The door opened almost instantly, and a tall man stepped out.
He had a sallow complexion, curtain-like, long black hair, and a prominent, hooked nose.
He was a man who matched the dreary British weather perfectly.
“Dumbledore?” Severus Snape’s brow furrowed deeply.
“It does not appear to be time for the start of term yet, Headmaster.”
As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Harry beside him—first in confusion, then, as their eyes met, his brow knitted even tighter, forming a deep line between his brows.
“Harry—”
He spoke, his voice laced with heightened bewilderment, before he gritted his teeth and uttered the surname that followed, “—Potter!”
Finally, his eyes drifted up an inch, settling on Harry’s forehead.
Harry was certain that Dumbledore’s earlier words were a lie.
He and this professor were unlikely to get along smoothly over the coming month.
The interior of the house was just as dark as the outside, with narrow windows and curtains drawn halfway, letting in a sliver of light so feeble it was practically nonexistent.
Inside this home, there was only a tattered sofa, a wobbly table, and an armchair.
Apart from those, there were books—everywhere.
Thousands of old, black- or brown-leather-bound books, alongside piles of them stacked like mountains across the floor.
Harry looked around the place.
As for Dumbledore and Snape, the two of them fiddled with a bookshelf, conjuring a door before stepping inside; where that door led was anyone’s guess.
Very typical of a wizard.
Having encountered a witch’s hut deep within the swampy forests, Harry found this secretive behavior far from surprising.
He idly scanned the books, but on every single one, the title was invisible, and he couldn’t open them—it was as though they were fake, like the empty book covers displayed for show in shop windows.
Finding himself with no other option, Harry drew a book from his own newly purchased supplies to read.
He actually quite enjoyed reading.
It was likely because knowledge had initially earned him a different sort of treatment aboard the ship, which later grew into a passion for reading.
Even after becoming a captain, he had continued to read all kinds of books.
Later, after obtaining his Letter of Marque, he would be invited ashore to attend banquets held by lords, governors, and even royal families.
Thus, Harry was known as the “Count of the Sea.”
He was a pirate with cultural refinement. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Harry sat in the only armchair, leaning back, and opened Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling.
This was his reading habit.
Out of personal interest, he naturally would have preferred to look through textbooks like A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration or The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 first.
However, growth was not something governed solely by interest.
Before officially delving into magic, Harry needed to understand its history, principles, and prohibitions.
“Tampering with the deepest secrets—the source of life itself, or the essence of self—must prepare one to face the most extreme and dangerous consequences…”
“Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration: food cannot be created out of nothing; it can be increased, duplicated, or transfigured from existing food, but never brought into being from thin air…”
“Magic originates from an innate trait and cannot be acquired through later study; furthermore, magical power only increases with age…”
A brand-new worldview unfolded before Harry’s eyes—a concept that young wizards from magical families took completely for granted.
For someone raised in a Muggle household, however, these views were entirely novel.
Yet, there were also puzzling points—
Magic is an innate talent, and it only increases with age?
A doubt welled up in Harry’s heart.
That meant that as a young wizard, he would naturally be at a disadvantage when facing an adult wizard.
Oh, and it didn’t stop there.
A wizard in their twenties facing a wizard in their thirties or forties would likewise be at a disadvantage.
Therefore, the arguments presented in this book sounded quite absurd.
However, the textbook also offered another perspective—a somewhat contradictory one.
“What determines a wizard’s strength is knowledge and wisdom, practice and experience, will and concentration; bloodline is merely the key that unlocks the wizarding journey…”
Harry flipped through the pages, attempting to find alternative viewpoints.
Yet the entire book used delicate phrasing to argue and demonstrate that bloodline did not matter; what truly mattered was post-natal learning.
First claiming that magic originated from an innate trait, and then stating that bloodline didn’t matter—it was terribly contradictory.
Moreover, if the only way magic grew was through physical aging, it made this “useless bloodline theory” even less tenable.
Harry read on.
[Absurd claim! The essence of a wizard lies in the heritage of bloodlines. Do not let filthy Mudbloods taint the blood! The Goldstein family lost their natural Legilimency talent precisely because their bloodline was polluted by Mudbloods!]
[Does anyone even know Dumbledore is actually a half-blood? You disgusting, decaying pure-blood supremacists make me sick!]
[Lily Evans once proved that Muggle-born wizards possess talent too!]
[1986.05.06, Slytherin won another Quidditch match using dirty tricks again. Is this what you call pure-blood?]
[1988.10.05, Slytherins are all descendants of Death Eaters!]
Amusingly, in this secondhand—or perhaps several-hand—textbook, the previous owners had left behind their own thoughts and experiences within the margins.
Many of these notes debated how bloodline affected a wizard’s strength.
These “experiences” left behind by past students made Harry aware of quite a few talented individuals, all of whom had left their own marks on this textbook.
They certainly possessed quite a fiery spirit of resistance.
Harry merely glanced at the book, skimming through the table of contents without going deeper for now.
He would have plenty of time ahead to study this book—and all his other books—in fine detail.
“It appears our famous savior, Mr. Potter, is quite the studious one!”
A gloomy voice rang out from behind the chair.
Harry’s brow furrowed, but by the time he stood up, he had already composed his expression.
Snape and Dumbledore were standing right behind him.
He hadn’t heard a single sound when they emerged from behind the bookshelf.
Or perhaps…
had they never left at all?
Could there be magic that granted a wizard invisibility?
“However, I sincerely hope you do not wave that eyesore of a wand around everywhere, turning my dwelling into something resembling the Burrow,” Snape said in a low, deliberate drawl, looking down at him from where he stood.
“I take it you have already flipped through this colorful Magical Theory? Pity your textbook likely didn’t bother to inform you that as early as 1875, the Ministry of Magic enacted the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.”
“I must remind you that any wizard under the age of seventeen is strictly forbidden from using magic outside of school. I strongly advise you to carve that into your savior’s head, considering you will be residing here for the next month.”
“Naturally, should you receive a letter from the Ministry of Magic one day, do not count on me going to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to testify on your behalf. You will be locked away in Azkaban—is that clear?”