Even if he wasn't a die-hard fan of Harry Potter, who hadn't seen the first movie at least a few times?
Back in his previous life, it had been almost unavoidable. You'd flip through channels out of pure boredom—half-looking for something to watch, half-ready to give up—and somehow land on HBO or some other movie channel.
And there it was again.
Harry staring at a letter like it held the meaning of life. Hagrid just seconds away from knocking down a door. That same swelling music that made everything feel far more dramatic than it had any right to be.
And then—
"You're a wizard, Harry."
Thaddeus let out a quiet breath, the memory surfacing so clearly it almost felt ridiculous.
You'd tell yourself, "Just this one scene."
Then the next thing you knew, the movie was already nearing its end—and you hadn't moved an inch.
At that point, it wasn't even about being a fan.
It was just… inevitable.
And because of that, Thaddeus knew exactly what the Philosopher's Stone was.
A concept once confined to fiction, now resting within reach of his reality. A stone capable of turning anything into gold. A stone that could produce the Elixir of Life—an alchemical creation said to grant immortality, or at least something close to it.
But there was always a flaw.
The Elixir required mastery in potion-making and more importantly, even its effects were imperfect. It could prolong life, yes, but not escape time itself. Aging would still come. Death would still wait at the end of the road like a patient creditor.
Thaddeus exhaled slowly, fingers tightening slightly on the railing.
But what if it didn't have to be that way?
What if he could refine it?
What if the Stone wasn't just a relic of legend, but a foundation—an incomplete formula waiting to be corrected?
Not the flawed Elixir of Life that merely delays death…
But something better.
A perfected elixir. One without side effects. Without limitations. Without the need for constant renewal or dependency.
Something that didn't just extend life—but removed the concept of its end entirely.
A true defiance of mortality.
His lips curled faintly at the thought, not quite a smile, not quite disbelief. Something closer to dangerous excitement.
To others, immortality was a philosophical question.
To him, it was personal.
He had already died once.
Late twenties. No warning, no grandeur—just an abrupt end caused by a natural disaster. One moment he was there, the next, there was nothing. No closure, no final words—just the universe casually hitting "end task" on his entire existence.
There were dreams he never reached, paths he never walked, wealth he never saw… and, if he was being honest, a social life that never really got off the ground either. He had watched people fall in love, date, break up, move on—while he mostly observed from a safe distance, like it was a limited-time event he never quite managed to participate in.
And now?
Now he had a system.
Now he had gold enough to rival old noble houses.
Now he had magic that defied the world he once knew.
And most importantly—he had time again, and the means to bend it.
But even as his mind raced forward, a quieter thought lingered beneath it all.
Even Dumbledore—the most powerful wizard in the stories he remembered—was not immortal.
Most of what he knew came in fragments: scenes he caught while the films played on TV, never really watched from start to finish.
The rest came from his friend Marco, a die-hard Harry Potter fan who could probably recite the entire saga by memory.
Strength did not guarantee permanence. Wisdom did not stop aging. Even legends eventually became names carved into stone.
"What's the use of becoming the strongest wizard," Thaddeus murmured under his breath, "if you still end up in the ground like everyone else?"
The wind offered no answer.
Only the steady creak of wood and the distant crash of waves.
A decision formed in him—not fully planned, not entirely rational, but firm enough to act upon.
Now that he had the Stone, all he needed was the system's next reward—another piece falling into place. Preferably something that could open a new branch of magic: potion-making.
A book. A guide. Something that could finally give structure to what he intended to create.
And once he received a Master Card, the very idea of a perfect immortality, untouched by side effects, no longer seemed impossible.
Thaddues ate all the onion rings and transfigured the plate into an elegant ornate box, fitting the size of the stone. He put it inside and close it. He then charmed the box with protection spell, and an advance concealment charm. Anyone, even a wizard or witches, couldn't see it except him.
Feeling satisfied, he slipped the pouch back into his pocket. Even then, his hand lingered for a moment before giving it a light tap—almost instinctively, as if confirming it was still there.
Only then did he exhale, a quiet sigh of relief. The Stone was secure.
A smile spread across his face. He felt a sudden urge to celebrate.
From the poop deck, he looked over the ship. Then a simple thought came to him.
