Chapter 299: The Man Who Embraced the Sun

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The wooden deck was polished to a mirror-like smoothness. Though it appeared to be an ordinary wooden structure, its strength and load-bearing capacity far surpassed steel of the same specifications—by a margin difficult to quantify. Not only could people stand on it, but it could easily support a row of main battle tanks without shifting even a millimeter below the waterline.

You couldn't expect a magical warship to float on the surface of the water merely by buoyancy. It only sailed because flying consumed too many resources. Otherwise, wizards would have long since taken their warships to the skies. Structures like the Taishi Celestial Empire's Sky Palace were not unheard of; they simply became unsustainable for the declining magical empires whose descendants could no longer afford such astronomical costs. The Hanging Gardens of ancient Babylon, for example, eventually collapsed to the ground due to lack of maintenance.

Durmstrang's antique legacy warship wasn't very large—about six meters wide and only twenty-three or twenty-four meters long. But when you opened the hatch leading down into the cabin, the magical world's unique concept of "boundless capacity" was fully on display.

The ship's interior was decorated in a strong Norse pirate style. This vessel had been passed down to Durmstrang's founding witch by her ancestors. Back in the day, her family had been a fearsome clan of pirates. But after giving birth to this genius witch, they gradually abandoned their bloody trade—after all, with magic at her command, piracy seemed rather beneath her.

As a symbol of the family's former glory, this legendary witch remodeled the pirate ship—stained with the blood of countless souls—and preserved it as a symbol of Durmstrang's legacy. Today, the vessel, named Hodurhors, serves as transportation for students traveling to and from Durmstrang Castle.

Durmstrang's dark reputation over the centuries is not entirely undeserved. Though that legendary witch was no dark sorceress—her name was spotless—her legacy ship exuded an aura that bent the school's culture toward the grim.

Fortunately, Durmstrang's current headmaster is no coward like Karkaroff. Instead, the school is now led by a man whose very name makes true dark wizards shudder—Gellert Grindelwald.

It's said that only a devil can tame another devil, and that logic holds here. The old ship, now rebuilt and restored under Grindelwald's orders, might once have harbored some haunted ship spirit. But now, if it still exists, it's certainly lying low, head down, tail tucked.

In this domain, anyone daring to disrespect old Gellert likely ended up nailed into a coffin.

The bustling interior of the ship's massive cabin held no fewer than two thousand people. Divided by house and year, students scattered across different zones of the vast space. The liveliest section was, of course, where the new students gathered. Excited chatter filled the air as newcomers from across Europe—and even beyond—eagerly conversed with new friends. In sheer numbers alone, Durmstrang completely outclassed Hogwarts.

Hogwarts, with its "quality over quantity" selection system, accepted only about 100 to 120 students each year. Throughout history, the school has rarely ever housed over a thousand students total. In contrast, Durmstrang follows the principle of "make full use of every resource." Even though not all their first-years had arrived yet, the current freshman class already numbered over 800. Their talents varied wildly, but in Grindelwald's eyes, even a squib could be useful—so long as magical blood flowed through their veins.

Indeed, the Pureblood Party was a dictatorship run by absolute elites. But elites couldn't possibly handle everything themselves. A magical nation—a vast magical organization—demanded talents of all kinds, including common laborers. Especially in times of radical reform, Grindelwald was in dire need of manpower.

This aggressive recruitment campaign nearly drained the lower-class magical population of half of Europe. The other half was largely claimed by Beauxbatons. Heavily influenced by Nicolas Flamel, Beauxbatons had one of the finest alchemy programs in the world—and alchemy demanded a significant amount of human labor.

Previously, alchemists relied on magical gemstones to power their arrays. But ever since Grindelwald developed the homunculus system—a cheap and efficient labor source—alchemy had undergone a revolution. Though homunculi could only fuel low- to mid-tier experiments, they saved alchemists enormous expenses annually.

To avoid depleting resources, magical gemstones were mined cautiously, which also limited the number of practicing alchemists. The rise of homunculi filled the power gap in the lower-end alchemical industry—a global boon.

It was this game-changing innovation—the introduction of homunculi—that allowed Grindelwald to expand his territory over the past decade. Through strategic profit-sharing, he avoided external suppression. In both the magical and Muggle worlds, power hinges on the exchange of interests. Nations and organizations are bound together by mutual benefit.

Otherwise, even if powers outside of Europe chose not to intervene, the Red Giant looming over Eastern Europe wouldn't tolerate an ambitious organization seeking to unify Europe and achieve what even the Roman Empire failed to accomplish.

Grindelwald's reputation as "the most dangerous wizard of the 20th century" alone couldn't intimidate the true titans of the magical world.

Even Nicolas Flamel—who possessed the might to destroy nations single-handedly—wouldn't dare to make such a claim. An individual, no matter how strong, can never stand against a nation-rooted force of violence. Of course, Awakened Ones are an exception. They are strategic nuclear weapons—a level above the world itself—and using them in mundane magical conflicts would simply be unfair.

It's like a billion cavemen waving sticks before a repeat-firing nuclear bomb. Numbers no longer matter.

In the noisy, chaotic plaza of the ship's lower deck, Harry followed overhead signboards toward the foreign student zone. Students of all skin tones and origins gathered here, many still wearing the uniforms of their respective schools. Harry even spotted exchange students from the Taishi Celestial Empire dressed in traditional Chinese long robes. But by far, the largest group hailed from Castelobruxo—the school infamous for producing human vegetables. Castelobruxo, known for its enthusiasm for foreign exchange, had sent over fifty students.

