Man of Archives

The "date" went smoothly. It turned out that Tamara's football player boyfriend had dumped her because he didn't want to be involved with a "psycho"—that "psycho" being me, the one who had humiliated him in front of his friends and teammates.

Tamara tried to flirt with me in that way only sixteen-year-old girls can, but I didn't respond. Whenever she approached, signaling she wanted a hug, I simply stepped aside, maintaining some distance. The last thing I needed was to start a relationship now, especially when I hadn't fully studied or trained in magic. I quickly shut down her cheap tricks, like trying to drag me into the bushes or kiss me. Why would I need that?

It was clear Tamara was unhappy, as she thought she could get together with me quickly and that we'd start dating. A foolish idea, honestly, especially considering how she had treated me not too long ago. Morally, she didn't interest me at all. Sure, like any teenager, I had my own desires, but fulfilling them with someone so young didn't appeal to me. If she were at least twenty or older, then maybe I'd consider it.

When I got home, my father immediately started questioning me with interest about how everything went, and my mother was curious too. I brushed them off with some meaningless phrases and went back to studying my magic books.

Early the next morning, I decided to head back to Diagon Alley to continue gathering books and finally check out the public bulletin board I had always ignored. It was high time I looked at it and figured out if there was anything interesting or important there.

My father gave me some money, and I took a taxi to the entrance, then slipped inside, avoiding much attention from both wizards and ordinary people. There were quite a lot of people in Diagon Alley today, which was a bit strange. I overheard two young wizards hurrying somewhere:

"Have you bought a Tent for yourself yet?"

"Na-a-h, I spent my money on tickets to the First Zone."

"The First Zone? Impressive. I only managed to get tickets to the Third."

"MacSnaffin even got tickets to the Ministry loge."

They went into a shop selling all sorts of trinkets, while I continued on my way, trying not to attract their attention. It seemed like everyone was heading to some local game.

I made my way to a large bulletin board, a bit off to the side from the other shops. The square was small, holding at most two hundred wizards—unless magic was involved. The board itself was large, with the most interesting notices and paid advertisements displayed as colorful, bordered posters. There were Ministry of Magic notices, wanted posters, and various ads. The ones that caught my eye were about seeking helpers, offering lessons, and the summer school.

Using the bulletin board was simple. You just had to approach the notice you were interested in, and some magical process would make it fly up. You'd then grab it, and a copy would appear in your hand—a fascinating mechanism.

I took all the copies I needed and tucked them into my bag, which I always carried with me. It was enchanted with anti-theft charms, so I wasn't worried about anyone stealing from me in broad daylight.

Without immediately diving into the information, I headed to the bookstore to search for the books I needed. This time, my focus was on the creation of magic wands. Last night, as I lay staring at the ceiling, I realized I knew nothing about wand-making.

This realization troubled me because I was so dependent on this tool. If I wanted to become a great wizard, I had to understand how my wand worked from A to Z and be able to make one myself. Without this knowledge, I couldn't consider myself a true wizard. I'm sure it's difficult—otherwise, every wizard would be making their own wands, which clearly isn't the case.

And indeed, I was right. I found a small book that provided a general overview of wand-making. After analyzing and studying this information, I discovered that wand-making is a complex art requiring an incredible amount of knowledge, from Herbology and Astronomy to Magical Creatures, Potions, Charms, and several other disciplines. It's no wonder there are so few masters capable of crafting excellent wands, and when you think about it, they are all well-known and highly respected.

It seems to me that Diagon Alley isn't the best place to find information on wand-making. Perhaps Ollivanders, with their generations of expertise, or Gringotts would be more suitable. Such knowledge might also be found at Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic. Beyond these, I can't think of any other places where this kind of information would be available, and I can't even imagine any.

When I returned home, I was eager to dive into the information I had gathered. With my parents out, I had the house to myself, allowing me to focus without interruption—not that it was an issue before.

The first flyer I examined was about a job opportunity:

"Looking for an Assistant. I am a professional Hunter, a member of the Guild. I need a young man willing to help with tasks for a small fee. Qualifications can be anything. Send a letter to: Canadian Independence Street 39. Or look for me at the Leaky Cauldron at nine in the morning. Brock."

