Moriarty Slytherin

Winter, 1987. East Tibet, China.

A dilapidated wooden shack on the southern side of the Tibetan Plateau creaked and groaned in the biting wind.

Ten-year-old Moriarty Slytherin had layered on every piece of clothing he owned, wrapped himself in every quilt and blanket in the house, and huddled in the corner of the room.

Moriarty Slytherin was clearly suffering from severe hypothermia; his lips were blue, ice crystals clung to his eyelashes, and his grey hair looked exceptionally dull.

Yet, he clutched a long, pitch-black box to his chest with a death grip.

Sensing his hands and feet growing numb as he began to lose all sensation, Moriarty Slytherin tucked the black box under his elbow to catch one final glimpse of it.

Great Slytherin, I am sorry. I would rather die sooner than endure such agony.

Three hours later.

Moriarty Slytherin's brows suddenly furrowed, his face contorting in a struggle.

Strictly speaking, he was no longer the real Moriarty. Although he occupied this shell, the soul lurking deep within belonged to a young man from the 21st century.

The true Moriarty was dead, but the Moriarty now inhabiting this body had no intention of freezing to death the moment he arrived.

Having inherited all of Moriarty's memories, he was well aware of the mysteries of the Harry Potter world and the allure of magic.

Worthy of being the last Slytherin; even a descendant living in exile knows more than anyone else!

Moriarty opened his eyes as if awakening, but the movement pulled at the frostbite on his face, sending a jolt of pain through half his cheek.

In a moment of carelessness, I forgot the original body might have been a Squib, otherwise he wouldn't have frozen to death.

Cold air had already seeped into Moriarty's throat, and he whispered in a hoarse murmur.

Realizing his current predicament, Moriarty could only lie flat on the floor, afraid to move or even make a facial expression.

However, he soon felt something long and bulky pressing against his chest!

The black box? Moriarty realized that if there was anything the original body would guard even in death, it had to be this.

Moriarty recalled the memories of his predecessor; the Slytherin family held this black box in a mix of reverence and fear.

It is said to be a treasure passed down from Salazar Slytherin! And it seems there is some sort of pact with the ancestor?!

But Moriarty couldn't care less about that.

He was about to freeze to death—what did he care about a pact with an ancestor!

Pedantic pure-bloods!

Since it was a treasure from Salazar, perhaps it could save his life.

Dragging his arms, which had nearly frozen into icicles, Moriarty struggled to open the black box.

A silver staff, about 80 centimeters long, lay neatly inside, with a roll of parchment beneath it.

The silver staff became a lifeline in Moriarty's eyes.

He tried to twist his arm to pick up the staff, but it was incredibly difficult.

His limbs were no longer responsive, though fortunately, as his sense of touch faded, his sensitivity to pain dulled as well.

Moriarty finally managed to touch the wand.

He was just beginning to think of the spells in his memory when a "Ding!" sounded in his ear.

"Detected that the host has discovered and touched a magical item. Activating the Behind-the-Scenes Boss System. The host is granted one initial draw."

Quick, draw! Can you give me a spell to restore my health? Or a warming charm? At the very least, give me an Incendio! After all, this draw is basically a starter pack, right!

He who gains the system gains the world; now that the system was here, surely his survival wouldn't be an issue?

"The prizes for the initial draw are all from the Harry Potter world."

"Including fifty daily necessities, ten magical items, ten alchemy items, ten spells, ten potions, and ten wands."

"Confirm whether the host wishes to draw?"

"Draw!" Moriarty chose to draw without hesitation.

"Very well, good luck to the host."

Although the odds of drawing one of the fifty daily necessities were high, Moriarty believed in his luck.

"Ding! Congratulations to the host for drawing a pair of wool socks!"

A pair of thick, white socks appeared instantly in Moriarty's hands, looking exquisitely crafted.

"Initial draw complete. Wishing the host an early rise to become the behind-the-scenes boss of the Harry Potter world."

What the f**!!! Is this the good luck you wished me?*

Moriarty was so angry he could spit blood. What kind of system was this? Which transmigrator's welfare was a pair of wool socks!

"This host is about to freeze to death and you give me a pair of socks?" Moriarty demanded aggressively. "System, come out! I don't accept the result of the starter pack draw! I demand a redraw!"

