"Actually, mastering magic is very simple."
Albert's calm voice echoed faintly as he led Harry down the narrow staircase into the underground levels of Moonlight Fortress.
"You only need to find the trajectory of magical flow," Albert continued, "and understand how magical barriers interact with your body during successive magical surges."
This was Harry's first time entering the underground section of Moonlight Fortress. To his surprise, it was nothing like what he had imagined. There were no ancient runes glowing on the walls, no mysterious chanting echoing from the depths. Instead, the wooden floorboards creaked softly beneath his feet, worn down by countless years of use.
The corridor felt cramped and old. Along the walls were stacks of dusty wine bottles that looked like they hadn't been touched in decades. In other corners were piles of random clutter—broken furniture, cracked boxes, and items Harry couldn't identify at all.
Albert glanced back at him and said flatly, "You can't expect me to have the time to clean an entire castle."
Harry's lips twitched awkwardly.
Uncle Albert… don't you think it's a little late to explain that?
He had already spent a whole week living here. He knew very well how chaotic the castle was.
Compared to the upper floors, the underground corridors were wider, and the distance between rooms was noticeably greater. Oil lamps lined the walls, their orange-red flames flickering gently, intertwining with the shadows and darkness in a never-ending dance. The dim light gave the space an oddly hypnotic feeling.
Eventually, they arrived at a heavy wooden door with a worn metal plaque attached to it.
Potion Room.
Harry pushed the door open and froze.
Inside was a chaotic but fascinating sight. Glass instruments of all shapes and sizes covered long tables. Cauldrons simmered quietly, and old brass scales sat beside stacks of notes stained with unknown substances.
On both sides of the room, shelves overflowed with ingredients—bundles of dried herbs, jars containing eyeballs suspended in liquid, preserved animal parts, and even neatly sealed jars of pickled cucumbers.
Pickled cucumbers?!
Harry stared, momentarily speechless.
Albert paid no attention to Harry's expression. He walked straight to a cabinet and began pulling out various medicinal herbs with practiced ease.
"You already know how to brew an Energy Potion," Albert said calmly. "Your basic potion-making foundation is solid. Today, I'll teach you how to make an Exhilaration Potion."
Harry straightened immediately, pushing his shock aside.
"This potion evolved from the Rage Potion," Albert explained while working. "It's commonly used in combat. It can rapidly increase magical activity and enhance spellcasting efficiency."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"Of course, the Exhilaration Potion is far milder. It doesn't give you explosive power. Instead, it elevates emotional intensity and stirs magical energy, making it easier for young wizards to sense and control their magic."
Albert explained the theory behind the potion, its relationship with magical circulation, and why emotional peaks often acted as catalysts for magical awakening.
Then he began brewing.
"I'll only demonstrate once," Albert said seriously. "Watch carefully. Until you can independently control your magic, every potion you use must be brewed by you. I will not assist."
Harry swallowed nervously.
"If you make a mistake," Albert continued without changing his tone, "the results could include explosions, corrosion, severe poisoning… or minor issues like diarrhea or intestinal perforation."
Harry's face turned pale.
"I'll do my best to ensure you don't die."
Cold sweat immediately soaked Harry's back. He nodded repeatedly, not daring to speak. His eyes followed Albert's every movement, desperately engraving every step, measurement, and timing detail into his memory.
An hour later, a pool of crimson liquid shimmered quietly inside the cauldron.
Albert poured it carefully into a small bottle and placed it on the table. He then allowed Harry some time to ask questions, answering each one with patience and clarity.
After another ten minutes, the introductory potion lesson finally came to an end.
Outside the castle, Albert placed a training dummy on the lawn.
"If you need a target for a magical burst," Albert said casually, "aim at that. Imagine it as anyone you dislike—Dudley, your aunt, your uncle, or anyone who's ever bullied you."
Harry held the small bottle containing the red Exhilaration Potion. His fingers trembled slightly as he stood on the grass, his feet tapping restlessly.
Albert watched him for a moment, then turned back toward the castle.
Some things didn't require excessive instruction. Everyone felt nervous the first time.
After watching Harry drink the potion, Albert returned inside Moonlight Fortress and settled onto the familiar red leather sofa.
The sofa had already molded itself to his body. It always felt cold at first, but after a few minutes, it became oddly comforting.
Lucifer quietly added more firewood to the fireplace. The flames flickered higher, swaying gently—his usual "sleeping posture."
Albert picked up a book he had purchased in Diagon Alley.
He skipped the advanced spell manuals and ignored the alluring volumes on Transfiguration. Instead, he opened A History of Modern Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.
He had once been obsessed with powerful spells and rare techniques. But now, he preferred understanding magic through its historical development before conducting systematic research.
Learn from history. Learn from those who came before.
Outside, even in summer, the Scandinavian mountain peaks were cold enough to bite into bone.
Harry, however, felt none of it.
His blood boiled violently. His thoughts were chaotic, like Dudley throwing a tantrum after missing a nap.
"Hey—"
Standing three or four meters from the dummy, Harry thrust his hands forward, grunting as he imagined blasting it away.
"Ha—!"
He tried again, exerting more force.
The wind swept a few blades of grass across his face.
The dummy didn't move.
Nothing happened.
"No… no…" Harry scratched his hair in frustration. "That's not right!"
His emotions surged uncontrollably. Irritation, anxiety, restlessness—it was like an overinflated balloon on the verge of bursting, yet with nowhere to release the pressure.
Suddenly, Harry stared at the dummy's blank face and tried to imagine it as Dudley.
But no matter how hard he tried, it felt wrong.
Where would such a skinny Dudley come from?
Over the past week, the Dursley family had completely ignored him. No shouting, no beatings, no insults. At school, no one bullied him anymore.
The hatred he once felt… was fading.
A child's heart didn't harbor endless malice. Even if he wanted to hate, he couldn't summon it anymore.
Harry stared at the dummy. It looked like a department store mannequin—featureless and lifeless.
Then, suddenly—
A face overlapped with it.
At the same time, Harry's scar burned violently.
His vision twisted. Green light flashed before his eyes. A tall, noseless figure with a twisted grin merged with the dummy's form.
Pain exploded in his forehead.
Screams echoed in his ears.
Cold, sinister laughter filled his mind.
The memories assaulted him all at once.
"AAAH!"
With an enraged roar, a massive surge of power erupted from Harry's body.
BOOM!
The dummy was blasted backward as if struck by a speeding truck. It slammed into a rock, tumbled violently, and finally crashed into a massive redwood tree before coming to a stop.
Harry collapsed forward, clutching his scar.
The scene overlapped perfectly with what he had witnessed a week ago—when Albert had been attacked.
Exactly the same.
"Something's wrong…" Harry muttered, forcing himself to stand. "I should ask Uncle Albert."
The cold mountain wind brushed against his sweat-soaked body, finally clearing his mind.
Inside the castle, Albert had just finished reading the table of contents of his book when the door burst open.
"Uncle Albert," Harry said urgently. "I have questions."
Albert looked up calmly. "What is it?"
"I want to understand myself," Harry said. He hesitated, then continued carefully. "My scar… something isn't right."
He took a breath.
"It suddenly hurt terribly. I saw someone casting magic at me. A woman jumped in front of me to block it, and she turned into—"
His heart raced.
Remembering Albert's teachings, Harry forced his expression to remain calm.
"I think… that woman was my mother."
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