Overall, it seemed quite intriguing—a professional Hunter looking for an assistant. The only thing that raised suspicion was that he was advertising for it. He could easily find an assistant through the Guild. So, either it's a setup, or this Brock is just a nobody. It's easy enough to find out; I just need to meet him or send an owl. I should consider buying a cheap owl so I don't have to run to Diagon Alley every time I need to send a letter. I should have thought of this sooner.

The next notice was from a wizard named Valentine, offering to teach some spells, though it didn't specify which ones. This sounded like a scam aimed at students. The low price suggested the spells were either useless or something that could be learned at school. From Professor McGonagall's letter, I gathered that it's better if the teacher is from the Guild rather than some random person from an alley. So, I set that notice aside.

The third flyer, however, about a summer school, really caught my attention. It read:

"Enrolling in the summer school of magic. Wizards of all ages and skill levels are welcome. We help you learn new material, spells, or even a new direction. You will be taught by excellent wizards affiliated with the Teachers' Guild. Each of our instructors is a master of their craft. Minimum price: 1 Galleon for twelve hours. For detailed information and rates, contact: White Troll Street 3, Wareham, Dorset."

This was more interesting, but the price... the price was steep, very steep. I don't have that kind of money for proper training right now. The other problem is that the school is not in London but quite far away. So, if I had the opportunity to study there in the summer, I would have to move there, which would also cost money. Probably not a small amount either.

When my parents got home, they called me to dinner. It was a pleasant and tasty meal.

"Well, Timothy," my father said, "are you ready to go to Spain? We're leaving soon."

"Overall, yes," I nodded. "But I'm still looking for a part-time job in the magical world to gain some experience."

"A job?" my mother asked. "Are you sure that's the best idea? You haven't finished school yet."

"I need to gain some experience and also find ways to earn some wizarding money," I explained. "I can't keep relying on your money."

"Timothy," my father said thoughtfully, "I understand that you're at an age where you want to be independent. That's good. We'll support your decision, and if you can't join us on vacation because of the job, we'll understand."

My mother nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," I said, appreciating their support.

"But if you need money for anything," my mother added, "just let us know."

I just nodded silently and returned to my meal. Afterward, my father and I went for a walk, during which we talked a bit about the economy of the magical world and how it compares to the regular, Muggle world.

"So, the largest bank is run by a non-human race?" my father asked, surprised.

"Yes, the goblins," I confirmed with a nod.

"The ones from Tolkien?"

I hesitated, trying to recall who Tolkien was. After sifting through my memories, I remembered. "More or less... but they're more dangerous. Wizards have fought many bloody wars with them, and those rarely ended well."

"So, did the goblins win?" my father asked.

"No," I replied. "Though some wizards prefer to keep their money in private vaults, goblins have a way of making currency that's almost impossible to counterfeit."

"Interesting," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

He continued to ask me about various details that caught his interest until we returned home. I washed up and then went to my room to resume studying the books I had been working through earlier.

In the morning, my parents left again to run their errands. My father handed me some pocket money, though I doubted I'd need it much. I decided to head to the Leaky Cauldron to find this hunter, Brock. It would be quicker but possibly less safe. To ease my nerves, I slipped a small knife into my bag.

The Leaky Cauldron had two entrances. The first was from the non-magical world, hidden in a small alley enclosed by tall walls. A few trash cans added to the secluded atmosphere, but there wasn't any actual filth. The second entrance was from the magical world, through Diagon Alley. It was clean, tidy, and designed to attract wizards.

Inside, it was dimly lit, with the scent of delicious food mingling with various tobaccos and other unfamiliar smells. This wasn't some cheap tavern where the dregs of society gathered. You might occasionally encounter a Hogwarts professor or their assistant, middle-ranking Ministry officials, or wizards from various guilds. Moreover, the Leaky Cauldron was one of the few places I knew that offered overnight accommodation for wizards.

A distinguished man, slightly hunched with signs of curses, stood at the spotless, almost gleaming bar. You could tell immediately.

"Good morning," I greeted him.

"Morning," he nodded. "But is it really good today?"

"The weather's sunny, no rain in sight," I told him the latest weather report I had heard on the radio while on the bus.

"Well, that's good, at least," he nodded. "So, what do you need?"

