The bright moon hung high in the sky, only to be silently swallowed by a layer of dark clouds. The night over the London suburbs dimmed in an instant. A cool breeze swept through, and a light rain began to fall—the gentle patter of raindrops on rooftops forming a symphony of the late night. The rain reached the sea as well, where it created endless ripples.
A faint light flickered behind the window of a seaside villa on King's Road, Whitstable. Inside, a figure sat at a mahogany table near a large French window.
After returning to his room that evening, Brian had dumped all the items he purchased in one corner, then sat down to record the day's events.
He had met Harry Potter, crossed paths with Quirrell—already possessed by Voldemort—and even encountered the mysterious Ollivander.
Damn it. He had planned to keep his distance from Harry, yet he hadn't even arrived at Hogwarts and was already friends with him. This wasn't a transmigrator's advantage—it was a nightmare.
Harry Potter's protagonist halo only shielded the Golden Trio. Getting too close to him at school meant suspicion from Dumbledore and Snape. Staying outside school meant dealing with Voldemort. That completely derailed Brian's grand plan of quietly developing and steadily getting rich.
Brian rubbed his temples, recalling everything he knew from the movies. Then he let out a slight sigh of relief and circled "Ravenclaw" and "Hufflepuff" in his notebook.
The Sorting Hat had a mind of its own. But a mind meant desires. And if it had desires, it could be reasoned with. He would find what it wanted and persuade it to place him in one of those two houses. That way, his survival strategy could get back on track.
Why not Slytherin?
Firstly, Slytherin always shared classes with Gryffindor. Secondly, the Head of Slytherin was Snape—master of Legilimency and overly protective of Harry. If Snape suspected anything, Brian would be finished.
To be a slacker, you had to eliminate all risks.To survive, you had to stay under the radar.
Satisfied, Brian nodded and drew several bold lines under Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. With that, half his worries about Hogwarts seemed to vanish, and his mood brightened.
Unable to sleep, he grabbed his first-year textbook—Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1—and flipped through it, wondering if he could complete the system's task.
According to the system, he had to successfully cast a spell without guidance in order to receive the beginner's reward. In other words, the so-called Chicken Soup System actually expected him to learn a spell on his own.
Damn it. He had been transmigrated for over ten years and had never once felt anything magical about himself. Nothing strange had ever happened.
But that didn't matter. According to his new plan, the priority was finding the simplest spell possible. Wearing a red bathrobe, Brian sat cross-legged on a high mahogany chair, flipping through the textbook seriously.
"Lumos!"
Brian picked up his wand, studied the incantation and spell description in Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, and, imitating the movie scene, pointed his wand forward and chanted the spell.
A hair-thin, blue-green light flashed at the wand's tip—then vanished instantly.
Brian stared in surprise, shook his head, and chuckled weakly. "As expected. It failed."
He tried again—dozens of times. Still no success. But oddly, Brian wasn't frustrated. Instead, he felt unusually calm. He set the wand down, returned to the table, and began to take notes.
In those attempts, his wand had flickered over 40% of the time. That meant he did have magical talent. So the issue likely lay in how he was channeling his magic power into spell energy.
After all, even the Wizarding World probably obeyed some form of energy conservation. More magic power meant stronger spells. But poor output meant energy loss.
Brian thought back carefully. In his few semi-successful attempts, he had felt a faint warmth in the fingers holding the wand. Maybe that was the key—the connection between him and the wand. But he couldn't sense where exactly the warmth came from, meaning he had little control over his magic power.
The novels never mentioned where magic came from in the human body. So maybe that wasn't the problem.
Still, if Hogwarts never taught the origin of magic or its essence, then what was Charms class even for?
Professor Flitwick's teaching style was simple: introduce the spell, demonstrate it, then have students mimic him. It was more like a hands-on workshop than real theory plus practice.
The Wizarding World seemed to operate that way in general. Most wizards simply used their wands to channel internal magic, combined with gestures and spoken incantations.
Brian felt he was starting to understand something. Out of these three components, only one was key for casting Lumos at his level.
Wand guidance? Too mysterious—wands had been studied for centuries without full understanding.
Gestures? The book gave no real detail, so maybe they weren't crucial for basic spells.
That left the incantation. Perhaps the pronunciation, tone, or even speed mattered.
Brian suddenly laughed, shaking off his earlier seriousness. "Right. If I list out every way of saying Lumos, I'll get it eventually."
It was a dumb method—but right now, the most reliable one.
So, he scribbled 84 variations of the Lumos incantation and began testing them one by one.
"Lumos!"
...
He repeated the process again and again, failing over and over, until finally—
A stable, soft blue light glowed from his wand. It lasted a few seconds, but it was real.
Brian had succeeded.
Chicken Soup is never late.
"Congratulations, Host. You have completed the Newbie Task. System reward distribution commencing..."
He grinned. His instincts had been right. Finally—his golden finger had activated.
"To the young man destined to stand atop the Wizarding World:
Congratulations on completing the Newbie Task and taking your first true step toward greatness.
Rewards:– 2 Upgrade Points– 1-Hour Potion Legend Experience Card– Permanent Automatic Occlumency."
Three skill unlocks in one go!
Brian's eyes sparkled. He quickly opened the system panel:
Host: BrianMessage: Strive hard, young man, to become the strongest Wizard at the pinnacle of the Wizarding World!!Basic Magic: Lumos [Unranked]Advanced Magic: Occlumency [Level 7 (Automatic)]Courses: Charms [Unranked]Upgrade Points: 2 points
New sections had appeared. A strange force now shielded Brian's mind—his thoughts, memories, and emotions all protected.
The system explained the Upgrade Points too: they could be used to level up spells and abilities across all categories, including Alchemy and Potions. Skills were tiered as:
Spells:
Basic (Lv. 1–5)
Intermediate (Lv. 1–7)
Advanced (Lv. 1–9)
Ultimate (Lv. 1–11)
Skills (e.g., Potions, Alchemy):
Novice → Beginner → Intermediate → Advanced → Master → Legend
But what excited Brian the most was permanent Occlumency—this meant Snape, Dumbledore, and even Voldemort couldn't peek into his mind and discover he was a transmigrator.
Praise the system—this wasn't just Chicken Soup. It was pure gold.
Still, something bothered him. Stroking his chin, he whispered to the system, "Hey… should Occlumency only seal my memories of transmigrating and having this system?"
Silence.
Then the voice returned:
"For the Host's safety, the system will permanently seal all memories related to transmigration and the system.
Cost: 5 upgrade points. Host currently owes 3."
Brian froze.
Wait… what?
The system could control what was sealed? That was… genius. Absolutely the safest option.
Just imagine: some slacker student at Hogwarts, completely immune to Legilimency. Dumbledore would go mad.
But—
OWES THREE UPGRADE POINTS?!
Brian nearly cried.
"System, I don't want it anymore! Give me back my points! Damn it!"
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