"If you insist on going to that Hogwarts for school, then pay your own tuition and miscellaneous fees! The orphanage can't spare you a single Knut!"
"I understand, Caregiver Anna."
Sean watched as Caregiver Anna walked into the common room and gently closed the door behind her.
He had learned long ago not to make noise at times like this. If Caregiver Anna thought he was dissatisfied or resentful, dinner would quietly change from cheap pork sausages to baked-bean bread—a punishment that was both petty and effective.
He poured himself a cup of red tea and drank it slowly. He never touched the tap water. That stuff could choke a person to death.
The water supply in the orphanage was always filthy. Drinking too much of it inevitably led to illness, and once you fell sick in this impoverished place in London's South District, what awaited you was not treatment, but the God of Death.
Sean knew this far too clearly.
Because the original owner of this body had died that way.
Disease, severe cold, and long-term malnutrition had claimed his life. The "Sean" who transmigrated into this body last winter had taken that lesson deeply to heart.
That was why he fought for cheap red tea whenever possible, and even risked a day or two of insomnia just to steal a cup of instant coffee from the older children. Staying awake was far better than falling ill.
Over the past six months, Sean had come to fully understand his situation.
It was late August, 1991.
This was the Croydon District of the Harry Potter world—one of the poorest areas in London.
And the Holifoss Orphanage, where he lived, was the poorest orphanage in the district.
Why?
Because it was the only orphanage here, established purely for political show.
Much like the Britain Sean remembered from his previous life.
At the end of 1990, the "Iron Lady," Margaret Thatcher, had stepped down. Thatcherism had brought economic reform, but it had also sharply widened the wealth gap. The City of London flourished under deregulation, and gentlemen in tailored suits saw their fortunes soar.
Meanwhile, traditional industrial zones and inner-city districts sank deeper into unemployment and shrinking public services.
Croydon was a prime example.
The Holifoss Orphanage had received no proper funding for five years. As a result, finances collapsed. Not only did the children lack access to clean drinking water, but each of them was given only a single thin blanket to survive the winter.
Under these circumstances, if Sean failed to enter Hogwarts, he might not even live to see adulthood.
His body had always been weak. Even a minor cold or fever could kill him—not because London lacked medical technology, but because the caregivers here would never "notice" a sick child in time.
"Hogwarts tuition is free," Sean muttered to himself. "As for miscellaneous fees, I still have a scholarship applied for by Professor McGonagall."
He reached into the deepest corner beneath his bunk bed and pulled out a small bag.
Inside were one hundred and forty-three Galleons, a wand, a set of robes, and several other items.
He had followed the enrollment list to the letter, purchasing only the bare minimum. Even so, it had cost a total of one hundred and fifty-seven Galleons, leaving him with less than half of his savings for the coming academic year.
And tomorrow was the opening day of Hogwarts.
"I have to hurry," Sean thought grimly. "If I don't perform well enough to earn a scholarship, I'm finished. These Galleons definitely won't be enough…"
When he had received his acceptance letter and purchased supplies, Professor McGonagall had deliberately mentioned a reward program—but it was reserved for outstanding young wizards.
Would Sean qualify as outstanding?
The answer was painfully obvious.
He had practiced the Levitation Charm more than five hundred times before barely mastering it.
Fortunately, he had a cheat.
A translucent panel floated quietly in front of his eyes.
[Name: Xien Green]
[Identity: Wizard]
[Title: None]
[Proficiency]
[Levitation Charm: Apprentice Level (1/300)]
[Lumos Charm: Apprentice Level (1/300)]
[Scouring Charm: Unlocked (27/30)]
[Three Apprentice-level spells can unlock an Apprentice-level Title in the Spell Domain]
[Three Entry-level spells can unlock an Entry-level Title in the Spell Domain]
Yes—Sean possessed a proficiency panel.
Its function was brutally practical. As long as he practiced a spell correctly, the panel recorded it and granted proficiency. Apprentice-level spells required thirty correct practices, and mastering three of them unlocked an Apprentice-level title.
On paper, it didn't sound difficult.
In reality, it had taken Sean two entire months to barely reach this point, averaging little more than one correct practice per day.
His magical talent was abysmal.
Sean didn't know whether this was a side effect of transmigration or simply fate mocking him. Sometimes, he even suspected that the magical world itself had it out for him.
Then again, the magical world probably didn't have time to care about someone like him.
"Tonight, I must unlock that title," Sean whispered.
He pulled out his wand and carefully stepped onto the warped wooden floorboards, peering out through the cracked, single-pane window. The Victorian semi-detached house in the impoverished South District lay silent under the night sky.
"Good," he murmured. "Everyone's asleep. As long as I'm careful, no one will notice."
If the original owner of this body had left him anything useful, it was this secluded single room. It had been assigned out of fear of disease transmission, but for the current Sean, it was a blessing.
Privacy meant survival.
It meant he could practice magic.
"Scourgify!"
Sean clearly chanted the spell and swung his wand in an S-shaped arc toward a filthy poster taped to his desk.
Nothing happened.
The proficiency number on the panel did not change.
Sean remained calm and tried again.
Only after repeated failure did he truly understand how obscure and demanding magic was.
Take the Scouring Charm, for example. Where should the stress of the incantation fall? How much force was required? How large should the S-shaped motion be? Where should it be fast, and where slow?
Sean knew that scour meant to wash, and -ify meant to make something so. Therefore, the pause should fall between the two syllables.
As for the wand movement, he could only rely on trial and error.
Fortunately, the panel allowed him to distinguish success from failure. As long as proficiency increased, he could record the sensation and refine it.
"Scour—g—ify!"
On his fifth attempt, Sean followed his accumulated experience exactly.
"Fast at the start, slow in the middle… and the final arc needs to be larger…"
Light suddenly flared.
The stains on the poster vanished in an instant.
[You have practiced the Scouring Charm to an entry-level standard. Proficiency +3]
[Scouring Charm unlocked]
[New Spell Domain Title unlocked]
[Wizard Talent unlocked]
Success.
Sean picked up the now-spotless poster and stared at it in awe.
So this was magic.
Entry-level proficiency granted three points at once, far more efficient than apprentice-level practice. Whether standards existed beyond entry-level, Sean had no idea—but with his talent, reaching this stage already felt like a miracle granted by Merlin himself.
"Let's see the new title."
He opened the panel eagerly.
[Title: Spell Novice]
[Effect: Slightly increases spell perception and spell talent]
Below it appeared another line.
[Wizard Sean — Spell Talent: Green]
[Note: With Spell Novice bonus. Original talent: White]
[Average wizards are rated Green]
Sean sucked in a sharp breath.
White?
So that was it.
No wonder learning spells had been so painfully difficult. With talent like this, it would be impressive if his magic even made a sound when it failed.
Fortunately, he had a cheat.
Without it, his future at Hogwarts would have been nothing short of despair.
Sean clenched his wand, eyes burning with determination.
"No talent?" he muttered. "Then I'll make up for it with repetition."
He raised his wand once more.
"Let me see your limit."
The panel shimmered softly in response.
"Add proficiency."