"I read that a certain hunter, Brock, is looking for assistants," I said calmly and slowly. "The ad said I could meet him here. Could you direct me to him?"

"Ah, I know the one," the man nodded and looked around. "Dangerous and risky guy, I'll tell you. But he knows his stuff one hundred percent. He's sitting in that corner."

The bartender nodded toward a distant corner. I turned in that direction and almost immediately locked eyes with a pair of dark blue eyes that were studying every inch of my body. Then his gaze returned to the newspaper.

"Good luck," the bartender nodded. "If you want a drink, just call me. We don't expect many people this morning."

"Thank you," I nodded and headed straight for the hunter.

The hunter was dressed in a simple, dark green robe with brown patches, designed to blend in with the forest. As I got closer, I noticed his face was etched with a web of scars that stretched from his eye to his ears and the upper corner of his mouth. His nose was sharp and straight, also bearing a small scar.

"Good morning," I greeted him, standing rather than sitting down. "Sorry to interrupt your breakfast. Are you Mr. Brock, the one who posted the ad for an assistant?"

"Hmm," he drawled, squinting as he looked me over. His gaze was that of a dangerous man, familiar with bloodshed. I had seen that look before in the enforcers of large guilds in Fiore. Then he licked his lips and smirked. "Let's say that's me. And who are you?"

"My name is Timothy Jody," I introduced myself. "I'd like to ask to be taken on as an assistant for the summer."

"For the summer?" He seemed surprised. "How old are you, shrimp?"

"Sixteen, Mr. Brock," I replied, unfazed by the nickname. "I just finished my fifth year at Hogwarts."

"How did you do on your OWLs?" he asked immediately.

"All Outstanding," I responded without hesitation.

"Not lying?" He tilted his head, scrutinizing me.

"No, Mr. Brock," I assured him.

"Why do you want to be my assistant?" he asked, not wasting any time.

"To earn money and learn something new," I answered.

"Alright, acceptable answer," he said, standing up and setting aside the newspaper. "Follow me. Let's test your skills now."

I followed him as we walked down Diagon Alley, eventually turning into a secluded spot I had never noticed before. It was a small area with a few bushes, trampled earth, and several dummies lined up against a wall. The wall itself bore the marks of numerous spells.

"Don't worry about using magic here," he said, shrugging off his robe to reveal more practical clothing. A wand appeared in his hand with a few quick flicks. "Let's skip the chatter and get straight to your test. Wand at the ready."

I didn't need any further prompting and quickly drew my wand, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen.

"Shield Charm," he instructed. "Show me."

"Protego," I responded, casting the spell precisely and quickly, focusing on maintaining speed.

A red flash struck my shield in the next second. The Shield Charm held firm, emitting a low hum. But the next red flash, followed by two silver ones, shattered my shield.

"Now Binding Spell on the dummy," he instructed, and one of the dummies glowed with a yellowish light.

"Incarcerous," I cast the next spell, and saw strong, black ropes bind the dummy, preventing it from moving its arms.

"Transfigure a small cage for me," he said immediately after.

Now, this was a more challenging task, but I could handle it. I chose sand as the base material. Quickly figuring the right formula, I made a few flicks of my wand, muttering several spells in sequence.

A second later, a sturdy iron cage formed from the sand, just like the one I had in my mind. Brock approached it, tapped it a few times with his wand as if testing it, then struck it sharply. The cage hummed but held.

"Not bad, not bad," he nodded. "Dispel it."

"Finite," I said, and the cage immediately crumbled.

"Severing Charm on the dummy," he instructed.

"Diffindo," I cast the spell quickly and efficiently. The spell shot from my wand almost faster than I could say it.

A deep cut appeared on the dummy. With just a bit more power, the head would have come off.

"Now show me a fire spell."

I didn't hesitate.

"Incendio," I said, and the dummy burst into flames almost instantly, collapsing into black ashes moments later.

A minute later, a new dummy materialized out of thin air. What an impressive training ground.

"Well, what can I say," the wizard nodded. "Not bad, very not bad. You've passed the first part of the test. Let's head back to the Cauldron."

We returned, and he pointed to a chair opposite him. The bartender appeared almost immediately with a glass of something sweet-smelling. He winked at me and gave a thumbs-up. I nodded gratefully.

