What Do You Mean You Can't Use Magic?

"Mr. Kayson Heath, you are suspected of violating the Wizarding Secrecy Law. Please come with us."

Kayson had just finished laying the floor with the dark oak planks in his hands when he heard that cold, utterly impersonal voice.

"Uh..."

Kayson raised his head to look at the security door in front of him, then turned back toward the oddly dressed stranger holding a little wooden stick...

"Did you climb in through the window? Honestly, that's pretty unsafe. You could've just knocked, and I would've opened the door for you. Of course, if you're here to rob me, I don't mind either... Do you need this watch?"

"It might fetch one or two thousand pounds, but you can't take my phone or wallet. This place is some distance from my home, you know. My commute for custom home renovations is just as annoying as your commute for robbery."

As he spoke, he took off the fairly refined mechanical watch on his wrist. It probably wasn't worth one or two thousand pounds, but he figured a robber desperate enough to wear pajamas on the job probably lacked the eye to tell.

"Enough! Mr. Kayson Heath, I'll repeat myself. You are suspected of violating the Wizarding Secrecy Law. I am an employee of the Ministry of Magic's Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. You may call me Lester. Now come with me."

Lester pulled out his wand and pointed it at Kayson.

"Oh... Do you need me to call someone for you? Your family? Or a psychiatric hospital?"

"Sir, there's no need to play dumb. We both know what kind of situation this is. Believe me, you don't want Hit Wizards or Aurors coming after you."

Lester slowly took a step forward.

"...I'm sorry, I still don't understand. What's an Auror? What's a Hit Wizard? And what exactly is... the Ministry of Magic?"

"Good heavens, do I really look that easy to fool... Stupefy!"

Kayson raised a hand, and a two-meter-tall stone pillar instantly appeared before him, blocking the red light flying toward him.

At the same time, Lester finally smiled. "And you said you couldn't use magic? Your true colors are showing at last!"

A shrunken anvil suddenly appeared above his head and knocked him unconscious.

"I'm very sorry, sir. I hope you can forget everything that just happened." As Kayson spoke, the Obsidian Block floating in his hand suddenly turned into a wooden stick about thirty centimeters long.

"No, no, that doesn't seem strong enough. A log should do nicely."

The next moment, a solid log block appeared and floated through the air at the movement of his hand.

With a thud.

A mass of deep-blue liquid appeared in his hand and splashed directly onto Lester's face.

"Kayson Hea—"

"That didn't erase his memory either? Was it not hard enough?"

He replaced the log with cobblestone. There was another bang.

"How dare you attack an employee of the Ministry of Magic, you—"

The block in his hand shifted through one form after another, from logs to cobblestone. He thought the force should have been enough, but this unfortunate employee stubbornly clung to that tiny patch of memory...

In the end, Kayson took out the anvil again, deciding to make it a harsh one.

"Ahem, I don't think that will be necessary. What do you say, Mr. Heath?"

Today had been the most magical day of Kayson Heath's life... or perhaps the second most magical.

The last time had been when he had first transmigrated. Back then, he had been playing Minecraft while a commentary video on the first Harry Potter film played in the background. Then his computer leaked electricity, and just like that, he arrived in this otherworldly England.

He had not come empty-handed, either. He had an MC System that could level up by absorbing positive emotions others felt toward him, including but not limited to fondness, trust, satisfaction, and admiration.

When manifested in reality, it took the form of little blocks. By now, everything from small items like sticks and planks to fire blocks and water source blocks could appear directly from his hands and affect reality.

It could not compare to Minecraft's original Creative Mode, but it was enough for England's steel jungle. For example... opening a custom home renovation studio.

And what had happened today was not entirely his fault. The commentary he had watched before transmigrating had not even finished covering the first film. If that Ministry of Magic employee had said a little more, such as, "Where is your wand?" or mentioned a keyword like Hogwarts, Kayson might have figured it out.

Rather than ending up like this, casually placing a log block and two stair blocks in the middle of the room to serve as a table and chairs.

The white-bearded old man opposite him... well, Kayson recognized him. After all, the first scene in the Harry Potter movie commentary had shown him appearing on a dark street with a lighter that could absorb light.

At that moment, Dumbledore was curiously examining the stair block Kayson sat on and the log block in front of him.

"Is this alchemy... In any case, it is not Transfiguration. Still, I sincerely praise your innovative method of casting spells."

Kayson felt rather awkward. The old man before him did not have the slightest hostility toward him. In fact, he was almost excessively friendly, making Kayson feel embarrassed to strike first, though he might not necessarily win.

But perhaps he could give it a try. What was so scary about an old man who liked collecting light sources with a lighter?

Just as Kayson was about to quietly place an anvil above Dumbledore's head like before, the prospective victim spoke.

"I do not have Lester's sturdy constitution. Truly, an anvil falling on my head might very well end my old life."

Kayson nodded in deep agreement and replaced the anvil with a wooden plank.

"..."

"...Oh, sorry. I thought you weren't talking about me." As if nothing had happened, he withdrew the plank block.

"A never-before-seen method of casting spells. These little blocks share the same origin as the magic within you. It seems you are a natural-born alchemist, capable of freely transforming and creating. If Nicolas Flamel learned of your existence, he might become so excited that he would report to Death ahead of schedule."

Dumbledore watched Kayson correct himself and even offered an interested appraisal.

"Thanks..."

"And what about you, Mr. Kayson Heath? Would you mind telling me about yourself?"

"I am..."

He forced himself to say, "A wizard. I was in Sweden before, and only recently came to England, so I didn't know the rules here..."

"All right, I've never been very good at lying. I really don't have the talent for it. I just woke up one day with this power, so I used it to open a custom home renovation studio. I renovate houses, like this."

Kayson casually waved a hand, and the wall before him was covered in a thick, sturdy layer of wooden planks.

Despite his half-honest words and honest actions, Dumbledore retained that kindly smile.

Satisfaction from Dumbledore +10

For some reason, Kayson suddenly felt a chill. His clients usually produced satisfaction for him, and there was nothing wrong with that.

What they were satisfied with was usually the houses he had renovated.

But this old man before him—why was he satisfied with Kayson? Satisfied with what?

Dumbledore noticed Kayson's strange look. His eyes darted around, and he seemed to realize what Kayson was thinking. He quickly explained, "Don't misunderstand. I was only praising your honesty."

"Dumbledore... you can't... you can't chat so happily with a wizard who attacked an employee of the Ministry of Magic... I'm going to appeal, appeal to the Wizengamot!" Lester struggled to lift his eyelids from where he lay on the floor, only to be buried tightly beneath sand falling from above once again.