You still say you can't do 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 hand when he heard this cold, impersonal voice.

"Uh..."

Kayson looked up at the security door in front of him, then turned back to look at this strange man in bizarre clothing holding a small wooden stick...

"Did you climb in through the window? Honestly, that's quite unsafe. You could have just knocked; I would have opened it for you. Of course, if you're here to rob me, I don't mind... do you need this watch?"

"It might be worth a thousand or two pounds, but you can't take my phone or wallet. Since this place is a bit of a 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 even took off the rather sophisticated mechanical wristwatch he was wearing. In truth, it probably wasn't worth a thousand or two pounds, but he figured a robber who had resorted to wearing pajamas for a heist likely lacked the appraisal skills to tell.

"Enough! Mr. Kayson Heath, I repeat, you are currently 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, please come with me."

Lester pulled out his wand and pointed it at Kayson.

"Oh... do you need me to help you make a call? To your family? Or a mental hospital?"

"Sir, there is no need to play dumb. We both know what the situation is like now. Believe me, you do not want Hit Wizards or Aurors coming to find you."

Lester slowly took a step forward.

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

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

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

At the same time, Lester finally smiled: "Still saying you can't use magic? Finally showing your true colors, aren't you!"

A shrunken anvil suddenly appeared above his head, smashing him unconscious.

"I'm very sorry, sir. I hope you can forget everything that just happened," Kayson said, the obsidian block floating in his hand suddenly transforming into a wooden stick about thirty centimeters long.

"No, no, no, it doesn't feel powerful enough. A log is just right."

The next moment, a solid log block was released, floating and dancing according to his hand.

With a thud.

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

"Kayson Hea..."

"He didn't lose his memory? Was the force not enough?"

He swapped the log for cobblestone, and with another bang.

"You dare to attack a Ministry of Magic employee, you..."

The blocks in his hands shifted through one form after another, from logs to cobblestone. He thought the force was already significant enough, but this unlucky employee was stubbornly holding onto his memory...

In the end, he pulled out an anvil, deciding to go for something heavy-duty.

"Ahem, I don't think that's necessary, don't you agree, Mr. Heath?"

Today was the most magical day of Kayson Heath's life... or perhaps his second.

The last day this magical was the day he first transmigrated. At the time, he was playing Minecraft while listening to a commentary on the first Harry Potter movie in the background. Then, the computer short-circuited, and just like that, he arrived in this England of another world.

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

When manifested into reality, it became a small block. As of now, anything from small wooden sticks and planks to fire blocks and water source blocks could appear directly from his hands and influence reality.

Although it couldn't compare to the Creative Mode of the original Minecraft, it was enough for the concrete jungle of England, such as... running a custom home renovation studio.

Everything that happened today couldn't be blamed entirely on him. The commentary he watched before transmigrating hadn't even finished explaining the first movie. If that Ministry of Magic employee had been willing to say a bit more, like "Where is your wand?" or keywords like "Hogwarts," he might have been able to react in time.

Instead of how things were now, with him casually placing a log block and two stair blocks in the center of the room to serve as a table and chair.

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

At this moment, Dumbledore was curiously examining the stair block he was sitting on and the log block in front of him.

"Is this alchemy... in any case, it is not Transfiguration. However, I must sincerely praise your innovative method of spellcasting."

Kayson felt very awkward. The old man in front of him didn't have a shred of hostility; he was even excessively friendly, which made him feel bad about launching a sneak attack, even if he wasn't sure he could win.

But he could always try. What was there to fear from an old man who liked to collect light with a lighter?

Just as he was about to quietly place an anvil on top of Dumbledore's head like he did before, the victim spoke.

"I don't have Lester's sturdy physique. Honestly, an anvil falling on my head might truly be the end of my old life."

Kayson nodded in deep agreement and swapped the anvil for a wooden plank.

"..."

"...Oh, sorry, I thought you weren't talking to me." He retracted the wooden plank block as if nothing had happened.

"A spellcasting method I have never seen before. This little block shares the same origin as the magic within you. It seems you are a natural-born alchemist. Such free transformation and creation—if Nicolas Flamel knew of your existence, he might be excited enough to report to Death ahead of schedule."

Dumbledore watched as Kayson turned back from the brink, commenting with great interest.

"Thank you..."

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

"I am..."

He bit the bullet and said, "A mage, I suppose. I've been in Sweden until recently, only just arriving in England, so I'm not familiar with the rules around here..."

"Well, I've never been much of a liar; I simply don't have the talent for it. I woke up one day and just had this power, so I used it to open a custom home renovation studio. It's for decorating houses, like this."

Kayson waved his hand, and the wall in front of him was instantly encased in a layer of thick, sturdy wood.

Despite his half-honest words and candid actions, Dumbledore maintained that same kind, smiling expression.

[Satisfaction from Dumbledore +10]

Kayson didn't know why, but he suddenly felt a chill. Usually, when his clients generated satisfaction for him, it was fine.

They were mostly satisfied with the houses he renovated.

But this old man in front of him—why was he generating satisfaction toward him, and what exactly was he satisfied with?

Dumbledore noticed Kayson's strange gaze, his eyes darting around as he realized what the young man was pondering, and he quickly explained, "Do not misunderstand, I was merely praising your candor."

"Dumbledore... you cannot... you cannot be chatting so happily with a wizard who attacked a Ministry of Magic employee... I shall appeal, I will appeal to the Wizengamot!"

Lester, lying on the ground, struggled to lift his eyelids, but no sooner had he finished speaking than he was buried tight once more by sand falling from the sky.