"If you insist on going to that so-called Hogwarts school, then pay the fees yourself! The orphanage won't spend a single penny on you!"
"I understand, Nurse Anna."
…
Shawn watched as Nurse Anna walked into the common lounge and closed the door softly.
If the sound had been too loud, she would take it as a sign of defiance—and dinner would change from cheap pork sausage to baked beans on bread.
If you didn't drink tap water, that meal could choke you to death. But the tap water was never clean. Drinking too much made you sick, and getting sick in this poor orphanage on the southern outskirts meant only one thing—death.
How did Shawn know that so clearly? Because the original Shawn had died exactly that way.
Sickness, cold, and malnutrition had taken his life. Since the day the new "Shawn" crossed over last winter, he had remembered that lesson well. He drank low-grade red tea whenever possible, sometimes even fighting the older kids for a bit of instant coffee—even if it meant two nights without sleep.
Over the past half-year, he had figured out his situation. It was late August, 1991.
This was the world of Harry Potter, specifically Croydon, one of London's poorest districts.
And the Hollisay Orphanage, where he now lived, was the poorest of them all.
Why?
Because there was only one orphanage here—and it had been opened just to boost political image.
Just like in the Britain of his previous life.
At the end of 1990, "The Iron Lady," Margaret Thatcher, stepped down. Her Thatcherism had reformed the economy—but widened the gap between rich and poor.
The financiers of the City thrived, their wealth multiplying, while the traditional industrial areas and inner-city slums like Croydon suffered unemployment and cuts in public services.
Especially here, in Croydon.
The Hollisay Orphanage hadn't received proper funding in five years. The result: a shortage of supplies so severe that children didn't even have clean water or proper blankets for winter.
Without getting into Hogwarts, Shawn might not survive to adulthood—his health was fragile.
Even a small fever could kill him. Not because London lacked doctors, but because cruel caretakers might simply "fail to notice" a sick child.
"Hogwarts is tuition-free. As for other expenses, Professor McGonagall approved a scholarship for me."
Shawn reached into the deepest corner under his iron bedframe and pulled out a pouch. Inside were 143 Galleons, a wand, several robes, and a few other essentials.
He had purchased everything from the school list at the bare minimum. Even so, it cost him 157 Galleons. Now, barely half his savings remained—and tomorrow was Hogwarts' opening day.
"I need to work harder. If I can't get that academic scholarship, I'm doomed… My Galleons won't last."
When he had met Professor McGonagall for the admission and shopping trip, she had mentioned a scholarship, but only for outstanding students.
Would Shawn count as outstanding?
Not likely. He had needed five hundred tries just to master the Levitation Charm.
Still, he had one unique advantage.
[Status Panel]
Name: Shawn Green
Identity: Wizard
Title: None
Proficiency:
Levitation Charm – Apprentice (1/300)Lumos Charm – Apprentice (1/300)Scouring Charm – Locked (27/30)
Unlock Conditions:
Three Apprentice-level spells unlock the Spellcraft Apprentice title.
Three Beginner-level spells unlock the Spellcraft Novice title.
Yes—Shawn had a proficiency system panel!
It worked simply: practice correctly, and points would increase. Once you mastered three Apprentice spells, you'd unlock a special title bonus.
Sounds easy, right?
But for Shawn, even that took two months—with barely one and a half correct casts a day.
A hopeless magical talent—probably the result of the soul travel itself.
He sometimes felt as though the entire magical world was targeting him.
Still, if that world ignored him, all the better.
"Today, I must unlock my first title!"
Determined, Shawn grabbed his wand, stepping lightly over the creaky floorboards. He peered out of the drafty single-pane window.
The rows of Victorian-style semi-detached houses in South London's slums were dark and silent.
"Good. Everyone's asleep. As long as I'm careful, no one will notice."
If the original occupant left him anything useful, it was this private, isolated single room—given to him because of the fear of contagion.
Now, it offered the perfect sanctuary for practising magic.
"Scourgify!"
Shawn clearly enunciated the incantation, tracing an S-shaped motion with his wand at the dirty poster.
No change.
He didn't mind and tried again.
Only through practice did he realise just how tricky magic could be.
Where should the stress in Scourgify fall? How strong should the voice be? How big should the S-motion appear? Faster here, slower there?
He knew "Scour" meant to clean and "ify" meant to make, so together it roughly meant "to make clean."
So his pause should fall between "Scour" and "ify." The rest—pure luck.
He could only rely on the proficiency notifications to judge success and improve.
"Scour—g—ify!"
With his fifth try, the wand movement smooth, the light suddenly flashed—
the poster shimmered and lost its grime.
[You practiced the Scouring Charm at novice efficiency. Proficiency +3]
[Scouring Charm Unlocked]
[New Spellcraft Title Unlocked: View Details]
[A Wizard Talent Has Been Activated: View Details]
Success!
Shawn joyfully inspected the now-spotless poster, marveling at the wonder of magic.
Apparently, "correct practice" had tiers too—Apprentice (+1) and Novice (+3). Whether more existed beyond that, he didn't know. With his talent, even reaching Novice felt like Merlin's blessing.
"Let's see my new title."
He opened the panel eagerly. New lines appeared:
[Title: Spellcraft Novice]
— Slightly increases spell perception and magical aptitude.
Under it read:
[Wizard Shawn: Talent – Green (boosted by Novice title; base talent: White). Note: Average wizards start at Green.]
Shawn let out a sharp breath.
White-level trash talent?!
No wonder he had struggled so much—his original aptitude was practically nonexistent.
Good thing he had the panel; otherwise, the path ahead would've been miserable.
After a brief pause, his expression hardened again.
No talent? Then he'd compensate with repetition!
(End of Chapter)