Karmit rolled out of bed, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and then pulled a book from the nearby shelf.
It was [A Complete Guide to Dark Magic].
He sipped his milk while flipping through the pages. Since coming to this world, Karmit had realized something unusual—his memory and learning ability were extraordinary.
When it came to spells, he only needed to read them once to grasp the basics. A few more tries, and he could master them completely.
He figured this must be his cheat—his so-called golden finger.
Yes, Karmit was a transmigrator. And not just any transmigrator—he had been reborn into this world, straight into the womb.
Born as someone who didn't exist in the original story, he was the sixth-generation heir and the only surviving descendant of the Black family.
His father was Regulus Black—the same Regulus who had joined the Death Eaters at sixteen, believing that Voldemort, like Grindelwald, was someone worthy of following.
But he later realized the truth—Voldemort was nothing more than a madman and a terrorist. When Voldemort hurt the Black family's house-elf, Kreacher, that was the final straw for Regulus.
At eighteen, he stole one of Voldemort's Horcruxes—the locket of Slytherin—and died in the Inferi-infested cave.
But what no one knew was that before he went to retrieve the Horcrux, Regulus had visited his girlfriend from Hogwarts one last time.
They spent a night together.
And that night gave birth to Karmit.
Regulus never knew. If he had, he might not have gone to his death so willingly.
After Regulus died, Kreacher followed his master's last orders and delivered a few belongings to Karmit's mother. That was when he discovered that his young master had left behind an heir.
Sadly, when Karmit was born, his mother died in childbirth. Before passing, she saw a comet streak across the night sky.
Following the Black family's tradition of naming children after stars and celestial bodies, she named the child Karmit—after the comet she saw—and then took her final breath.
Kreacher then carried baby Karmit back to the Black estate.
Had it been a few years earlier, Karmit would have been blessed with the perfect start in life—heir to one of the most powerful and wealthy wizarding families in Britain.
But unfortunately, his timing couldn't have been worse.
By the time he was born, the Ministry of Magic and other pure-blood families were circling like vultures.
After the last two Black family members—Sirius and Bellatrix—had been thrown into Azkaban, the remaining wealth of the Black family had been carved up among the opportunistic pure-bloods.
If not for his aunt Narcissa personally reclaiming part of the family estate, Karmit might have starved to death as a child.
It was almost laughable—the heir of the supposedly wealthiest wizarding family, nearly dying from hunger.
At six years old, Karmit used the memories of his previous life and one hundred Galleons to open his first shop in Diagon Alley: Black's Café.
With the philosophy of "fill it with ice, and let the coffee slip between," it became an unexpected hit and earned him his first bucket of gold.
Over the next few years, he went on to open Black's Sweet Shop, Black's Tailor, and Black's Bookstore.
In a market dominated by ancient families, Karmit managed to claw out his own space, piece by piece.
Gradually, his business empire began to take shape.
Of course, the sudden resurgence of the long-declined Black family naturally drew unwanted attention.
Among the pure-bloods, family ties and old alliances kept their greed in check—none would dare act openly against another pure-blood house.
But rogue wizards had no such restraint. To them, the once-powerful but now masterless Black family was a ripe prize waiting to be taken.
Many had tried to get their hands on the family's growing fortune.
But what they didn't realize was that Karmit was no longer the helpless child he once was.
Gifted with a photographic memory and frightening learning ability, the very first spell he ever mastered was the Killing Curse.
After only two attempts, he could cast it flawlessly.
Within a year, he had enough power to defend himself.
Then, he took the fight to them.
That day, Knockturn Alley ran red with blood. Many died, and some—those smart enough to surrender—chose to follow him instead.
Among those were Bilair Nelson and Belinda Edwards, now Karmit's two most capable subordinates.
As his influence grew, Karmit decided last month that it was time to enter a more… wizardly line of business.
His first target: the potion trade.
Though he was a quick learner, he lacked reputation. Brewing potions himself was time-consuming and would never attract enough customers.
After some thought, he turned his attention to the magical creature materials trade.
There were two reasons for this choice.
First, the business was extremely profitable.
Second, he would soon be attending Hogwarts—home to the Forbidden Forest, which was practically a goldmine of magical creature resources.
But, as always, such ventures stepped on someone else's toes.
In this case, it was the Yaxley family, who owned the largest magical creature materials shop in Diagon Alley.
Other pure-blood families were also in the trade—but they had power to protect their interests.
The Yaxleys didn't.
And as for the Blacks? With their fallen reputation, how dare they compete?
Yaxley wouldn't attack openly, of course—pure-bloods still cared about appearances.
So they resorted to underhanded methods.
If Karmit hadn't discovered the plot in time, all the materials Belinda's team had intercepted from Yaxley's supply lines would have been destroyed in one night.
Typical of those pampered families—they could scheme, but couldn't stand losing.
Shaking his head, Karmit stripped off his nightclothes and slipped into a sleek black suit hanging by the door.
He opened it and stepped into the hallway.
But the moment he reached the top of the stairs, a shrill, hysterical voice filled the house.
"Useless creature! What's in that empty head of yours? Oh, silly me—house-elves don't have brains!
Look what you've done, you filthy little half-breed! I told you to prepare white shoes for little Karmit! White! Do you even know what colors are, you disgusting fool?"
Karmit rubbed his temples.
That voice—he knew it too well. Every single morning, without fail.
It came from the only portrait in the Black household still capable of movement and speech.
Walburga Black.
Fourth-generation member of the Black family, Regulus's mother—and Karmit's grandmother. A foul-tempered, sharp-tongued old woman who never seemed to tire of scolding.
Once, she'd even dared to insult Karmit himself—until he'd grabbed a bit of Fiendfyre and nearly set her portrait ablaze.
Since then, she'd learned to hold her tongue… at least, when he was in the room.