"Detected that the host's life force is severely depleted. The only reason the host remains conscious is due to the adrenaline rush brought on by the transmigration."

"If the host does not take action, in approximately thirty minutes, once the excitement fades, the host will freeze to death."

"The wand I have on hand is big and long; even if I sold it for scrap, it would fetch a good price. Look, can I use it as collateral? Exchange it for some spells or something to save my life—it's urgent!"

"Ding-dong~ Detected that the host has discovered, touched, and possessed the Slytherin Patriarch's Staff. Rewarding three lottery chances!"

"Since the staff discovered by the host is the symbol of an ancient medieval Pure-blood family, this lottery is an Exploration Draw. I hope the host will seize the opportunity."

"Exploration Draw?"

It sounds better than the initial lottery rewards!

Moriarty decisively chose to draw!

"No need for introductions. I'll look at the details myself in a moment. Just draw for me now!"

"Understood. Good luck, host."

Moriarty's heart rose to his throat. If he didn't pull anything good from these three chances, he knew he might become the first transmigrator to freeze to death at the very start!

"Ding-dong~ Congratulations to the host for drawing a bottle of Polyjuice Potion!"

A vial of potion the size of a mineral water bottle suddenly appeared beside Moriarty.

"..."

It's a good omen!

Moriarty comforted himself.

At least it's a potion, not something like wool socks.

"System, draw again!"

"Ding-dong~ Congratulations to the host for drawing a fifty-cubic-meter System Space! The host can store any non-living items within the System Space."

"..."

It's good, sure, but it still can't save my life!

"Give me the last draw! It needs to be something life-saving!"

"Ding-dong~ Congratulations to the host for drawing Ten Years of Magic Power!"

"Exploration Draw concluded. Wishing the host an early rise to become the behind-the-scenes big boss of the Harry Potter world."

When Moriarty heard the words "Magic Power," he ignored the system's customary blessing and devoted himself entirely to sensing and understanding the magic.

Ten years of magic power!

It was equivalent to Moriarty having awakened his magic the moment he was born!

Could a baby of the Slytherin Family be the same as other infants?

A baby who awakens magic at birth is usually described with only two words: monster!

Moriarty felt the subtle changes within his body and subconsciously raised his frozen right hand, placing it upon the Slytherin staff.

Suddenly, his body began to heat up.

Like a burning match in a Frozen Wasteland, though it was faint, Moriarty captured it with precision.

"Now!" Moriarty roared. Following an impulse surging from within, he gripped the Slytherin staff with all his might, and his magic erupted instantly!

"Bang!"

A cluster of golden sparks burst from the tip of the Silver Staff, firing a beam of light composed of pure magic.

"Bang!"

Watching the beam of magic pierce through the roof and shoot into the sky, Moriarty smiled.

Having magic meant that all the ancient spells in his memory were now open to him.

Not only that, in the distant West.

Inside a locked small tower at Hogwarts, The Quill of Acceptance was writing "Moriarty Slytherin" into The Book of Admittance at a frantic pace.

"Rustle, rustle..."

The pages of The Book of Admittance flipped rapidly on their own, each page glowing with a silver light!

This anomaly did not last long, as The Quill of Acceptance and The Book of Admittance flew out of the tower as if they had grown wings.

Within a minute, the entire castle seemed to come alive:

Stone statues left their original positions, speaking in a language no one could understand.

The figures in the portraits began to dance.

Peeves flew around the castle cackling wildly, looking as proud as if he were clutching a giant bomb in his arms...

That day would later be known as "The Great Hogwarts Riot." Moriarty would not learn of this until five months later; at this moment, he had yet to escape his life-threatening situation.

Usually, a Little Wizard feels extremely weak after their first magical outburst, but Moriarty felt no weakness—instead, he was elated.

"Let me think, a warming charm."

"There is no explicit warming charm in modern times, nor in the Middle Ages. It must be because keeping warm is too simple to have been recorded."

"However, the Weather-Charm, Fire-Condensing Charm, Fire-Making Charm, Hot-Air Charm, and Handheld-Flame Charm can all produce warmth and insulation."

Moriarty thought for a moment; the Weather-Charm was too powerful and unsuitable for indoor use.

