However, beneath Harry’s expectant gaze, Hermes merely shook his head.
Just as Harry felt his newfound hope begin to crumble, Hermes added unhurriedly, “You are a natural-born wizard.
Magic has been with you since birth.
Once you reach the proper age, a school of magic will come looking for you.”
“I’m a wizard too?”
Harry froze.
A rush of unexpected joy surged through his chest, leaving him speechless for several long seconds.
“Wizards are born with magic,” Hermes explained.
“Think of it as a spring hidden inside your body.
Before receiving formal training—especially during childhood—that power is difficult to control.
Strong emotions can cause it to erupt on its own.”
Hermes straightened slightly and regarded Harry with a calm, knowing gaze.
“You must have experienced quite a few strange incidents while growing up.
Did you never suspect anything?”
Such displays of accidental magic were a rite of passage for nearly every young witch and wizard.
They were also the clearest proof that a child possessed magical talent.
Listening to Hermes’s explanation, Harry blinked before slowly lowering his head.
“My uncle and aunt hate that sort of thing,” he said quietly.
“They never let anyone talk about magic—or anything strange—in the house.”
Whenever something inexplicable happened around him, Harry had never dared to bring it up.
Even if he did, the Dursleys would either accuse him of lying or punish him for causing trouble.
“Then when can I go to magic school?”
“Did you graduate from one too, sir?”
“Where is it?”
“What do they teach there?”
Once Harry began asking questions, there was no stopping him.
It was as if a tightly sealed box had finally burst open, releasing years of accumulated curiosity all at once.
Hermes answered some of his questions and ignored the rest.
Even so, what little Harry learned was enough to fill his mind with endless possibilities.
By afternoon, Harry was lying on a grassy hillside while Opal sprinted wildly around him, burning off its seemingly inexhaustible energy.
Staring up at the drifting clouds, Harry still found everything rather surreal.
Only moments ago, he had been in Britain.
Then Mr.
Moriarty had turned the dial beside the castle door, and they had arrived in Norway.
At least, Mr.
Harry turned his head toward the castle standing nearby.
It was an enormous iron structure, four or five stories tall, assembled from a chaotic patchwork of towers, chimneys, houses, gears, and metal plates.
From a distance, it resembled a colossal mechanical beast crouching upon the grass.
Magic, dragons, talking flames, and a moving iron castle…
Everything he had witnessed today surpassed even his wildest dreams.
After spending only half a day in this strange new world, Harry had already fallen completely in love with it.
Hogwarts…
According to Mr.
Moriarty, Harry would receive an acceptance letter later that year from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one of Europe’s most prestigious magical schools.
He was a wizard.
Even now, Harry could scarcely believe it.
It was undoubtedly the best news he had received in a very long time.
Harry drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of fresh grass.
Nearby, Opal rustled noisily through the meadow.
A cool breeze swept across the hillside, carrying away the summer heat and ruffling Harry’s untidy black hair, briefly revealing the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Meanwhile, on the balcony overlooking the hillside from the castle’s second floor, Hermes glanced down at Harry before returning his attention to the book on Transfiguration resting in his hands.
Recently, Hermes had begun preparing to become an Animagus.
He had already gathered all the necessary materials.
Now, he simply needed to find the right time to begin the long and extremely demanding process.
Fwip!
A flame suddenly appeared above the oil lamp mounted on the wall.
It swelled rapidly, and Calcifer’s familiar face emerged from within.
“Hermes,” Calcifer called, “someone on Privet Drive is looking for you.”
Hermes’s hand paused halfway through turning a page.
Almost instinctively, he took out the pocket watch fastened to his waistcoat and checked the time.
A moment later, his figure distorted and vanished from the balcony.
When he reappeared, he was standing in the castle’s main room before the great wooden door.
It was still afternoon in London, which meant the Dursleys could not have returned yet.
Other than them, Hermes could not think of anyone in London who would come looking for him.
He placed a hand on the dial beside the door and gently turned it.
Ding!
A clear, bell-like chime sounded as the pointer moved from the green section to the blue.
Hermes opened the door.
“Good afternoon, Mr.
Moriarty.”
An elderly wizard stood on the doorstep. The source of this chapter is g.com.
His long silver-white beard cascaded down to his chest, while a pair of keen blue eyes shone brightly behind half-moon spectacles.
“Professor Dumbledore?”
Hermes recognized him almost instantly.
“Won’t you invite me inside?” Dumbledore asked with the pleasant smile of a kindly old neighbor.
Hermes raised an eyebrow before stepping aside.
“Welcome.”
Dumbledore crossed the threshold and entered the castle’s main room.
“Are you wondering how I managed to find you?” he asked, glancing back at Hermes with a playful wink.
His steps were light and energetic, completely unlike those of a wizard more than a century old.
Before Hermes could respond, Dumbledore continued, “I must admit, your concealment magic is among the most formidable I have ever encountered.”
“If I had not seen young Harry entering your house earlier today, I might never have located your exact position.”
Only then did Hermes remember something important.
Although Harry had been left with the Dursleys and forced to endure a miserable childhood, the British wizarding world had never truly forgotten him.
Dumbledore, in particular, had kept Harry under observation all these years.
Hermes had actually overlooked something so obvious.
Damn it.
“If I had known,” Hermes muttered, “I would never have agreed to Mr.
Dursley’s request.”
Dumbledore chuckled softly.
He crossed the room and made himself comfortable on one of the sofas.
“Even without Harry, I doubt our meeting would have been delayed for much longer.
Let us simply consider today’s encounter a pleasant surprise.”
Hermes frowned slightly before sitting across from him.
He did not believe that Dumbledore could have broken through his concealment magic on his own.
As though reading the thought from his expression, Dumbledore gave a rueful smile and shook his head.
“You are correct.
I cannot locate you through magical means.”
He paused, and a mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes.
“However, Headmaster Karkaroff and I possess a certain degree of private acquaintance.
Asking him to serve as an intermediary would not have been especially difficult.”
Hermes fell silent.
Igor Karkaroff was indeed the current headmaster of Durmstrang Institute.
More importantly, he was the mentor Hermes respected most when it came to his study of the Dark Arts.
If Karkaroff had agreed to arrange an introduction, then a meeting between Hermes and Dumbledore truly would have been inevitable.
“So,” Hermes finally asked, looking directly into Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes, “why have you come here?”
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