"So, here's the deal, shrimp," the hunter began. "Tomorrow at nine in the morning, be here. I'll take a light job from the guild. We'll see how you do, and then I'll decide. You should know that sometimes the job can last several days, so be prepared for that. Also, your shoes aren't the best for this job, but they'll do for now. Third, you can use magic freely during the job; no one will say anything to you. And fourth... the money."

I leaned forward a little, showing my interest.

"The first three jobs will be unpaid," he said. "Then you'll get a share of the job. At least two Knuts. But if you work well, unlike some of the other candidates, you'll earn more. Agreed?"

"Yes," I nodded. Overall, it was fair enough. In Fiore, I would have had to pay just to get any wizard to take me along.

"Then, let's sign the initial contract for three jobs," he said. A piece of parchment appeared in his hand. He gave it to me.

I began to read every word of the contract slowly and carefully.

"What is the role of an assistant, anyway?" I asked him.

"To assist," Brock replied. "Watch, bind, cut... basically, help the hunter complete his job."

I looked at him closely, trying to find any hint of what he meant. But... his face was completely calm. The phrase "help complete the job" sounded very suspicious.

"By the way," I addressed him, "why are you looking for an assistant? What happened to the previous ones?"

"Nothing much," the man waved his hand. "The assistant before you was torn in half by a troll. But he didn't go to Hogwarts and wasn't very well-prepared. The one before him was strangled by some cursed plant. Also a fool. And before that, one was grabbed by a giant eagle and fed to its chicks. That one was a Hogwarts graduate and thought he was smarter than everyone else."

That kind of revelation made me reluctant to sign the contract.

"Don't think I'm telling you this to scare you," Brock said. "That's just the nature of a hunter's job. Risky, but with high rewards."

"Really?" I asked with slight surprise. Two Knuts didn't seem to suggest that. But I decided to hold my tongue for now. We'll see.

"Don't worry," the hunter smirked. "I'll give you a brief before each job and after it's completed to ensure mistakes don't happen again."

I read the contract once more, pondering whether I really wanted this. I needed experience, connections, and knowledge. Besides, this job could introduce me to new acquaintances that could be incredibly useful in the future. If I signed the contract, my summer would be filled with exciting "adventures." But on the other hand, it would be dangerous. If I didn't sign, I'd lose a chance to learn something new, train in magic, and earn some money.

After thinking it over a bit more, I decided to put my signature down. Let's see how the first three jobs will go.

"By the way," he said after splitting the contract into two copies and handing one to me. "Do you know how to Apparate?"

"No," I shook my head.

"That's not good," he said. "But it's not bad either. I'll teach you this important skill. So, tomorrow, come in comfortable clothes. The job will take one day, so don't bring much with you."

"Understood," I nodded. "Is there anything else important?"

"Don't be late, shrimp," Brock said. "You're free to go now."

I didn't need to be told twice. I got up from the chair and headed toward the exit. I paused for a moment at the bar, but the bartender was now talking to a tall man with a purple turban on his head. The man was stuttering and emitting faint garlic smells.

"A r-r-room," the man stammered. After that, I didn't hear anything else as I stepped outside and exhaled.

I headed back to the training ground where Brock had tested me. I had never known such a place existed. An old wizard, who seemed like he was about to crumble into dust, was sitting in a small booth.

"Excuse me, sir," I addressed him. The wizard trembled, woke up, and looked at me with gray eyes.

"Huh?" he asked loudly. "What did you say?"

"Good morning," I greeted him. "I wanted to ask if it's possible to train here."

"WHAT?" he asked loudly again.

"Is it possible to train here?" I repeated, louder.

"Oh," he said. "You should have said so. Yes, you can. I've been sitting here for about two hundred years."

"Two hundred?"

"HMM?" he asked loudly.

"Two hundred years?" I asked him loudly.

"YES," he nodded. "I even saw Dumbledore's dad as a little rascal."

"Then can I train here?" I asked loudly again.

"Yes," he nodded more calmly. "Train. This area was specifically created for that purpose as a gift from the Potters to the Ministry and the Magical World of Britain."

"Thank you," I nodded to him. The decision to practice magic came incredibly quickly and easily. If people rarely come here, even better for me.

