Silan Prewett

In August 1991, London.

The sun broke free of the clouds, pierced the thick fog, and made the wet ground gleam.

A tabby cat crouched at the street corner and gave the signpost a careful look.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it vanished again.

"Mr. Prewett, thank you for your divination."

A man sat at a fortune-telling stall on the corner, his shoulders hunched.

"My wife... really did cheat on me..."

"Oh, right. Here's the payment we agreed on."

"I'm very sorry." Silan Prewett sighed with a sorrowful expression, but swiftly pocketed the money. "If I may ask, how do you intend to handle this? If you need divinatory advice, I can help."

"No need, Mr. Prewett. I intend to forgive her," the man said, rubbing his hands together.

Tsk.

What a cuck.

Silan curled his lip inwardly, though his face still wore a regretful expression.

"Good luck, sir."

After seeing the man off, Silan withdrew his gaze and counted the money. There were about twenty-five pounds. Added to the loose change he had earned earlier, he now had twenty-eight pounds and seventeen pence on him.

But the money was secondary. What mattered more was the prompt box that had appeared before him.

Silan's gaze fell upon the virtual screen in front of him.

[You have completed a scam.]

[Silver Tongue: Level 1 (34/100): Proficiency +1]

[Description: Oh, sir. Go talk to them. Say anything, and they'll believe you. Of course, watch your tongue. After all, disaster comes from the mouth.]

[Effect: Your words strike directly at the heart, making others more likely to believe you.]

He did not actually know any divination. This was nothing more than a scam he had set up.

Silan had discovered the man's wife's affair long ago with the help of his little brothers from the orphanage.

Afterward, he had deliberately led the man to his fortune-telling stall and told him about it under the guise of divination.

Silan was too young, only eleven years old, so the man had not believed him at first.

Not until the facts before him matched Silan's words exactly.

But this was not the best outcome Silan had anticipated.

He had intended to profit three times: first, make money from exposing the affair; then charge the man for advice on dealing with it; afterward, charge the cheating woman for advice as well.

Unexpectedly, the man had chosen to forgive her.

Was she somehow different?

"Silan, I knew I'd find you here."

A familiar voice reached Silan's ears, interrupting his thoughts.

"Miss Granger..."

Silan hid the money away, and the expression on his face instantly vanished, replaced by one of humble politeness. Before Hermione, he always acted gentle and kind.

"Call me Hermione."

Hermione Granger sat across from Silan, resting her elbows on the table and propping up her chin as she looked at him. "How's business today?"

"Not bad."

Silan shuffled the deck of tarot cards on the table. "Want to try a reading?"

Hermione looked at Silan's slightly pale, thin face, and a trace of pity flashed through her eyes.

"Then let's do a reading. I want to know which school I'll be going to."

She was eleven this year and about to enter secondary school. She had been troubled by it these past few days. Besides worrying about which school to attend, she also did not want to be too far away from the boy in front of her, who had been her classmate for six years.

Silan was different from the other children.

He would not mock her messy hair. When she talked to him about things from books, he would not impatiently turn away. Instead, he listened very seriously.

Though he had grown up in an orphanage, he was a gentle and kind boy, and he never lied.

Hermione thought to herself.

"Have you received any letters recently?" Silan asked.

He remembered that Hogwarts sent letters by owl before enrollment.

Hermione came from a Muggle family, so a professor would later come personally to guide her.

"Letters?" Hermione asked curiously. "What letters?"

"My parents did complain a few days ago about several nonsense scam letters. One of them even had my name on it."

Looks like the Grangers ignored them, Silan thought.

That was common in Muggle families, which was why professors had to visit and explain.

After all, few parents would send their child to some obscure school just because of a letter.

"It's nothing. Let's begin," Silan said.

The tarot cards, their backs covered in stars, were shuffled beneath his hands before being gathered together again.

"Draw one card with yourself in mind."

Holding the deck with four fingers, Silan slowly spread the cards before Hermione.

Under his deliberate control, the spaces between every card were almost identical.

Only then did he take the opportunity to study the little girl before him closely.

Bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and a somewhat earnest bookwormish air.

Of course, none of that mattered.

What mattered was that her name was Hermione Granger.

She looked almost exactly like Hermione from the Harry Potter films.

Hermione Granger. (There was a risk of copyright infringement with a real photo, so none would be included for now.)

It was because of her that Silan had realized, several years after being reborn into this body, that this was the world of Harry Potter.

Hermione drew a tarot card from the middle of the deck. When she turned it over, it showed an old man holding a lantern and leaning on a staff atop a snowy mountain.

