since he hadn’t even used his real gift on the Grangers much.
Most of what he told Mr.
Granger was true—except the part where he pretended he couldn’t actually see the future.
A little editing, a little reordering, and it was enough to fool anybody.
Mr.
Granger nodded slowly, thinking it through.
“So there are real wizards with actual prophecy talent?” “Yeah,” Isaac said.
“One of the Hogwarts professors has it.
It’s just… her predictions are pretty random.
Hard to control, and they hit whoever, whenever.
Not exactly reliable.” Mr.
Granger got the picture.
If that was the level of talent, no wonder it felt more like a mixed blessing than a superpower.
That answer lit the man up.
He waved over old Tom and ordered fish and chips for the table, sausage and mashed potatoes on the side, plus a glass of mead for himself.
“You want another round, kid?” Even though Isaac’s butterbeer was still half full, Mr.
Granger was already signaling for refills like they were old drinking buddies.
Isaac smiled and waved him off.
Mr.
Granger shrugged, took a long pull of his mead, and kept going.
“So these special talents wizards get—are they all this unpredictable?
Nothing a guy can actually count on?” “Oh, there are some solid ones,” Isaac said, digging into the fish and chips.
“Parseltongue—talking to snakes.
Metamorphmagus—you can change your face and body whenever you want.
And the Dumbledore family?
When they’re in real trouble, a phoenix shows up to help.” Except for that last one, the first two sounded more like circus tricks or spy gadgets to Mr.
Granger.
Still, way more believable than random prophecies.
He felt the knot in his chest finally loosen.
With his biggest worries handled, Mr.
Granger turned on the full dad charm.
The conversation flowed easy after that—jokes, stories, the kind of easy back-and-forth that happens when two people actually like each other.
By the time Mrs.
Granger and Hermione walked into the Leaky Cauldron, Isaac and Mr.
Granger were shoulder-to-shoulder at the table, laughing like they’d known each other for years.
“Come on over, Hermione!
This is my new favorite kid—Isaac.
He’s basically a local in the magic world.
We’ve been having the best damn talk!” Hermione took one look at her dad’s slightly glassy eyes and felt her stomach drop.
Then she heard Isaac say to her father, voice smooth as butter, “You know, the second I saw Miss Granger I knew she was destined for big things.
Future in the wizarding world?
Completely unlimited.” The words sounded like pure praise.
But the tone, the casual way he said it, the way he’d jumped straight to “Miss Granger” like he was some wise old uncle… it made her skin crawl.
Who else had talked to her like that?
Right—her dad’s doctor buddy back in London.
The one Dad jokingly called her “uncle” for years.
How long had it been since she saw that guy?
And now this boy her own age was pulling the same move?
No.
Absolutely not.
Hermione still had some pride left.
She ignored her dad completely and turned straight to Isaac.
“Waldore, you didn’t actually pay the bookstore manager earlier, did you?
Can they just send the books and let you pay later?
Like, hand the money to the owl or something?” Isaac gave her an easy smile.
“Afraid Flourish and Blotts doesn’t work that way.
I didn’t pay because my entire bill goes straight to Hogwarts.
Dumbledore covers everything for me.” Hermione—who’d only just been calmed down by her mom—looked like she was turning to stone all over again.