According to the list on the parchment, Peter found his assigned dormitory with ease.
Slytherin usually placed four students to a room, though the number could shift depending on admissions each year. This time, Peter was in luck—only three students had been assigned to his dorm. Fewer people meant more space, and less trouble.
The other two boys didn't even warrant names in his mind. If they were smart, they'd keep to themselves or move out altogether.
As Peter pushed open the door to his room, a golden-orange blur launched itself at him. A large tabby cat sprang into his arms and planted both front paws on his chest, purring loudly as it nuzzled beneath his chin.
"Alright, alright, Guoguocha, you clingy furball. You're getting heavy, you know that?"
"Meow~"
Peter chuckled as the cat bumped its head insistently against his jaw.
"Are you hungry? Sorry about that. Pets aren't allowed at the banquet, so you had to miss dinner… okay, okay, stop chewing my sleeve! I've got your dried fish right here. Tomorrow, you're eating breakfast with me."
He scratched the cat behind the ears, a soft smile spreading across his face. The sight of Guoguocha, so content and expressive, warmed him in a way few things did these days.
In his past life, he had been just another overworked office drone in a noisy, crowded city. Pets had been a luxury—time, space, and energy he couldn't afford. He'd originally bought Guoguocha on a whim, thinking the intelligent feline might help him keep an eye on Banban, the little troublemaker.
But over time, that little tabby had become far more than a set of eyes. He was family.
Peter watched him now, curled up comfortably on the desk, licking fish oil from his paw. The soft glow of torchlight danced across the stone walls of the dorm, casting a peaceful atmosphere that settled Peter's mind.
Still, as he reached for his wand and stretched his tired limbs, a sigh escaped his lips.
The look on Percy's face during the Sorting had been unreadable. Fred and George had been stunned. Even Ron hadn't said a word.
And what about Mum and Dad? How would they take the news that a Weasley had been sorted into Slytherin?
Peter closed his eyes for a moment and leaned against the headboard. Whatever storm was coming, he would face it. For now, he had something more pressing to take care of.
"System," he whispered.
The interface appeared instantly in front of his eyes.
But there was no helping it. Peter was a time traveler, after all, and he carried with him the thoughts and ambitions of a grown man.
Thankfully, the beginner reward had included the highest level of Occlumency. Without it, he might have exposed the secret of his rebirth—or at the very least, terrified the Sorting Hat with his adult thoughts.
No matter how cruel or cunning a child might naturally be, they were still bound by the limitations of youth. Their minds were immature, their ideas incomplete, and even their mischief came from a place of ignorance.
But an adult, with fully formed morals, social conditioning, and emotional complexity, was different. The mind of a grown-up could be restrained by laws, but not by innocence. Even fleeting thoughts could conceal unsettling truths. Unintended malice, subconscious biases, ambition without empathy—any of these could easily earn someone a one-way trip to Azkaban.
Peter shook the thoughts from his head and reached down to gently brush Guoguocha's soft fur. The cat purred loudly under his touch.
"System," he said calmly, "claim the reward."
A soft shimmer passed through the air, invisible to all but him.
[Reward Received]
[Free Talent Point +1]
[Magic Power +50]
The air pulsed faintly. It was a subtle disturbance—barely more than a ripple—but the cat immediately sensed it. Guoguocha raised her head to check on him, eyes sharp and watchful. Once she saw he was unharmed, she went back to nibbling on her dried fish.
Peter opened the system interface, watching the familiar blue glow unfold before his eyes.
[Host: Peter Weasley]
[Magic Power: 432](Note: 500 is the average for a trained adult wizard)
[Talents]
Charms: 7
Dark Arts: 6
Transfiguration: 7
Potions: 10
Herbology: 6
Divination: 2
(Max: 10)
[Known Spells]
Occlumency: Lv5 (MAX)
Shield Charm (Protego): Lv3 (3/8)
Disarming Charm (Expelliarmus): Lv2 (2/4)
Levitation Charm (Wingardium Leviosa): Lv2 (1/4)
Petrificus Totalus: Lv2 (1/4)
Fire-Making Spell (Incendio): Lv2 (2/4)
Lumos: Lv3 (0/4)
...
[Potion Mastery]
Joy Potion
Invigoration Draught
Blood-Replenishing Potion
Hair Softener
Hair Growth Serum
Beauty Elixirs (Master-level knowledge and full formulas included)
[Reputation Points: 17]
[Free Talent Points: 1]
[New Main Quest: Unlocked – View for Details]
Peter looked over his current stats. It had been nearly two months since he'd received his Hogwarts letter, and his progress was clear.
