“Bobo, please prepare a change of clothes in the bathroom for me. Thank you.”
Harry closed the door behind him and kicked off the dust-covered sneakers on his feet.
He had just finished running, and now his body was completely drenched in sticky sweat.
He desperately needed a hot shower to ease his physical fatigue and change out of these sweat-soaked, foul-smelling clothes.
Harry had to build up his physical strength.
He was somewhat unaccustomed to feeling this frail, and besides—having sufficiently broad shoulders made one appear far more grounded and steady when conversing with others!
A week had passed since he moved into Professor Snape’s house.
Yet he still hadn’t caught a single glimpse of the man.
They hadn’t met once since that afternoon.
Pushing aside the bookshelf to enter the bathroom, Harry saw his new clothes already laid out on the rack.
Even the bathtub had been filled with water, a thin layer of steam hovering over the surface, heated to just the right temperature.
Thank goodness for magic; thank goodness for wizards.
Harry couldn’t count how many times he had felt grateful in his heart.
For someone raised in a Muggle household, this way of life was both novel and fascinating.
Even compared to his dream, it was the same.
Although his experiences in the dream had been twists, turns, and downright brutal, pirates were, for the most part, still ordinary people.
For instance, during his first year, whether it was the captain who drank every single day, the stern first mate, or the kindly second mate, the gunners, carpenters, doctors, cooks…
they were all ordinary human beings, and he was no different.
It wasn’t until the second year, when they encountered the Queen Anne’s Revenge, that Harry realized magic actually existed in the world—curses, legendary relics, and even deities!
In the wizarding world, however, the mysterious was everywhere you looked.
Thus, at times, even the smallest details filled him with boundless emotion.
I wonder just how powerful those young wizards who grew up in wizarding households must be.
Am I going to end up as the worst student in school?
Carrying this thought, Harry finished washing up, returned to his room, sat down at his desk, and began his daily reading.
“A magical outburst is a phenomenon wherein a young wizard possessing magical talent uncontrollably unleashes magical power during moments of intense emotional agitation… This is a normal, natural part of growing up, though at times, the frequency of magical outbursts is considered a measure of a wizard’s underlying talent.” You are reading on novelping . com, the official source.
“The greater the frequency and impact of these outbursts, the higher the wizard’s potential. However, this theory is supported by only a few successful cases; most young wizards who experience frequent magical outbursts fail to effectively demonstrate exceptional potential later in life…”
“A thousand years ago, when the wizarding world transmitted knowledge primarily through apprenticeships, many young wizards who suffered magical outbursts were ostracized as freaks by ordinary people. Suppressing their magical talent, their repressed emotions combined with their magic to give birth to dark, parasitic entities known as Obscurus, which hid within the bodies of the Obscurials…”
Harry reviewed his textbook.
Many common “facts” known to wizards were entirely foreign to him.
Take magical outbursts, for example.
So the reason the Sword of Triton was far more powerful in my hands than in Blackbeard’s was that he was a Muggle, completely unable to draw out the legendary relic’s innate magic.
Harry felt a surge of emotion.
And in reality, I didn’t even need the Sword of Triton to cast magic; I simply lacked a spellbook.
Though I should consider myself lucky that in that dream, I became a violent, bloody, filthy pirate rather than joining the Royal Navy.
If the dream had begun in the Navy, I might have…
He might have suppressed his power to avoid being treated as a freak, ultimately turning into an Obscurial.
Afterward, Harry set aside Magical Theory and A History of Magic, turning instead to The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, which recorded spells used in a wizard’s daily life.
Spells like the Unlocking Charm.
According to the textbook, after reciting the incantation, one could directly open locked doors.
He wondered if this spell could open locks on things like bank safes.
Furthermore, Snape had locked all the books in his private collection; he wondered if Alohomora could unlock them as well.
Then there were basic spells like the Wand-Lighting Charm, the Mending Charm, and the Leg-Locker Curse.
None of them felt particularly powerful, but they were quite practical for daily life.
And, of course, there was the Levitation Charm—the very spell that had landed Harry in Charms Today.
He was genuinely curious to see just how far his Levitation Charm could go when aided by both a wand and an incantation.
However—
The moment the thought surfaced, Harry forced himself to suppress it, refraining from looking at the wooden box resting nearby.
He didn’t take out the wand inside to attempt spellcasting.
Over the past few days, Harry had strictly followed Snape’s instructions, refraining from touching his wand, and he intended to keep it that way for the remaining month of his holiday.
There was no need to pick a fight with Snape; after all, their time together wouldn’t end after this month.
As a Hogwarts professor, the man would be his teacher in the future.
Since his teacher said not to use magic outside of school, he simply wouldn’t.
Yet, given that he was eating his food, staying in his home, and using his amenities, Harry was more than willing to abide by his demands.
Furthermore, at his current reading speed, a month or so might not even be enough to thoroughly familiarize himself with all these textbooks.
He needed these books to help establish his understanding of the wizarding world.
And, of course, those newspapers.
It was worth mentioning that on the evening of the day Harry first discovered wizarding newspapers, he went down for dinner to find that gold Galleon still resting on the table.
Yet every morning since, an owl had perched on his window sill, delivering a selection of newspapers—spanning every single column available.
Whether it was The Daily Prophet, Charms Today, Transfiguration Today, or even monthly publications like The Quibbler.
Though compared to The Quibbler, Harry preferred reading The Daily Monster, as he could cross-reference some of its facts with his textbooks.
As for the content in The Quibbler, he couldn’t find a single corresponding line in his textbooks at all—perhaps it was meant for more secretive, eccentric wizards.
Clearly, Snape was a contradictory fellow.
Though cold and distant toward him, he fulfilled his requests nonetheless.
Time flew by.
By the time a knock at the door pulled Harry out of his immersion in knowledge, it was already noon.
Whenever it was time for a meal, Bobo would use this method to remind him to eat.
And every single time, Snape was nowhere to be seen at the dining table.
Their meal times were staggered, as the man simply didn’t wish to see—
“…Professor Snape?”
When Harry arrived in the kitchen as usual, he saw Snape sitting at the table, eating his meal.
Seeing Harry approach, the professor merely gave a slight nod.
The two were seated far apart, at opposite ends of the long table.
From start to finish, Snape didn’t utter a word.
And Harry, aside from greeting him upon entering, simply ate his food in silence.
Only when Snape finished eating did he wipe his mouth, stand up, and speak in his low, deliberate drawl:
“Our Mr. Potter turns out to be quite obedient. A remarkably wise choice. Compared to your rash, arrogant father, who loved nothing more than showing off and attracting attention, you are intelligent enough to listen to the advice of your elders and have not once attempted to use magic outside of school. That is indeed something I did not expect.”