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The next day, Aiden woke up feeling a burst of lightness and energy in his body, as if some unseen burden had been lifted.
He assumed his treatment of Dumbledore and the small reassurance he had provided had significantly improved their rapport, or at least advanced whatever bizarre game Dumbledore was playing.
"Has the role-playing of a psychiatrist finally been completed?" Aiden murmured to himself, a touch of dry amusement in his voice.
The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window as Aiden finished washing up, the scent of freshly cooked breakfast filling the air. Aunt Molly, his father's sister, bustled around the table with a warmth that made the house feel like home. She had always treated Aiden like her own son, and today's hearty meal was no exception.
Once dressed, Aiden slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to tackle a day packed with errands and potion-making.
As he passed through the living room, he called out, "I'm heading to Diagon Alley, then spending the evening practicing potions at the Prewett Old Residence. I won't be back tonight. Can you let Aunty know for me?"
At the foot of the stairs, Ron lay sprawled on the sofa, nose buried deep in a Quidditch book.
"Come on, Aiden, it's only the first day of summer holiday. Loosen up a little," Ron mumbled without looking up.
Aiden's heterochromatic eyes sparkled with mischief as he replied, "Oh, you're right, my dear brother Ronny. I almost forgot to prepare a rigorous summer exercise and study plan for you. I'll get started as soon as I'm done."
"No—" Ron's protest was cut short by a strangled scream from behind, but it barely registered as Aiden's body was suddenly engulfed in flickering flames. With a sharp crack, he Apparated away.
The next moment, Aiden materialised just outside the familiar, weathered doorway of the Leaky Cauldron. The bustling sounds of the pub spilled out into the street.
"Oh, hi there~, Aiden," a cheerful voice greeted him.
Hannah Abbott, balancing a tray piled high with drinks, smiled warmly as she spotted him.
"Good morning, Hannah. What are you doing here?" Aiden nodded politely.
"Helping my family run the business, as always," she replied, gesturing around the lively pub. "What brings you here?"
"Just picking up some potion ingredients. I won't keep you; you look busy," Aiden said with a wave and slipped through the back door.
Inside the dimly lit shop of J. Pippin's Potions, the familiar figure of Vincent lounged behind the counter, idly polishing the already gleaming surface with a rag that looked dirtier than the counter itself.
Vincent's eyes lit up the moment he saw Aiden. "Hi, Aiden! It's been too long! We were wondering when you'd come back to grace us with your presence."
Aiden raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "It's been too long since a wealthy tycoon like myself has been thoroughly fleeced by you, you mean, right?"
Vincent feigned shock, clutching his chest dramatically. "How could you say such a thing? We pride ourselves on honesty and fairness. Ask anyone around here."
"Okay, okay, I'm not trying to ruin your reputation," Aiden chuckled, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. "Here's a list of what I need. See if you have them."
Vincent scanned the parchment aloud: "Dragon's pituitary gland… Nundu's blood… lizard's spinal fluid… Erumpent hide… Whomping Willow branches… belladonna…"
"Not exactly easy to come by," Vincent said, rubbing his fingers together with a sly grin. "Some are in short supply, which means…the price~"
"How about… sixty Galleons?" he offered, eyes gleaming.
Aiden rolled his eyes, thinking, who gave you the courage to try and fool a Legilimens like me? Then he said flatly, "Thirty-seven Galleons. Do you really want to test whether you're trying to overcharge someone who can read your mind?"
Vincent sighed dramatically. "Oh, Legilimens are so annoying." He began gathering the materials.
Aiden paid without hesitation, thanked Vincent, and slipped quietly out of the shop. The sun was climbing higher as he made his way toward the secluded Prewett Old Residence in Little Whinging, ready to dive into a day of potions and preparation.
The Prewett Old Residence stood in stark contrast to its surroundings. The old house was remarkably well-maintained, as if someone meticulously cleaned it every single day. Sunlight glinted off the antique tables and polished handrails, revealing a spotless interior.
"Sibby," Aiden called out, his voice echoing through the silent rooms, summoning the family house-elf.
With a soft pop in the air, Sibby appeared in front of Aiden, his large, floppy ears twitching with unrestrained excitement. The little elf trotted forward and threw his arms around Aiden's legs, clinging tightly.
Aiden knelt down, a warm smile spreading across his face, and returned the embrace. Sibby visibly trembled with unrestrained happiness.
"Young Master Aiden, you have returned to us!" the house-elf squeaked, his eyes shining brightly.
"Yes, Sibby, I'm back. I need to use the potion room. You've kept it clean for me, haven't you?" Aiden asked, his voice gentle.