"Oh, the Hermit." Silan took the card and examined it carefully. "It represents your pursuit of wisdom, your love of reading, but also the loneliness you often feel because of it..."

Hermione nodded. It really did match her current situation.

"But I think... the core meaning of this card should be that you'll seek hidden knowledge. Maybe you'll go to an unknown school of magic."

Silan gave her the answer in a joking tone.

"Haha, it would be nice if you could come with me."

Hermione took it as a joke and did not pay much attention. She winked at him, finally revealing the real reason she had come to see him.

"I didn't bring any money when I left home, so... come to my house for dinner. Consider it payment for the reading."

When a little girl wanted to express her feelings, she always needed an excuse.

Ever since learning that Silan's parents had both died and that he had grown up in an orphanage, she often invited him to eat at her home. On one hand, she liked this friend. On the other, she wanted to take care of him.

Silan looked so thin that she was always worried he was malnourished.

"Then thank you very much, Miss Granger."

"Just call me Hermione." Hermione stood up from the stall and emphasized it again. "Silan, you're always so polite."

The place was not far from Hermione's home. Carrying their things, the two quickly arrived.

"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, good evening. I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Mr. Prewett, welcome, welcome."

"Come in quickly."

The Grangers were already familiar with this polite and sensible child, and they all liked him.

"You two play for a while. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Come with me. Let's go upstairs."

Hermione led Silan toward her bedroom.

"Don't eat too many snacks. They're bad for your teeth." Granger, a dentist, looked up from behind his newspaper and gave his habitual reminder.

"My dad bought me an art book last week. I actually read it back when I was in third grade. He can never remember which books I've already read."

"I think it's because you read too quickly."

"It's because I never have anything else to do, and you never come over to play with me."

"Sorry, I..."

"No, I should apologize to you." Hermione awkwardly fiddled with her unruly hair. "I forgot that you have to earn money by doing fortune-telling."

"It's fine. Earning a dinner once in a while isn't bad."

Hermione laughed at his joke. She led him through the densely packed books on her shelves and began introducing them enthusiastically again, until Mrs. Granger knocked on the door.

"Is it time for dinner already, Mum? It's still early."

"No..."

Mrs. Granger looked somewhat hesitant. Her gaze landed on Silan. "I'm sorry, Silan, but I'm afraid we can't host you today."

"Why?!" Hermione's voice rose sharply, filled with confusion.

"We have an important guest at home. There's something very important to discuss later, concerning your schooling, Hermione," Mrs. Granger explained helplessly.

"It's all right. I'll be going, then. See you later, Hermione."

Silan smiled as he walked to Hermione's side and said goodbye.

When he reached the door, he deliberately looked back at Hermione, showing just the right amount of reluctance.

It made Hermione both sad and guilty.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Granger."

Watching Silan go downstairs, Mrs. Granger could not help feeling a little guilty.

This child lived a difficult life, yet he had always been so well-behaved and sensible.

And precisely because he was so sensible, he was heartbreaking.

But the words of the guest downstairs were something she and her husband took very seriously, so they could only wrong him for now.

"Goodbye, Mr. Granger." Silan greeted him as he came downstairs, though his gaze quietly settled on the other person in the living room.

She was a stern-looking woman with square glasses, jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun, and a dark green cloak draped around her.

That should be Professor McGonagall, here to bring Hermione to school, right?

Based on his memories of Harry Potter, Silan guessed the identity of the person before him.

"Please wait, Mr. Prewett."

Granger looked somewhat embarrassed. Treating his daughter's friend this way was not what he had intended. "Hermione made these sandwiches. Please don't mind them."

Prewett?

McGonagall froze for a moment.

That surname was uncommon in the wizarding world, but in the Muggle world, it was merely an ordinary surname.

There was nothing particularly strange about that. There were plenty of people named Prewett in London.

But upon hearing the surname, Professor McGonagall suddenly thought of the Prewett brothers who had died in the wizarding war.

The Prewett family was an ancient and highly respected pure-blood wizarding family, as well as a staunch supporter of the Order of the Phoenix. Unfortunately, in the struggle against Voldemort, the Prewett family name had nearly died out.

Before Molly Weasley married Arthur Weasley, she had been a member of the Prewett family.

McGonagall gave Silan a curious glance.

Dark brown hair and eyes...

Surely it could not be such a coincidence?

Though she thought so, McGonagall continued staring closely at Silan.

When he turned to look at her, McGonagall finally saw his face clearly.

That brief glimpse made McGonagall's heart skip a beat.

This child actually bore Fabian Prewett's features!