"If you insist on going to that place—Hogwarts, or whatever it's called—then you'll pay your own school expenses! The orphanage won't give you a single penny!"
"I understand, Matron Anna."
…
Sean watched Matron Anna walk out of the dormitory common room and gently close the door behind her.
If the door made too much noise, she would think he was unhappy with her, and tonight's dinner would instantly change from cheap pork sausages to baked beans on stale bread.
And without clean drinking water, those beans could choke someone to death.
Tap water itself was filthy—drink too much of it and you'd fall sick. And once someone fell sick in this underfunded orphanage on the southern edge of London… death was the most likely outcome.
How did Sean know that so clearly?
Because the original owner of this body had died exactly that way.
Disease, cold, and malnutrition together claimed his life. Since arriving here last winter, the "new" Sean had remembered that lesson with painful clarity.
He drank the cheapest red tea he could find, and even fought older kids for the occasional spoon of instant coffee—despite it keeping him awake for days.
Six months had passed, and he'd fully understood his situation.
It was now late August, 1991.
And he was living in Croydon, one of the poorest districts of London—inside the Harry Potter world.
The Hollysay Orphanage, where he now lived, was the poorest of the poor.
Why?
Because it was the only orphanage in the district, opened years ago merely for political achievement points.
Just like in the Britain he knew from his previous life.
In late 1990, the "Iron Lady," Margaret Thatcher, had stepped down.
Her Thatcherism reforms had transformed the economy—but also drastically widened the class divide.
The financial sector prospered, lining the pockets of the wealthy,
while traditional industrial areas and inner-city poor regions slid into unemployment and public-service collapse.
Croydon reflected this collapse vividly.
The Hollysay Orphanage had gone five years without proper funding.
There wasn't enough clean water for the children, and every winter they were issued only a single thin blanket.
In such conditions, if he failed to enter Hogwarts, he doubted he could live long enough to reach adulthood. His body was frail—any fever or cold could kill him. Not because British medical care was poor, but because the matrons here would "fail to notice" if a child fell ill.
"Hogwarts doesn't charge tuition—and Professor McGonagall helped me apply for a scholarship for living costs."
Sean reached deep under the iron bunk and took out a rag-wrapped pouch. Inside lay 143 Galleons, a wand, several sets of robes, and other required items.
He had followed the school supply list strictly at the lowest standard.
Even so, he had spent 157 Galleons—nearly all he had—and only less than half remained.
And tomorrow was the first day of term.
"I have to hurry. If I don't perform well enough and fail to earn the scholarship, I'll be finished. Even these Galleons won't last…"
During enrollment and shopping, Professor McGonagall had hinted to him about an outstanding-performance scholarship.
Would Sean be able to perform well?
Unlikely. It had taken him five hundred tries just to learn the Levitation Charm.
Fortunately… he had a cheat.
[Status Panel]
[Name: Sean Greene]
[Identity: Wizard]
[Title: None]
[Proficiency]
Levitation Charm — Apprentice (1/300)
Lumos — Apprentice (1/300)
Cleaning Charm — Locked (27/30)
Unlock requirement:
Three Apprentice-level spells → Apprentice Spellcaster title
Advance requirement:
Three Beginner-level spells → Beginner Spellcaster title
Yes—Sean had a proficiency panel.
As long as he practiced correctly, the system counted progress.
Apprentice-level spells needed only 30 correct attempts to master.
Mastering three spells would unlock a title.
Sounds easy.
Yet even such an "easy" task had cost him two full months—averaging barely one correct attempt per day.
His magical talent was awful. Disastrously awful. Maybe a side effect of transmigration.
Sometimes he suspected the magical world was personally targeting him.
"Today, I must unlock the new title."
Sean lifted his wand and carefully stepped around the warped floorboard by the window, pushing aside the drafty single-pane glass.
The Victorian semi-detached houses of this impoverished district had long since gone silent.
"Good. Everyone's asleep. As long as I'm quiet, no one will notice."
If the original owner had left him anything valuable, it was this—
an isolated single room. It was meant to prevent infectious illness from spreading, but for Sean, it meant something precious:
Privacy to practice magic.
"Scourgify!"
He pointed at a filthy poster and traced an S-shape in the air.
No reaction. The panel did not increase.
Sean didn't mind and tried again.
Magic was far harder than he had imagined.
Where should the emphasis in the incantation fall?
How forcefully?
How large should the S motion be—fast or slow, wide or narrow?
He knew scour meant to scrub clean, and -ify meant to transform—so his pause should fall between the two.
As for the gesture? Pure trial and error.
He relied on whether proficiency increased to judge success.
"Scour—g—ify!"
For the fifth time he intoned the charm, moving his wand according to every detail he'd learned.
"Fast first, slow later… widen the final curve…"
A flash of light—
the grime vanished from the poster.
[You practiced Cleaning Charm at Beginner standard. Proficiency +3]
[Cleaning Charm unlocked]
[New Spellcaster Title Available]
[Wizard Talent Updated]
Success!
Sean lifted the now-spotless poster, marveling at the beauty of magic.
Apprentice success granted +1 proficiency, Beginner success +3.
Whether there were more levels beyond that, he didn't know.
Given his talent, even reaching Beginner felt like Merlin's blessing.
"Let's see the new title."
He opened the panel again.
[Title: Spell Novice]
Small increase in spell sensitivity; small improvement to spellcasting talent.
Below that—
[Wizard Talent: Green (boosted by Spell Novice, original talent: White)]
Note: Average wizard talent is Green.
Sean sucked in a sharp breath.
White-tier trash talent?!
No wonder he struggled so much.
Even blowing him up wouldn't make that talent worse.
Thank Merlin he had the cheat panel.
Otherwise, his path at Hogwarts would be a nightmare.
After a moment of silence, resolve flared in his eyes.
If I have no talent… then I'll grind it out.
Let's see how far you can go—
Panel, add proficiency!
Advance Chapters available on Patreon