"Of course, Master Aiden! Sibby makes sure to clean the house every day to prepare it for you!" Sibby declared proudly, puffing out his chest slightly.
After instructing Sibby to bring him some refreshments, Aiden made his way to the potion room. He carefully closed and sealed the door behind him, the heavy wood muffling the outside world. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the Wall of Spirituality, a shimmering barrier that created a temporary sanctuary against any outside disturbances.
Aiden's newfound mastery of the Distorted Illusion was a game-changer. Complex rituals, once a lengthy and perilous undertaking, could now be prepared and held safely within its malleable reality. This saved him precious time, a clear path unfolding for his increasingly intricate magic.
He laid out the potion ingredients on the stone workbench, a grin spreading across his face (^ - ^). "System, add points!" he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the sealed room.
A flat, synthesized "Ding, hehe," emanated from nowhere and everywhere at once, the System's tone dripping with digital sarcasm (= _ =).
"Ding! Potion materials detected. Activating characteristic extraction."
A series of soft chimes followed.
"Ding! Pituitary gland and blood successfully synthesized into Mind Dragon Pituitary Extract. Spinal fluid and hide successfully synthesized into Black Hunting Lizard Spinal Essence. Branches and belladonna successfully synthesized into Distorted Belladonna Tree Fruit."
"Alright then," Aiden muttered, rubbing his hands together. "Let's begin refining the potion itself." He retrieved his trusty cauldron, the familiar weight reassuring. With focused intensity, he began the intricate dance of potion-making.
A visible shimmer of power, his spirituality, flowed from his hands as he guided it into the cauldron. The Mind Dragon Pituitary Extract went in first, a viscous, swirling liquid. Next, he carefully measured and added the Black Hunting Lizard Spinal Essence, its dark hue momentarily clouding the mixture, followed by the potent Distorted Belladonna Tree Fruit. The concoction hissed and bubbled, colors shifting like an aurora within the cauldron as he patiently waited, guiding the transcendent characteristics to meld and stabilize.
Finally, the violent reactions subsided. The mixture settled into a vibrant, golden hue, emitting a soft, internal light that pulsed rhythmically. Aiden carefully poured the glowing liquid into a waiting test tube. He held it up, the golden light reflecting in his eyes as he examined it with a critical gaze. Then, with a deep breath and a resolute nod, he tilted his head back. Gulp, gulp, gulp. The potion vanished down his throat.
He managed a weak, "Ah, the taste is really something else," his voice strained. It was a blatant lie.
The lie barely left his lips before an intense, tearing sensation ripped through every fiber of his being. Searing pain crashed against his mind in relentless, agonizing waves, like a battering ram against a fortress wall. His vision blurred, the potion room swimming before his eyes.
But the physical torment was almost a distraction. A far more insidious feeling crept in – his mind dissolving, falling into a hazy, terrifying state of near-oblivion. He felt adrift, untethered.
In the daze, a phantom presence gnawed at his heart, whispering insidious doubts. Why seek further promotion? Just let it rot. Why not simply die like this? You're powerful now. Aren't you full, content?
The words echoed, faded, then one question resonated with jarring clarity: "...Are you full?" A giant, mental question mark seemed to flash before his inner eye, jolting him back to sharp, agonizing awareness.
"Ding, it seems someone here still has a touch of that Hufflepuff-like adaptability and tenacity, huh?" The System's voice chimed in, laced with a digital snicker (laughs).
"This…this feeling of promotion…is truly unpleasant," Aiden gasped, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. "And System, are you becoming…more human-like, or am I just hallucinating?" His voice was hoarse, confusion mixing with the residual pain.
With a monumental effort, he struggled to his feet, his legs trembling like a newborn foal. He reached out blindly, hand grasping for the nearest chair to steady himself. But his grip, now infused with newly enhanced strength, was far too much for the antique wood. CRACK! The armrest tore off in his grasp with shocking ease.
Thrown off-balance, Aiden crashed back down to the stone floor with a heavy THUD.
Aiden lay there for a moment, stunned, staring at the broken piece of wood in his hand. ".…."
Slowly, he picked himself up, wincing. He was now successfully promoted to Sequence Six. His overall physical strength was undeniably, immensely enhanced. And beneath the surface, his body had begun a subtle, almost imperceptible transformation, drifting further from the purely human.
"Hmph, hmph, hahaha," Aiden rasped, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. A strained, almost hysterical laugh bubbled up from his chest. "In my…illustrious…career, I've repeatedly discovered that humans have inherent limits. The more cunning and clever a person becomes, the more likely they are to stumble in completely unexpected situations." He swayed slightly, a manic glint in his heterochromatic eyes.
"Ding, so what is your point, Host?" the System asked dryly, the synthetic tone laced with a hint of long-suffering patience.
