The first thing Reinhardt felt wasn't magic. It was a massive, throbbing headache that felt like a Hungarian Horntail was practicing its footwork inside his skull.
Ugh... did I get hit by a bus or a library?
As the pain receded, memories that weren't his began to slot into place like jagged puzzle pieces. St. Jude's Orphanage. London. Constant hunger. Cold floors. And a name: Reinhardt.
He opened his eyes and immediately winced. The room was dim, smelling of old dust and damp wood. He was lying on a bed that felt like it was stuffed with angry rocks rather than feathers. He sat up, his small 5-year-old hands trembling, and caught his reflection in a cracked piece of glass leaning against the wall.
"Whoa," he whispered.
Even under a layer of orphanage grime, the kid in the mirror was a showstopper. Shimmering silver hair that looked like moonlight, and eyes so silver they looked like polished Galleons. He looked less like a homeless orphan and more like a lost High Elf.
Well, at least I won't need a 'Beauty Charm' later in life, he thought with a smirk.
[Ding! User detected. Welcome, Reinhardt.]
Reinhardt froze. "A system? Please tell me I'm in a Slice-of-Life world with zero danger."
[World detected: Harry Potter Universe. Note: There are several 'divergences' from the original timeline.]
Reinhardt's heart skipped a beat. "You're kidding me, right? There are people here who can turn me into a ferret with a stick!"
[No, Host. I do not kid.]
"Fine. What changes? Is Voldemort a girl? Did Dumbledore retire to open a candy shop?"
[Host must discover changes through exploration. Information is not free.]
Reinhardt rolled his eyes. "Typical."
But as he closed his eyes to focus, he realized the System wasn't alone in his head. Deep in his consciousness, glowing with a divine, golden warmth, sat an ornate, terrifyingly powerful cup.
No way... His "soul" jaw dropped. That's the Holy Grail from the auction! It came with me?
[WARNING!] the System chimed, sounding slightly panicked. [Unidentified entity detected in Host's consciousness. It possesses Tier-0 energy. System cannot remove it. Host, what is that thing?]
Relax, System. It's a Holy Grail, Reinhardt replied mentally, feeling a wave of smugness. It grants one wish a year. It's basically the ultimate 'Undo' button.
He reached out to the Grail's power and immediately felt the "Rules" etched into it.
Rule 1: One wish per year.
Rule 2: No "Instant Death" wishes. (No wishing Voldemort into a pile of ash).
Rule 3: The wish must be within the power of the Grail's current stored mana.
Well, that's a buzzkill, Reinhardt thought, feeling a bit defeated. I guess I can't just wish to be the King of the World on Day One. He turned his attention back to the blue screen floating in his vision. "Alright, System. If you aren't a 'Kill Voldemort' button, what are you actually for?"
[I am the Gacha System, Host.]
Reinhardt paused. He knew exactly what that meant. "Oh... so I'm going to be a gambler."
[Precisely. Insert money, receive power. From potion ingredients to legendary bloodlines—everything has a price. Would you like to view your current balance?]
Reinhardt looked down at his oversized, moth-eaten shirt and his empty pockets.
"I'm a five-year-old orphan in 1980s London, System," he deadpanned. "My current balance is probably a button and a half-eaten cracker."