Ding!
Congratulations, you have acquired the extraordinary trait [Butcher Instinct].
In the kitchen, just as Ian was about to finish off the chicken in front of him with a single stroke, a look of delight crossed his face. He then began examining what the trait could do.
Acquiring an extraordinary trait meant that a skill had reached a certain level of mastery—he had grasped part of its true nature.
Like the trait of Thought Perception that came with psychology.
What effect would the trait of Biological Dissection have?
Ian examined the trait and discovered that Butcher Instinct let him analyze the optimal way to butcher any creature at a glance.
How should he put it? The skill was better than nothing.
Looking at the chicken he was holding,
Ian felt as if he could see right through its feathers and find the perfect place to cut.
Then his knife moved, and there was a sharp crack.
The chicken's life was snuffed out completely.
Even the chefs nearby couldn't help praising his decisive technique.
"Wow, Ian, your butchering skills keep getting better!"
After killing the chicken,
Ian helped cut up the meat from the chickens the chefs had already plucked.
A few quick chops,
and the meat was neatly cut into pieces.
Ian smiled and replied, "Heh, I've gotten a lot more practiced."
After acquiring an extraordinary trait for a skill, his abilities really had improved by leaps and bounds.
The extraordinary traits that came with ordinary skills were certainly miraculous, but that was all. Ian couldn't help wondering whether the extraordinary traits born from magic would be even more powerful and wondrous once he learned some spells.
Unfortunately, he still had to wait half a month for the owl to bring his books.
Even today, Ian still didn't know why Dumbledore had to visit the orphanage first.
Was Wool's Orphanage really that charming?
That morning, sitting at his desk, he found he could barely focus on his book.
"I have to wait that long? I want to learn magic so badly!"
After waiting for several more days,
Ian felt as if each day lasted a year. The feeling couldn't even be compared to waiting for some online purchase to arrive. It was like knowing a goddess had already descended, yet still having to wait for the postman to deliver your package.
"I am, after all, an adult soul."
Ian didn't know how to describe how he felt. Impatient? Eager? They seemed to mean the same thing.
In truth, it was the excitement of being on the verge of discovering a new world—the thrill of leaving the real world behind and entering a wondrous world filled with magic.
Forget having an adult soul. Any normal person would be unable to resist wanting to explore the mysterious world of magic.
That day,
Ian decided to skip work.
Though he was his own boss, running his own little stall... As an adult, he had to make adult decisions. It was only a simple trip to Diagon Alley.
Could that possibly stump him?
Ian took the "fortune" he had saved up and set off, relying on his hazy memories of the original story to try to find the Leaky Cauldron somewhere in the vast sprawl of London.
It was a pub that Muggles couldn't see. Only wizards could find it, and through the pub, he could enter Diagon Alley, the wizards' territory.
In the original story, Harry Potter had entered Diagon Alley that way.
So Ian wanted to give it a try, too.
But he only knew the name of the pub. He had no idea where it was.
The streets bustled with people.
Ian melted into the crowd. He had already covered several blocks, but as he scanned the shops on either side of the street, he couldn't spot the pub anywhere.
"Bull's Head Pub... Jenny's Restaurant, Tomorrow's Diner, KFC."
The shops stretched on as far as the eye could see.
None of them were what Ian was looking for.
Just like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in the original story,
only wizards could see the Leaky Cauldron. In theory, Ian should be able to see it—he just hadn't found the right place yet.
"Hm?"
As he searched, Ian suddenly realized someone seemed to be following him. He immediately grew uneasy.
A people smuggler?
Organ trafficking wasn't common yet, was it?
Ian quickened his pace and went around several corners, using the chance to glance behind him. A figure in a black robe was there, its face hidden.
Well.
That explained things.
There was no way that outfit was some kind of cosplay.
A Dark Wizard kidnapping a young wizard—who knew why? It certainly couldn't be because he couldn't have children of his own and wanted an heir to inherit his Dark Magic.
"I'm being targeted!"
Ian's heart tightened.
He started to panic.
Luckily, he spotted the entrance to a subway station and hurried toward it. The figure in the black robe stayed outside and didn't follow him in.
Perhaps the other party didn't dare use magic in a crowded place.
After all,
kidnapping a young wizard
and violating the Ministry of Magic's regulations
wouldn't bring the same level of pursuit.
It was probably like the difference between an ordinary crime and terrorism.
His heart pounding,
Ian gratefully hurried onto the subway. An hour later, he was back at Wool's Orphanage.
"Today was dangerous! The magical world really is a mess!"
Outside the orphanage, with its peculiar box-shaped buildings, Ian's small figure slowly walked through the gates. He didn't notice the two people watching him from the shadows.
One of them
was the man Ian had mistaken for a "Dark Wizard."
Dumbledore's steady voice sounded softly beside the figure in the black robe.
"Do you think you're being a little too cautious by stopping him from encountering the magical world so soon?"
The black-robed man remained silent,
like a statue in the night. His thoughts drifted back to an hour earlier, when he had cast a mysterious spell on Ian. That was why Ian hadn't been able to see the Leaky Cauldron, even though it was right in front of him. Yes, Ian hadn't failed to find the place; magic had prevented him from seeing it.
"Diagon Alley isn't a playground for children. Quite a few Dark Wizards operate there, and I don't want him to end up like that foolish..."
The black-robed man suddenly stopped midsentence. He turned and stared at Dumbledore with deep-set eyes. After a long silence, he spoke in a hoarse voice.
"He belongs in Slytherin."
Without saying anything more, the black-robed man immediately Apparated away, leaving behind only a breeze and fading traces of magic.
"Wool's Orphanage..."
Dumbledore was left alone.
He continued to gaze quietly at the orphanage's weather-beaten gates, his eyes fixed on the battered old sign. As if lost in memories, his expression turned complicated.
"I hope I won't make the same mistake again."
Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh.
Then he turned and disappeared into the night.
Only
his retreating figure seemed a little stooped.