Bitter.
Incredibly bitter.
The moment the potion entered his mouth, Wade’s face twisted in discomfort.
He hated bitter melon.
This potion tasted like an entire glass of freshly squeezed bitter melon juice.
Then his body began to flush red.
He could clearly feel the potion spreading through every cell in his body, strengthening both his magical power and his physique.
The entire process lasted only a few seconds.
Yet to Wade, it felt as though he had become detached from reality itself.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Suddenly, he drew a deep breath and snapped back to his senses.
Feeling the dramatic increase in his magical power, a faint smile appeared on his face.
He was now officially a Sequence 8 Clown.
One more thing caught his attention.
A progress bar had appeared on the Blasphemy Card.
It seemed to represent the digestion progress of his potion.
15%.
He guessed that percentage came from yesterday’s “joke of fate.” Unable to contain his excitement, Wade immediately began testing the Clown’s abilities inside his room.
He first stood before the mirror, cycling through one expression after another.
Joy.
Anger.
Sorrow.
Fear.
Sadness.
Pain.
Every emotion appeared flawlessly on his face.
There wasn’t the slightest trace of falseness.
Next came tests of his physical coordination and balance.
He effortlessly performed a series of difficult movements, including backflips and handstand walking.
His agility, speed, and strength had all improved dramatically.
In addition, his instincts had become considerably sharper.
Taken together, Wade was confident he could now defeat an ordinary adult in a one-on-one fight.
Finally, he tested one of the Clown’s techniques— Turning Paper into a Blade.
He pulled out a sheet of parchment and held it between his index and middle fingers.
With a flick of his wrist, the parchment shot forward like a throwing knife.
It sliced cleanly through a candle before embedding itself into the wall without losing any momentum.
…I probably won’t have to pay for that, right?
Feeling slightly guilty, Wade hurried over and pulled the parchment free.
The cut in the wall was tiny.
Unless someone looked closely, they probably wouldn’t notice it.
He was thoroughly satisfied with the Clown’s abilities.
What pleased him even more, however, was the increase in his magical power.
Previously, his magic had been like a small puddle.
Casting spells was equivalent to pumping water from it with a hose.
After only a dozen or so spells, the puddle would be dry.
Now…
His magical power resembled a small pond.
Its capacity had increased severalfold.
At the same time, the metaphorical hose had become thicker as well.
Not only could he cast more spells, but each spell was noticeably more powerful.
My magical power should now be comparable to that of an average upper-year Hogwarts student, Wade thought as he lay back on the bed.
That level was more than enough to get him comfortably through his first three years at Hogwarts.
Not outstanding.
Not at the bottom.
Just…
Perfectly ordinary.
And perfectly safe.
His goals for those three years were simple: Study hard.
Earn plenty of money.
Advance through the Sequences little by little.
As long as he stayed out of the endless conflict between the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord, he was confident he could quietly survive until the very end.
Truthfully, he wasn’t in any rush to advance.
The wizarding world wasn’t facing an apocalypse.
To put it bluntly…
As long as he stayed alive, becoming a god was only a matter of time.
A Sequence 4 Beyonder already possessed divinity.
A Sequence 2 Beyonder enjoyed an extraordinarily long lifespan.
Even before reaching Sequence 4, the wizarding world contained numerous magical potions capable of extending one’s life.
Time wasn’t what he lacked.
Security was.
A god who survived long enough to grow was still a god.
One who failed to grow…
Was nothing more than someone else’s stepping stone.
Or experience points.
Wade understood his own position perfectly.
He had no overwhelming strength.
No abundant resources.
No powerful family or influential connections.
The only sensible path available to him…
Was to develop quietly.
What he didn’t know was that only yesterday, Gellert Grindelwald, the first Dark Lord, had foreseen his existence and informed Albus Dumbledore.
Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office Dumbledore hadn’t slept all night.
Sitting behind his desk, he carefully examined a massive book bound in black dragon hide with thick parchment pages.
It was the Book of Admittance.
Created by Hogwarts’ four founders, it recorded the name of every child born with magical ability.
Each year, Hogwarts relied upon it to determine its list of incoming students.
Comparing the book’s entries one by one, Dumbledore systematically crossed names off his list.
He trusted that Grindelwald had not lied to him.
His most urgent task now was identifying the person known as the Fool.
At present, he had almost nothing to go on.
Pure-blood.
Half-blood.
Muggle-born.
Any of them possessed limitless potential.
Still…
By considering three factors— Family background.
Personality.
Magical talent.
—he could at least narrow the possibilities.
For example, students from Death Eater families who possessed poor character and mediocre talent could be ruled out immediately.
The chances of such individuals achieving greatness were slim.
If they managed to avoid becoming criminals, that alone would be fortunate.
As for everyone else…
If they met even one of his criteria, Dumbledore placed their names onto a special observation list.
The future of the entire world might depend upon it.
He couldn’t afford to gamble.
Nor did he dare to.
The child who drew his greatest attention was naturally the wizarding world’s savior— Harry Potter.
A boy Dumbledore had watched over for eleven years.
His parents had both been members of the Order of the Phoenix.
His upbringing was beyond reproach.
Although he had spent eleven years living under his aunt and uncle’s roof, he harbored no resentment.
His magical talent was exceptional as well.
While perhaps not the sort of once-in-a-century genius Grindelwald had described, with proper guidance—and perhaps a few fortunate opportunities—it wasn’t impossible that Harry might become the Fool.
This year happened to be Harry Potter’s first year at Hogwarts.
And this year also happened to be the moment Grindelwald received his new prophecy.
Could that truly be nothing more than coincidence?
Picking up a sheet of parchment, Dumbledore began writing down the names of every child worthy of special attention.
At the very top…
He wrote: Harry Potter.
Not far beneath that name…
Appeared another.
Wade Morea.
At that very moment, Wade suddenly shivered.
His meditation ended abruptly.
“…Why do I suddenly feel like something bad is about to happen?” He frowned.
But he didn’t dwell on it.
2 He had only just entered the wizarding world.
Even if something unfortunate really was happening…
Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with him.
After reassuring himself, Wade walked into the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water, and headed downstairs.
It was already noon.
The Leaky Cauldron had filled with customers.
Greeting Tom, Wade headed straight into the kitchen.
He wasn’t an exceptional cook.
He only knew how to prepare simple home-style meals.
Still…
Anything he made was undoubtedly better than the pub’s usual fare.
Braised beef with potatoes.
Stir-fried shrimp with broccoli.
And a steaming bowl of white rice.
That was today’s humble lunch.
The plates and bowls floated gracefully out of the kitchen beside him, carried by his telekinesis, while the aroma of freshly cooked food drifted through the pub.
“Tom!” “Is this your new chef?” “Merlin’s beard!” “You finally hired a cook!” “What did he make?” “I’ll have the same!” Several customers immediately tried to place orders.
Tom rolled his eyes.
“Don’t ask me.” “He cooked that himself.” “It has nothing to do with the pub.” “It certainly smells good.” “I honestly thought you’d blow up my kitchen.” Wade merely smiled and shrugged.
Ignoring the curious stares around him, he ordered a mug of butterbeer to go with his meal, found an empty table, and quietly began eating his lunch.
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