A month had passed in the blink of an eye since Harry moved into the small bedroom on the second floor.
Looking back, Harry felt that this had been the busiest holiday of his entire life.
Even during previous holidays—when he had been forced to spend endless time and energy playing the infamous game of "Catch Harry" with Dudley and his gang—he had never felt this occupied. Back then, he had been constantly running, hiding, and worrying about bruises or worse.
Yet compared to this holiday, all of that physical exhaustion and wasted time felt insignificant.
The biggest difference, however, was that this time, Harry enjoyed it.
Every day followed a simple but fulfilling rhythm: cleaning the house, practicing magic control, and reading fascinating magic books. There were no beatings, no insults, no fear of being locked in a cupboard. Instead, there was learning, progress, and the quiet satisfaction of improving himself.
To Harry, nothing could be more wonderful than this.
Unfortunately, Albert felt very differently.
For him, this past month had been unbearably long and downright torturous.
The reason lay in a discovery he had made while reading Modern History of Magic. In it, there were several records concerning Merlin himself—described in reverent terms as the "Jehovah of Wizards." According to the book, Merlin was an Animagus.
Not only that, he was an Animagus capable of transforming into multiple animals.
In other words, Merlin was what could only be described as an Animal Wizard.
This revelation immediately seized Albert's attention.
It wasn't that Albert lacked the ability to transform into animals. On the contrary, he had several methods at his disposal. One involved illusionary transformation spells meant purely for deception, while another relied on refining the human body through formations to forcibly reshape it into that of a beast.
But neither of these methods was truly perfect.
The book described a legendary duel between Merlin and Madam Mim. When Madam Mim transformed into a dragon, Merlin seized the opportunity to transform himself into a germ, entering her body and attacking her from within—ultimately securing victory.
That single passage left Albert stunned.
The upper limit of Animagus magic was terrifyingly high.
Especially considering Albert's current predicament.
His head had turned into that of a cat, a transformation that had caused his overall strength and efficiency to decline significantly. This situation frustrated him endlessly. A magic system capable of seamlessly altering one's form without such drawbacks offered him a priceless opportunity—a possible path toward a true breakthrough.
According to the book, every Animagus could only transform into a single animal.
But Merlin had been an exception.
And in the world of magic, Albert firmly believed that nothing was truly absolute.
After all, magic itself existed to turn the impossible into reality.
Of course, the premise was that one didn't accidentally kill oneself in the process.
With that in mind, after carefully studying the operational steps described in the book and analyzing them through the lens of potion theory, Albert wasted no time in beginning his own attempt.
The first step was straightforward—but cruel.
On the night of a full moon, he had to place a Mandrake leaf in his mouth and keep it there until the next full moon.
During that entire month, the leaf could not be swallowed or spat out under any circumstances. If it ever left his mouth, even for an instant, the entire process would fail and have to be restarted from the beginning.
And so, for the past month, Albert had barely spoken a single word.
Tonight, however, everything would finally end.
Because tonight—
Was the full moon.
The night sky was already deep and dark. Although it was only eight o'clock, countless stars glittered above, surrounding the moon like scattered jewels.
Under the moonlight, Harry continued his magic control practice.
He no longer used training dummies as targets. With the assistance of potions and Albert's guidance, he had already learned how to release bursts of magic deliberately.
Now, his goal was far more refined.
In front of him sat a small brazier filled with scraps of paper.
His task was simple in concept but difficult in execution: ignite the paper.
This time, he was not relying on emotional surges or desperation. Instead, he focused on maintaining a clear casting direction, a defined purpose, and a steady desire to cast the spell.
This was far harder than knocking down a dummy.
"Burn!" Harry suddenly raised his hand and pointed at the brazier, his eyes fixed intensely on it.
Although shouting such words felt a bit embarrassing, Albert had explained that verbal cues could help guide intent, especially for beginners.
A spark flickered to life among the paper scraps.
Harry's eyes widened in joy—but in the very next moment, the spark vanished.
