London.
Not wanting to waste any time, Lynn dove into his trunk to brew the Fusion Potion on the very day he returned home.
He had been thinking about it the entire way back.
He had obsessed over it from the moment he stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.
He had reviewed the recipe provided by the system countless times in his mind.
The processing method for every ingredient.
The sequence of every step.
Every timing point.
He knew them all by heart.
But simply memorizing the recipe was not enough.
Brewing Potions was an extremely precise science. A difference of one second, one degree, or one milligram of material could create a world of difference in the final product.
The line between a perfect Potion and a failed one often came down to a single subtle mistake.
Lynn was confident in his potion-making skills, but when facing a new type of Potion he had never attempted before, he did not dare be arrogant.
He needed the best materials, the most precise heat control, and the quietest environment.
Inside the trunk was the most suitable place.
But the materials were a problem.
During his final days at Hogwarts before leaving school, Lynn had done little besides keeping an eye on whether the Old Bat had left his office.
Snape's Potion storeroom was the place Lynn coveted most in all of Hogwarts, aside from the Restricted Section.
The jars and bottles neatly arranged on its shelves contained precious materials that money could not buy outside.
Some were cultivated by Snape himself.
Some were obtained through special channels.
As for others, Lynn had no idea where Snape got them.
But the quality of every single one was absurdly high.
There was no other way.
He was missing several ingredients, all of which were priceless and unavailable on the market.
Frostheart Flower, Sunfire Berries, Evernight Moss, Ancient Turtle Shell…
These things could occasionally be found on the black market, but the prices were ridiculous, and it was difficult to distinguish the real items from fakes.
Lynn could only set his sights on Snape's Potion storeroom.
He had staked it out for several days before finally catching Snape leaving the storeroom.
Thinking back on those days, he still felt that they had been an ordeal.
On the first day, Snape did not leave his office at all.
Lynn waited from morning until night, his stomach growling with hunger, until he finally had no choice but to give up.
On the second day, Snape did come out, but he merely walked through the corridor, exchanged a few words with Filch, and then returned.
Lynn had nearly lost control and charged straight in at that moment.
On the third day, Snape finally left his office and went quite far away.
Judging from the direction, he had gone to the Great Hall.
Lynn waited ten minutes to make sure that Snape would not suddenly return before silently slipping in.
He took what he needed from Snape's storeroom.
Not much.
Just a small portion of each ingredient, enough for a single batch of Potion.
…
Inside the trunk, the Potion workshop was brightly lit.
Lynn stood before the workstation, with a row of processed ingredients laid out in front of him.
The petals of the Frostheart Flower had been shredded into fine filaments, glowing with a pale-blue luminescence under the moonlight.
This flower only bloomed on the coldest night of each year and had to be processed within twenty-four hours of being picked, or it would lose its medicinal properties.
The one from Snape's storeroom was of such high quality that Lynn was almost reluctant to use it.
The Sunfire Berries had been sliced into thin wafers with a silver knife, each one so thin that it was translucent.
These berries grew near volcanic craters. One needed to wear special Dragon-hide gloves while picking them, or the residual heat would burn their skin.
The ones Snape possessed were larger than any Lynn had ever seen before.
The Evernight Moss had been collected from the depths of caves that never saw sunlight.
When dried, it was deep black and smelled of damp earth.
Lynn placed it into a mortar and slowly ground it into a fine powder with a pestle.
The Ancient Turtle Shell was the hardest to process.
The shell was incredibly hard, and ordinary blades could not cut it at all.
Lynn used a small knife fashioned from Goblin Metal scraps to barely cut it into small pieces, then crushed those pieces into powder with the mortar.
The remaining ingredients were roasted, juiced, or ground according to the recipe.
Lynn's movements were fast and steady, each step as precise as though measured with a ruler.
His fingers did not tremble once.
His gaze never left the materials on the workstation.
A large quantity of precious herbs was added to the cauldron.
The cauldron sat over the flame as the liquid inside bubbled away.
The resulting concoction was a chaotic mess, somewhat blackened, with a faint and familiar stench rising from it.
How should he describe that smell?
It was a stench that simply smelled… wrong.
However, this was normal.
That was how the Potion recipe described it.
The recipe clearly stated:
During the early stages of brewing, the liquid will be a murky grayish-black, accompanied by a slight odor. As brewing continues, the liquid will slowly become transparent.
Lynn set down the recipe, lowered the heat slightly, and used a silver stirring rod to gently agitate the liquid in the cauldron.
After thinking about it, he decided to follow the recipe strictly without making any changes.
