"…Eh…?!" Harry blinked, bewildered.
Albert picked up the flower that had fallen to the ground and examined it carefully. The moonlight within it had completely dissipated; now it was nothing more than an empty shell, utterly useless. Fortunately, though most of the Moon Spirit Flowers had been severely damaged, a few lucky ones still survived. Just consider it pruning, Albert thought, trying to console himself.
His gaze then shifted to the little boy standing in front of him: messy black hair, broken glasses, green eyes, and the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Most importantly, the method this child had just used—magic. Albert had encountered only one other being with magical abilities in this world, and the memory made him thoughtful.
The first time, it had been completely unreasonable—they had claimed to be from the Ministry of Magic and tried to arrest him on the spot. A battle had erupted atop Big Ben. Ministry of Magic… lightning scar… everything about this child felt eerily familiar, though he couldn't place it at first.
Albert studied the boy intently. Perhaps, he thought, there was a way to resolve the current deadlock. He finally asked, "Kid, what school of caster are you? A Wizard? A Mage? Or an Alchemist?"
"Huh?" Harry's confusion was obvious.
Albert's brow furrowed. Could it be that this child didn't even know the source of his power? A caster raised in an ordinary world, surrounded by normalcy?
"What's your name?" Albert persisted.
"My name is Harry Potter," the boy said. "I live at Number Four, Privet Drive, diagonally across from your house, sir."
Harry Potter?! In an instant, Albert's mind rang with recognition. All the pieces clicked. This was… the world of Harry Potter. He hadn't been familiar with the details before—he'd only grasped the general plot from scattered sources—but now, the name triggered a flood of memories. Among the first things he recalled: Harry was an orphan. Everything suddenly made sense.
Albert shook his head and returned inside, leaving Harry standing outside, dazed. That was it? Just like that…
Harry hesitated, unsure whether to leave or stay. His attention flicked to the street corner, where Dudley lingered, trying to spy on the scene from a distance. Harry crouched instinctively, trying to avoid being noticed.
Inside the house, Albert's space was a curious mix. A small entrance hall held piles of sundries. On a tall stone table, stacks of books formed a miniature mountain, interspersed with caught curtains. Outside the open window, a high mountain meadow stretched out, the wind rippling across the green lawn. It was clear the world inside this house and the world outside were completely different realms.
In the fireplace, red flames flickered, gradually taking form. Eyes and a mouth appeared, and a hoarse yet youthful voice spoke, "What happened?"
"A few clumps of Moon Spirit Flowers were damaged by some kid from who knows where," Albert said lazily. Then, gesturing at the flames, he asked, "Where are we now?"
"Let me see." The small fire entity extended two hands, picked up a map, and studied it. After a long while, it said, "Finland, northern Scandinavian Mountains."
"Someone destroyed your Moon Spirit Flowers… aren't you going to kill him?"
"Lucifer," Albert sighed, "why are you always talking about killing? Can't you try to be a bit more peaceful?"
"When are you ever peaceful? Besides, I, Lucifer, am a demon!" The fire entity's features suddenly twisted into ferocity, huge flames erupting around him.
"All right, all right. Quickly find an uninhabited place to stop the Castle, then I'll transplant the Moon Spirit Flowers," Albert waved his hand, clearly unfazed by Lucifer's theatrics. Grabbing a shovel, he stepped outside again.
Albert noticed Harry hadn't left. "Hmm? You're still here?" he mused. Trying to freeload a meal? Albert didn't care. He tossed the shovel to the boy. "Kid, dig up the flowers."
"Ah?!" Harry stared at the shovel and then at Albert, but his hands moved instinctively.
"The Moon Spirit Flowers are precious. Of course they need to be transplanted. Do I have to wait until you destroy them all?" Albert said casually.
"Consider it atonement," he added, pretending seriousness. "Otherwise, I'll tell your family."
At the mention of his family, Harry perked up immediately. He didn't want the Dursleys involved. "Okay… okay," he said, quickly standing and brushing his clothes before starting the task.
Albert glanced at him twice, then returned his attention elsewhere. The Moon Spirit Flowers had strong root systems; their survival was certain. What mattered was preserving the purified moonlight in their petals.
Suddenly, Albert's peripheral vision caught two figures rustling by the roadside. One tall and thin, resembling a mischievous monkey; the other tall and fat, clearly Harry's troublesome cousin Dudley.
Albert pointed, "Kid, were those the ones who threw you into my flowerbed?"
Harry looked and could only nod helplessly.
"Energetic children," Albert muttered. Dudley's rotund frame reminded him vaguely of Poluk, a notorious figure from another world. While the physique matched, Dudley lacked the cruel temperament. The memory of the Crimson Pig and its curse stirred a flicker of anger in Albert.
He tapped his ring lightly. Harry, drawn by the sound, seemed to catch a flash of light from Albert's hand.
Suddenly, a large Doberman appeared from nowhere, charging straight at Dudley.
"Hey! What the hell?!" Dudley yelled, dodging in panic.
From an oak tree nearby, a tabby wildcat leapt and scratched Dudley's face.
"Ah! My face! My face!!" Dudley screamed as another stray dog joined the chase.
Harry couldn't contain his laughter. It had been a long time since he felt such joy. For once, seeing Dudley in trouble brought him genuine amusement.
Pier, Dudley's companion, fared no better. One stray dog and two wildcats quickly forced him out of sight.
Beside him, Harry began digging earnestly, the shovel biting into the soil. Albert remained indifferent, his eyes scanning the horizon as the Castle loomed, patiently waiting for the flowers to be secured.
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