The Diviner, Ian Prince

London, foggy, thick fog.

In the nearly impenetrable haze, beside the slightly desolate streets of London, a young boy was packing up his stall, preparing to head home early.

He wore a black hat and a black trench coat, which naturally drew one's attention to his face, revealing a high-bridged nose and perfectly curved lips. His smile was incredibly charming; one had to admit, this was a boy who found it very easy to win the favor of women.

Especially older women.

Just as the boy was about to leave.

"Little diviner, do you still have time?"

Someone spoke from behind him in a gentle tone.

Ian Prince turned his head.

Reflected in his green eyes was a refined lady, dressed in a blue plaid turtleneck dress, accompanied by a cute brown-haired girl.

The girl's hair was as fluffy as a bird's nest.

"Of course, fate granted me a moment of delay, clearly just to wait for this very instant." Ian Prince immediately slipped into character and began his business.

His practiced patter was far more sophisticated than what one would expect from a child. "Every divination is a revelation of the future. If you don't mind, Madam, could you tell me your honorable name?"

"You may call me Mrs. Granger." Looking at Ian Prince's exquisitely sculpted face, Mrs. Granger found the little boy to be extremely adorable.

It had to be said.

Those with sufficient beauty could always win others' favor more easily. Ian could manipulate the hearts of many young girls with his image alone, let alone this young-matron-aged auntie before him.

"Very well, Mrs. Granger, what would you like to divine?"

Ian smiled and rearranged his business tools.

"Naturally, it is about—" Mrs. Granger was about to speak, but the little girl beside her looked resistant; she shook off her mother's hand and rushed to Ian's small table.

"Don't you dare try to deceive us with these tricks! This is nothing more than a scam based on applied psychology! There is no such thing as divination or magic in this world!"

"Behind every mysterious method lies magic, sleight of hand, or a hoax. Science has long since passed judgment on this; perhaps you should read the book Lies of the Middle Ages."

Even though she was a girl with delicate features, she insisted on putting on a fierce expression, looking both cute and adorably aggressive at the same time. Her mother's expression changed, and she started to step forward to scold her.

Ian raised a hand to stop Mrs. Granger.

"A very good suggestion. I also have a suggestion for you: New Principles of Arithmancy is a fine book; perhaps you should take a look at it as well."

Ian was not annoyed by the little girl's questioning; instead, he responded with a cheerful, accommodating smile. His reaction left the little girl feeling a sense of frustration, as if she had punched a pile of cotton.

Her doll-like face instantly flushed red with anger.

"There is no magic in this world!"

The little girl emphasized once more.

"What if there is?"

Ian tilted his head, looking at the girl who was a head shorter than him.

"Then I'll eat this table of yours."

The little girl declared with conviction.

"Oh, very well, Hermione. Miss Granger, I have noted your words. People who don't keep their promises will go bald when they grow up, you know." Ian smiled as if he were very happy.

"How do you know my name!"

The little girl.

That is, Hermione Granger, was given a huge fright. She hurriedly looked back at her mother in a panic, while Mrs. Granger was also looking at Ian with immense astonishment.

"Shall we begin, Mrs. Granger?"

Ian maintained his mysterious demeanor, shuffled the tarot cards in his hand, and dealt four cards onto the table. He had never felt this satisfied while putting on an act during his previous divination stalls.

Look at the little girl.

She was so scared she had hidden in her mother's arms.

"You must have used some trick; don't trust him, Mother." Hermione Granger seemed to still cling to her materialism, though she no longer dared to approach the diviner who had called her by name.

"We would like a reading, Mr. Diviner."

Mrs. Granger's eyes were bright now; she didn't care what Hermione Granger was saying, and her tone felt far more serious and attentive than before.

Ian ignored Hermione Granger's glare.

He gestured for Mrs. Granger to choose a tarot card.

Mrs. Granger made her choice immediately—looking at the revealed tarot card on the table, Ian raised an eyebrow and gave Mrs. Granger a faint smile.

"It is The Fool, Madam."

Upon hearing this.

Although Hermione still looked resentful, her ears perked up.

Mrs. Granger clasped her hands together, full of anticipation.

"Mr. Diviner, what does this portend?"

Ian cupped his hands in a salute and gestured, saying, "That is a question for you, Mrs. Granger. When you flipped over this card, what was the thought in your heart?"

Mrs. Granger nodded, wearing an expression that said she had expected as much.

"I simply wanted to ask if my Hermione will be able to get into her ideal secondary school a year from now." Most parents in this world naturally prioritize their children above all else.

Ian encountered this situation often.

However.

He still put on an expression of sudden realization.

"So, you are here to seek a divination for your daughter."

Ian's tone of amazement was vivid and lifelike.

"Yes, young fortune-teller. Can you tell me the result?" Mrs. Granger said, taking five pounds from her bag and handing them to Ian.

Ian smiled slightly, his gaze shifting to Hermione.

At this very moment, the little girl also seemed to be looking at Ian with some curiosity, but the second she caught his eyes, she immediately turned her head away.

It was as if she wanted to show that she couldn't care less.

However.

From the small movements of her eyes, which she couldn't help but glance over with from time to time, it wasn't hard to see that she was still quite curious about the result of the divination.