If the final effect was weakened, he would have nowhere to go to cry about it.
According to the recipe, for the next period of time, he only needed to wait patiently for the Potion in the cauldron to slowly become transparent.
Once that happened, the Potion would be more than half complete.
Lynn yawned and pulled out his Magic Phone to check the time.
3:47 a.m.
He had already been inside the trunk for a full day and night.
Brewing Potions was an extremely mentally taxing task.
Especially for a Potion like this, which required constant monitoring.
He had to continuously watch for changes in color, smell, and viscosity. Any slight deviation could affect the final result.
Lynn's eyelids began to droop.
He shook his head and walked to the rest area in the corner of the workshop, where a small bed was set up for his usual naps.
He lay down and closed his eyes.
Mhm… Get a good sleep, then set off to find the first fusion material—Dragon blood.
Lynn's reason for choosing a Dragon was also very simple.
In his impression, the wizards of the Wizarding World were all glass cannons with high attack and low defense.
He was no exception.
Look at those Death Eaters.
They could cast Spells left and right, but after getting hit by Lynn's lightning, they still went down. They still screamed in agony.
Defense?
It did not exist.
Of course, Lynn was not much better.
Although he could fight, dodge, and use various shields to withstand attacks, he was still essentially a glass cannon.
If he was struck by a powerful Spell, he would still be injured.
And he would still die.
So, he needed something that could directly improve his own defense.
Dragon blood was his answer.
Dragons were among the creatures with the strongest defenses in the Wizarding World.
Their scales could resist most Spells.
Their skin could withstand both high and low temperatures.
Their muscles and bones were far sturdier than those of ordinary creatures.
If he could extract that defensive trait from Dragon blood and integrate it into his own body—
The corners of Lynn's mouth curled upward slightly.
With that beautiful thought, he drifted into sleep.
…
Two days later, in the morning.
The London sky was a murky gray, with clouds hanging low as though it might rain at any moment.
Lynn stood at his doorstep, wearing a dark traveling cloak and carrying a backpack enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
He had finished packing and was ready to leave.
Now, he was waiting for the "guests" to arrive.
The word "guests" was not quite accurate.
To be precise, he was waiting for William.
Two days ago, after finishing the Fusion Potion in his trunk, he had called William and asked whether he was interested in going to Romania together.
William had agreed immediately.
A moment later, a Bentley Brooklands pulled up in front of Lynn's house.
Lynn looked at the car and scratched his head in confusion.
Whose car is this?
He knew William's family was well-off, but the gap between them and a Bentley was roughly equivalent to the gap between a Firebolt and a Cleansweep Seven.
When had William's family become so wealthy?
Soon, the driver stepped out and opened one of the rear doors.
He wore a crisp black uniform and white gloves.
After bowing slightly, he made a polite gesture toward the car door.
William stepped out.
Just as Lynn was about to greet him, he saw someone else emerge behind William.
Ollie.
Lynn froze for a moment.
"Ollie? Why are you here too?"
In his impression, Ollie was the kind of person who would not leave the house unless he absolutely had to.
Ollie's face turned red.
His lips moved for a long time before he managed to reply with a single word.
"Mhm."
Lynn: "…"
Mhm? What does 'mhm' mean?
He turned to William, his eyes filled with question marks.
William cleared his throat, his expression slightly unnatural.
"It's nothing," he said. "Ollie just wanted to go out and clear his head."
His tone was extremely casual.
So casual that Lynn immediately knew he was hiding something.
Ding-dong.
A notification sounded from Lynn's phone.
He lowered his gaze and saw a message pop up on the screen.
[William]: Ollie didn't hold back his power while practicing Spells and gave his dad a beating. His dad can't stand the sight of him right now, so he came out to travel.]
Lynn stared at the message for several seconds.
Then, he looked up at Ollie, who stood with his head lowered, staring at the tips of his shoes.
He looked down at the message again.
Gave his dad a beating.
Ollie?
Beat up Mr. Thorne?
An image surfaced in Lynn's mind.
Ollie expressionlessly raising his wand.
A Spell shooting from its tip.
Then, his father flying backward.
The image was too much.
Lynn did not dare think about it any further.
"Oh, I see." He tucked his phone into his pocket, a natural smile appearing on his face. "Then let's go together. It's no big deal.
"Come on, get inside first. The Ministry of Magic will send over the Portkey to Romania soon."
He stepped aside from the doorway, and William and Ollie walked in one after the other.
As the group entered, William curiously examined the decorations inside Lynn's house.
