Bitter.
Unbearably bitter.
The moment the potion touched his tongue, Vade’s face twisted.
He had never liked bitter melon, and this potion tasted like an entire glass of freshly pressed bitter melon juice.
Immediately afterward, his body began to flush red.
He could clearly feel the potion spreading rapidly into every cell in his body, strengthening both his magic and his physique.
The process lasted only a few seconds, yet Vade felt strangely disconnected from reality, as though the passage of time had slowed to a crawl.
Suddenly, he drew a deep breath and broke free from that peculiar state.
Sensing the obvious increase in his magic, a faint smile appeared on his face.
He was now a Sequence 8 Clown.
Notably, a progress bar had appeared on the Card of Blasphemy, seemingly displaying the potion’s digestion progress.
Fifteen percent.
It was probably the result of yesterday’s little joke from fate.
Unable to contain his excitement, Vade immediately began testing the abilities of the Clown inside his room.
First, he stood before the mirror and shifted between different expressions.
Joy, anger, sorrow, fear, grief, and pain.
Each emotion appeared vividly on his face without the slightest flaw. There was no way to tell that any of them were false.
He then tested his coordination and balance, performing a series of difficult movements that included backflips and walking on his hands.
He confirmed that his agility, speed, and strength had all improved considerably.
In addition, his intuition had also become sharper.
With all these enhancements combined, Vade was confident that he could now hold his own against an adult in a one-on-one fight.
Next, he tested the Clown’s ability to turn paper into a blade.
He took out a sheet of parchment and held it between his index and middle fingers.
With a flick of his wrist, the parchment shot forward, sliced a candle cleanly in half, and continued into the wall without losing momentum.
Surely they would not charge him for that.
Feeling slightly guilty, Vade hurried over and pulled the parchment from the wall.
The cut was small enough that no one would notice unless they examined it closely.
Vade was very satisfied with the Clown’s abilities, but what pleased him even more was the increase in his magic.
If his previous magical reserves had been a small puddle, then casting spells had been like draining it through a pipe. A dozen or so spells would have emptied it completely.
Now, his magical reserves were more like a small pond, several times larger than before.
At the same time, the pipe had also grown wider, meaning that the power of his spells had increased as well.
"My current magical level should be comparable to that of an average upper-year student," Vade thought as he lay on the bed.
That should be enough to carry him through his first three years at Hogwarts.
He would not be at the bottom of the class, nor would he stand out as some extraordinary genius.
He would remain ordinary, inconspicuous, and safe.
His goals for the next three years were simple: study hard, earn plenty of money, and steadily advance through the Sequences.
As long as he stayed out of the deadly feud between the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord, he was confident that he could keep his head down and survive until the end.
To be honest, he was not particularly anxious about advancing through the Sequences.
The wizarding world faced no threat of an apocalypse. Put simply, as long as he remained alive, he would have plenty of time to advance sooner or later.
Sequence 4 would grant him divinity, while Sequence 2 would provide an extraordinarily long lifespan.
Before reaching Sequence 4, the wizarding world also possessed plenty of magical means to extend a person’s life.
He did not lack time.
What he lacked was security.
A god who survived long enough to mature was a god.
One who died before reaching that point was merely someone else’s stepping stone, or a convenient source of experience.
Vade understood his position very clearly.
He had little strength, few resources, and no powerful family or connections.
His only sensible choice was to remain cautious and quietly build his strength.
He had no idea that, only yesterday, Gellert Grindelwald, the first Dark Lord, had already foreseen his existence and informed Albus Dumbledore.
Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office.
Dumbledore had not slept all night.
He sat behind his desk, carefully examining a large book bound in black dragon hide, its pages made from parchment.
This was the Book of Admittance.
Created by the four founders of Hogwarts, it recorded every child born with magical ability. Each year, Hogwarts used it to determine which students would receive acceptance letters.
Comparing the information in the Book of Admittance, Dumbledore eliminated one name after another.
He believed that Grindelwald would not deceive him.
His most urgent task was therefore to identify the Fool.
At present, he had no real clues.
Whether pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born, any young witch or wizard possessed countless possibilities for the future.
However, analysing their family circumstances, personalities, and magical talents could still provide useful insight.
For example, students raised in Death Eater families who possessed unpleasant personalities and poor magical talent could be excluded immediately.
Their future achievements would likely be limited. Avoiding a life of crime would already be an accomplishment for them.
As for the remaining students, anyone who met even one of Dumbledore’s criteria was added to a list of children worth watching.
The future of the entire world might depend on this.
He could not afford to gamble, nor did he dare to.
The child who deserved the most attention was Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world and a young wizard whom Dumbledore had watched for eleven years.
Both of his parents had been members of the Order of the Phoenix, giving him an impeccable background.
He had spent eleven years living under the roof of his aunt and uncle, yet had not developed any obvious resentment.
His talent was also exceptional.
Although he might not be a once-in-a-century genius, with careful guidance and a few fortunate opportunities, it was not impossible for him to become the Fool.
This year happened to be Harry Potter’s first at Hogwarts.
Grindelwald had also happened to receive his new vision at exactly the same time.
Could that truly be nothing more than a coincidence?
Dumbledore took out a sheet of parchment and wrote down the names of the children he believed deserved closer attention.
Harry Potter was placed at the top.
Coincidentally, Vade Moria’s name was also on the list.
...
Vade suddenly shivered and broke free from his meditative state.
"Why do I feel as though something unpleasant has just happened?"
He frowned, but did not take the feeling too seriously.
He had only just entered the wizarding world.
Even if something bad had happened, it was unlikely to have anything to do with him.
After reassuring himself, Vade entered the washroom, splashed cold water over his face, and left his room.
It was now noon, and the Leaky Cauldron was crowded with customers.
Vade greeted Tom before entering the kitchen.
His cooking skills were nothing extraordinary. He only knew how to prepare a few simple home-cooked meals, but they were still far better than the food served at the pub.
Beef and potato stew, sautéed prawns with broccoli, and a steaming bowl of rice made up his simple lunch for the day.
The plates and bowls floated out of the kitchen and hovered beside Vade, releasing an enticing aroma.
"Tom, have you finally hired a new cook?"
"Merlin’s beard! You actually decided to hire someone!"
"What did he make? Bring me a serving as well."
Several customers immediately tried to place orders.
Tom rolled his eyes at them.
"The boy made it for himself. Asking me won’t do you any good."
"It looks decent," Tom added. "I was half expecting you to blow up my kitchen."
Vade smiled and shrugged.
Ignoring the curious looks from the other patrons, he ordered a Butterbeer, found an empty table, and quietly began eating.
(To be continued.)