Chapter 65

[General Point of View]

“Thanks for inviting me,” Ryan said as he sat down, getting comfortable in the seat across from Lily, beside Rihanna and Karen.

Mary and Karen straightened up immediately, ready to introduce themselves.

“I’m—”

“Wait,” Ryan interrupted, lifting a hand with a half-smile. “Let me guess.”

Both girls looked at him, surprised.

“Guess?” Mary asked, torn between curiosity and suspicion.

“I like playing this game,” Ryan explained, still with that relaxed air. “I think Lily mentioned your names once… so it’ll be fun to see if I remember them right.”

Karen crossed her arms, challenging him. “Go on then. I’ll give you a hint: my name does not start with an E.”

“Let’s see… you are… Clara?”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“No? Alright. Second chance. Seraphine?”

“Not even close,” Karen said, holding back a smile.

“Mm…” Ryan tilted his head, pretending to think deeply. “Then I must surrender.”

“Karen,” she said, amused.

“Right, Karen,” he repeated, as if everything made sense now. “It was on the tip of my tongue.”

“Sure,” she murmured, laughing.

Ryan turned to Mary next, who was watching him with narrowed eyes.

“And you,” he said theatrically, “are undoubtedly… Arwen.”

Mary’s face twisted, “Arwen!?”

“No?” Ryan feigned surprise. “Then… Lúthien?”

Mary tossed a small cushion at him with no force at all, while the whole compartment burst into laughter.

“Mary! It’s Mary! And you knew that! And what are those weird names!?”

“Of course I knew… I just wanted to see if you had patience. And you don’t have much,” Ryan said, smiling faintly.

Mary huffed, half annoyed, half amused. “You’re unbearable.”

“Mary is not the most patient student in Gryffindor,” Lily said, laughing.

Ryan glanced at her sideways without losing his smile. He didn’t need to say it: his attention was already drifting back to her.

Moments later, Mary, Karen, and Rihanna grouped together in a conversation that very clearly had one purpose: creating space. Lily noticed it from their knowing looks, the almost choreographed way they shifted around, as if building an invisible barrier between him and her… but only to leave them alone.

“Thanks for the glasses,” Lily said then, her voice a little steadier than usual. “I wanted to thank you in person too. I loved them. They’re a great invention and they’ll be really useful for my OWLs.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Ryan replied, nodding with genuine calm. “And that they’ll help you. That’s what I made them for.”

Any student who valued their time, hardworking or lazy, could see the glasses as a real treasure. For the relaxed ones, it meant reading in half the time and earning extra hours to spare. For the studious, it was a brutal productivity tool, a way to do more, to become better.

Lily looked at him for a few more seconds, then lowered her voice. “Even so… they cost almost three times what my dad makes in a month. I’ve never had anything like that.”

Ryan kept his expression serene, but inside, he was calculating fast.

‘I suppose it’s hard to accept such an expensive gift when she barely considers me a friend…’ he thought.

It wasn’t the first time Lily hinted at her discomfort with the price. And he understood her.

In his previous life, as an orphan, he would’ve felt strange too if someone had given him something worth the equivalent of 70 galleons. That was a lot. Converted into the Muggle currency of his former country, it was about 420 dollars, and this was 1972. A sum few people would spend lightly, much less on someone with whom their relationship wasn’t even clearly defined yet.

Even giving such a gift to a close friend would be unusual unless both had a solid financial situation.

On top of that, the economic gap between the wizarding world and the Muggle world was brutal.

A decent wizarding salary hovered around 130 to 140 galleons a month, which was roughly 735 pounds. If what Lily said was true, and 70 galleons was almost triple what her father earned, that meant Lily’s father was making about 25–28 galleons. Around 140 pounds.

That meant an average wizard earned five times more than an average Muggle.

And although that sounded exaggerated, it made sense.

Wizards were far fewer, and almost everything in their world was more expensive, from food in Hogsmeade to a simple school robe. If a Muggle saw the prices in Diagon Alley, they’d think they were being robbed.

The clearest example was the list of supplies for a first-year at Hogwarts.

A wand cost at least 7 galleons, a price kept low thanks to his grandfather’s family tradition, he could easily charge 30 or 40. A basic cauldron cost 15 galleons. Three uniforms at 5 each, a winter cloak for 8. The first-year books, seven or eight of them, cost between 1 and 3 galleons each. And that wasn’t counting the dragon-hide gloves, the telescope, the crystal phials, the pointed hat, and the pet.

In total, the expenses for a new student could reach 80 or 90 galleons.

A figure that, for a Muggle with modest income, was simply unreachable.

Fortunately, Hogwarts offered support for Muggle-born students. But even so, the cost wasn’t small. Even for a wizard with an average salary, spending half their monthly pay at once for their child’s school entrance was something that stung.

