Amidst the repetitive training, Dumbledore was, once again today, fighting for his life.
Lightning raged from the sky, and flames blazed from the ground.
*Perhaps this place, with its air so scorched that even breathing is difficult, is actually hell.* Having lived for over a century, Dumbledore was smelling the scent of death more keenly than ever before as he swung his wand, dazed.
To him, magic had always been a joyous thing.
As a child, Dumbledore had been keenly aware that he was different from others.
He couldn't understand why others found magic difficult, and there was never a spell he couldn't comprehend after seeing it just once. The only one who could be discussed on an 'equal' level with him was Grindelwald.
That is, on an 'equal' level. Because there had been one person who was on a 'superior' level.
And now, facing the magic wielded by that superior person, Dumbledore realized for the first time in his life that magic could feel utterly tedious.
A spell flies at him; he blocks it. He shows an opening; another spell comes flying.
If he doesn't widen his view, a spell flies toward Harry.
And this battle had been going on for over five hours now.
By this point, Dumbledore's brain had melted into mush, and he could no longer tell if it was his own arm swinging the wand or something else entirely.
It was as if his body was not his own. He felt like a machine that did nothing but shoot out magic, not a human being.
Yet, what he couldn't deny was the feeling that his skills were actually improving.
His overworked mouth and body were optimizing their movements to the utmost.
At some point, the sensation of swinging his wand gradually improved, moving several times faster, and the difference between non-verbal and verbal spells vanished.
Was that all? After his mind went blank as if from a fever, his use of magic began to enter the realm of the unconscious.
*CRASH.*
*Ah, that's the sound of lightning striking.* 'Herbivicus.' A plant shot up from the ground, took the lightning strike in his stead, and vanished.
He felt a small amount of heat on his right hand. A sign of a fire-based spell. He levitated water from the lake and scattered it in the air.
Beyond just receiving information through his eyes and ears, he could feel the surrounding magic with all five senses. With a sense of omnipotence, as if looking down on the entire battlefield from above, Dumbledore could, for a moment, observe all magic.
Not only the magic he used, but where Aisen's magic would appear. Its origin. Even what spell would be used next. All of it.
"Ah."
With a small, sharp intake of breath, that unconscious state shattered, and the feeling of omnipotence vanished.
Before Dumbledore could even savor the disappointment, spells came flying at him again. He faltered for a moment, having missed the rhythm, but Dumbledore gritted his teeth and cast his magic once more.
"That was good! Let's keep it up!"
Hearing his sunbae shout from afar, Dumbledore muttered, "Does this mean I still have a long way to go to grow? Hah."
There was no need to feel disappointed about the lost sensation. The environment that would forcibly make that sensation blossom would continue.
***
So then, what was our Harry Potter doing?
"Protego! Depulso! Aguamenti!"
He was desperately trying to survive using every spell he knew. Just like Dumbledore.
The only difference was that he had to survive against two opponents.
Because Harry was feeling the exact same thing toward Dumbledore that Dumbledore was likely feeling toward Aisen right now.
One moment, he'd hear a snippet of conversation between his master and the headmaster from afar, and the next, lightning would strike from the sky, flames would erupt, all sorts of plants would sprout from the ground, and lake water would pour down on his head.
In a word, Harry's situation was that of a shrimp caught between fighting whales. (TN: A Korean idiom meaning an innocent bystander getting hurt while powerful entities fight.)
When a spell that seemed completely overwhelming came down, Dumbledore would use magic to protect Harry, but beyond that, the defensive spells Dumbledore used were even more dangerous.
If you were to ask how a defensive spell could be more dangerous, it was because Dumbledore, too, was an archmage of insane skill.
When flames came flying, he would conjure a tidal wave to block them. For Harry, of course, either one was a natural disaster.
That he was able to survive in the midst of such a battle was entirely due to Harry's talent. Of course, even with such talent, he couldn't completely avoid the disasters.
"Kuk… Episkey."
In the end, what improved the most were his healing skills.
After repeatedly suffering all sorts of injuries and healing them in an instant, Harry, who still had a Muggle sensibility, thought he was gradually turning into a zombie.
It was now the third day of being injured and healing, over and over.
He was now at the point where instantly healing his wounds was becoming an unconscious act.
He could guarantee that at this rate, even a proper combat medic would be no match for him…!
The spell needed for burns, the spell for an electrocuted body, the spell for broken bones! Even the spells for physical wounds from piercing injuries!
Watching himself become a true specialist in emergency wound treatment, Harry even felt a strange sense of pride.
In fact, one of the reasons he had lost his duel with Tom Riddle was his inexperience with healing. That was why Harry was focusing on it so intently.
Unlike Tom Riddle, who could recover from most wounds in an instant, every single injury had been critical for Harry.
He was certain that the current Harry could last much longer against the Horcrux than before! Of course, Harry still didn't know that Tom Riddle was a Horcrux.
Nevertheless, Harry could not judge the current situation as positive in any way.
*KRA-KABOOM! KABOOM!*
"Today's weather forecast is meteorites. Please be careful when going outside. Damn it."
