Don't Mention My Time
Harry was already lost in his imagination.
In his mind, the future unfolded with absolute clarity—the day he finally mastered powerful magic.
Dudley would provoke him as usual, sneering and shoving, calling him names in front of everyone. Harry, however, would no longer shrink back. Instead, he would smile faintly, calmly, just like Uncle Albert always did when he had everything under control.
Dudley would grow angry. According to habit, he would grab Harry by the collar, preparing to throw him aside like trash.
And then—
Harry would raise his hand casually. His fingers would flicker with faint light. With a single, effortless motion, magic would surge forward.
Dudley would be sent flying, tumbling through the air before crashing face-first into the flower bed in front of the entire school.
Harry would straighten his clothes, brush off imaginary dust, and say coolly:
"Don't dirty my—"
"What are you thinking about?"
Albert's voice snapped him violently back to reality.
Harry jolted, his entire body stiffening. His face flushed bright red as if someone had caught him doing something shameful. He coughed twice in panic.
"N-nothing!"
Albert raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He had a rough idea of what was going through the boy's head. Truthfully, he understood it all too well—he had indulged in the same fantasies when he was young.
"Don't get carried away," Albert said with a smile that was far too knowing.
The image of Albert's ominous 'you'll get what you deserve' smile immediately resurfaced in Harry's mind, sending a chill down his spine.
"First," Albert continued calmly, "we need to understand what magic power actually is. Do you need a notebook?"
"Yes!" Harry answered instantly, standing up before he even realized it.
Albert chuckled softly and rose from the sofa. He walked toward the basement stairs and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a stack of yellowed parchment, a quill, and several strange items Harry had never seen before.
Among them was a wand.
It looked exactly like the wands Harry had seen in Diagon Alley—slender, polished, and faintly mysterious.
Albert placed the parchment neatly in front of Harry and handed him the quill.
"I'm supposed to take notes with this?" Harry asked, eyes wide.
Albert smiled mysteriously. "Of course. It adds atmosphere. Makes it look like the manuscript of an ancient master."
Harry nodded solemnly, as if he completely understood. So that was how it was.
"Now," Albert said, settling back into his seat, "don't write while I'm speaking. Listen first. After I finish explaining, you summarize everything in your own words. Understood?"
"Yes!" Harry nodded eagerly, excitement bubbling in his chest.
"To begin learning magic," Albert said slowly, his posture relaxed, "there's one concept you absolutely cannot avoid—magic power."
He spoke like an old storyteller, unhurried and deliberate.
"Magic power is an abstract concept. It isn't a tangible energy you can touch or see. Think of it as stamina."
"Stamina?" Harry echoed.
"Yes. When you run, you get tired. When you rest, you recover. Train enough, and your stamina increases. Magic power works the same way—it is consumed, restored, and strengthened."
Albert paused, letting the idea sink in.
"If the laws of the world are like the strings of a zither," he continued, "then spells are the musical score, and magic power is the plectrum that plucks those strings."
He looked directly at Harry.
"Without magic power, you cannot touch the world's laws. And if you can't touch them, you can't cast spells. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Harry said firmly. The explanation made perfect sense.
Albert nodded in approval and gave him time to write before continuing.
"Now that we understand what magic power is, let's talk about how to use it."
"A wand?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Bingo," Albert said, pointing at him. "But that's not entirely accurate. It's just that, in modern times, wands happen to be the most common method."
As he spoke, Albert laid out all the strange items he had brought up earlier.
There were dried black lizards, shriveled and stiff. A plump pufferfish that looked disturbingly intact. Rings of various metals. Bracelets. Pendants made from eyeballs.
And several wands.
Harry even watched in shock as Albert removed the rings he was wearing and casually pulled out a massive wand—taller than Harry himself—from inside his sleeve.
"These," Albert said, gesturing to the table, "are all tools used to drive magic power. We call them casting tools."
He separated the items into two neat piles.
"You have magic power inside you," Albert said. "That much is certain, correct?"
"Yes," Harry nodded. "But I can't feel it. I can't control it."
"That's completely normal," Albert replied. "Most people can't. In ancient times, casters believed magic itself was a divine miracle. They saw themselves as intermediaries between mortals and gods."
"Are there really gods?" Harry asked instinctively.
"I don't know about this world," Albert said casually. "But I've met them before. I tried to kill them. Lost."
He paused.
"…Don't interrupt me!"
"S-sorry!" Harry lowered his head quickly, grinning awkwardly.
"The magic power inside most people is chaotic," Albert continued. "So throughout history, casting tools have evolved into two main types."
He pointed to the first pile: a small wand, two rings, bracelets, and various pendants.
"These are conduits. Their purpose is to guide magic power so spells can be completed correctly."
Then he pointed to the second pile—the rings Albert had been wearing and the massive wand.
"These are amplifiers. They increase spell effectiveness, allowing greater results with less effort."
Harry's eyes sparkled as he stared at the conduits.
"So… Uncle Albert," he asked carefully, "with a conduit, even I could cast magic?"
"Yes," Albert nodded. "Conduits allow proper channeling of magic power."
Then he suddenly asked, "Have you noticed the difference between the two piles?"
Harry studied them carefully. Wands, rings, animal parts—they all looked equally strange. He thought long and hard before offering a hesitant answer.
"These amplifiers… are yours. And the conduits came from the basement."
"Exactly!" Albert exclaimed.
Then his expression turned serious.
"Harrison," he said, "what I'm about to say is not absolute truth. There is no single correct path in magic. Everyone must find their own understanding."
Harry nodded earnestly.
"So remember—question everything. Including me."
"I understand."
Albert swept all the conduits aside in one motion.
"Then listen carefully," he said coldly.
"All wizards who rely on conduits are trash."
"Huh?!" Harry gasped.
"If you cannot control magic power on your own," Albert continued, "I will never allow you to touch a casting tool."
Harry's earlier excitement shattered instantly.
His expression fell, but after a moment, he straightened his back.
"I understand," he said firmly. "I'll work hard."
He wrote in his notebook:
Wizards who cannot cast spells independently are trash.
Albert glanced at the note and smiled faintly.
This child really was clever.
In Albert's previous world, apprentices followed strict systems to control magic power. This world, however, relied heavily on conduits.
Albert had studied several wands confiscated from the Ministry of Magic. Their design focused almost entirely on guidance and stability. Amplification was minimal, relying on wood properties alone—aspens for aggression, cedar for willpower.
Efficient, but limiting.
This world favored quantity over peaks.
Albert wanted something more.
As he stood up, he patted Harry on the shoulder.
"If you get beaten up at school later," he said lightly,
"remember not to mention my name."
FOR MORE CHAPTERS
patreon.com/Tonystarc961