The heavy snowfall had covered the streets of ancient London, hiding the dirt and grime beneath a white blanket. However, the gloomy, ever-present sky hinted at an impending snowstorm. Muggle street sweepers battled the snow with all their might, trying to clear a path on the old streets.
Bryan , wearing an old dark green overcoat, stood in the empty yard, gazing intently at the unfinished building in front of him. His lavender eyes seemed to possess extraordinary magical power.
Interrupting his thoughts, a middle-aged woman with a worried expression called out to him from outside the iron gate. Her smile was warm and kind as she greeted Bryan.
"Good morning, Mrs. Reagan."
"Oh, you should have said hello, Bryan."
After a quick hug, Mrs. Reagan reprimanded him playfully.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to rush, but something has come up that might keep me occupied for the next few months. I came back temporarily to check on the progress," Bryan replied casually.
Mrs. Reagan looked at Bryan with pride. He was the most promising child to have graduated from the orphanage in recent years, and her face radiated satisfaction.
"Don't worry, Bryan. Mr. Parker from the construction team said they will continue working after the Christmas holiday. The children will be able to move into their new home in just two months!"
"Yes, that's what they've been looking forward to," Bryan smiled. He opened the suitcase he was carrying, took out two stacks of pounds, and handed them to Mrs. Reagan.
Gringotts did provide services for exchanging Muggle currency, but the exchange rate and limits were strict. Bryan preferred to convert his gold coins into gold bars and find a non-standard gold shop in London to exchange them for pounds, even if it incurred some extra cost. Dealing with the greedy goblins at Gringotts was not something he enjoyed.
"This is the final payment for the project. Please pass it on to Mr. Parker for me," Bryan instructed Mrs. Reagan.
She pursed her lips, knowing she had expressed her gratitude too many times already. She tucked the money into her oil-soaked apron, her voice filled with gratitude and anticipation.
"Are you going to visit the children, Bryan? They really want to see you, especially Little Hammer. He's been complaining for days, saying you didn't fulfill your promise to spend Christmas with them."
"Apologize to him on my behalf, Mrs. Reagan. I'll bring him a gift during the summer break."
"Okay," Mrs. Reagan replied with disappointment. She didn't push him further. She knew that if Bryan had the time, he wouldn't refuse to visit the children. Clearly, he was dealing with something urgent.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Mrs. Reagan hurried back to attend to the waiting children. Bryan lingered for a while before leaving the desolate courtyard.
Walking along the freshly cleared street with a steady pace, he headed east. The old buildings on either side, filled with countless childhood memories, didn't slow him down.
As he crossed a ten-foot-wide river, he stood on a dilapidated arch bridge and gazed at the frozen water below. Then, he continued toward a barren wasteland dotted with sparse birch trees.
In the middle of the wasteland stood a cemetery surrounded by crumbling fences.
"Ventus"
Bryan muttered the incantation under his breath, and several small tornadoes appeared out of nowhere within the desolate cemetery. They swept away the tombstones and the accumulation of black and gray cobblestones, erasing the snow in silence.
"Sorry, Grandma Ferena. I forgot to bring flowers."
Approaching a white tombstone, Bryan bent down to wipe off the remaining ice water on the marble obelisk engraved with the epitaph. He then stood upright and gazed quietly at the old woman's kind smile in the black and white photo on the tombstone. Speaking softly, he apologized.
Underneath the tombstone lay the old woman who had taken care of him during his time at the orphanage. She was the only relative Bryan had acknowledged since he arrived in this world as a baby.
As if sensing his sorrow, an owl braving the biting cold wind perched on the nearest birch tree. It tilted its head and observed Bryan below, occasionally using its sharp beak to groom its wind-blown wing feathers.
"In the next few months, I'll be returning to the 'juggling' school. The school is in trouble, and some people hope I can find something while I'm there. Their wishes don't align with mine—Albus Dumbledore, that white-bearded old man who always seemed to bump into me in the library at midnight, warning me about the dangers of staying up late. He wouldn't approve of what I'm about to do, and I'm not thrilled about playing into his hands... But there's no choice. They've given too much, and it's worth half a year's hard work.
Besides, once the new dormitory is completed, I hope to help the children with their education."
A tinge of annoyance appeared on Bryan's handsome face as he muttered to himself.
"Unfortunately, if I could remember the plot, I might be able to finish the job quickly and walk away with the money."
A slight remark revealed the deepest secret hidden within the heart of the young man standing in the desolate cemetery.
Bryan Watson was not a 'native' of this world. His soul originated from the Earth devoid of supernatural powers.
The stories of Harry Potter had been his favorite books in his previous life, but over 10 years had passed since he received his Hogwarts admission letter in this life. His memories had become hazy. Initially, when he received an owl-delivered letter in the cold orphanage room, he believed it was just a popular prank.
It wasn't until a greasy-haired man with a crooked nose turned his bed into a toilet with a flick of a wand that he realized this was no ordinary urban superpower script.
He had attempted to recall the plot of Harry Potter with all his might but had only managed to retrieve fragments. Horcruxes, Hallows, Love and Scars, Voldemort and Resurrection—the snippets he had gathered were far from what he had learned after entering the wizarding world. No matter how hard he tried, the messages remained shrouded in a swirling gray mist, as if protected by unimaginable magic. After exhausting all his options, he was forced to give up.
"Harry Potter is only in his second year, and there are still several years until his graduation. I don't think I need to face the most dangerous situation just yet. After all, Dumbledore is there—no, the danger comes from Dumbledore..."
A sigh escaped Bryan's lips, carried away by the biting cold wind. The wry smile on his face froze as he spoke.
"In any world, survival is an extremely challenging task, isn't it, Grandma Ferena?"
Fine snowflakes descended from the sky once more, and the owls perched atop the trees hooted more frequently. Bryan extended his hand toward the air, and the small parchment beneath the owl's claws sliced through the air with a whistle. The gray snow, against the darkened sky, settled firmly into Bryan's palm.
"Mr. Watson,
I have negotiated with the Hogwarts Board of Trustees, and they have approved our plan. You need to arrive at Hogwarts before tonight's deadline and present Dumbledore with your proposal on how to investigate the culprit.
Furthermore, Lucius Malfoy vehemently rejected the idea of sending an investigator. He believes Albus Dumbledore should be dismissed outright. The Greengrass family is the only one seconding the proposal.
Yours sincerely,
Kakus Fawley"
The hastily written note conveyed a sense of urgency. The gray owl, having completed its task but failed to receive its reward, let out a disgruntled caw. It flapped its wings and swiftly vanished into the swirling snowflakes.
Bryan closed his palms, and Kakus's note transformed into seeds, from which a bunch of pure white carnations blossomed in his hand.
"Do you like the trick, Grandma Ferena?"
The old woman's smile on the gravestone seemed content.
Bryan chuckled, then turned and walked into the wind and snow. After his departure, the cemetery remained empty, with only a low oath echoing through the sparse forest.
"The train of fate, are you ready to journey into the unknown?"
Author's Note:
'Ventus' is a spell in the Harry Potter universe that creates a strong whirlwind, small tornadoes or gust of wind. It is commonly used to sweep away objects or to create a powerful wind force.
When casting Ventus, the caster typically points their wand in the direction they want the whirlwind to go and utters the incantation "Ventus." The strength and intensity of the whirlwind can vary depending on the skill and proficiency of the spellcaster.
It's worth noting that "Ventus" is not explicitly mentioned in the original Harry Potter books written by J.K. Rowling.
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