Can This Stump Me?

Ding!

Congratulations, you have obtained the extraordinary trait [Butcher Instinct].

In the kitchen, just as Ian was preparing to finish off the hen in front of him with a single stroke, a look of pleasant surprise flashed across his face, and he began to examine the effects of the trait.

Obtaining an extraordinary trait meant that a skill had reached a certain level of mastery, and he had grasped a portion of its true essence.

It was just like the psychological trait, Thought Perception.

As for the biological dissection trait, he wondered what kind of effect it would have?

Ian checked the trait's function and discovered that this Butcher Instinct allowed him to analyze the optimal anatomical structure of any creature at a single glance.

How should he put it? Was this skill better than nothing?

Looking at the hen he had caught.

Ian felt as if he could see through the chicken's feathers, directly pinpointing the most suitable spot to make the cut.

Then, the blade moved, and with a crisp "crack," the hen's life was completely extinguished.

This decisive technique even drew praise from the other cooks nearby.

"Wow, Ian, your butchery skills are getting better and better!"

After Ian killed the chicken.

He then helped slice the chicken meat that the other cooks had already plucked.

With a few quick "clack, clack, clack" motions of the knife.

The chicken meat was sliced into neat, uniform pieces.

Ian smiled and replied, "Heh, I've just gotten a bit more practice."

Since obtaining the extraordinary trait for the skill, his progress had indeed been leaps and bounds.

The extraordinary traits of such ordinary skills were certainly magical, but they were only just that—magical. Ian couldn't help but look forward to learning magic.

Would the extraordinary traits born from magic be even more powerful and wondrous?

Unfortunately, he still had to wait half a month for an owl to arrive so he could buy his study books.

To this day, Ian still didn't know why Dumbledore had insisted on a home visit first.

Did Wool's Orphanage really hold that much charm?

At his desk that morning, he found he couldn't focus on his books anymore.

"I have to wait so long! I really want to learn magic!"

After waiting for several days in a row.

Ian felt as if every day were a year. This feeling couldn't even be compared to waiting for an online delivery; it was like knowing a goddess was about to arrive, yet having to wait for the post to deliver the protection.

"I am an adult soul, after all."

Ian didn't know how to describe his mood. Impatient? Eager? They all seemed to mean the same thing.

In reality, this was the anticipation of someone about to witness a new continent—the surprise of transitioning from a realistic world into a magical, wondrous one.

Let alone an adult soul, any normal person would be unable to resist the urge to explore that mysterious magic.

On this day.

Ian chose to skip work.

Although he was the boss of his own little stall... since he was an adult, he had to make adult decisions. Wasn't it just a simple trip to Diagon Alley?

Could this really stump me?

Ian tucked away his accumulated "fortune" and began to rely on his meager memory of the original work, attempting to find the Leaky Cauldron amidst the vastness of London.

It was a pub that Muggles simply could not see; only wizards could perceive it. Through the pub, he could enter Diagon Alley, which was the wizards' territory.

In the original story, Harry Potter had entered Diagon Alley this way.

So, Ian wanted to try it too.

However, he only knew the name of the pub and had no idea where its actual location was.

On the streets, crowds surged.

Ian blended into the throng. He had already run through many blocks, yet, peering at the shops on both sides of the street, he couldn't see a trace of the pub.

"Bull's Head Pub... Jenny's Restaurant, Tomorrow's Diner, KFC."

A dazzling array of shops.

None of them were the target Ian was looking for.

Just like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in the original story.

The Leaky Cauldron could only be seen by wizards—logically speaking, Ian should be able to see it; he knew he just hadn't found the right spot yet.

"Hmm?"

While searching, Ian suddenly realized that he seemed to be followed—he was instantly filled with suspicion and unease!

Human traffickers?

Organ trafficking wasn't exactly a trend in this day and age, was it?

Ian quickened his pace, turning several corners in succession, and took the opportunity to glance behind him—it was a person draped in a black robe, their face obscured from view.

Hmm.

It suddenly made sense.

This attire didn't look like any kind of cosplay.

A dark wizard kidnapping a young wizard; heaven knows for what reason, but it certainly wasn't because they couldn't have children of their own and wanted an heir to inherit their dark magic.

I've been targeted!

Ian's heart tightened.

He felt a surge of panic.

Fortunately, he spotted the entrance to a subway station at that moment and hurried toward it at a jog—the black-robed figure stopped outside and did not follow him in.

Perhaps the other party didn't dare to use magic in a crowded place.

After all.

Kidnapping a young wizard.

And violating the regulations of the Ministry of Magic.

The intensity of the pursuit for the two would be absolutely different.

Roughly equivalent to the difference between a misdemeanor and an act of terrorism?

His heart hammered against his ribs.

Ian thankfully scrambled onto the subway, and an hour later, he returned to Wool's Orphanage.

"That was truly dangerous today! The magical world is certainly quite chaotic!"

Before the square, eerily-built orphanage, Ian's thin, small figure slowly walked inside, unaware that two figures were watching him from the shadows.

Among them.

Was the very man Ian had deemed a "dark wizard."

Dumbledore's steady voice rang out softly beside the black-robed figure.

"Are you being a bit too cautious by preventing him from encountering the magical world prematurely?"

The black-robed figure remained silent.

Like a statue in the dead of night. His thoughts drifted back to an hour ago; it was he who had cast a mysterious spell on Ian, preventing him from seeing the Leaky Cauldron that was right before his eyes. Yes, as it turned out, Ian hadn't failed to find the place; he had simply been unable to see it due to magical interference.

"Diagon Alley is no place for children to play games; there are quite a few dark wizards active there. I do not want him to end up like his foolish..."

The black-robed figure stopped mid-sentence, turned his head, and fixed his deep eyes on Dumbledore. After a long, lingering silence, a hoarse voice replied.

"He belongs to Slytherin."

Without another word, the black-robed figure instantly Apparated, leaving behind only a faint breeze and the slowly dissipating ripples of magic.

"Wool's Orphanage..."

Dumbledore remained alone on the spot.

He continued to watch the mottled gate of the orphanage in silence, staring at the dilapidated sign as if lost in memory, a complex expression crossing his face.

"I hope that this time, I will not make the same mistake again."

Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh.

He turned and merged into the night.

Only.

His departing silhouette looked somewhat hunched.