"Hey—light up for me!" Harry growled, frustration seeping into his voice.
He had been training for quite some time, and this was the first spark he had ever produced. He could feel it—he was only one step away from success.
His veins bulged, his muscles tensed, and his gaze locked onto the brazier.
Whoosh!
Without warning, flames suddenly burst forth from the paper scraps, as if an invisible hand had ignited them all at once.
"I succeeded!" Harry exclaimed, staring at the faint flames in disbelief.
Though they wavered weakly in the mountain wind, they were real.
Click.
The door creaked open.
Harry turned his head and saw Uncle Albert walking out onto the porch.
"Uncle Albert, I did it!" Harry said excitedly.
Albert glanced at the brazier and nodded. "Not bad."
Harry froze.
When was the last time Uncle Albert had spoken?
He thought back carefully. It must have been a long time ago—almost a month, in fact. On the third day after Harry moved to the second floor, Albert had suddenly stopped talking altogether.
When Harry had asked why, Albert had simply opened a book and pointed to the first step of Animagus training.
That was when Harry learned about the Mandrake leaf.
Since then, he had not heard Albert's voice even once.
In truth, Harry had secretly experimented. He had tried speaking with a leaf in his mouth and discovered that it was possible.
The problem was that it caused an awful lisp.
Harry had quickly reached his own conclusion: Uncle Albert felt that lisping would severely damage his cool and mysterious image, so he had simply chosen silence instead.
No wonder this child is so clever.
If Albert knew what Harry was thinking, he would definitely scold him thoroughly.
"Uncle Albert, you can talk again?" Harry asked happily.
Albert nodded and lifted his gaze toward the moon.
The summer evening breeze was cool and refreshing, and the bright full moon hung in the sky, generously scattering its silver light across the land.
Albert removed the Mandrake leaf from his mouth and placed it carefully into a small transparent glass bottle. Then he added a teaspoon of collected dew and the pupa of a Death's-head Hawkmoth.
Finally, he added a strand of his own hair—
No.
His beard.
After all, he didn't have hair at the moment.
He had originally considered using fur, but his face was covered in thick, dense fur, making it impractical. In the end, he settled on his beard, which was equivalent to human hair.
After sealing the bottle, Albert reviewed the remaining steps in his mind.
The potion needed to be hidden in a dark, secret place.
It could not be inside the residence.
And it must not be exposed to sunlight or prying eyes.
Fortunately, he already had a plan.
With a flick of his hand, Albert made a digging gesture toward the base of the redwood tree beside the castle. A sharp cracking sound echoed as the earth and roots parted, revealing a deep hole.
This was the wilderness—an ideal location where the potion could absorb natural energy. The redwood and the depth of the hole ensured that sunlight would never reach it.
Albert placed the bottle inside, filled the hole back in, and then took out his wand.
One by one, he set up defensive arrays to prevent any accidents.
He absolutely did not want to repeat this process again. Keeping a leaf in his mouth for an entire month had been nothing short of torture.
Throughout the entire process, Albert made no effort to avoid Harry.
Harry stepped closer, eyes shining with curiosity.
"Uncle Albert, is this Animagus magic? Why does it look like you're brewing a potion when it's supposed to be magic?"
Albert nodded calmly. "Animagus is a profound form of magic that combines Potions and Transfiguration. There's nothing strange about that."
Then he added, "Magic has many forms of expression."
"Do you remember what I said in Knockturn Alley a month ago?" Albert asked.
Harry thought for a moment. "You said they were all trash."
Albert opened his mouth, paused, and shook his head. "Not that. Something else about magic."
Harry thought harder, then his eyes lit up.
"You said they were still expressing magic using 'waves,'" he said excitedly, before adding, "And that they're all trash!"
Albert nodded and rubbed Harry's head fondly.
"That's right," he said. "So remember this well. Magic has countless forms of expression. Never limit yourself."
"And never become someone who can only shoot waves."
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