The newly hatched little one, hearing its master's description, chirped angrily, even forgetting to eat its eggshell.
Staggering out, it pecked at Wayne's fingers.
But being newly born, its attacks felt more like tickling. Wayne scratched his head in confusion, unsure why it was so upset.
"Wait, no Pokémon evolves to its final form right after hatching. You must be a Spearow."
The 'Spearow' stopped pecking, its whole body trembling, before resuming at an even faster pace.
Even the system couldn't take it anymore and unusually intervened on its own.
[Host, this is Ho-Oh.]
"Bloody hell!" The expletive slipped out as Wayne stared at the little one in shock. "This is Ho-Oh?"
Looking closer, it did bear some resemblance to Ho-Oh, though it was featherless and looked more like a Fearow.
The little one proudly lifted its head, as if saying, "Master, you've finally recognised me."
Then it turned its backside to Wayne and started munching on the eggshell. Watching Ho-Oh devour its meal, Wayne was overcome with euphoria.
This was Ho-Oh—a legendary Pokémon with all sorts of mystical abilities, even capable of reviving the dead.
While its combat prowess might not be the strongest compared to other Legendaries, it was still far beyond ordinary Pokémon, even pseudo-Legendaries.
Compared to the Phoenixes of this world, Ho-Oh would undoubtedly surpass them by leaps and bounds. The system's two gift packs were truly generous—one was an S-rank template card that elevated Wayne's talent to a historic level.
The other was a pet, none other than Ho-Oh, instantly raising the prestige bar to the max.
'System, how can I level up Ho-Oh?' Wayne asked.
[By absorbing energy-rich food, Ho-Oh can grow naturally over time. Defeating other magical creatures also grants battle experience, accelerating its growth.]
Wayne nodded—the requirements seemed simple enough.
Watching the little one nearly finish its eggshell, Wayne couldn't help but smile.
"I'll just call you Ho-Oh from now on. Once I get to Hogwarts, I'll take you to the Forbidden Forest to grind levels so you can reach your full potential sooner."
Hearing its master's words, Ho-Oh let out a chirp, flapping its tiny wing against its chest as if making a promise.
In the days that followed, Wayne took on the role of a doting caretaker, tending to Ho-Oh at home every day. He bought a large stock of pet food from the magical creature store, letting Ho-Oh pick its favourite flavours, and even splurged on a few bottles of graphorn milk, which the little one adored.
...
A week later, Hermione returned the book to Wayne.
When he asked if she wanted to borrow any others, she declined. She was starting to revise her first-year textbooks early to avoid falling behind once the term began.
Wayne was speechless. Most people cram the night before class, but who started preparing during summer break?
Truly, the overachiever of Hogwarts.
Back at home, aside from playing with Ho-Oh, Wayne didn't bother practising spells anymore. Instead, he shifted his focus to Herbology and Potions.
The most effective way to empty young wizards' pockets was by selling prank products or interesting potions, just like the twins.
Wayne needed to quickly improve his Potions skills, develop unique products, carve out a niche, avoid homogenised competition, and overtake the curve.
Thanks to his Memory Palace talent, his learning progress was astonishing. Even when he occasionally brewed potions himself, he never made any major mistakes.
But Wayne still wasn't entirely satisfied.
Compared to his other talents, which were mostly S-rank or higher, his A-rank Potions talent felt somewhat lacking.
Still, there was nothing he could do. He was practically penniless, with only a few dozen points to his name—not enough for a lucky draw.
For a while, Wayne found himself eagerly counting down to the start of term.
...
Finally, the 31st of August arrived.
After work that evening, Humphrey came straight to Wayne's house. He was staying the night to take Wayne to King's Cross Station first thing in the morning.
Looking at his sister's only son, Humphrey couldn't resist a bit of lecturing:
"Be careful in the wizarding world. From what I've gathered, they only ended a major upheaval ten years ago.
"If you're ever in danger, go straight to the Minister for Magic—or even to me. As long as it happens within the British Isles, I can sort it out for you."
By the end, Humphrey couldn't help but straighten his suit, his lips twitching into a smug grin.
Wayne caught on and ventured, "Uncle Humphrey… are you getting a promotion?"
"Nothing's confirmed yet," Humphrey waved modestly, but his smile gave him away.
"Sir Arnold has decided to retire. He thinks I've done a decent job."
Arnold—whom Wayne privately called the Great Dark Lord—was arguably the most powerful man in the British Isles. In this country, the Prime Minister is merely a politician pushed to the forefront, while the true chess players wielding power are the civil service secretaries.
"Then I'll congratulate Uncle in advance," Wayne raised his glass and drained the milk inside. Humphrey also finished his red wine, set down his glass, and sighed:
"Finally, we can be rid of that third-rate minister, Hacker."
Wayne looked at him meaningfully. "I think giving him a little push wouldn't be a bad thing."
"You mean... push Hacker up?" Humphrey wore an incredulous expression. "You can't be serious, Wayne. He... he's just a third-rate politician who graduated from the School of Politics and Economics. It's impossible."
"None of that matters. What's important is that you and Uncle Hacker have worked together for three years now—you know each other inside out.
"Rather than getting stuck with a less familiar partner, wouldn't it be better to keep working together? Not a bad arrangement, is it?"
At this, Humphrey fell into thought.
It was just as Wayne had said—if Hacker became Prime Minister, he wouldn't have to expend much effort to establish a working rhythm.
Though Hacker's mind was filled with nothing but votes and approval ratings, his occasional flashes of killer instinct could even leave Humphrey floundering.
But at his core, he was still a harmless, well-meaning politician—nothing to worry too much about.
"I'll consider what you've said. Alright, enough of this for now..."
...
The next day, at half past ten.
Wayne arrived punctually at King's Cross Station.