Loren Morgan

Loren Morgan

November 1981, Hampshire, England.

On the bustling streets of the city, vendors lined the road, watching every passerby with anticipation. Especially those who had just come out of the cinema next door—picking up small snacks like cream puffs on the way home or a hair tie for their child was perfectly normal.

Near the end of the street, the Morgan family of three was still savoring their happy day.

"It's been a perfect day, Mrs. Morgan. Perhaps I could invite you to spend next weekend with me as well." The man walking on the left, carrying the child in his arms, looked to be in his twenties. He was handsome, and an irrepressible smile tugged at his lips as he spoke.

"Hmm, Mr. Morgan, not a bad suggestion, but I'll have to think it over carefully." The beautiful woman beside him stuffed the last cream puff into her mouth and swallowed it. Then she looped both arms around his, casually wiping them against his sleeve when he wasn't looking.

The two exchanged a glance and burst out laughing.

Loren, lying in the man's arms, felt rather speechless. Similar scenes had played out again and again during the year since he had come to this world. They were sickeningly affectionate.

He hummed around the milk candy in his mouth, shifted into a more comfortable position, and prepared to go back to sleep. Even with the soul of an adult, this body was only that of a one-year-old child.

The happy scene did not last long.

"Peter! You will pay for what you've done!"

A roar came from behind the young couple, painful enough to make their ears ring, carrying boundless fury.

A short, plump figure in a gray suit darted out, rushed past the couple, and vanished around the corner.

When they turned, they saw a tall, thin man with tangled hair and beard, bloodshot eyes fixed straight ahead. He held a long, slender wooden stick in his hand. He had been the one shouting.

The young couple by the roadside was at a loss. They exchanged a glance and silently stepped farther away.

Loren suddenly felt overwhelming unease and terror. Goosebumps rose from the back of his neck to his scalp, and his heart pounded so fast that he could hear it himself.

"Run!" he babbled.

Boom!

A powerful shockwave erupted from the street corner, blasting apart the surrounding houses. Mud and stones flew everywhere, bricks in the pavement were torn up, and the sewer opening was exposed. It was like an earthquake.

In that instant, little Loren saw only his father shielding him and his mother, while his mother tucked him beneath her body. Her sky-blue dress blocked his view.

Blue light welled up in Loren's eyes, spreading from his pupils and covering the black of his irises.

Sirius Black glanced sideways, somewhat astonished that such a young child had already suffered a magical outburst. But none of that mattered now. That damned Peter...

Warm, sticky liquid seeped into Loren's clothes, and then he passed out.

"This is too cruel, Crouch. That damned Death Eater nearly blew up an entire street, killed twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew. All that was left of him was a single finger." Cornelius Fudge, dressed in a pinstriped suit, looked over the scene, fear still lingering in his eyes.

When he arrived, Sirius Black had been standing amid the hellish scene, letting out strange laughter.

Barty Crouch stood beside him. Something earth-shaking had happened yesterday, and they had not slept all night. Even so, his Necktie was perfectly straight and his hair immaculately combed.

These damned Death Eaters had to be sent to Azkaban. He had to be given a Dementor's Kiss, he silently thought.

"Handle this according to the Statute of Secrecy. Contact the Muggle Government and provide compensation to the victims' families..." He came back to himself and calmly issued one order after another.

The surrounding Aurors worked with delighted urgency, methodically clearing the Muggles' memories.

Voldemort had fallen. Everything would get better, they thought.

June 1985, Sirius Children's Welfare Institute, Hampshire.

Five-year-old Loren Morgan was helping Sister Joyce sort through donated clothes. The slightly older children here could all help with simple chores that did not require much effort. They knew that well-behaved children were more likely to be adopted.

"Sister Joyce, when will Mr. Bambur come back?" Loren somewhat missed Mr. Bambur, the cafeteria manager who occasionally gave him food. Since Bambur had left, Loren had suffered from dizziness now and then. He guessed it was anemia caused by malnutrition.