Aiden threw his arms wide, his voice rising in theatrical declaration. "System, I'm not going to be a human anymore!"
"Ding, sigh~," the System responded, the digital sigh almost audible, heavy with resignation.
In the end, Aiden's bursts of "madness" were usually a private affair, witnessed only by the ever-patient System, which bore the burden of his outlandish thoughts and dramatic pronouncements with stoic acceptance.
Having concluded his daily ritual of "madness," Aiden finally left the potion room. He needed to assess the more obvious changes wrought upon his physical form.
"Oh~, it seems it really has made me much stronger," he mused, testing the flex of his biceps, a wide grin spreading across his face.
He launched into a series of increasingly bizarre contortions, stretching his limbs into unnatural angles. "My flexibility has also improved quite significantly! I can even do the Jojo stand now. Truly amazing!" He struck a flamboyant pose, channeling some unseen, flamboyant energy.
Sibby, peering from the hallway, watched his master engage in this strange routine with mounting concern. He hesitated, his large ears drooping, torn between his duty and the growing certainty that he needed to send an urgent message to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Aiden, oblivious to the house elf's anxiety, strolled over to the hallway mirror, eager to examine the full extent of his transformation.
The first thing that struck him were his eyes. His already striking heterochromatic eyes now possessed completely vertical pupils, reptilian and mesmerizing. A faint draconic aura seemed to emanate from them, almost hypnotic, like gazing into the eyes of a powerful, ancient beast.
His white hair was as pure and flawless as the first snow of winter, every strand gleaming with a soft, ethereal brilliance, as if it contained the very secrets of the cosmos.
His face was as delicate and harmonious as a perfectly sculpted statue, the lines sharp and elegant. His eyes now radiated a gentle, captivating light, like the most dazzling pearl hidden deep within the ocean's depths.
The recent promotion, coupled with the increased purity of his dragon blood, had clearly enhanced Aiden's overall physical form, making him radiate an almost unnatural level of health and vitality.
His skin had a healthy color, neither pale nor overly tan, with a slight rosy blush that made him look like rose petals bathed in the sun's warm light. It appeared incredibly soft and elastic, almost inhumanly perfect.
"Have I become even more beautiful than before?" he wondered aloud, striking a thoughtful pose.
Aiden touched his chin thoughtfully, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he gazed at his reflection.
"Hey, System, don't you feel like every time I get promoted, I seem to be becoming more…ah…," he began, searching for the right word.
"Ding, yes, Master. Promotion is gradually increasing your overall life level. Therefore, your appearance will naturally become more and more… conventionally attractive," the System stated matter-of-factly, the synthesized voice devoid of emotion.
"Ding. At the same time, current data indicates that this is also closely related to the draconic blood that runs within your veins." The System's voice, as always, was flat and devoid of inflection.
"Dragon blood?" Aiden's head tilted, a flicker of genuine curiosity in his vertical pupils. "You mean the trace of dragon blood you mentioned before?"
"Ding, yes. As the Host continues to advance through the Sequences, your species will gradually approach that of a Mind Dragon. However, some pre-existing human traits will be absorbed and retained."
Aiden smirked, a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. "Like becoming more good-looking."
"Ding, that is merely one side effect of a much larger process. At this time, the Host is also undergoing racial deflection and can now be accurately identified as a human-Dragon hybrid."
Aiden blinked, processing this. "Human-Dragon hybrid? But I don't seem to have any obvious dragon-like features." He ran a hand over his arm, the skin still smooth and human-like, albeit enhanced.
"Ding, the Host may try using the dragon scales now."
A beat of silence. Aiden's expression shifted from contemplative to intrigued. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his will. A faint shimmer began at his fingertips, a pearlescent sheen that quickly intensified. Smooth, shimmering white scales, like tiny, perfectly polished jewels, erupted across his skin with astonishing speed, starting from his hands and cascading outwards, covering his arms, his torso, his legs, until his entire body was encased in a magnificent, interlocking draconic hide.
The air crackled with released energy. Then, with a sudden, violent RRRRIPPP! his clothes, unable to contain the transformation, tore apart as two immense, magnificent white dragon wings unfurled from his back. They stretched out to their full, impressive span, catching the light from the hallway window, each scale gleaming, the membranes taut and powerful. They dwarfed him, a testament to raw, primal power.
Aiden stood there for a split second, a vision of draconic majesty. Then, the sheer weight and unfamiliarity of the new appendages threw him completely off balance.
"Damn it. This is just absurd," he groaned, his voice muffled as he pitched forward. With a loud, undignified THUD, he crashed headfirst onto the polished wooden floor, his newly sprouted wings flailing awkwardly.
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