[Brain storage]
1990, by a small river.
A crude wooden puppet squatted unsteadily on the ground, roasting a rabbit over blue flames.
Not far away, a long-haired child lay on the ground... perhaps a boy, perhaps a girl. It was hard to tell.
The child pointed at the rabbit, now medium-rare. "Why'd you have to get up so early? Well, you're lucky you ran into me."
"I'm a kind-hearted person. I can't stand to see little animals suffer. Now you won't have to gnaw on nutrient-free weeds anymore."
Unfortunately, the wooden puppet clearly wasn't very bright. Otherwise, it would've smacked this shameless scoundrel with a brick.
The spicy roast meat had made the child thirsty. He picked up a bowl of water and looked at his reflection, then shut his eyes in despair.
The child had been in this world for ten years, give or take.
The good news was that, like any transmigrator worth his salt, he had a system.
The bad news was that his system only had two functions.
One was a daily sign-in lottery. Unfortunately, all it ever gave him was junk: tables, chairs, pots, bowls, and the like.
One function gave him junk; the other stored it. Over the past decade or so, he'd amassed enough to open a general store.
His thoughts drifted back to that utterly ordinary afternoon. Holding an ethereal-looking pill, he'd been so excited he'd nearly bowed to the system and called it his adoptive father.
He glanced at the words "Strength Pill" on the wooden box and roared, "Swallow a golden pill, and let my fate be mine, not Heaven's!"
Then disaster struck. When he looked in the mirror, he felt that if his system could display character traits, it would've added "sweet and charming" to the "handsome and dashing" trait he already had.
When he saw the tiny words on the box—"Beauty Pill. Increased strength is a side effect"—he felt the sky come crashing down.
Even now, he still shuddered at the memory. He reached into his trousers to check that his 460-millimeter naval cannon was still there, then let out a long breath of relief.
"System, sign in!"
"Sign-in successful. Congratulations, you've obtained one bottle of Leibi."
The boy rolled his eyes. He'd long since gotten used to this strange knockoff stuff.
He drained the bottle in a few gulps, then waved his hand and conjured a ball of blue flame. Its intense heat turned the grass beneath it into glass.
He flicked the empty bottle into the fire. The extreme heat left not even a speck of ash.
The child nodded with satisfaction. His system really did care about him. At least it had given him the talent to start fires whenever he wanted.
The system had also given him a book about the soul. He'd built on its ideas and developed the wooden puppet.
Thinking of how he'd mastered three skills at such a young age, the child sighed. "Guess this is what they call making good use of your youth."
He burped, patted his half-full belly, and said, "Come on, wooden puppet. Let's head home and make some more fries."
The two of them turned and left without so much as a thought of cleaning up the bones scattered across the ground.
They hadn't gone far when they spotted a two-story cottage in the forest.
An old man with a white beard was peering into the house.
Boy: Am I seeing things? Are thieves these days cosplaying as Gandalf while casing the place?
Dumbledore was even more confused. The day before, with nothing better to do, he'd looked through the Book of Admittance to see which young wizards would be starting the following year. Then he'd come across a name that surprised him: Orion Black.
One of the Black family's descendants was a missing Death Eater; another was currently doing time in Azkaban.
Dumbledore had wondered if the boy was a Muggle-born wizard. But that seemed unlikely. The name had far too strong a Black family flavor to it, so he'd decided to come and investigate in person.
Looking at the wild-looking child before him, with long black hair, gray-blue eyes, and somewhat shabby clothes—a child who bore a three- or four-tenths resemblance to Sirius—he asked uncertainly, "Miss, do you know a boy named Orion Black who lives around here?"
The boy pointed at himself. "Unless something's gone wrong, I'm the one you're looking for."
Dumbledore!!!
Orion Black? He knew that guy all too well. He'd started with nothing—not even a dog. He'd opened his eyes in an orphanage with only a scrap of paper bearing his name.
Looking at the crooked-nosed old man in front of him, Orion's face flickered with surprise. He sighed to himself. Why hadn't I read the instructions more carefully back then?
"Ahem. Hello, Orion. I'm Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Now it was Orion's turn to be stunned. Holy crap! Isn't Dumbledore one of the good guys from Harry Potter?
Before transmigrating, he'd watched plenty of short videos related to Harry Potter.
Dumbledore went through the motions and showed off a little. With a wave of his wand, a small stone on the ground turned into a white mouse, which scurried around Orion in circles.
Just coming back to his senses, Orion saw the strange white creature darting around him. Terrified, he conjured a ball of Fiendfyre, burning the mouse and the surrounding ground into glass.
The shock didn't disappear. It simply transferred to Dumbledore's face.
"My boy, where did you learn to do that?"
"Oh, it came naturally."
Orion lied with a perfectly straight face. If he didn't say it was natural, he'd have to admit the system had given it to him.
