The night deepened. Outside, a truck rumbled over the wet road.
London was undergoing financialization, Canary Wharf was rising, but the street where the orphanage stood was still piled with uncollected garbage bags.
The room always smelled of disinfectant, but it couldn't cover the stale odor. The matrons were exhausted, and the children were as wary as injured little animals.
Sean was curled up in his old, cheap synthetic fiber quilt, fast asleep.
Just moments before, he had tested his newly unlocked green-tier talent.
All he wanted to say was:
"What kind of hardship was I living before?"
So *this* was what it was like to get a successful practice attempt after just three tries?
So *this* was what it felt like for a wizard to have some perception of spell pronunciation?
For example, with "Scourgify," he had always thought it was "Scour—g—ify." But just now, a sudden thought struck him: why couldn't it be "S—cour—g—ify"?
Then, in a certain mysterious state, he achieved his first [Proficient] rating.
A full 10 proficiency points!
What used to take him five days of progress,
He achieved in five seconds!
No wonder it was called the magical world; he was starting to get a taste of it.
Tomorrow was the day Professor McGonagall would come for him. He hoped he could perform well enough, at least to meet the minimum standard for the scholarship.
Speaking of which, what was the scholarship standard for first-year wizards at Hogwarts?
Sean didn't know, but he was determined to reach it.
No special reason. Just his cheat.
As long as he could persistently study magic, he would surely stand at the pinnacle of the magical world.
Filled with beautiful fantasies about the future, Sean fell into a deep sleep.
...
September 1st, 1991.
This was a special day. Sean was leaving the orphanage.
He efficiently packed his clothes. Only two undershirts and two pairs of trousers were still barely usable; the rest were either too big or too small.
As he dragged a cheap suitcase to the door of his room, he was surprised to discover how few things in the orphanage actually belonged to him.
"Sean, you'd better not come crawling back because you can't afford the fees! You'll get what's coming to you if you do!"
Matron Anna twisted her fat body, her tone as sharp and harsh as ever.
"Don't you worry about it! Square-shaped Auntie! Hope *you* don't get kicked out because of the recent layoffs! But judging by your performance, you're definitely getting the sack!"
With that, Sean swiftly ran towards the entrance, leaving only the sound of Matron Anna's shrill curses behind him.
Sean didn't understand those slang terms, simply assuming she was cursing him.
Whew— Finally, he could properly talk back to that cylinder. It was her who had turned a blind eye to the original's serious illness, one of the culprits behind his death.
In this world, no one knew about the original's death. Sean, who had crossed over from another world, was the only one who knew.
Cursing her out like that was just collecting a bit of interest on the original's behalf.
On a normal day, this would be unthinkable. But now, he just went ahead and did it.
My god, Sean, what's gotten into you? You're really something else, you guy!
Smiling, Sean jogged up to the peeling painted door. A faded "Holisee Orphanage" plaque hung crookedly above it, shaking dust in the wind.
Below the plaque, stood Professor McGonagall, wearing square spectacles, her black hair curled and tied in a high bun, dressed in deep green robes paired with a tartan shirt, exuding a serious aura.
But when she saw the thin Sean running towards her, the corners of her mouth still turned up slightly.
"Professor McGonagall, sorry to have kept you waiting."
Sean had run all the way to Professor McGonagall. His health was poor, and running a few steps left him breathless, but he always ran to meet Professor McGonagall.
It was the same when they went shopping last time. When Professor McGonagall asked him why, the little guy had replied in a barely audible voice:
"Important people.. are to be seen on the run."
The elderly cat-woman (affectionate thought) didn't say anything, but her heart melted into a puddle.
"You can slow down, Mr. Green. We have plenty of time."
Professor McGonagall's voice wasn't as stern as her expression. She gently took Sean's hand.
But then she suddenly noticed that this thin little fellow was looking at her carefully and intently.
"S—cour—g—ify."
As Sean waved his wand, the dust on Professor McGonagall's hair disappeared.
"Dirty things... shouldn't be... on your head."
Sean was still catching his breath. After doing this, his breathing became even more rapid. His voice was very soft, but also very stubborn.
Professor McGonagall gazed at Sean, slightly lost in thought, a flicker of surprise and gratification in her eyes.
"A passable Cleaning Charm. How long did it take you to learn it, Mr. Green?"
Professor McGonagall asked as she gently held his hand and walked slowly forward.
"I only learned it yesterday, Professor."
Sean was no longer out of breath. His head was bowed, his tone carrying a note of caution and lack of confidence.
"You've done very well, Mr. Green. It seems you truly have a chance at receiving that scholarship."
Professor McGonagall noticed his wariness and spoke these words of encouragement with a smile.
Sean remained silent, merely raising his head to look at Professor McGonagall with wide, shining eyes before quickly averting his gaze.
Inside, he was already popping the champagne cork.
Based on Professor McGonagall's character, her saying this meant his scholarship was half in the bag. Although playing the part of a pitiful orphan wasn't exactly moral, to secure the scholarship, escape the lethal orphanage, and survive, Sean had no choice.
His body still needed recuperation, and the scholarship was the money he had the best hope of earning.
Sure enough, Professor McGonagall revealed more about the scholarship with her next sentence.
"Headmaster Dumbledore has already approved it. If you can achieve an 'Outstanding' in all seven of your subjects within the first month, you will be granted a scholarship of six hundred Galleons."
Professor McGonagall calmly delivered the news that set Sean's heart racing. She looked at the young boy beside her, seemingly waiting for his smile.
Unexpectedly, Sean only hung his head lower.
After a long moment, his voice, faint, finally sounded:
"...Thank you, Professor. Actually, I read in a book that Hogwarts doesn't offer scholarships to first-year witches and wizards. Thank you for your efforts, allowing me to study magic."
After saying this, he fell silent.
These were his sincere words.
Professor McGonagall was stunned for a moment. Then, her heart, like her smile, softened gradually.
"You deserve this, Mr. Green. You need not thank anyone for such a thing."
She glanced at Sean inadvertently, only to meet his cautious, peeking gaze for the third time.
"How long have you been practicing that charm?"
Before reaching the platform, Professor McGonagall asked one final question.
"Thirteen hours, Professor."
Sean answered honestly.
"In total?"
The Professor's eyes flickered, seeming somewhat heavy.
"Every day."
...
The train station was bustling with noise. Sean dragged his heavy suitcase, struggling to navigate through the bustling crowd.
"The Hogwarts Express is right behind that platform. Don't be afraid, just walk straight into it, Mr. Green."
Professor McGonagall's words echoed in his mind. Looking at the solid wall, even though he knew it would be fine, Sean still felt a twinge of worry. But thinking that Professor McGonagall might still be watching, he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and melted into the wall.
Though to a certain elderly cat-woman, it looked like Sean charged towards the wall without a moment's hesitation.
"That child trusts you a great deal, Minerva."
An aged voice appeared beside Professor McGonagall.
"Getting 'Outstanding' in all seven subjects is no simple task. Do you believe he can do it?"
Prompted by a certain sense of amusement, a certain white-haired wizard asked this with a chuckle.
"Albus, even if only one person in the entire Hogwarts could manage it, I believe it would be Sean."
Professor McGonagall's gaze was firm. She was still immersed in the "thirteen hours every day."
Even during her most intense periods of study, she couldn't maintain that level of dedication for two consecutive months.
Let alone the troublemaking young wizards currently at Hogwarts.
"Sean is a pitiable child, and also a... well-behaved and sensible one. He deserves that scholarship."
Professor McGonagall was silent for a moment before offering this assessment.