"If you insist on going to that… Hogwarts or whatever, then you can cover your own fees! The orphanage won't cough up a single penny!"
"I understand, Matron Anna."
…
Sean watched Matron Anna step into the common room and ease the door shut.
If it made too much noise and she decided you had an attitude, dinner would be downgraded from cheap pork sausages to baked beans on bread—stuff that could choke you if you didn't wash it down with tap water.
But the tap water was never clean; drink enough and you'd get sick. And once you fell ill in this poor orphanage on the southern outskirts, Death was what came for you.
How did Sean know that so well? Because the body's original owner died that way.
Disease, cold, and malnutrition took his life. Ever since the "Sean" who crossed over last winter arrived, he'd kept that lesson close. He stuck to cheap black tea whenever he could, and he'd even fight the older kids for a cup of instant coffee, even if it meant losing sleep for a day or two.
Over the past half-year, he'd pieced together his situation:
It was late August, 1991.
This was Croydon, in the world of Harry Potter, one of London's poorest districts.
And Hollisay Orphanage, where he lived, was the poorest of the poor.
Why?
Because there was only this one orphanage here, and it existed for the sake of someone's political record.
Just like the Britain he'd known in his previous life.
At the end of 1990, the "Iron Lady," Margaret Thatcher, stepped down. Thatcherism brought economic change—and sharply widened the wealth gap. The City thrived off deregulation and the gentlemen there saw their fortunes soar, while traditional industrial regions and inner-city poor areas faced unemployment and slashed public services.
Nowhere was it clearer than in Croydon. Hollisay Orphanage hadn't had proper funding in five years. Money was so tight that every child lacked safe drinking water and went through winter with a single thin blanket.
In circumstances like these, if he couldn't get into Hogwarts, he might not even live to adulthood—his health had always been poor. Even a mild cold could finish him—not because London's medicine lagged, but because the mean-spirited carers didn't always "notice in time" when a child fell ill.
"Hogwarts doesn't charge tuition. As for books and supplies, I've got a bursary Professor McGonagall applied for."
Sean pulled a pouch from the far back of the iron bunk: one hundred and forty-three Galleons, a wand, a few robes, and other odds and ends.
He'd bought strictly to the minimums on the first-year list, and even so it had cost him a full hundred and fifty-seven Galleons. Less than half his savings for the year were left—and tomorrow was the first day of term at Hogwarts.
"I need to move fast. If I don't perform well enough and miss the scholarship, I'm done for… these Galleons definitely won't last…"
When she'd brought his letter and taken him shopping, Professor McGonagall had deliberately mentioned that award—but it was aimed at top-performing young wizards.
Would Sean perform at the top?
Slim chance. He'd needed five hundred tries just to learn the Levitation Charm.
Thankfully, he had a cheat.
[Name: Sean Green]
[Identity: Wizard]
[Title: None]
[Proficiencies]
[Levitation Charm (Wingardium Leviosa): Apprentice (1/300)]
[Lumos (Wand-Lighting Charm): Apprentice (1/300)]
[Scouring Charm (Scourgify): Locked (27/30)]
[Unlock requirement: Three Apprentice-level charms will unlock the Apprentice title in the Charms domain]
[Advance: Three Novice-level charms will unlock the Novice title in the Charms domain]
…
Yes—Sean had a proficiency panel, and it was genuinely useful: as long as he practiced correctly, the counter ticked up. An Apprentice-tier spell took only thirty correct reps to unlock, and three Apprentice-tier spells would unlock an Apprentice title for Charms.
It sounded easy enough—yet even that had taken him two months to barely pull off, averaging only about one and a half correct reps a day. His magical aptitude was, frankly, tragic. Maybe transmigrating was to blame.
He half-suspected the wizarding world he hadn't even met yet had it in for him—though, odds were, it had better things to do.
"Today I have to unlock that title!"
Brimming with resolve, Sean drew his wand, tiptoed over the warped floorboards, and poked his head out the drafty single-pane window.
The Victorian semi out in the poor southern suburbs lay silent.
"Good. They're all asleep. If I'm careful, no one will notice."
If the original owner had left him anything worthwhile, it was this separate, out-of-the-way single room. It had been assigned out of fear of contagion, but for Sean now it was undeniably a blessing: enough private space to practice magic.
"Scourgify!"
Sean enunciated at the grimy poster, tracing an S with his wand—but, alas, the counter didn't budge.
Unbothered, he cast again, wand drawing the same motion.
It wasn't until he started learning that he realised how opaque magic really was. Take this cleaning charm: where did the stress fall in the incantation, and how hard? What shape should the S be, big or small? Which parts should be fast, which slow?
He knew "scour" meant scrub clean and "-ify" meant "to make"; together it meant "make this clean." So the pause ought to sit between "scour" and "-ify." As for the S-shaped flourish—he'd have to gamble.
Fortunately he could judge success from whether the proficiency ticked up, and distil lessons from past correct attempts.
"Scour—g—ify!"
On the fifth try, he followed the pattern he'd worked out.
"Quick at the start, then slower; and make the last arc bigger…"
He muttered under his breath and moved his wand precisely as he had in his last success.
Light flashed; the poster on the desk shed its grime in an instant!
[You practiced Scouring Charm once at Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
[Scouring Charm unlocked]
[A new title in the Charms domain has been unlocked. Please check]
[A wizarding talent has been unlocked. Please check]
Success!
Sean picked up the newly cleaned poster, examined it, and couldn't help marveling at magic. As for that "Novice standard": just as spell effects varied, so did the standard for a "correct" practice—Apprentice and Novice.
Apprentice gave +1 proficiency; Novice gave +3. Whether there was a standard beyond Novice, he had no idea. With his talent, hitting Novice at all was already a blessing from Merlin.
"Let's see the new title."
He pulled up the panel; three new lines flickered into view:
[Title: Charms Novice]
[Slightly increases perception of charms; slightly improves talent with charms]
Sean read on:
[Wizard Sean — Charms Talent: Green (boosted by Charms Novice title; original talent: White). Note: average wizard is Green]
Sean sucked in a sharp breath.
White-tier trash?!
No wonder he couldn't learn spells. With stats like that, even if it blew up you'd still have to compliment how loud it was.
Luckily he had his cheat. Without it, he couldn't imagine how brutal the road ahead would be.
After a brief look, his eyes grew resolute.
No talent? Then grind it out.
Let's see your limits, panel—stack that proficiency!