Dumbledore!!! This wasn't an ordinary young wizard. He'd have to use Legilimency!
The old man shut off his Legilimency, looking dazed. All he could see in the boy's mind was perfect calm, free of a single stray thought. Had the boy blocked him out?
Orion opened the door and said, "Please, come in, Headmaster Dumbledore."
The room was very clean. Orange-yellow wallpaper covered the walls, though the furniture looked rather old.
The two sat across from each other on the sofa. Dumbledore pushed aside his surprise and pulled a book from beneath the coffee table. It had a blue cover decorated with an incense burner and a jumble of foreign writing he couldn't understand.
"So, you're a child who loves to read."
Orion nodded in agreement. Over the years, the system really had given him plenty of books.
Dumbledore casually pulled out another book... a notebook wreathed in black smoke.
Something was wrong. Very wrong—nine-tenths wrong, at the very least! The old man's brow twitched as he leafed through it.
After closing the book, Dumbledore asked gravely, "My boy, do you know what Dark Magic is?"
Orion said, "Huh??? What's that? Can you eat it?"
Dumbledore...
"Then where did this notebook come from? Have you read it?"
"I found it."
After answering, Orion pointed outside the window. In the distance, a wooden puppet was staggering toward them.
"I improved on the instructions in that notebook and developed the wooden puppet."
Dumbledore's vision went black. The notebook taught its reader how to extract souls, and this puppet had a soul inside it!
Looking at the old man, who seemed on the verge of passing out, Orion said, "I used plenty of rabbit souls."
Knowing the souls belonged to rabbits, Dumbledore finally managed to draw a full breath.
"My boy, that is extremely dark and evil magic. You mustn't—"
Looking into Orion's clear, foolish eyes, Dumbledore stopped lecturing.
"My boy, where are your parents? I need to speak with them."
Orion pointed to the photograph on the wall. "I'm an orphan. Grandma Omi adopted me, but she passed away three years ago."
Blue Fiendfyre, an orphan, a deep understanding of souls. Dumbledore let out a silent, piercing scream.
This young wizard was powerful, despite his age. He already knew two formidable forms of Dark Magic, and if he kept developing that Fiendfyre, in a few years he'd be a miniature Grindelwald, capable of burning a whole city to the ground in minutes.
This boy must not be allowed to remain... growing up wild in the Muggle world. I have to bring him back to Hogwarts and educate him properly.
"This wooden puppet and the notebook are too dangerous. I'll confiscate them for now."
Orion waved a hand, unconcerned. He'd already memorized the notebook, and he could make another puppet whenever he wanted.
Dumbledore sighed inwardly without end. Voldemort, the second Dark Lord, might not even be dead yet. Now here came another promising candidate for the role of third Dark Lord. My whole life has been like walking on thin ice. Will I ever make it to the other side?
Dumbledore looked at the old woman's photograph on the wall.
"She looks like a stern woman."
"Grandma Omi only looked stern. She was actually very kind."
"My boy, these past few years must have been very difficult for you, after your grandmother passed away."
Orion grumbled to himself. They sure have been. I've only stayed alive thanks to the occasional food rations from the system. Otherwise, I'd have become a transmigrator who starved to death.
Orion made up a story. "She left me some money. I was going to send myself back to the orphanage, but then I ran away again."
"Oh, so you're living all by yourself now?"
Wait a second... Headmaster Dumbledore, that Yan map of yours is a little short!
"Sigh... I can't just leave a young wizard to fend for himself with no one to rely on. I've decided to take you back to Hogwarts early."
Dumbledore stood up and, from who knew where, produced a pointed wizard's hat, which he plopped onto Orion's head.
That hat looked like it was worth 3,600 yuan.
"Go pack your things, Orion."
Seeing the kindly old man from a moment ago turn into a weird old guy eager to whisk a child back to school, Orion decided to put up a fight.
"Um... Headmaster, how about I just wait and enroll at the usual time?"
"That's all right, my boy. You'll be starting in six months anyway. We'll just treat these extra six months as your pre-school education."
Orion...
Left with no choice, Orion packed his things. There wasn't much to gather, since he had a general store system and wanted for nothing.
In the bathroom, Orion looked in the mirror and tied his long hair up like the ancients.
With his hair done like a grown man's, he looked at his reflection. He couldn't quite call himself handsome and dashing; he was more sweet and charming.
"If it grows longer, maybe in a few years I'll defy fate and turn back into a tough guy?"
A tiny child of about ten left the bathroom, his silhouette so desolate, so forlorn.
When he returned to the living room, Headmaster Dumbledore had a suitcase in his hand. With a wave of his wand, Orion's luggage flew into it by itself.
"Come on, my boy. We still have to stop by Diagon Alley and get your school supplies ahead of term."
Dumbledore took Orion's hand. With a bang, they vanished from the spot.
Before you continue