The Longbottom house slowly grew quiet after the gathering ended.
Voices faded as the last guests left, doors closed, and the estate settled into its usual calm. The excitement of the evening slowly disappeared, leaving only the distant sound of wind moving through the hedges outside.
Neville sat alone on his bed.
The room was dimly lit by a small enchanted lamp on the wall, its soft glow barely touching the corners of the room.
For several minutes he said nothing.
He simply sat there, thinking.
So… I really died.
The thought felt strange even now.
A few hours earlier he had been an eight-year-old boy falling from a window.
Before that he had been a tired office worker watching anime in a cramped apartment.
Now both memories existed clearly in his head.
Two lives.
Two completely different worlds.
Neville slowly rubbed his forehead.
"This is really the Harry Potter world…"
Voldemort.
Hogwarts.
Magic.
And inside his chest—
Something even stranger.
Anti-magic.
At first the thought made him excited.
A power that could cancel magic in a world built entirely around magic sounded incredible.
But the excitement faded quickly when he thought about it more carefully.
"This isn't Black Clover…"
In that world fighting was everything.
But here magic wasn't just used for combat.
It was used for daily life.
Lighting fireplaces.
Repairing broken objects.
Cleaning houses.
Teleportation.
Flying.
Cooking.
Enchantment.
If he only had anti-magic…
Life would be extremely inconvenient.
Neville sighed quietly.
"Still… it's better than nothing."
His hand moved to his chest.
That strange power was definitely real.
He could feel it now.
Closing his eyes, Neville focused on the sensation near his heart.
Slowly his awareness sank inward.
The darkness around him deepened.
When his senses returned, he found himself inside the same place he had glimpsed earlier.
But this time he could see it clearly.
There was no grassy field or strange landscape.
Only darkness.
A quiet, empty darkness inside his own heart.
Floating within that darkness was the grimoire.
The black book hovered silently in the center of the space.
Above it burned a small flame.
The flame glowed dark red.
Anti-magic.
Neville stepped closer.
He noticed something interesting immediately.
Small sparks were drifting away from the flame.
Tiny glowing fragments.
They moved outward like slow fireflies before fading into the surrounding darkness.
As he watched carefully, Neville realized those sparks weren't disappearing.
They were moving.
Flowing outward through invisible pathways.
Toward the rest of his body.
"…Like blood circulation."
The realization clicked instantly.
The heart.
The flame.
The sparks.
That was how magic moved through his body.
The flame inside his heart produced energy.
That energy flowed outward as sparks through his body.
If he released magic—
The flame would simply burn stronger.
"Interesting…"
Neville looked back at the grimoire.
He approached it cautiously.
The cover opened slowly.
Inside were pages filled with strange symbols.
They were clearly words of some kind.
But he couldn't understand them.
The language was completely unfamiliar.
Neville reached forward and tried to turn one of the pages.
Nothing happened.
The page didn't move at all.
It felt as if the book wasn't meant to be touched physically.
He frowned.
"Seriously?"
Neville tried again.
Still nothing.
Then he paused.
"If opening the book creates anti-magic…"
He looked at the grimoire thoughtfully.
"…what happens if I close it?"
The moment the thought crossed his mind, the grimoire snapped shut.
The flame above it flickered.
Then the color changed.
The dark red glow slowly faded.
In its place appeared a calm blue flame.
Neville blinked.
"…Wait."
He focused again.
The book opened.
Red flame.
He thought about closing it again.
The book shut.
Blue flame.
Neville froze.
His eyes widened slowly.
"So that's it…"
The grimoire wasn't just giving him anti-magic.
It was converting the energy.
Magic.
Anti-magic.
The same power.
Different forms.
He could switch between them.
Neville laughed quietly.
"Well… that solves a lot of problems."
But another thought appeared almost immediately.
Something important.
When he first awakened during the attack years ago…
The grimoire must have opened by accident.
Which meant his magic had turned into anti-magic.
The Cruciatus curse had damaged his mind badly.
But anti-magic slowly erased the curse's magical residue.
Seven years.
Seven years of slow repair.
If that energy had remained normal magic…
His mind might never have healed.
Neville looked at the flame again.
"So anti-magic saved my brain."
The thought was oddly comforting.
But the long day had finally caught up with him.
The memories.
The fall.
The awakening.
Everything had drained his energy.
The dark space slowly faded as he lost focus.
A moment later he was back in his bedroom.
Neville yawned and fell asleep almost immediately.
---
Morning came quietly.
Neville woke feeling surprisingly refreshed.
After washing up he wandered toward the mirror hanging beside the wardrobe.
The moment he looked at it, the mirror spoke.
"Well that's a tragic sight."
Neville blinked.
"What?"
The mirror tilted slightly.
"Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and a face that looks like it swallowed too much pudding."
Neville stared at it.
"That's rude."
"I'm being honest," the mirror replied smugly. "Someone has to."
Neville leaned closer.
"Do you insult everyone like this?"
"Only the ones who deserve it."
Neville snorted and ran a hand through his hair.
"Great. A sarcastic mirror."
---
Breakfast was already prepared downstairs.
Augusta Longbottom sat at the table reading the morning paper when Neville entered.
He sat quietly and began eating.
Toast.
Eggs.
And tea.
For a few minutes the only sound was the rustling of newspaper pages.
Then Neville spoke casually.
"Grandmother… can I ask something?"
Augusta lowered the newspaper slightly.
"What is it?"
Neville hesitated briefly before continuing.
"I've always wondered… what exactly does our family do?"
Augusta raised an eyebrow.
"The Longbottom family has several sources of income."
She folded the newspaper and set it aside.
"We own a few shops in Diagon Alley."
"Additionally, our lands cultivate magical plants used for potion ingredients."
Neville listened carefully.
"We supply those ingredients to St. Mungo's Hospital," she continued. "It has been a family arrangement for generations."
Neville nodded slowly.
"Sounds like a good business."
Augusta studied him quietly for a moment.
"You seem unusually energetic today."
Neville paused.
Then he shrugged slightly.
"I don't know."
He tapped his temple.
"Since yesterday it feels like something in my head cleared."
Augusta did not react strongly.
But her expression softened just slightly.
"I see."
She picked up the newspaper again.
But inside she felt a quiet relief.
---
After breakfast Neville returned to his room.
Now that he understood the grimoire better, he wanted to test something.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Inside his chest the grimoire opened.
The red anti-magic flame appeared again.
Neville raised his hand.
The strange energy flowed outward from his chest into his arm.
His fist tightened.
The muscles in his arm felt heavier.
Stronger.
He threw a slow punch into the air.
The movement felt powerful.
"…So it enhances physical strength."
Neville looked around the room.
The talking mirror hung on the wall.
Perfect test subject.
He walked over and placed his hand on the mirror frame.
Then he released a small burst of anti-magic.
Immediately the mirror flickered.
"Hey—!"
Its voice distorted.
"What did you—"
The surface rippled strangely.
But the effect lasted only a few seconds.
The energy faded quickly.
Neville blinked.
"…Out already?"
The mirror returned to normal.
"What in Merlin's name was that?!" it demanded.
Neville rubbed the back of his head.
"Experiment."
"Well don't experiment on me!"
Neville smiled slightly.
It seemed his anti-magic worked.
But his energy reserves were still very small.
That would need training.
And plenty of it.