He had visited Lynn's home several times, but every visit brought new discoveries.
A huge display screen hung on the living-room wall, showing real-time weather and traffic conditions throughout London.
Several silver-white metal devices stood in a corner, emitting a faint hum.
They were air purifiers Lynn had made himself.
On the small coffee table beside the sofa sat a transparent glass sphere.
Inside it, a miniature model of Hogwarts Castle floated and slowly rotated.
Every tower and every window of the Castle was clearly visible.
Not even a single tree in the Forbidden Forest was missing.
Various decorations that usually appeared only in science-fiction films were scattered throughout the living room.
William was shocked for a long time before finally speaking, as though he had remembered something.
"By the way, Lynn, why did you suddenly want to travel to the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania?"
His tone carried curiosity, but even more confusion.
The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary sounded exciting, but it was actually a rather professional place.
It was not a tourist attraction.
It was a research institution.
Its main work involved studying Dragon habits, protecting Dragon habitats, and treating injured Dragons.
Tourists?
The Dragon Sanctuary did not accept tourists.
Lynn chuckled, wearing a smug expression that said, You guys don't know anything.
"Because a grand event is going to be held at the Dragon Sanctuary this month."
William and Ollie exchanged a glance.
A grand event? At the Dragon Sanctuary? What grand event?
They searched their memories but could not recall the media reporting any "grand event" related to the Dragon Sanctuary.
Seeing their confused expressions, Lynn began explaining.
"According to reliable sources, the strongest Ukrainian Ironbelly in the sanctuary has become very old. You know about Ukrainian Ironbellies, right?"
He paused, took a sip of water, and continued.
"That Ukrainian Ironbelly has been the 'boss' of the sanctuary for a long time.
"It occupies the highest, widest, and most food-rich cliff face in the sanctuary, and no other Dragons dare challenge it.
"But as its strength weakens day by day, the other Dragons have become increasingly restless…"
With Lynn's explanation, the two quickly understood what he meant by a "grand event."
Simply put, the "boss" of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary was about to retire, and the Dragon colony would be holding a leadership election.
But "leadership election" was not quite accurate.
Dragons did not vote.
They fought.
Dragons were naturally ill-tempered creatures.
Anywhere else, even two Dragons merely glancing at one another could result in a fight.
You glare at me, and I breathe fire at you.
You breathe fire at me, and I slap you with my tail.
You slap me with your tail, and I go straight for your life.
This was especially true in the Dragon Sanctuary.
Although it was large and housed dozens of Dragons, it inevitably felt a little crowded.
Every Dragon wanted the best spot—the highest cliff, the warmest cave, and the area with the most prey.
Thus, they usually settled disputes with force.
Whoever won occupied the best territory.
Whoever lost had to retreat into a corner.
The people at the sanctuary could not control this situation and had no real way to do so.
After all, you could not exactly reason with a ten-meter-long Dragon, could you?
However, this kind of situation did not happen often.
Since the sanctuary was established, it had happened only once.
That was when the Ukrainian Ironbelly defeated every other Dragon and occupied the highest cliff, where it had remained until now.
This year would be the second time.
William and Ollie's eyes gradually lit up.
If that was the case, it truly was a grand event.
Dozens of Dragons fighting for the position of "boss"…
Just imagining it was breathtaking.
And if they missed it this time, who knew how long they would have to wait for the next one?
"So," William said, pushing up his glasses, "we are going there this time just to watch Dragons fight?"
Lynn nodded.
"Pretty much."
As they spoke, the sound of fluttering wings came from outside the window.
The three turned toward it at the same time.
An Owl wobbled its way in, clutching a cardboard box in its talons.
It tossed the box onto the coffee table before landing unsteadily on the back of the sofa.
"Oh, looks like the Portkey has arrived."
Lynn gave his wand a casual wave, and the package opened on its own.
A brass key flew out and hovered in midair.
A literal Portkey.
For some reason, when Lynn looked at the Portkey, he felt an ominous premonition.
He recalled his previous experiences using Portkeys.
Every single time, it had been the same style.
Extreme acceleration.
Extreme spinning and tumbling.
And an extreme urge to vomit.
He had a feeling that this Portkey was also the work of that "Master."
"Are you two ready?" Lynn glanced at William and Ollie.
William nodded and reached out to grab the key.
Ollie also reached out and held the other end.
Lynn took a deep breath, reached out, and grabbed the last section of the key.
"Three, two, one—"
A world-spinning sensation took over.
"Master! I hate you!!!"
---
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