Before leaving Hogwarts, every student had to sign a contract: the agreement that underage wizards were forbidden to use magic outside school.
This contract left a magical trace on their wands called a Trace, which monitored magical activity around it. If the Ministry detected signs of spellcasting near a non–wizarding area, a warning letter would be delivered at lightning speed.
This was called a Yellow Card Warning. It was only a warning the first time, but if the student ignored it and continued, the consequences were grim—their wand would be snapped and they would be expelled from Hogwarts.
Still, after a year of lessons, most first-years had already learned some control over their magic. Barring accidents, they were unlikely to become Obscurials.
An Obscurial was a twisted being born from suppressing magical talent and refusing to use magic. It lashed out with uncontrollable surges of destructive power, causing immense harm.
If Harry Potter hadn't been admitted to Hogwarts, there was more than a ninety percent chance he would have turned into such a monster of destruction.
Louis signed the contract without hesitation. In the Muggle world, so long as a young wizard didn't want to cause trouble, there was hardly any need to use magic anyway.
And Louis—well, even if he wanted to cause trouble, he had no need for a wand.
At most he could snap his fingers and ignite someone, or crush them into pulp with telekinesis and mental force. None of that required magic.
Harry, however, looked pale as he signed.
He had believed that, now he possessed magic, he would no longer need to fear the Dursleys' bullying. But if he couldn't use magic, how was his life any different from before?
"Professor McGonagall, I think you should consider Harry's circumstances."
Louis, standing behind Harry, spoke up.
It was Professor McGonagall who was overseeing the signing. As Deputy Headmistress, she was frighteningly dutiful, handling matters big and small—enough to make anyone collapse from exhaustion just watching her.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Wilson?" McGonagall asked crisply.
"Harry's situation is rather special. Where he lives, he needs to use magic to deter people who bully him," Louis explained. "I live across from Harry's house. I see the way his family treats him. To be honest—it's not good. Without some magical deterrent, Harry's summer won't be easy."
Harry turned toward Louis in surprise. He hadn't expected anyone to speak up for him at this moment. From the bottom of his heart, he instantly counted Louis as a true friend.
What he didn't know was that Louis was only making a small gesture of compensation—for that kick he had once landed on Harry.
Professor McGonagall studied Louis with suspicious eyes.
"Mr. Wilson," she said stiffly, "whatever the case, they are still Mr. Potter's family. He must learn to live with them peacefully, not threaten them with magic."
Harry lowered his head at that. He didn't know how to explain what life with the Dursleys was really like.
"Professor, let's be honest. Surely you know what kind of people the Dursleys are."
Louis spoke slowly, deliberately: "I think even if Harry's life in the Muggle world were a little better, it wouldn't stop him from loving Hogwarts. Don't you agree?"
Those words hit the mark, straight to the heart.
Professor McGonagall's composure nearly cracked. She glared at Louis, her voice sharp: "Mr. Wilson, I know you are clever, and that you carry the blood of the ancients, but that does not excuse rudeness!"
Any other student might have trembled in fear at such a rebuke. Louis only shrugged, throwing Harry a helpless look.
"Well then, forgive my rudeness," Louis said with an utterly insincere apology. Tipping his hat, he turned and left the castle.
Harry Potter—a child starved of love. Those who truly loved him were either dead or imprisoned. Everyone else either respected his achievements from a distance or sought only to use him.
Professor McGonagall's expression flickered. It wasn't that Louis had exposed her intentions, but rather that his words had stirred up thoughts she did not want to admit to herself.
She sighed, then turned to Harry, who was lingering, reluctant to leave.
"It's time to go, Mr. Potter. The train is waiting."
Watching Harry depart with such longing in his eyes, Professor McGonagall thought she ought to have a talk with Dumbledore.
No matter what, Harry was still just a child. He deserved a better childhood.
――――
The train slowly pulled away from Hogwarts' little station.
As the castle receded into the distance, Louis felt no emotion whatsoever. In fact, he was even looking forward to his holiday.
Summer vacation, for Louis, was a time to return to the world of ordinary people and relax. He wasn't like Harry—he had a warm, loving family. At home, he didn't need to think too hard about anything; he could let himself slack off without a care.
Still, before slacking off, he had a few matters to take care of.
Yawning, Louis mumbled an apology to Hermione in the same compartment and promptly pretended to fall asleep, ignoring her puffed-up, indignant expression.
His thoughts were on the changes to Meja's Soul-Stealing Scroll. That sinister artifact had altered after devouring Quirrell's soul.
In the game, its effect was to stack layers with every kill, each layer increasing spell power. Once maxed out, it even granted extra movement speed.
But in reality there was no such thing as "spell power." Instead, each soul absorbed gave him a slight increase in soul strength, and more intriguingly, allowed him to freely extract one skill from the soul.
That was… interesting.
For example, Quirrell's soul had the following skills listed on the scroll:
- Defense Against the Dark Arts Lecturing Lv1
- Dark Magic Mastery Lv3
- Basic Magic Mastery Lv10
- Advanced Magic Lv2
- Muggle Studies Lecturing Mastery Lv10
The skill ranks ranged from None → Proficient → Mastery → Perfect → Legendary, much like draw tiers, with each tier further divided into levels. The higher the number, the stronger the skill; Level 10 was the peak, after which one could break through into the next tier.
One important catch: each skill could only be extracted once.
So if Louis chose to extract Quirrell's "Dark Magic Mastery Lv3," then even if he later absorbed a soul with "Dark Magic Mastery Lv10" or even a Perfect-tier Dark Magic, he could never take it again.
"Obviously the stronger the better," Louis mused. "But as for Basic Magic, that's harmless enough. Taking Quirrell's version and using it shouldn't be a problem."
Beneath the cover of his robes, his hand brushed over the Soul-Stealing Scroll, and soon he had drawn out Basic Magic Mastery: Lv10.
As he absorbed it, Louis felt a surge of knowledge flood his mind—the experience and understanding Quirrell had accumulated through his studies of magic. His fingers twitched eagerly around his wand.
"No rush. There'll be plenty of chances. Once I find the time to get a proper wand, I'll see if I can actually cast magic now."
For the moment, his wand was still just an empty shell. Even if he knew spells, he couldn't channel them through it.
After all, he hadn't learned anything as advanced as wandless casting.
---
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