He unscrewed the cap and downed the contents.
The liquid slid down his throat, slightly sweet with a herbal, bitter aftertaste.
The next second—
A warm current exploded from his stomach, instantly surging into his limbs and bones.
Alvin felt it—
For the first time, he felt something flowing through his body with such clarity.
It was a bit like water, but lighter and softer.
Was this magic?
Was this the power wizards were born with?
He raised his hand, intending to try casting a simple spell, only to find the feeling had vanished.
It was as if something had sucked it dry in a single gulp.
One second he felt as strong as a dragon, the next he was drained.
Sucked completely dry, without even a hint of warmth left behind.
“Is this the legendary ‘Three-Second Hero’?”
Alvin quietly sensed his condition for a moment and then pulled out a second bottle of potion.
At the same time, deep within Hogwarts Castle in the Scottish Highlands.
In a stone chamber seldom visited by anyone, a heavy ancient tome lay open on a stone pedestal.
The pages were yellowed and curled at the edges, filled with densely written names.
This was the Book of Admittance.
Beside it, a quill with a nib glowing with a faint golden light hovered over the pages.
The Quill of Acceptance.
From the moment a child was born, as long as they displayed sufficient magic, this quill would write their name in the book.
At this moment, its tip trembled slightly.
It hovered over a blank space, the nib slowly descending as if to write something.
The ink bled into a small dot on the parchment.
But then the quill stopped.
As if encountering some sort of obstruction, it lifted, then dropped again.
Lifted, then dropped.
After repeating this three times, it finally gave up.
The ink blot slowly dried without forming any letters.
Alvin knew nothing of this.
He only knew that the three bottles of potion he had just drunk were not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Casting spells required magic to reach a certain threshold.
But the broken panel inside him clearly had an absorption speed far greater than his supply rate.
Every time the magic from a mana replenishment potion surged forth, it was instantly sucked dry, leaving him unable to cast even a simple Scourgify.
“So I need to feed it more…”
More potions.
Or find a higher concentration of magic.
Like the Philosopher’s Stone?
Nicolas Flamel’s legendary stone that could turn lead to gold and produce the Elixir of Life might be an excellent choice.
The magic concentration in that thing should be enough!
According to the original timeline, Hagrid shouldn’t have gone to Gringotts to retrieve the Stone yet.
As he was thinking, footsteps came from downstairs.
After settling the five-man team, Lupin knocked and entered.
“Remus.”
“Yes?”
“If Hagrid had a Philosopher’s Stone on him, could you steal it?”
Lupin’s expression looked as if he’d been struck by lightning.
“What?”
“Forget it.” Alvin waved his hand.
“Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
He knew that asking Lupin to steal the Philosopher’s Stone was definitely not going to work.
Besides, was the one Hagrid retrieved even the real one?
Would Dumbledore really let Hagrid fetch the real thing?
Alvin smiled.
He didn’t believe it for a second; that old man was quite the schemer.
“Boss, did you drink the potions?
How do you feel?” Lupin asked with concern.
“Not much of a feeling.
It’s just magic coming and going, like a passing traveler.”
“Are those five settled?”
“They’ve been temporarily settled on the first floor.”
“Good.
You’ll be in charge of these new recruits.
Train them well.
Let them know what they should and shouldn’t do.”
Lupin nodded.
“Understood.”
“Tomorrow, continue today’s routine.
Have them keep purchasing mana replenishment potions and exchanging Galleons.
You can also go to Gringotts daily for small exchanges.”
“If we go too often, those goblins will get suspicious.”
“That’s why the amounts should be small—just a few hundred Galleons each time.
Once we have enough people, we can even go to Hogsmeade or Gringotts branches abroad.
Take it slow, there’s no rush.”
Lupin was silent for a few seconds.
“Boss, how much more potion do you need?”
“I don’t know.
I’ll drink until it works,” Alvin said honestly.
“Alright, if there’s nothing else, get some rest.
We’re still short on staff; we need to keep expanding.”
“Understood…
Just don’t drink too many potions at once.
If you feel unwell, call me.
I’ll be downstairs.”
Lupin turned and left.
Alvin sat alone facing the remaining hundred-plus bottles of potion.
He picked up a bottle and downed it.
He felt the magic surge and vanish.
Another bottle.
Two bottles.
Three bottles.
He gradually increased his speed.
It wasn’t until he had downed the tenth bottle that he stopped.
It wasn’t because his magic was enough to cast spells, nor because his body was reacting poorly to the intake.
It was simply because he couldn’t drink any more.
He was stuffed.
He let out a burp; the medicinal scent was quite pungent.
“It seems the side effects that would be fatal for a normal wizard don’t exist for me.”
As soon as the potion entered his stomach, it was entirely devoured by that greedy panel.
Nothing remained.
Alvin stared at the empty bottles and suddenly grinned.
“In that case, let’s keep drinking—”
During the night, Lupin trained the new members on the first floor.
Spell practice, team coordination, counter-tracking techniques.
Although Tom couldn’t use magic, he was strong.
Lupin taught him some basic combat and how to use alchemical items.
In between training sessions, Lupin noticed Alvin frequently coming down from the third floor, crossing the hall, and entering the bathroom.
Once, twice, three times…
By the fourth time, Lupin finally couldn’t help but ask.
“Mr.
Alvin had just come out of the bathroom.
“I’m fine.
I’m great.
I’ve never been better.”
“…But you’ve been going to the toilet constantly.
Did you eat something bad?”
“Just drank too much water.
Don’t mind me.” Alvin waved his hand dismissively and went back upstairs.
Late at night.
Lupin lay in bed in the room next to Alvin’s, staring at the ceiling, listening to the movements next door.
Even though it was the early hours of the morning, he could still hear the faint clinking of glass bottles.
There were also suppressed grunts, like something being held back.
And, of course, the sound of the door opening for more trips to the toilet.
Lupin sat up, then lay back down.
He did this three times, but in the end, he didn’t go over.
The boss had said not to mind him.
The next morning, Lupin knocked on the door.
“Boss?
Time for breakfast.”
The door wasn’t locked.
When he pushed it open, the scene inside made him freeze in his tracks.
The floor was covered in empty bottles, rolling everywhere.
The morning light shone through the window, reflecting dazzlingly off the glass.
Over a hundred potion bottles.
All empty.
And Alvin was sitting right in the middle of them, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as if he were asleep.
“Boss?!” Lupin rushed into the room, pressing his hand to Alvin’s neck.
Pulse normal, breathing normal.
Aside from his temperature being a bit low, everything was fine.
“Boss, wake up.” Lupin shook his shoulder.
Alvin opened his eyes.
“Morning.”
“Boss, you…” Lupin pointed at the floor full of empty bottles.
“You drank all of these?”
“Yeah, the effect was pretty good.” Alvin stood up and stretched, his joints popping.
“What do you mean ‘pretty good’?!” Lupin’s voice rose an octave.
“This is over a hundred bottles of mana replenishment potion!
A normal person would be sent to St.
Mungo’s after ten!
You—”
Alvin responded with a smile.
“But I’m not a normal person.
You’ve seen that for yourself, haven’t you?”
Lupin stared at him for a long time.
“Are you really alright?”
“Really fine.” Alvin walked to the window and pushed it open, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
“By the way, did you buy the chicken?”
“Huh?
…What chicken?”
“Chicken.
Live chicken.” Alvin turned to Lupin with a brilliant smile.
“I ran into Kel last night during a bathroom break and told him to buy some chickens first thing.
Chicken for breakfast, winner winner chicken dinner—”
“I’ll slaughter them personally.”