Why celebrate alone?
It felt better to share it. The more, the merrier.
Thaddeus lifted himself off the deck and floated toward the galley.
When he arrived, he raised his hands slightly and cast a utility charm. The galley immediately felt more alive, especially the kitchen, as everything seemed to stir with movement.
The Quick-Quotes Quill floated toward him, along with a sheet of parchment, ready to record his orders.
"Cook a feast—enough for seventy people or more. Fried chicken, vegetable salad, every recipe in the kitchen menu list… and roast three pigs," he commanded.
Magic obeyed.
Thaddeus watched as the dining table filled with different kinds of food. He sat in one of the chairs at the table. In just an hour, everything was ready.
He touched his robe and changed its color to a dark shade of green. Everything else stayed the same—just a casual grey shirt, black jeans, and brown boots underneath.
He left the galley and stopped his voyage, then floated toward the massive ship behind him.
He descended, and with his arrival, all eyes turned to him. One by one, most of them stopped what they were doing and knelt before him.
But Thaddeus did not give them time to settle into it.
He cast a charm, and the massive ship came to a sudden stop.
Then, under their shocked gazes, he cast another spell. The space on the upper deck expanded, growing to three times its original size.
One of the crew knelt and touched the ground, disbelief clear in his eyes.
In the next moment, barrels along both sides shot up into the air, transforming mid-flight into tables that could seat six people each. In an instant, the expanded deck was filled with enough tables to accommodate a hundred guests.
The transfigured furniture looked like royal banquet pieces, finely designed and elegant. Thaddeus noticed their eyes light up as they took it in—like it was the first time they had ever seen anything like it.
Above them, arc lamps appeared and hung suspended in the air, illuminating the entire deck as the sunset dimmed the sky.
"HAHAHAHA!"
Thaddeus laughed, his face full of joy. What these people were seeing was only the beginning—not the final product of his creativity and magic.
He turned to the captain, who stood frozen between confusion and amazement at what he had just witnessed.
"Let's have a feast! Today is a great day!" he said, his voice loud and full of excitement. He didn't care if they understood him or not.
Then, with a snap of his fingers—food appeared on every table. The deck filled instantly with a lavish feast made from simple, familiar ingredients, but prepared in an unfamiliar way.
There was fried chicken, crisp and golden, seasoned only with salt, pepper, and herbs. Roasted pork and beef were carved into thick slices, glazed lightly with honey and reduced meat juices. Fresh vegetables—cabbage, carrots, onions, and leafy greens—were served as salads with a simple vinegar dressing. Loaves of bread were soft inside with a browned crust, still warm as if just pulled from an oven. Bowls of clear broth, simmered from bones and herbs, gave off a rich, comforting aroma.
Even with limited spices, everything tasted refined, as if the cooking itself had elevated what the ingredients could normally become.
The scent spread across the ship in waves—warm, rich, and inviting—as if the entire galley had been transformed into a royal banquet hall in an instant.
The captain understood what he meant after seeing the food.
"Kesrio ñuha zaldrīzes, iā gōntan daor." Then he knelt. One by one, the rest of the crew followed his lead.
Thaddeus didn't fully understand the words, but he knew it was gratitude. He laughed lightly, as if it were nothing important. He gestured for them to stand up and eat.
Still, he noticed they were hesitant to eat. Even though some of them were already drooling.
He understood, he gestured toward the captain and then to the food, signaling them to begin. After that, he walked to a nearby table, took a plate from the side, and served himself grilled meat.
That small action broke the hesitation. Like a domino falling, the captain slowly began to eat, then people aboard quickly followed, filling the deck with the sound of a shared feast.
For a moment, he paused and looked around.
In his past life, he would have never spent money or resources on something like this. He was thrifty—so much so that he didn't even celebrate his own birthday. It felt too wasteful. The state of the economy and constant inflation had also been one of the main reasons he lived that way.
But now, it was different. He had wealth aboard the ship—and more than that, the Philosopher's Stone. It can create gold—endless riches, more than enough for a lifetime and beyond.
TBC
"Kesrio ñuha zaldrīzes, iā gōntan daor."~~~>"We thank the great being, for its kindness."
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