At the mention of that murderer's name, Joyce's expression stiffened. She quickly softened her voice and comforted him. "Mr. Bambur has gone on a long journey. He probably won't be coming back to work at our Orphanage."

Loren felt a little regretful. His source of free food was gone.

"Then can we not eat Potato for dinner?" Loren felt that he had eaten more potatoes over the past few years than he had in over twenty years of his previous life.

"Well, perhaps we can prepare Potato in a different way. Do you have any good suggestions?" Joyce knew the Orphanage's food barely stretched far enough as it was. Most of their money had to be spent on coal and clothing for the winter.

Little Loren sighed, furrowed his brow, and said nothing.

Joyce looked at the tiny child before her. His crystal-blue eyes drooped beneath heavy lids, and he wore the same worried expression as an adult. She found it amusing.

"People from the church and the government came today. They're speaking with Ms. Marge right now. Maybe we'll get some new food." Joyce comforted him, though perhaps they were here to deal with what happened last month, she thought to herself.

Before she finished speaking, there was a knock on the door.

"Joyce, bring Loren out. There's good news!" The woman's voice at the door was full of delight.

Good news at an orphanage, and they wanted the child present. Joyce immediately made a guess. She grabbed Loren's hand and rushed out of the room.

"Ms. Marge, what's the good news?" Joyce asked eagerly.

"Come with me," Ms. Marge replied.

Ms. Marge led them toward the reception room. She was the Head of House at this Orphanage and was already forty this year, yet she still moved briskly, full of energy.

Two people were seated in the reception room. One wore a white clerical robe, while the other wore a black single-breasted overcoat. They immediately stood when they saw the three of them enter.

Ms. Marge began the introductions. "This is Thorne the Steward from the church, and Mr. Pino from City Hall."

Joyce was about to greet the two men when Pino spoke first. "Time is short, so I'll explain the situation. Last week, while sorting through household registration records, we discovered that Loren Morgan's mother still has a brother alive. We called to ask, and he expressed his willingness to raise Loren."

Thorne added, "We need to complete the procedures as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning, we will escort little Loren there and should be back before the end of the month."

"That's wonderful!" Joyce joyfully hugged little Loren. God had finally seen this suffering child.

Loren was somewhat at a loss. When he opened his eyes, he had already been in this Orphanage. Once he was a little older, Ms. Marge had told him that his parents had died in a car accident. Loren vaguely felt that was not the truth, but he could not remember anything from before the Orphanage.

All his memories of this world revolved around this Orphanage: gentle Sister Joyce, strict but kind Ms. Marge, and Mr. Bambur, who always gave him food, though he had left the Orphanage last month.

The sudden news that he would be leaving filled him with unease.

Ms. Marge had Joyce take Loren back to pack some things for him to bring, while she accompanied Mr. Pino and Thorne the Steward to handle the paperwork.

The next morning, outside the Orphanage.

Joyce stood outside the car, looking at little Loren in the back seat, her eyes full of reluctance. She liked this clever little rascal. She handed him a small bundle wrapped in white cloth, containing some clothes and small odds and ends.

"Come back and visit when you grow up, Loren." She kissed Loren on the forehead.

Loren's cheeks grew a little hot. He nodded.

"Cheer up, kid! We need to get going!" Mr. Pino's voice from the passenger seat sounded somewhat cheerful.

The light-blue Ford Anglia gradually picked up speed and drove into the distance.

Watching the dark speck gradually vanish from sight, Joyce could not help asking, "Is Loren really going to live with his relatives?"

"I don't know either, Joyce. This is the decision from above. Little Loren will be properly arranged for, and Bambur will go to hell." Ms. Marge's answer was somewhat helpless.

"After killing so many children, he truly deserves to go to hell!" Even now, Joyce's anger had not faded when she thought of that man...