"So, Mr. Vinson, what is a wizard?" Harry asked anxiously.
Mr. Vinson snapped back to reality, looked at the confused boy in front of him, and smiled faintly.
It was obvious that Harry already sensed he was different.
"My name is Adrian Vinson, and I am a wizard," Mr. Vinson said gently, a trace of warmth in his voice. "Simply put, a wizard is someone who can use magic, just like I did just now."
He flicked his wand casually, gesturing for Harry to look at his clothes and hair, which had completely dried without Harry even noticing when it had happened.
To make the explanation clearer, Mr. Vinson raised his wand once more.
"Incendio!"
A tiny flicker of red flame burst from the tip of his wand and danced lightly in the air.
Harry's heart began to race as he stared at the floating fire.
"Can I do that too?" he asked, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Of course," Mr. Vinson replied with a shrug. "Unless you're an idiot. But you'll have to wait until you're eleven. That's when you'll receive a letter from Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?"
"A school of magic," Mr. Vinson explained patiently. "A place where children like you learn to control and understand magic. You'll like it there."
Harry froze in place.
He was a wizard.
Suddenly, memories flooded his mind. He remembered talking to a snake at the zoo. He remembered the glass in the reptile house vanishing as if it had never existed. He remembered flying into the air when he jumped onto a pile of garbage bags.
Was all of that… magic?
Seeing Harry standing stiffly in shock, Mr. Vinson gently patted his shoulder.
Everyone who knew Adrian Vinson knew he was a very friendly and kind wizard. He was never stingy with his goodwill, especially toward children who seemed kindhearted and bright.
And if the Harry Potter in front of him resembled the boy described in those old stories, then he felt it wouldn't hurt to give him a little extra help.
"Mr. Potter," Mr. Vinson said softly, "are you alright?"
Harry snapped out of his thoughts and nodded quickly.
"I'm fine."
"Good. Let's go somewhere more comfortable. This isn't a suitable place for a proper conversation."
Mr. Vinson gently guided Harry toward the entrance. As they approached, the door opened by itself.
Harry's vision blurred for a moment, and when it cleared, he found himself back inside the quiet potted plant shop where everything had begun.
To Harry's astonishment, Mr. Vinson tapped the standing door with his wand.
The door started to shrink, fold, and twist in on itself, and after several smooth movements, it transformed into an ordinary-looking briefcase.
Mr. Vinson placed the briefcase neatly on the wooden table.
"Sit down, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you must have a lot of questions."
He gestured with his hand, inviting Harry to take a seat.
"Just call me Harry, Mr. Vinson," Harry said obediently as he sat down.
For some reason, he felt an odd sense of familiarity with this stranger, as if he could naturally trust him.
"Would you like some tea? Or milk?" Mr. Vinson asked casually.
Before Harry had time to answer, Mr. Vinson smiled slightly and said, "Milk it is. It'll help you grow taller."
Even for a ten-year-old, Harry looked far too thin and small.
As he spoke, Mr. Vinson tapped the briefcase gently.
"My dear, one cup of black tea and one cup of milk."
A moment later, the briefcase opened from the inside.
Two thick vines of Devil's Snare slowly extended outward, carefully holding a cup of steaming black tea and a cup of warm milk.
Harry stared in shock. Then, hesitantly, he took the cup of milk with both hands.
"Uh… thank you."
Before retreating back into the briefcase, one of the Devil's Snare vines gently patted Harry's head.
"It seems to like you very much," Mr. Vinson said with a small chuckle.
For a long while after that, Mr. Vinson patiently answered Harry's endless questions about wizards and magic.
Harry told him about all the strange things that had happened to him over the years. For example, his hair growing back immediately after being cut, a glass wall vanishing at the zoo, and accidentally flying into the air while standing on garbage bags.
"That's probably what we call a magic riot, Harry," Mr. Vinson explained. "Every young wizard experiences something like that while growing up."
"A magic riot?" Harry asked. "Have you ever experienced one, sir?"
Mr. Vinson paused and pretended to think.
"Ah… yes. I remember now. I was around ten. My sister used up my favorite green paint, and I was so angry that I turned everyone's hair in the house green… except for my father."
As he recollected the memory, Mr. Vinson couldn't help but smile.
After all, his father had been bald at the time.
Harry finally laughed softly.
Hearing that such strange things didn't only happen to him made him feel much better.
At the same time, his smile slowly faded.
The word "family" brought back painful memories.
If his parents were still alive, he wouldn't have been bullied by his aunt and uncle.
Time passed without Harry noticing, and before he knew it, noon had arrived.
"Oh no!"
Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.
He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to buy chocolate for Dudley.
Now he would definitely be scolded and punished by his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.
Still, Harry didn't regret it.
Compared to what he had learned today, their anger felt insignificant.
"I have to go home now, Mr. Vinson," Harry said reluctantly.
Mr. Vinson nodded. With a flick of his wand, an umbrella flew from behind the counter directly into Harry's hands.
"See you next time, Harry."
Harry held the umbrella tightly, nodded once, and hurried out of the shop.
After Harry left, Mr. Vinson stood quietly for a moment, lost in thought.
Harry Potter?
A polite and well-behaved child. That was his first impression.
Other than that, Mr. Vinson didn't feel anything particularly special about him.
"Alright," he murmured, "time to get down to business."
He picked up the briefcase from the table and tossed it onto the floor.
The moment it touched the ground, it expanded and transformed back into a full-sized door.
This was a portable door that Mr. Vinson had personally created. When hidden, it could turn into an ordinary briefcase.
Mr. Vinson stepped through the doorway. After passing through the shed, he arrived at a huge open grassland.
Vinson's Plantation was a vast expanse of green, surrounded by dense forest.
Three enormous sheds stood in the center of the grassland.
The one Harry had accidentally stumbled into was just one of them.
At the very center of the entire space stood a towering oak tree.
The tree was nearly twenty meters tall, and its branches stretched outward in all directions like the fingers of a giant hand reaching toward the sky.
What made it truly remarkable was the faint green light that covered its branches.
The light pulsed gently, rising and falling like breathing, as if the tree possessed a living heartbeat.
This was the Tree of Wisdom.
A masterpiece that Adrian Vinson had cultivated over eight long years.
As for its function…
"Eldera," Mr. Vinson called the name of the Tree of Wisdom in his mind. "Show me my current status."
The branches of the tree swayed softly, and the green glow flickered with a steady rhythm, like the beating of a heart.
A stream of information transmitted directly into Mr. Vinson's mind.
Name: Adrian Vinson
Profession: Wizard
Status: Slightly fatigued
Ability: Plant Heteromorphism Control
Magic Reserve: 98%
That was the true function of the Tree of Wisdom. It could perceive and analyze information from Mr. Vinson's surroundings and present it in the form of a mental panel.
At first, the tree had only been able to display his name.
But as it grew and matured, it became capable of presenting more and more detailed information.
To a certain extent, the Tree of Wisdom was like an omniscient deity.
As for its origin, it had been cultivated personally by Mr. Vinson using his special ability: Plant Heteromorphism Control.
Any plant he touched had the potential to undergo strange and powerful "heteromorphic" changes.
The Tree of Wisdom, Eldera, was one of the most perfect products of that power.