Number 6, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
Morning sunlight streamed through the second-floor window, casting its light onto the wooden floor.
A persistent knocking interrupted the boy's focused pencil-sharpening.
He looked up, seeing a plump shadow cast on the floor.
Upon identifying the shadow's owner, he couldn't help but mutter.
"I know I'm an extraordinary person."
"But this is a bit much."
The eleven-year-old boy was a head taller than other children.
His tall, slender figure was complemented by a gray-blue waistcoat suit, and the gold pocket watch chain on the waistcoat made the pencil sharpener in his hand look as elegant as a wine glass.
He stood up, moving from the shadows into the sunlight.
Sunlight spilled over his dark, smooth hair, and his feather-like eyelashes fluttered against the sunlight entering the room.
His reddish-brown eyes squinted slightly, uncomfortable in the bright light, and his finely sculpted nose and lightly colored lips pursed slightly.
With half-Slavic heritage, the boy lacked the characteristic freckles of Western children, his fair and delicate face resembling a prince from a fairy tale.
He neatly arranged the pencils on the table, handling them as if they were his artwork.
John Wick stared outside, where an owl incessantly pecked at his window, trying to deliver a letter.
This made him fall into deep thought.
An owl wasn't a big deal. After all, this wasn't the era of the old penguin mail service; writing letters wasn't unusual.
But an owl delivering a letter was strange.
Carefully observing the letter, the envelope was made of heavy parchment, and the writing was done in emerald green ink.
Everything was fine until he saw the wax seal.
It was a shield crest, featuring a large 'H' surrounded by a lion, eagle, badger, and snake.
"Could it be that?"
From his name, John, it was clear he was a peace-loving person, and he also had an undisclosed secret.
Yes, he was a transmigrator.
From the moment he came into this world, he knew he was extraordinary, especially since he was John Wick.
Sharing a name with the bloodthirsty avenger who slaughtered a gang over a dog in the "John Wick" series meant his life was destined to be remarkable.
Therefore, he specifically trained to kill three people with a pencil, successfully earning the title of "Pencil Killer" among his peers.
He was confident that even in dangerous situations, he could calmly pull out a pencil to threaten his opponent to drop their weapon.
But he never expected that he was in an unusual world, not an ordinary one.
This world had wizards who could make someone forget everything with a wave of their wand or enter one's mind to extract information without any scruples.
A group of humans with supernatural powers, including twisted maniacs like Grindelwald and Voldemort.
"So my pencil-killing skills were all in vain?"
John regretfully glanced at the neatly arranged pencils. He had trained for ten years, only to find himself in a magical world.
No matter how skilled a killer you are, can you kill a wizard?
For wizards, even difficult ailments could be easily cured, let alone the mysterious magic they wielded.
"Forget it, as Confucius said, 'Accept it since you're here.' Since I'm here, they might as well be buried here."
After pondering for a while, he opened the window.
The owl, left outside for a long time, finally flew in, angrily throwing the letter at John's face.
The owl turned and flew away without even asking for food, an indication of how annoying this child was to become a new student at Hogwarts.
"Tsk, no manners. Are these owls raised by Hagrid? How does he tolerate them?"
John took down the letter, grumbling about the poor manners of Hogwarts' owls, and opened it.
"Dear Mr. Wick,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress"
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
"September 1, there's still some time left."
At the same time, a voice echoed in his mind.
[Ding, a hidden corner of the world has been discovered, initiating a series of tasks: Hogwarts.]
Indeed, the golden finger.
The so-called golden finger that comes with every transmigrator.
At the age of five, John discovered a panel had suddenly appeared in his mind.
This was the main reason he could master the skill of killing three people with a pencil at the age of eleven.
The panel was quite simple, aside from issuing tasks, it had only two functions.
Buffs and skill points.
Buffs, as the name suggests, are similar to various in-game buffs.
Skill points could be used to level up skills.
Both buffs and skill points could be obtained by completing randomly issued tasks.
For example, John had a proficiency in short weapons at level 7, meaning he could easily defeat three adults with just a pencil.
According to his original plan, he would use the skill points to become a versatile athlete or get admitted to the top university.
These plans had been disrupted by the arrival of the acceptance letter.
The panel now had an additional feature: magic power.
This undoubtedly confirmed the authenticity of the letter.
It was now July.
John needed to figure out how to convince his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wick, that their son was a wizard.
...
"John, this joke is not funny."
Mr. Watson Wick looked at his son, his expression stern. "You managed to make me leave work and come to school to apologize to four kids using a pencil, but you can't torment your father with such unfunny jokes."
Watson Wick was John's father in this life. He had golden-brown hair and reddish-brown eyes, with a prominent nose and a well-fitting suit, embodying the typical British elite.
John, on the other hand, took after his mother more. Mrs. Wick had the same black hair. This beauty from the Russian Bear country even wore a dress exuding mature charm.
As middle-class elites, the Wick family didn't believe John's words.
Mrs. Wick, aligning with Watson, held a coffee-filled, gold-rimmed bone china cup, her eyes showing the helplessness of a parent facing a child's lie.
"It was three, and I'm not joking," John retorted.
It was clearly three people; the other one fell while running towards him, which had nothing to do with him.
"Is that so? That little fat boy named Dudley didn't say so. He even ate the entire apology cake by himself. I can't believe how he managed it."
Watson looked at his son with a half-smile.
Realizing he was in the magical world, John felt something was off. Could that fat boy Dudley be Harry Potter's cousin?
Ultimately, after John's persistent argument, Mr. and Mrs. Wick reluctantly agreed to give John a chance.
Thus, days passed by one by one.
John earned a new nickname from the Wick family: Little Wizard.
However, somehow, the news got out, and a group of kids who didn't get along with John came to mock him. In response, John pulled out a pencil, scaring them to run home crying for their moms.