She was saying one thing while meaning another.

But it was also perfectly reasonable.

After all, she was a future witch, one of the "Golden Trio" from the original story. Though born into a Muggle family, she possessed wizarding talent, and deep down, she naturally held the wizarding nature of wanting to explore the unknown.

"Of course, no problem." Ian Prince wore a gentle smile as he picked up the "Fool" tarot card from the table and spoke slowly to Mrs. Granger.

"This represents a new beginning and adventure."

"After next year, your daughter will enter the school most suited to her, and she will have extraordinary achievements in the future, becoming a high-ranking official surrounded by stars."

Ian had been running his stall for quite a while, but his tone had never been so certain.

Mrs. Granger beamed from ear to ear, clearly overjoyed.

Hermione pursed her lips and said nothing.

But judging by the slight upturn of her mouth, it was easy to see that she was in a very good mood.

"Thank you, young fortune-teller. We shall take our leave now." Having received a satisfying answer, Mrs. Granger waved at Ian with a smile to bid him farewell.

Hermione, standing beside her, couldn't wait to pull her mother away.

Just a few steps out.

She couldn't resist looking back and making a fierce, childish face at Ian. Watching her, Ian felt a bit of mischief rise up, and he raised his voice just a notch.

"Oh, right—in the future, she will also have two wonderful children."

Hearing this, Mrs. Granger turned back in surprise, raised an eyebrow, and replied with a laugh, "Wow, actually, I think two children might be a bit too few."

"I am not going to have children!"

Hermione's face turned bright red.

Mrs. Granger patted her head.

Ian said no more and bowed slightly.

"Welcome back next time, Mrs. Granger."

His voice was soft.

"Thank you, young fortune-teller."

Mrs. Granger left with Hermione. Ian began to pack up his stall to head back, and just then, he vaguely heard Hermione's indignant voice.

"Mom, divination is just not scientific! He must have overheard us talking to know my name. These people only know how to say flowery, empty words!"

At this moment.

Mrs. Granger simply patted Hermione's head. "Oh, Hermione, why care so much? It was only five pounds. It isn't important to us, but for that child, it means he can enjoy a full meal. If circumstances allowed, what child of his age would be out on the street trying to make a living?"

"His clothes have so many patches; he is a poor child..."

The voices faded into the distance.

Only then did Ian look down at his own clothes.

They were indeed quite worn.

In truth, this was a garment he had received from a kind donor last year. Every year, Ian received clothes from well-meaning people, but back at the orphanage, after being clawed at by Gilly a few times, the clothes always ended up looking like this.

Gilly was a cat, the only pet and companion for the orphans in that square, gloomy, and ancient orphanage. In reality, she was just a stray cat that had wandered there and refused to leave.

"Another good day of earnings."

Ian Prince finished packing up his stall. He had earned about ten pounds today, which was certainly a decent income for a young child.

Of course.

To be able to earn such an income, Ian must certainly possess something that sets him apart from the average person.

Name: Ian Prince Occupation: Bloodline Warlock Magic Power: Level 4 Skills: Language Mastery (Level 3): 23/400 Biological Anatomy (Level 4): 796/800 Freestyle Combat (Level 3): 85/400 Psychology (Level 6): 42/3200 [Psychology Extraordinary Trait: Thought Perception.]

Indeed.

Ian possessed an attribute panel, but it lacked any system quests or a sweet, soft-voiced system sprite; it was simply a panel that granted him the trait of [Hard Work Leads to Strength].

It was very rudimentary.

Yet, it was also very practical.

As long as hard work yielded visible returns, it served as a sufficiently positive incentive for most people, not to mention that leveling up skills brought Ian additional benefits—Extraordinary Traits.

An Extraordinary Trait was a bonus gained once a skill reached level five, granting Ian powerful characteristics derived from that specific skill.

And if a skill could be grinded all the way to level ten, one could obtain an even more powerful Legendary Trait. However, even now, Ian had yet to successfully grind a single skill to level ten.

Gaining proficiency was not that easy; for instance, today he had only earned a total of five points in [Psychology] proficiency. To level up, he would have to hoodwink over three thousand people.

Hmm.

Perhaps "hoodwink" wasn't the right word.

How could providing emotional value not be considered a form of contribution?

It was precisely by relying on Thought Perception to discern what was on his customers' minds that Ian had made his fortune-telling business flourish, gaining a bit of fame within this district.

"A little cheat doesn't count as cheating."

Ian evaluated his golden finger before heading back to the orphanage with his gear—after all, for a transmigrator, a classic opening was simply the norm.

"Hey, Ian, wait up, don't go back yet."

"A Santa Claus has arrived!"

After Ian pushed his small cart back to the dilapidated orphanage, a group of children swarmed around him.

Ian caught a glimpse of a figure flashing by in the distance.

"Nonsense, that's clearly Gandalf."

Ian corrected the child.

At this moment, his mood was incredibly complex.

He had been waiting for this day all along.

However, he hadn't expected it to come so soon, nor had he expected the person arriving to be—Albus Dumbledore.

Watching the white-bearded old man walk toward the headmaster's office, Ian Prince felt a flicker of doubt.

Strange.

Didn't Hogwarts usually send an owl first, and then dispatch a professor to explain things in person?