So, I spent a little over two hours practicing spells starting from first-year level. I think I'll be coming here much more often. Thanks to the hunter, I learned about a very interesting place—a first plus.

I returned home around evening, feeling a bit hungry. My parents were already home. My mother was tending to the flowers that grew in several flowerbeds near the entrance, and my father was sitting in a small travel chair, holding a newspaper in one hand and a beer bottle in the other. One of his work friends sat in the second chair.

"Hey," I said, waving my hand.

"You're back already?" my mother asked, straightening up.

"Yeah," I nodded.

"Tamara called you and asked you to call her back."

"Alright," I nodded and exhaled. "By the way, I found a part-time job."

"So quickly?" my father was surprised.

"Yeah. Tomorrow, I have to be there by nine in the morning," I told him.

"And what's the job?" his friend asked.

"Helping someone with their tasks," I said calmly.

"So you're not going with us?" my father asked.

"I'm not sure yet," I replied. "I have a few trial days. After that, he'll decide whether to keep working with me or not."

"Got it," my father nodded.

"I envy you, my friend," my father's friend said. "My kid just hangs out with his friends all the time."

I nodded and went inside the house. I quickly changed and grabbed some food. I had gotten quite hungry recently. If I had known there was a training ground there, I would have brought something to snack on. I'll be smarter next time.

I called Tamara back and chatted with her for a while. Although, I wouldn't really call it a chat. I had no desire to do it. She was hinting that I should invite her out, but pretending not to understand works well in such situations. So, we didn't make any plans. And I was glad about that.

Before bed, I went downstairs. My father was watching TV, and my mother was reading a magazine.

"So, what's this job of yours?" my mother asked.

"Assistant to a hunter," I replied. "For the first three hunts, he'll be testing me, and then he'll decide if he wants to keep working with me. And I'll also decide if this job is for me."

"Is it dangerous?" my mother asked.

"No more dangerous than regular hunting," I lied without blinking.

"Alright," my mother nodded and exhaled. "I hope it's not dangerous."

I spent the last few hours of the evening going over some interesting spells in my Defense Against the Dark Arts book that might come in handy in various situations during the hunts.

Early in the morning, I packed the necessary things into my bag. My wand was always with me. Into the bag went a small first-aid kit my father had given me, some money, a few sandwiches, and a thermos. I didn't think I would need it all, but why not take it?

I took a taxi to the Leaky Cauldron and went inside. The familiar bartender nodded toward a corner. Brock was already there, sitting, reading a newspaper, and drinking a hot, pleasant-smelling beverage.

"Good morning, Mr. Brock," I greeted him as I approached.

He looked up at me, checked my things, and just nodded.

"You're not late, shrimp. That's good," he said, setting the newspaper aside. "Now, follow me."

We stepped out onto Diagon Alley. Brock held out his hand to me.

"Grab on."

"For what?" I asked.

"I need to Apparate us to our job site," the man replied. "Don't worry. You might feel a bit nauseous the first time, but that's all."

"Alright," I exhaled and grabbed his hand. It felt cold and metallic to the touch.

In the next second, I felt us spinning, as if being pulled through a narrow tube. The spinning continued the entire time. Suddenly, I felt solid ground beneath my feet, but I couldn't keep my balance and fell. My head was still spinning, but the disorientation faded with each passing second.

I stood up and exhaled deeply.

"First time?" Brock asked with a smirk.

"Yeah," I nodded, keeping a discreet eye on him while holding my wand ready. What if this was a trap?

But as I regained my composure, nothing happened. The hunter watched me closely but made no threatening moves, keeping his hands open. As I calmed down, I straightened up and looked around, trying to figure out where we were.

We were surrounded by greenery—tall pines, large bushes with berries at their tips, and pink flowers mixed in. It all looked intriguing. The sky was unusually clear, with no clouds or birds, just the sun.

"Where are we?" I asked him.

"Down South," Brock replied. "We need to catch a few animals here for the Potioneers' Guild."

"What animals?" I asked.

"Green Armored Toads," he answered calmly.

I quickly dove into my textbook on magical creatures and found the right page. It had descriptions, images, habitats, and lots of detailed information that would be incredibly useful.