The dilapidated little wooden hut could no longer withstand any more destruction.

The Fire-Making Charm, which was Incendio, was also not quite appropriate.

The Fire-Condensing Charm could shrink and concentrate flames within a specific range, requiring a high level of control from the caster.

The power of the Hot-Air Charm could be adjusted as needed, heating the air to provide warmth, making it the most suitable choice for Moriarty at this moment.

The Handheld-Flame Charm belonged to elemental magic and was relatively complex.

Therefore, Moriarty chose the Hot-Air Charm.

He slowly raised his staff, releasing magic into the air bit by bit through it.

Moriarty felt the area around him gradually grow warmer; even though the wind outside remained biting, he could no longer feel the bone-chilling cold.

"It's good to have magic," Moriarty sighed sincerely.

He stood up slowly and placed the wool socks and Polyjuice Potion into the System Space.

He took off some of his outer layers to make his movements more agile.

Then, leaning on the Slytherin staff and holding the black box, he walked to the only bed in the room and sat down.

Moriarty took the parchment out of the box, and the moment he unfolded it, a golden key fell onto the floor with a crisp "clink."

It was a golden key the size of an adult's palm, and Moriarty had to cup both hands together to hold it.

"How large a door could this key open? Or how large a chest?"

Clearly, the wooden hut did not have a door large enough, nor could it accommodate a massive chest.

Moriarty shook his head, gently set the golden key down, and picked up the parchment to examine it, only to discover that it was actually a family tree!

The origin of the family tree was none other than Salazar Slytherin.

This meant that the identity of Moriarty Slytherin was real!

However, the original records stated that the Gaunt family were the descendants of Slytherin, and Tom Riddle was the only living descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

After reading the family tree in detail, Moriarty finally understood.

After leaving Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin had a son.

This son was a Squib, so Salazar sent him away after he came of age.

This branch of the Slytherins, knowing they possessed no magic, intentionally stayed away from the wizarding world.

As time passed, this branch of the Slytherins migrated constantly.

Because they firmly believed in pure-blood supremacy, this branch of the Slytherins would not intermarry with outsiders even though they were all Squibs, always maintaining marriage within the family.

By the generation of Moriarty's parents, they were in poor health and were the only two left.

It was on the eve of World War II, and Grindelwald, having learned from somewhere that there were still descendants of Slytherin alive, searched for them like a madman.

Thus, Moriarty's parents moved to East Tibet, China, to escape the disaster.

Besides this family tree, the silver staff and the golden key also served as proof of Moriarty's identity.

The silver staff was indeed the patriarch's staff of Slytherin, stolen by Salazar's Squib son.

Seeing this, Moriarty snorted.

How could he not see that there was more to the story!

Needless to say, it must have been stolen right from under Salazar's nose.

A Squib actually managing to steal from a legendary wizard? Even if that Squib was the legendary wizard's son.

One truly didn't know whether to call it deep fatherly love or the son being too heaven-defying.

If it were the former, it would be easy to explain, but if it were the latter...

Moriarty could only offer a few more cold snorts; the Middle Ages were too far removed from him, and the golden key was far more intriguing.

This was a key to open the gates of a castle!

It belonged to the castle where Salazar lived after leaving Hogwarts!

The back of the parchment marked the detailed address, which Moriarty firmly committed to memory.

Having understood the history of the Slytherin family, his identity was now firmly established; in terms of blood purity, he was countless times purer than Tom Gaunt.

But Moriarty did not subscribe to that pure-blood nonsense.

Whether you are pure-blood or half-blood, wizard or Muggle, you are ultimately a mortal, a life.

And having seen death so often, his greatest trait was his indifference toward life.

"Perhaps this is why the Behind-the-Scenes Boss System bound itself to me." Moriarty's gaze shifted; now he could properly study the system.

At this moment, the system prompted: "The existence of the system is to cultivate the host into the behind-the-scenes boss of this world."

"To prevent the host from being inactive, the system will issue tasks at any time; upon completing tasks, the host will receive points and rewards."

"Ultimate mission issued: become the shadow boss of this world! Reward: Ascension to Godhood! Deadline: 2012. Failure penalty: Host will be castrated!"

