The issue of age is, at its core, really a matter of physical condition.
To put it simply, Edward is only 11 years old. Even though his physical fitness is already exceptional among his peers, it still doesn't meet the advanced requirements of the Knight's Breathing Technique.
This actually aligns with the underlying logic of the wizarding world.
Looking at Hogwarts' curriculum, young wizards don't start by learning complex and difficult spells. Instead, they begin with the basics.
For one, simpler spells and theories are easier for these young wizards to grasp. After all, they're only 11, at a fifth-grade elementary level. Even with wizarding blood, they haven't even touched linear equations yet. How could anyone expect them to have a deep understanding of magic?
On the other hand, as they grow older and their bodies develop, their magical power also increases, giving them the foundation and ability to learn more advanced spells.
In short, age, physical condition, and magical power are all interconnected.
Some things, unless you're exceptionally gifted, you simply won't grasp until you reach a certain age, no matter how hard you try.
The Knight's Breathing Technique has even stricter physical requirements than some advanced magic. After all, this technique was tailored to the physiques of legendary Round Table Knights.
Unfortunately, while Edward has already awakened three blessings, none of them relate to physical strength.
To make further progress, he either needs to continue practicing virtues to awaken more blessings or find ways to enhance his physical condition. Of course, he could also just wait to grow up naturally.
But that's not Edward's style.
The heavens reward hard work, and he can't afford to slack off just because he has some talent.
Activating new virtue blessings in the short term isn't very realistic, and the remaining virtues might not even relate to physical strength. Waiting around isn't an option either, so improving his physical condition is the only path forward.
Potions or alchemy seem like a good choice.
Since Snape has assigned him detention to organize teaching materials for next week's class, Edward might as well try to glean some useful information from him.
Snape, as a teacher, gives Edward a very complicated impressionම
Edward's parents had described Snape with some hesitation. "He was a few years younger than us, with greasy hair that looked like it was never washed, always brooding like some big bat. But when it came to potion-making talent, hardly anyone at Hogwarts could match him—except, of course, your mother," William had said.
"Don't listen to your father's nonsense; his survival instinct is a bit too strong," Anri had added. "I was talented, sure, but in potions, I was still a step behind Snape. Still, your father's mostly right. We were two years above him, didn't interact much. Gloomy, greasy, intense, always hanging around Lucius and that crowd. Oh, and he had bad blood with a few Gryffindors—like fire crabs in the same nest. Your dad, always meddling, would sometimes step in to stop their fights, though by the time he got there, Snape was usually the one with a bruised face."
Their descriptions painted Snape as a bit of a pitiable figure, a classic target of schoolyard bullying. Whether that experience pushed him toward dark magic and Voldemort, Edward couldn't say. But what earned him Dumbledore's trust to return and teach? Edward sensed there was more to the story, but he lacked the pieces to put it together.
What puzzled him even more was Snape's intense emotional reaction when Edward mentioned Harry's parents. If Snape had been a Death Eater, shouldn't he relish terms like "Mudblood"? Why, then, did he deduct 25 points from Malfoy on the first day of class, despite seeming to get along with him in Potions?
Snape's character felt like a contradiction, not as unapproachable as he seemed.
At seven o'clock that evening, it was time for Edward's detention. He pushed open the heavy wooden door of the dungeon classroom, the faint candlelight flickering in the draft.
Snape's robed figure was hunched over a desk, scribbling furiously.
"Good evening, sir," Edward said.
Without looking up, Snape pointed to a nearby table piled with two large baskets of materials: mistletoe berries, valerian root, unicorn tail hair, moonstone, and sopophorous beans.
"Sort these into individual portions. No wands, unless you'd like to personally pluck unicorn tail hairs in the Forbidden Forest," Snape said, still not lifting his head.
Edward was confident he wouldn't ruin the materials, but he nodded, walked to the table, rolled up his sleeves, put on gloves, and prepared to start sorting.
"Wait!" Snape suddenly barked. "Are you so foolish that you'd begin sorting without even asking what potion these are for?"
Edward turned, puzzled, and looked at Snape. "Professor, I figured these are for the Forgetfulness Potion. Not much else they could be used for, right? But if there's another use, please enlighten me." His tone was earnest.
A flicker of surprise passed through Snape's eyes before his usual cold demeanor returned. "Your memory's better than those incompetent fools, at least. Since you know these are for the Forgetfulness Potion, what are you waiting for? Get to it."
He buried his head in his work again, writing who-knows-what.
Edward began sorting: five mistletoe berries, about three inches of valerian root, one unicorn tail hair, moonstone to be ground into powder (likely during class), and one sopophorous bean.
As he worked, he could feel Snape's gaze occasionally flicking toward him. The faster Edward sorted, the more frequent those glances became. Eventually, Snape set down his quill, stood, and silently watched Edward's increasingly practiced movements from behind.
Snape drifted into a memory. On a distant afternoon, in this very room, he and Lily had been kept after class by Professor Slughorn to prepare these same Forgetfulness Potion ingredients for first-years. Lily's hand had brushed his, and his cheeks had flushed like a ripe apple, making her giggle.
Edward's figure began to blur with Snape's own in that memory, but the image of the red-haired girl faded, gone forever.
"Professor, what are you thinking about?" Edward's voice snapped Snape back to reality.