Ordinary people regarded the Blessing Potion merely as a luck potion—one sip would bring twelve hours of good fortune—but they never pondered the logic behind that luck. The lack of foundational education in the magical world had caused generation after generation of wizards to miss this treasure. Otherwise, the future of wizards would have shone as brightly as the stars.
To George, this potion could change a person's destiny. Therefore, whether its effects were external or internal, such a transcendent potion should not be used merely to grant twelve hours of luck.
When George obtained the potion, he couldn't wait to test his theory—and the results were even more astonishing than he had imagined.
Locking himself in a dark room and shutting off all his senses except his mind, the long-buried secrets of the Fulingji finally exploded in his consciousness.
He discovered that the true source of the Blessing Potion lay in enhancing all of a human's senses and organs, allowing a person to surpass natural limits. It was this power that made one seemingly capable of anything, so much so that people mistakenly thought their feats were ordinary.
But just as with any power, there were limits. If pushed too far, even this ability would eventually hit a ceiling. After all, the Blessing Potion was only an enhancer; it could not alter inherent logic or reverse causality. For ordinary people, it could only serve as an effective wealth-attracting potion, which was far from its true potential.
Only when George made bold hypotheses, carefully tested his senses, and restricted the potion's effects to the mental level did the full power of the Blessing Potion emerge.
Fortunately, when confined to the mind, even a minuscule dose could allow one's thoughts and consciousness to exceed their natural limits. In this terrifying state, learning, thinking, reasoning, and proving became the easiest things in the world.
"If I was once a genius who relied on effort to succeed, now I am a genius who has discovered the true shortcut," George thought, a warm thrill rising in his chest. He had previously tried to shorten potion-brewing times but lacked sufficient information to succeed.
At Hogwarts, however, reducing the brewing time was just a matter of technique. Early graduation was something he could now consider.
Feeling motivated, George looked around. At that moment, a boy with black hair and round eyes, carrying a heavy trunk, stepped onto the carriage.
"Destiny," George said, standing up. "Let me help you." Without waiting for consent, he lifted the trunk single-handedly and placed it on the luggage rack.
"Thanks!" Harry looked at the tall, handsome boy across from him, his cheeks flushing slightly.
"You're welcome. You could help me too," George said, smiling at Harry's small, knit-cap-like expression with sympathy.
"I'm Harry Potter. Are you an upper-year student?" Harry asked.
"No, I'm a first-year too. I'm George Soros," George said, flexing his muscular biceps and adding, "I'm eleven, too."
"Ah—" Harry couldn't believe that this towering boy in front of him was only eleven.
"Ha! You should eat more and exercise," George said proudly, noticing Harry's shock. Compared with his former life, where he barely reached 170 cm and died of overwork, George had learned his lesson.
From childhood, he focused on training and nutrition. No longer a frail bookworm, at eleven, George was 175 cm tall, muscular, and strong.
"This is a nutritional meal I prepared according to potion formulas," George said, pulling a white insulated lunchbox from his luggage. "It'll help you grow tall and strong."
With the rapid development of George's potion research and constant improvements to the formulas, these meals now allowed rapid growth from basic nutrition. That same year, George himself grew noticeably taller and more muscular, transforming from a fast-growing, strong boy into a towering young man.
Harry knew that Potions would be a part of his Hogwarts curriculum. Though he had never heard of "nutritional meals" before, the concept seemed magical and almost unbelievable. Yet learning it could make him taller and stronger instantly moved him—every frail child had dreamed of becoming robust and powerful.
"Can this really make someone stronger?" Harry asked, in disbelief. "It must be expensive."
"We're friends now. Welcome," George said gently.
"We're already good friends," George's words warmed Harry's heart. He couldn't help but feel his nose tingle and quickly buried his head in the lunchbox.
Watching Harry stifle his tears with his head in the lunchbox, George took out a book and pretended to read. The scene was touching—after all, Harry was just an eleven-year-old sent away as a child, needing only a little kindness from the outside world. He was deeply moved.
"Besides Harry, Hermione should get a share too." In the magical world, magical power grows with age and physical development. Rapid growth enhances not only height and weight but also magic. George had no intention of revealing the formula unnecessarily, at least for now.
He ate alone, read alone, in the quiet of the compartment. Only the rhythmic "clack-clack-clack" of the train on the tracks filled the air. Outside the window, fields sped by, followed by rolling forests, winding rivers, and lush green hills.
After a while, there was a knock at the compartment door. A round-faced, chubby boy entered, tear-streaked. "Sorry," he said, "have you seen my toad?"
"Sorry, I haven't seen your toad here," Harry replied.
The boy suddenly burst into tears. "It ran away again! I lost it again!"
"You'll find it," Harry comforted him.
"I hope so," the boy whispered. "If you see it, please tell me." With that, he turned and left.
"Toads aren't good pets. Wizards should choose companions that suit their identity and can help them," George muttered. He had little fondness for toads or rats. "Crows and black cats should be every wizard's favorite pet."
By this time, Harry had finished eating and leaned back on the sofa.
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