At the quietest edge of the foreign student zone, a girl sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows was undoubtedly the most dazzling presence in the room—without question. Nearly half the foreign students stole glances in her direction, regardless of gender or even what Walmart shopping bag they identified as. The other half may have been more subtle, but their posture and expressions betrayed their wandering eyes.

From the doorway to the international student section, Harry didn't walk fast. Along the way, he heard plenty of intentionally loud chatter—boisterous voices filled with exaggerated enthusiasm. The people talking would glance frequently at that 'sanctuary,' clearly hoping a certain pair of eyes would be drawn by their 'interesting' conversations.

Harry, struggling to suppress his laughter the whole way, walked forward without betraying his amusement. As he got closer to that haven, he finally discovered the true reason behind all the commotion.

Fleur wasn't wearing makeup. She hadn't used the special cosmetics provided by Madame LeMieux to mask the uncontrollable surges of magical energy radiating from her. But compared to before, when her presence was sharp and overwhelming, she now seemed to have learned, in just two months, how to control her magic, no longer letting it run wild.

Even so, what remained of her aura still carried an almost suffocating allure, an intoxicating "magical charm." At the very least, this supernatural charisma wouldn't 'kill' people just by catching their gaze anymore.

Before Harry could approach, Fleur, sensing his presence, withdrew her gaze from the window. In the instant she turned around, the previously noisy international student section fell deathly silent. Many students swallowed hard, their minds entirely filled with one overwhelming thought: She's looking at me!

"Harry~"

That slightly raspy, magnetic voice sounded like music from the heavens. Its brightness melted hearts like spring sunshine, and in an instant, it captivated every boy and girl watching her. But that smile wasn't meant for them. Just as a few others named Harry nearly jumped with excitement, thinking it might be for them, their metaphorical sunshine was abruptly eclipsed by a dark cloud.

A pair of hands—soaked in the sins of the world: wicked, shameless, indecent, vile—stretched out.

Some bastard had stolen their sun!

Rage surged in an instant. Faces flushed, eyes blazing with murderous intent, they glared at the culprit—

"Never seen a handsome guy before?"

Harry, with Fleur pulled tightly into his arms, turned and gave them a wicked grin—the kind that could scare children into silence. A cold, deathly aura leaked from him, indifferent to life itself. His fierce, almost demonic appearance terrified many of the braver ones—those who had acted purely on impulse—nearly enough to make them wet themselves.

"No worries. You'll have plenty of chances to see me from now on."

Still wearing that sinister grin, Harry nodded slightly to the crowd. "You'll get used to it."

With that, he bent down and planted a soft kiss before settling into the seat Fleur had vacated. "Where'd you go over the holiday? Not even a letter for me?"

"Madame Maxime didn't want me coming to Durmstrang at first—she thought it wasn't safe," Fleur replied with a playful smile, hugging Harry's right arm tightly to her chest. "So I went to see Sister Daenerys instead!"

"Whoa. You weren't worried you wouldn't make it back?"

Harry knew full well how temperamental—and incredibly strong—the Sun Dragon was, and also how she felt about Fleur. Most dragons loved shiny things, and female dragons doubly so. To Daenerys, Fleur was like a glowing, radiant gemstone beyond compare.

Harry still didn't fully understand what Daenerys meant by "Starbound Kin," but it was clear Fleur had some trait that irresistibly drew the Sun Dragon in.

Sending a sparkling gem like her to a dragon's lair? That was practically a one-way trip.

"Daenerys is a good person," Fleur insisted earnestly. Then, sticking out her tongue, she added, "Though I was a bit scared at first… but once I got there, I realized she's truly kind."

"See? Now I don't have to wrap myself up tight all the time. No more spending an hour on heavy makeup, wigs, and all that stuff—it was suffocating."

Feeling just how impossibly soft her embrace was, even the iron-willed Harry nearly floated twenty kilos off the ground. Whatever teasing thoughts he had vanished into thin air.

"Alright, alright, your happiness is what matters most. That makeup stuff's bad for your skin anyway, and wigs? Useless. Best not to wear them."

Grinning like a fool, Harry spun a little magical trick in his hand. He hadn't spent the entire break just reading and brewing potions. While he couldn't recklessly use magic during his recovery, he had studied the nuances of magical control—a preparation for when he'd eventually begin learning Animagus transformation.

Unlike true Awakened Beings, Harry still relied heavily on conventional magic. His magical capacity couldn't compare to theirs. If his maximum power was the equivalent of Lake Baikal, then the real Awakened were the Pacific Ocean. The difference between a quarter-divine and a half-divine wasn't just double—it was exponential. But unlike them, Harry possessed something they never could: freedom. He wasn't bound by the world's will.

The intricate magic trick he absentmindedly played with caught the eyes of the seething onlookers, snapping them out of their rage. His manipulation of magic was masterful, and he'd done something nearly unheard of—visualizing magic without any tools. Normally, you'd need a special potion to see magic with the naked eye. But in Harry's hand, the energy had taken solid form, becoming visible and tangible—a feat that meant he could manually forge something akin to a magic crystal, similar to the fabled stones used by enchanters.

This inhuman skill left even these well-informed international students swallowing hard. And once they came to their senses, they noticed something else: Harry had grown taller again. He now stood well over two meters—a human T-Rex in stature—his body clad only in a tight black tank top and a dragon-hide jacket, muscles chiseled like marble.

Physically and magically, this man could demolish any male here a thousand times over. The sheer dominance of his aura, overflowing with raw masculinity and aggression, made it impossible for anyone to meet his eyes once their adrenaline cooled.

Some couldn't help but think, Maybe that's why he's the one who can embrace the sun.

(End of Chapter)