A wizard's magic grows stronger with age, peaking in adulthood before weakening again in old age.
The strength of that magic is the necessary foundation for powerful spells, and even basic charms become far stronger when fueled by greater magical power.
But Dumbledore was an exception. He seemed to have never weakened with age. A simple Impediment Jinx from him carried the destructive force of a Blasting Curse.
The Dursleys' front door exploded off its hinges, crashing against the wall with a thunderous boom that instantly sobered Vernon Dursley out of his rage.
He stumbled downstairs in a panic, staring in shock at the ruined door.
Amidst the rising dust, an elderly man with long silver hair and beard, clad in strange robes, strode into the house.
"Vernon Dursley!" Dumbledore's presence pressed down like a storm. The air itself trembled, his magic stirring the dust with a shimmering glow.
The display was terrifyingly majestic—but Louis couldn't help thinking: Looks like I'll be getting another warning letter from the Ministry for this. This time it's Dumbledore dragging me into trouble…
Oh well. One more debt hardly mattered. With Dumbledore around, everything would be smoothed over anyway. Best just enjoy the show.
The Dursley family came rushing down, only to be cornered by Dumbledore at the foot of the stairs—unable to go up or down.
"Who… who are you?!"
Vernon Dursley puffed himself up, red-faced, barking like an angry hound.
But his trembling body betrayed his fear.
"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts." The old wizard took a step forward; the floor cracked beneath his foot. "I'm here for a home visit."
Home visit?
Louis glanced at him, thinking: With that kind of entrance, it sounds less like a home visit and more like wiping out a family line.
"H-home visit? We… we don't need any home visits. Get out! Get out of our house!" Vernon shouted, his finger trembling as he pointed.
"That's not for you to decide. I've heard Harry Potter's life here has been far from pleasant. Is this how you treat your own blood?" Dumbledore's voice thundered with anger.
"Headmaster, tone it down a little—you'll scare them to death," Louis muttered behind him, nudging him with an elbow.
Didn't he see Dudley's face already turning purple?
Dumbledore obliged, reining in his pressure. Now he looked like nothing more than an ordinary old man.
But Vernon still didn't dare ignore him. He didn't even dare approach. This man radiated the aura of someone who truly would use magic to harm, unlike Harry, who only used magic to bluff.
Harry had once thought waving a wand might cow Vernon into treating him better. But Vernon was a shrewd man—an executive skilled at reading people. He'd seen the hesitation and fear in Harry's eyes and knew the boy couldn't actually use magic outside school. That was why he dared to exploit and abuse him.
But now trouble had arrived—a real monster from the wizarding world.
"Blood relative? Don't joke. If we had the choice, we wouldn't want anything to do with him or your kind! We don't want magic in this house. That boy doesn't want to see us, and we don't want to see him. You'd better make sure he never comes back!"
Somehow, Vernon had found the courage to shout his defiance at Dumbledore.
"Sorry, but that's impossible," Dumbledore replied coldly. "There is ancient magic tied to Harry's bloodline. He must remain near family for the protection to hold."
He had always explained to the Dursleys that Harry's safety depended on kinship. But he clearly underestimated how little these people cared for reason when it came to Harry.
Dumbledore, for all his power, was not a man to bicker endlessly with villains. Even when he said he'd try "another way of negotiating," he still defaulted to persuasion.
"May I say a word?" Louis interjected.
Dumbledore paused, turning toward him.
Only now did the Dursleys notice Louis standing behind the headmaster. They were stunned—never imagining their neighbor could be tied to such a fearsome wizard.
"W-Wilson?" Vernon and Petunia blurted, aghast. A week ago they had enjoyed a pleasant dinner party together; it left them with no venom to spit at him now.
Good heavens—Louis Wilson, the promising young gentleman praised by the Masons, a future star magician… was a wizard?!
They suddenly felt duped. His "magic tricks" were probably just wizardry all along!
As for Dudley, he couldn't care less—he had already slumped over the stair rail, snoring.
"Headmaster Dumbledore may not fully understand how to speak to Muggles," Louis said politely, still perfectly composed. But in truth, had the Dursleys uttered even one insult toward him just then, he would not have held back.
Fortunately, they kept their mouths shut.
"You hate Harry because you hate magic, is that right?" Louis asked evenly.
"Of course! This family should never have been touched by such nonsense!" Vernon barked.
"Then how much would it take to suppress that hatred?" Louis asked bluntly.
"Money?" Vernon sneered. "That boy? He doesn't have a penny to his name!"
"Not Harry's money," Louis corrected smoothly. "His contributions to the wizarding world are more than enough to justify the Ministry footing the bill. And besides—the Potter family isn't nearly as poor as you imagine."
He glanced at Dumbledore, and seeing no objection, went on:
"The Potters are famous in the wizarding world—for their line of hair potions, among other things. They're wealthy. And Harry Potter, as the sole heir, holds a sizable fortune."
"Wizard's gold? Hah." Vernon scoffed.
"One Galleon exchanges for about five pounds sterling," Louis continued calmly. "Every year, Muggle-born families deposit pounds into Gringotts. But the goblins despise them, since few wizards bother to exchange those notes."
Dumbledore, curious now, confirmed: "That's true. Most of the time, Hogwarts has to absorb the Muggle currency."
"So," Louis concluded, "if you name a price, I imagine Hogwarts—or the Ministry—would be quite willing to meet your demands."
And without a doubt, Vernon Dursley's heart began to waver.
This pompous, magic-hating man was tempted—Louis had struck a nerve.
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