Compared to the beginning, his magic power had increased by 62 points—50 from the system reward and the rest from natural growth. That last part fascinated him.
He had often wondered how fast magic power developed naturally over time. The system had given him a clue: that growth rate depended heavily on magical talent.
Each young wizard had a different starting point, based on when their magic awakened. There was no standard template. However, Peter was confident that his higher talents in Charms, Transfiguration, and Dark Arts were all contributing significantly to his growth rate.
Potions and Herbology probably had little effect on raw magical power, and Divination… well, he doubted that added anything at all.
Even so, talent mattered beyond just numbers. It affected how quickly he learned, how deeply he understood the theory, and how well he could modify or combine spells.
Peter leaned back on the bed and stretched.
The increase in power felt stable. He wasn't overwhelmed, nor did it feel out of control. That meant he could safely focus on his next decision—where to invest that precious free talent point.
He thought carefully.
"Based on everything I've tested compared to Percy, Fred, and George… a talent level of 7 is already excellent," he murmured.
He had spent many afternoons subtly comparing himself to his siblings. Seven seemed to be Hermione-level, maybe even a touch beyond. For now, that was more than enough for rapid spell acquisition.
Dark Arts, however, was a different case. While he had decent affinity, he wouldn't be learning much black magic openly any time soon. Hogwarts didn't exactly hand out curses in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Peter frowned slightly, deep in thought.
The thing about Dark Arts was that they weren't just hard to learn—they required the right emotions to even work in the first place.
To cast the Killing Curse, one needed murderous intent and deep malice.
To tear bone from flesh with a spell, cruelty and hatred had to run deep.
Those infamous Death Eaters, with their twisted grins and unhinged eyes, weren't born lunatics. Their descent into madness had everything to do with their repeated use of these vile magics.
Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Before I start dabbling in the Dark Arts, I need to figure out how to bypass that mental barrier. Dumbledore must've found a way. He was no stranger to Dark Magic before he started preaching about the power of love."
Unfortunately, Peter knew all too well that a man like Dumbledore—noble, secretive, and guilt-ridden—would never teach a student anything even remotely close to the Dark Arts.
"Snape, though…"
Now there was a promising candidate.
The head of Slytherin was a master not only in Potions but in Dark Magic as well. Peter remembered the rumors from his past life—how Snape had created spells as a student, some so potent they earned him the nickname "Half-Blood Prince."
If Peter could get on Snape's good side, he might learn things no other student could. Potions and curses, precision and power. It would be the perfect opportunity.
"Alright, then. No point spending the talent point on Dark Arts now. I'll wait until I have the right emotions and the right teacher."
He ran through his other options:
"Herbology? No, pass."
"Divination? My weakest subject. But even if I improved it, I still wouldn't care. Pass."
That left only one.
"Transfiguration…"
Peter's eyes narrowed. Transfiguration was no ordinary subject. It wasn't a collection of simple spells but a vast system of magic that touched on nearly every other field. From changing the shape of objects to altering the body, transfiguration required intense concentration, visual imagination, and finely tuned control of magic flow.
More than that, it didn't even require incantations once mastered.
"Yes. Transfiguration it is."
Without hesitation, Peter allocated the talent point.
There was no flash of light, no dramatic surge of power—just a quiet shift in awareness.
He took out his wand and gently tapped the dried fish sitting beside Guoguocha's whiskers.
In an instant, something changed.
Magic flowed out of him not as a crude force but as a refined current. He could feel the fish's structure clearly, every ridge and fiber, every pocket of air inside the meat. He could sense the way the magic seeped into it, traced its outline, and responded to his mental image like clay in the hands of a sculptor.
He didn't even need to try.
He simply thought, and the change followed.
With a soft pop, the dried fish transformed into a twitching gray mouse.
"Meow!"
Guoguocha's eyes lit up like twin lanterns. She lunged at the mouse with glee.
Peter chuckled, lowering his wand. According to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, you couldn't change an object's true nature—only its form.
So despite appearances, Guoguocha had just eaten a mouse that tasted like dried fish.
"Meow~"
Double the joy.
Peter leaned back on the bed, feeling more satisfied than he had in days. His gamble had paid off. Transfiguration had clicked. He was getting stronger—not just in numbers, but in skill, intuition, and understanding.
And this was only the beginning.