Lin Mei stood in a spacious, well-lit room, surrounded by the faint fragrance of fresh ink from a new book and the crisp, clean scent left by housework magic.
With a casual wave of his wand, the seemingly ordinary broom sprang to life, deftly weaving between the furniture, while a feather duster floated in the air, delicately sweeping away dust from every corner. To an outsider, this sight would be nothing short of astonishing, but for Lin Mei, it was just another part of his magical routine.
"So that's it... Magic can be used this way too!" he mused, his gaze never straying from the pages of One Hundred Uses of Household Magic. "It may not be combat magic, but it's certainly convenient."
He had stumbled upon the book the previous day in a dusty corner of Flourish and Blotts. Its worn cover had piqued his curiosity, and since then, he had devoured its contents, immersing himself in its practical spells. By now, he had committed every spell and incantation to memory.
The book contained both intricate enchantments and simple, everyday charms. Lin Mei found himself particularly fascinated by the household spells—magic that simplified cleaning, cooking, and even temperature control. They weren't grand or destructive, but they made life significantly easier.
Yet, memorization was not the same as mastery.
Though he had absorbed all the first-year textbooks with his exceptional memory, many complex magical theories and spell structures still eluded him. He knew that true understanding would come only with practice—and, perhaps, with guidance from Hogwarts' professors.
But that would have to wait until after the Sorting Ceremony.
For now, the faculty was busy preparing for the new students' arrival.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
A sharp rapping on the door interrupted his thoughts. As Lin Mei turned his head, a strong, unmistakable scent of garlic filled the air.
"Lin Mei, correct? Professor McGonagall sent me to escort you to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony."
Lin Mei glanced out the window. The sun was already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows over the grounds.
"So late already?" he murmured, surprised at how much time had slipped by.
Opening the door, he was met by a professor he hadn't seen in the past two days. The man's turban, combined with the lingering odor of garlic, made his identity obvious before he even introduced himself.
"Lin Mei, my name is Quirinus Quirrell. I will be your professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
As Quirrell spoke, his posture was slightly stiff, his expression wary—as if he were afraid of Lin Mei.
Lin Mei, however, knew the truth. The fear in Quirrell's eyes wasn't mere nervousness; it was the influence of the being lurking beneath that turban.
Voldemort.
Of course, to the average Hogwarts student, the Dark Lord was a terrifying legend. But Lin Mei was no ordinary wizard.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He's just a fragmented soul clinging to the back of a mediocre wizard's head. Hardly someone I need to fear.
If push came to shove, Lin Mei was confident that his Dragon Slayer Magic could obliterate Quirrell in an instant. He had no doubt that his magic could rival—perhaps even surpass—the infamous Killing Curse.
If given the chance, he would ensure that Voldemort was treated no better than the Hulk treated Loki.
For a brief moment, his magic flared, a subtle but unmistakable surge of power in the air. His dragon-infused blood pulsed with heat, and a flicker of excitement lit up his eyes.
Quirrell visibly flinched.
"M-Master... this boy... he feels... dangerous," Quirrell stammered internally, his body rigid with unease.
"Pathetic," Voldemort sneered. "You're trembling before a mere child?"
If he had a choice, the Dark Lord would have possessed a worthier host. But for now, he was stuck with Quirrell's weak body.
And now, his greatest enemy had arrived at Hogwarts.
Lin Mei stepped forward, his expression calm, but his gaze unwavering.
"Shall we?" he said.
Quirrell swallowed hard and nodded, leading the way. As Lin Mei followed, he couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.
Hogwarts just got a lot more interesting.
Even if he didn't want to, Voldemort had no choice but to act through Quirrell, the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Through Quirrell's eyes, Voldemort observed Lin Mei closely.
"Why does this little wizard make me feel... uneasy?" he murmured to himself.
Unaware of the master and servant's internal conversation, Lin Mei simply responded to Quirrell's introduction before following him toward the gathering point for first-year students.
As they walked, Voldemort's thoughts grew unsettled.
"Why does this boy keep staring at the back of Quirrell's head? Is he onto me? Has my disguise been compromised? No, impossible! He's just a child! There's no way he can see through my deception."
Lin Mei, however, continued watching with an amused glint in his eyes, daring the Dark Lord to make a move. He was curious—did Voldemort have the nerve to attack him outright? If so, Lin Mei wouldn't mind turning this into a spectacle. Eliminating Voldemort now would secure him a peaceful academic life at Hogwarts.
Still, he knew he had to wait. Attacking a professor unprovoked would get him expelled. But if Voldemort made the first move... well, then it was fair game.
Both of them harbored ulterior motives. Voldemort's growing hostility was met with Lin Mei's calculated anticipation.
Before long, they arrived at the designated meeting place, where Quirrell hastily handed Lin Mei over to Professor McGonagall.
"Professor McGonagall, I've brought him. If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."
Without waiting for a response, Quirrell turned and practically fled the scene.
Professor McGonagall frowned. "Why is Mr. Quirrell acting so strangely?" she muttered before turning to Lin Mei. "Line up with the others. I'll take you all in shortly."
Lin Mei nodded and moved toward the group.
"Lin Mei! Over here!"
Hearing a familiar voice, he spotted Harry Potter waving enthusiastically. Lin Mei acknowledged him with a nod and made his way over.
Just then, an unwelcome voice cut through the chatter.
"Ha, so he knows Potter. And he looks Asian... Another Mudblood, I suppose."
The words were loud enough for everyone to hear, sending a chill through the air. Lin Mei's eyes narrowed slightly. His irritation was brief, but noticeable.
Professor McGonagall's expression turned icy. "Mr. Draco Malfoy, mind your words!" she snapped, her voice carrying a rare edge of anger.
It was clear that she had little patience for the so-called 'pure-blood' ideology.
Lin Mei turned his gaze toward the source of the insult—a blond boy flanked by two pudgy companions.
Recalling the events of the timeline, Lin Mei smirked slightly. Didn't this guy already embarrass himself on the train?
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