It was only natural.
When lightning bolts and meteorites fall from the sky for fun, you're not human if you can remain positive. Harry, hardened by all sorts of experiences, was certain that there could be no situation more terrible than this.
"Alright, Albus! Let's end it here for today!"
That is, at least until Aisen created a familiar rocket-shaped bomb.
A dumbfounded Harry muttered as he watched it. "No, this is seriously not okay."
What kind of Dark Wizard in the world sets off an atomic bomb?
*KA-BOOM---!*
That day, a mushroom cloud bloomed over Britain.
***
After the lesson ended, as we sat together at the table enjoying a delicious lunch, Harry muttered with a sense of resignation, "A place where bombs fall… I shouldn't have been comparing myself to a combat medic. I *was* a combat medic on a battlefield."
Albus also seemed to have a lot to say, glaring at me for a long moment, but he was too busy stuffing food into his mouth as if even that time was precious.
There was something heartwarming about watching a man over a hundred years old eating so ravenously. *You're living a healthy old age, Albus.*
And it goes without saying, but the bomb I used was not the Tsar Bomba, let alone an atomic bomb.
Aside from whether they could block it, all sorts of radiation would pour down on them. I'm not that shameless of a pyromaniac.
I don't use them unless it's a safe place like the Gringotts dungeons. Really.
However, there are plenty of good bombs these days besides atomic ones.
I smiled to myself, thinking that my recent secret visit to the British Ministry of Defence had been worthwhile.
"By the way, the explosive power was almost fifty percent stronger than what I saw in the footage. Did the British Ministry of Defence misstate the power?"
Hearing that, Albus's expression changed strangely, and he asked me, "...Sunbae. Have you by any chance recently experienced your magic being stronger or weaker than usual? Or found it hard to control?"
"Uh…"
Come to think of it, it was a bit difficult to control the power of the Protego Diabolica I used yesterday.
I had thought it was just because it was my first time using the spell, but thinking about it now, it did seem like there might have been a problem.
Normally, I would have had perfect control, no matter if it was my first time using a spell.
"I think I might have?"
Hearing that, Albus frowned. "Then let's go test something for a moment."
"Hm? Okay."
And so, I was dragged out by Albus in the middle of our meal and repeatedly cast simple spells as he requested.
As I did, I too began to notice something strange.
"...Huh?"
The power of the magic was somewhat erratic. And, for the most part, the spells were cast with more power than I had intended.
*What is this? Why is this happening?*
I could control the power if I consciously managed the deviation, but it was an undeniable fact that the fluctuations in power were much greater than usual. And for a wizard of my level, such a minor difference was a very big problem.
My expression turning serious, I asked Albus, "Do you have any idea why this is happening?"
But Albus seemed not to even hear me, burying his head in his hands and muttering, "Merlin's beard. What in the world is this disaster befalling the world? Oh, good heavens."
"Albus?"
After bowing his head in agony for a long time, Albus said, "...Sunbae. That is one of the most common symptoms that almost every wizard experiences once in their life."
"And I wouldn't know about something like that?"
"Well, it's a problem most people experience in their early teens. But you, sunbae…"
"Ah."
I became a wizard after I was fifteen, so it was natural that I wouldn't know.
"So what's the cause?"
"...tion."
"What was that?"
"Magical power amplification. Haaah."
What amplification? Ah.
Only then did I understand Albus's attitude. Good heavens.
As I've said before, a wizard's magical power increases severalfold during their childhood.
It's only natural for the power of their magic to fluctuate when they can't handle the increasing strength.
However, the problem was that the amount of magical power I possessed far surpassed that of a child.
No, a child wizard shouldn't even be the comparison. In the first place, my magical power, created by absorbing the essence of emotion through ancient magic, was several times greater than that of most archmages.
But if *that* were to increase severalfold…
When my thoughts reached that point, I quickly sat down on the spot and observed my inner self.
Tracing back to the source of magic surging within my body…
My power really has increased quite a bit. It seems to be about 1.3 times stronger.
Finishing my observation, I blinked and asked, "Albus. How long does this last?"
"It'll probably get worse for about a year."
If I can't control my magical power as it doubles, then in short, I might accidentally lift the entirety of Hogwarts while practicing Wingardium Leviosa in class.
*Huh. This is a bit serious.*
Beside me, Albus laughed hollowly, as if he'd lost his mind. "I see now. It wasn't us who needed the magic practice, it was you, Sunbae-nim."
Come to think of it, a few other things now made sense.
Regarding Hermione figuring out that Ardeura was a phoenix, there was only one thing that could have given her that certainty.
The Stunning Spell I used before healing the victims with Ardeura.
If that Stunning Spell hadn't been cast properly, and Hermione had seen everything, it would make sense.
Surely there wasn't a problem with the magic I used on Lockhart, was there?
Feeling uneasy, I said, "Albus. I think we need to train even harder starting tomorrow."
"...Pardon?"
"Albus. In an emergency, if I can't control my magic, you're the only one who can do anything about it. I'll train you to perfection within two days."
It seemed this year was also going to be an eventful one. Damn it.
***