A massive surge of information flooded Moriarty's mind immediately after. Receiving such a vast amount of data twice in a row was more than even he could handle, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

Moriarty gritted his teeth and sorted through the system's data; in short, this was his golden finger.

The system provided many benefits, including a lottery system and the ability to exchange points for anything from the Harry Potter world.

The final feature was what the system had mentioned: obtaining high-value rewards by completing missions.

Since the Harry Potter world was an underdeveloped magical realm, the lottery was divided into Exploration Draws and Achievement Draws.

Discovering, touching, possessing, or destroying valuable magical items or secret magical realms would each grant one Exploration Draw.

Seeing this, Moriarty stood up abruptly, his face full of eagerness; he felt like tearing the wooden cabin apart to search for loot.

But he quickly calmed down. The room's contents were laid bare at a glance, and aside from the Black Box, the Slytherin family had no other items of significant value.

I should be content. By receiving these memories, I have gained the knowledge of the Slytherin family—that is the most precious treasure! And the appearance of the system means I will gain even more!

Moriarty gripped the Slytherin staff, realizing he shouldn't be greedy; he already possessed enough.

"Now, I must consider how to monetize these invisible assets! I need to prepare to become the shadow boss!"

Moriarty successfully dispelled the cold, then casually added two more spells to the cabin: Reparo and Scourgify.

After doing all this, the environment Moriarty was in became somewhat more comfortable.

He sat on the bed, placing the staff, the key, and the parchment before him to begin thinking.

The deadline given by the system was 2012. Since it was currently 1987, that left exactly 25 years.

To be precise, 24 years, Moriarty noted as he looked at the white snow outside the window, for it was already the end of 1987.

This meant Moriarty had to become the shadow boss of the Harry Potter world before the age of 35!

Moriarty quickly compiled a list.

At the very top were the White Wizard Dumbledore and the Dark Lord Voldemort!

Old Dumbledore and little Tom were undoubtedly in the same league, and ranked behind them was Grindelwald.

After all, he was the first Dark Lord; there was no telling when he might emerge to cause trouble.

Old Grindelwald and Old Dumbledore had that strange, lingering tension between them. If someone were to move against Dumbledore, Grindelwald would likely kill his way from Nurmengard to Hogwarts in a heartbeat.

All three were strong contenders for the position of shadow boss. Beyond them, Moriarty added the Pure-blood families and the various Ministries of Magic to the list.

Lucius Malfoy.

Cornelius Fudge.

Moriarty wrote down the representatives of the Pure-blood families and the high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Magic he knew of.

These people might not be his direct competitors, but they would undoubtedly pose obstacles to his future actions.

Moriarty held the list in one hand and rested his chin on the other: "So, I must consider where the gap lies between me and these people."

"The gap in strength is obvious."

"There is undoubtedly also a gap in prestige, reputation, wealth, status, insight, and experience."

"No, insight and experience can be crossed out."

"After inheriting the Slytherin family legacy, my insight into the magical world already exceeds the modern wizard's understanding of it."

"As for experience, I accumulated plenty in my past life dealing with people of all backgrounds. As long as I am given a platform, whether they are Pure-blood or half-blood, wizard or Muggle, I can get along with them all."

"So, what remains is prestige, reputation, wealth, and status."

"As long as one of these is satisfied, the rest will soon follow."

Moriarty picked up the golden key, a strange light flashing in his eyes.

"It seems Salazar's castle will satisfy that for me!"

"It appears necessary to head to Britain as soon as possible."

Moriarty scanned the room, his eyes devoid of any attachment.

This place held nothing for Moriarty but pain.

However, before leaving, Moriarty intended to avenge the original host, whose parents had died at the hands of an East Tibetan Yeti during an outing not long ago.

"East Tibetan Yeti...?"

Moriarty felt the name was familiar. Hadn't Gilderoy Lockhart, the second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, written a book about East Tibetan Yetis?

The title seemed to be "A Year with the East Tibetan Yeti"?

This was interesting; it meant Gilderoy Lockhart had likely been to East Tibet!

Just then, a charismatic voice drifted from outside the cabin door: "Hello, I am Gilderoy Lockhart, a British author. Could you invite me in for a moment? It is truly freezing out here."