Not impossible… but demanding.

So yes, he could understand Lily. It was logical that she felt uneasy receiving such an expensive gift.

And at the same time, that was exactly why Ryan had been so insistent with the letters: he hadn’t done it to show off, not at all. He just wanted it to be in the hands of someone who would genuinely appreciate it, knowing how much Lily cared about her studies.

“I didn’t make them so you’d feel uncomfortable,” Ryan said. “And I thought you had already accepted them based on what you wrote to me… but if you still feel uneasy and want to return them… I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to impress you or something.”

His words weren’t defensive, just sincere.

And even though he said them without changing his tone or expression, inside he was beginning to doubt. Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe he had crossed a line.

Rihanna, Karen, and Mary fell silent instantly.

All three turned to look at Lily at the exact same time, with perfectly synchronized expressions. They didn’t need to speak. Their eyes said everything: Are you insane? Are you going to make him think you don’t like his gift?

Lily stiffened, as if feeling the weight of those looks drilling into the back of her neck.

And before Ryan could say anything else, she interrupted quickly:

“No! No, I already accepted them. I love them. Really.”

Her cheeks were a little flushed, but her eyes were steady. “Besides… as you already know, my cat bit the case. And since they have my initials… like you said in your letters, I wouldn’t be able to sell them even if I wanted to.”

Ryan looked at her for a second, then let out a short breath.

“Yes… but I don’t want you to think I somehow maneuvered things so you’d feel like you owed me something. That wasn’t the point.”

He said it and glanced toward the window, his movement sharp, slightly tense. Not out of shyness or any deep emotional discomfort, but out of contained annoyance: he was starting to wonder if giving such a gift had been a mistake.

He’d thought that after insisting through letters, explaining that he genuinely made them because he believed they’d be useful, Lily had already accepted them. She had even joked about her cat biting the case. All in good spirits. He thought the issue was settled.

But now, with her bringing the topic up again, and in public, with that awkward tone as if it were an excessive gesture, the whole thing was beginning to feel more irritating than anything else. Almost as if they’d made him look like some overeager guy.

Or worse: like someone playing the benefactor. A guy who gave expensive things to score points. What, in his former world, would be known as a rich simp.

Mary shot Lily a very clear look: What the hell are you doing?

Karen and Rihanna shook their heads in perfect sync, as if wishing for telepathy to tell their friend she had just, accidentally, kicked a man’s pride square in the ribs. Not with malice, of course, but that’s how it could be read. And boy, was it readable.

Lily seemed to notice everything then. The tension, the looks, the silence that had suddenly grown thicker than usual.

“I understand,” Lily said quickly. “You don’t owe me anything. I love them, I really do. It’s just weird for me to have something so expensive. But that’s it. I’m not giving them back or bringing it up again. Okay?”

Ryan nodded without looking at her. “As you wish.”

The silence that settled afterward was uncomfortable even for him. And that already said a lot.

Because Ryan was not someone bothered by silence. He could inhabit quiet moments like someone strolling through their own home. His ego was solid, his humor bulletproof, and his ability to remain unshaken was legendary.

But not even he could endure eight hours of travel in a closed compartment with four girls, three of whom he barely knew (sure, he had sold them quills at some point, quick transaction, no chatter), and one he did know. And who had just turned a gift into such an awkward exchange that it made him want to take the glasses back, open the window, and throw them out.

He sat there, staring through the glass. Posture as confident as ever, expression as neutral as always. But inside, all he could think was that he couldn’t spend the rest of the trip like this.

The worst part: now he felt like a simp, and for Ryan, that was a direct hit to his pride. He ran a hand through his hair, rolled his neck a bit, like someone who needed fresh air.

He thought about it for two more seconds. Then he stood up.

“I’m going to look for my friends. I don’t think I can survive eight hours of this without ripping an eye out,” he said bluntly, though in a neutral, almost lazy tone.

He did have friends, actual friends and, for a change, male ones: Gideon and Fabian. He’d built a brotherly bond with those two, especially. And also with Jamie and Callum, his roommates.

“I’m leaving my trunk and the owl here anyway. Too much effort to haul them around. Don’t steal anything,” he said, looking at Karen and the others. “It’s all enchanted. Automatic biting, electric shock, fully Ministry-approved defense system designed by the genius inventor speaking to you. Stuff like that.”

Rihanna snorted in amusement, crossing her arms as if trying to hide a laugh.

Mary shook her head, smiling slightly.

Ryan opened the compartment door with deliberate slowness, as if even the act of leaving were some unnecessary display of theatrics. Before stepping out, he lifted a hand in a lazy wave, not looking at anyone in particular.

“Behave.”

And he left.