"What do you know about them?" he asked me.

"They're magical creatures of the second danger category," I replied. "They have good defensive abilities. Potioneers use them in many different potions because their spleen is a neutral magical ingredient that serves as a catalyst."

"Not bad, not bad," he nodded. "I see you study well at school. How will you catch them?"

"I'll be doing this alone?" I asked him.

"Of course," Brock nodded, as if surprised by my question. "Who else?"

"Got it," I said, accepting his words. It seemed he had a teaching style through practice, pain, and humiliation. "First, I need to find out where they might be."

I said this quietly, starting to think and make a small plan. Green Armored Toads, like all other toads, live near lakes and rivers. So, first, I needed to find a water source. If I had a map, it would be much easier. But I didn't, so I'd rely on magic.

My wand appeared in my hand. I remembered the spell and cast it slowly.

"Leopassfinder," I flicked my wand.

A moment later, I felt the wand pulling me in a certain direction. Without resisting, I started walking. Brock followed, watching with interest, probably assessing me in some way.

When I stepped on a branch, and it snapped loudly, I froze. A mistake. I needed to completely hide myself from the animals, concealing my scent, the sound of my footsteps, and any other noises.

There's a spell for that, but it's more complex. I canceled the water-finding spell and decided to cast the concealment spells instead. It didn't work the first time, but my second attempt was successful.

Then I recast the water-finding spell and followed my wand again. This time, there were no sounds from my steps. After five minutes of walking, I emerged near some reeds that hid a small, dark blue pond. Not bad. Now I just had to find those Armored Toads.

If you listened closely, you could hear the sounds of the forest and its creatures. There weren't many quiet places like this in Fiore—they were either near bustling cities with their guilds or heavily guarded by soldiers. The chances of encountering danger in this world weren't small either. So I couldn't let my guard down and focus solely on finding the Green Armored Toads.

I spotted my first target in the water—a toad perched on an algae-covered rock, scanning the area with its large, light-blue eyes. Its eyes swiveled in all directions, as if on the lookout for danger. After a minute, the toad stuck its head above the water, exhaled, inhaled, and then ducked back down.

The best time to catch them is right after they exhale, but before they start inhaling again. It's only a few moments, but that should be enough to cast the spell and capture it.

My wand was in hand, ready to act, when a wave of unease washed over me. I had felt this sensation a few times before, back in Fiore, and it had helped me survive some tricky situations.

I froze, pretending to keep watching the water while secretly observing the reflection. In it, I caught the faint outline of a creature with large fangs creeping toward me along a tree. Gripping my wand more firmly, I prepared myself. This was a dangerous situation, but I wasn't scared. The spell was already in my mind, ready to be cast.

I saw the creature's back tense as it coiled. My body became like a spring, ready to react. In the next second, it all happened.

The creature leaped at me with lightning speed, but I was ready.

I spun around in a swift half-circle, quietly uttering the spell.

"Diffindo!" I cast, and a light wave shot out, slicing through the airborne creature effortlessly, splitting it in two from snout to tail. The two halves of what had been a whole body nearly fell on me, but the spell disrupted their trajectory, obliterating the attacker.

The remains twitched briefly from residual impulses before going still. Blood and organs spilled onto the grass, staining it red and brown with some other substance. I flicked my wand, ready for another attack, but nothing else happened.

A quiet clapping came from the shadows, and Brock stepped out, looking both surprised and pleased.

"Great job," he said. "Strike first, ask questions later. You must be from Gryffindor. But you missed out on some extra money. If you'd used a different spell, you could've earned an extra ten Sickles."

I just shrugged. I didn't really care. I wasn't expecting an attack like that, and I think I handled it well enough.

"Now clean up this mess," he instructed.

I nodded and used the Vanishing Spell twice—once to get rid of the corpse and again for the other parts I hadn't caught with the spell.

"Consider the first test passed," Brock said, sitting down on a stump I hadn't noticed before. "My last assistant got torn apart by a similar creature when he didn't watch his back. Remember, never leave it uncovered."

"Mr. Brock, didn't you send that creature?" I asked, intrigued.

"Shrimp, what nonsense are you talking about?" he snapped, glaring at me. "It was just a coincidence, nothing more."