#10

Sirius eyed Lucius Malfoy with a smirk. "Cousin-in-law? Yeah, that's right. And what you just said? That's exactly what I've always regretted."

Harley Potter, standing nearby, lifted her chin arrogantly and shot a mocking glance at Draco Malfoy. "Hey, Malfoy, what did you put on your hair? It looks like a bunch of flies could just slide right off it."

Sirius let out a chuckle, clearly entertained by the jab. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy remained composed, ignoring the remark. Draco, however, turned red, instinctively clutching his head as if shielding his hair from further ridicule. His expression wavered between anger and the fear of lashing out in front of everyone.

Despite the tension, they were still relatives. As much as they despised each other, brawling in the streets wasn't exactly an option.

Besides, Olivia Black, Sirius's ever-composed wife, gently tugged at his arm and placed a calming hand on Harley's shoulder, signaling for her not to push too hard.

Her elegance alone seemed to act as a buffer, and with that, Lucius decided there was no point in continuing the exchange. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away, Draco following closely behind.

Once the Malfoys had vanished, Ted headed toward the broom shop, where he casually leaned against the counter and struck up a conversation with the clerk.

"Hey, you know anything about Mr. Black?" Ted asked.

The clerk, who was known for gossiping more than actually selling brooms, perked up immediately. "Oh, you mean Sirius Black? He's the heir of the noble and ancient House of Black. His wife, Olivia, is quite the lady, and their adopted daughter, Harley—well, she's got quite the sharp tongue."

Ted listened carefully as the clerk eagerly spilled what he knew, filling in pieces of the puzzle.

Back at the Leaky Cauldron, Ted sat down with a sigh. "Alright, let's put this together…"

The usual story had changed. Because Harry had been born a girl—Harley Potter—Voldemort had chosen Neville Longbottom as his target instead, based on the prophecy. The outcome, however, remained unchanged. Neville, now marked as the Chosen One, had survived the Dark Lord's attack, while his parents were tragically lost.

But as fate would have it, Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, weren't spared either. Shortly after Voldemort's downfall, they were ambushed and murdered by an elite group of Death Eaters.

According to the broom shop clerk, Potter's best friend had betrayed them. There was no need to guess—it had to be Peter Pettigrew.

So Neville was the Boy Who Lived. That left one question: what did that make Harley Potter?

Ted couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, this is gonna be interesting! Bring it on, world! Let's see how crazy this story can get!"

When Ted first realized he had somehow ended up in the world of Harry Potter, he thought, "I'm gonna reach the pinnacle of life here." But once he learned Neville was the Chosen One and Harry was, well… Harley, he had to readjust his expectations.

"You know what? As long as I'm alive, I can roll with this."

The last time his mindset had shifted this drastically was after graduating from university and struggling in the real world for a few years. But now? He found himself surprisingly at peace with the chaos. Since unlocking his psychic abilities, he had developed an unusual level of emotional control.

"Stay calm when the world crumbles around you. Keep a straight face, even when you've got thunder roaring in your chest. That's the way."

Psions, as he had learned, were divided into two types: mind masters and madmen. The mind masters focused on refining their control over their own mind. The madmen, on the other hand, indulged in extreme emotions to push their powers further.

Ted? He was definitely in the mind master camp.

—

By the time August arrived, Ted had been eagerly anticipating the system's next notification. The moment he opened his eyes, the familiar chime rang in his mind.

______________________________

Ding~ Talent [Other World Knowledge (Gold)] has been triggered.

New knowledge acquired: [Chakra Refining Technique (Green)].

______________________________

______________________________

[Chakra Refining Technique (Green)]: Contains the method used by Konoha ninjas to mix physical and mental energy to extract chakra. Requires 250 experience points to exchange.

______________________________

A small card materialized in his mind, featuring an image of a figure sitting cross-legged, forming hand signs, with blue energy flowing through what looked like meridians in their body.

Ted rubbed his chin, skeptical. "Huh… Chakra refining, huh? Doesn't seem all that groundbreaking."

A ninja technique? In the world of Harry Potter? No, scratch that—the world where Neville Longbottom was the Chosen One?

Magic was clearly the superior energy source here. Ted didn't have any fancy Otsutsuki bloodline to make chakra worthwhile. And 250 experience points for something even Konoha's five-year-olds learned? Robbery!

"I'm not dumb enough to waste points on this. What good is chakra without ninjutsu?"

It was becoming clear: not all knowledge from other worlds was useful. Some could even be outright harmful.

"Gotta be more selective in the future."

After weeks of anticipation, this was a letdown. But such was life—nine out of ten things never went the way you wanted.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Let's just focus on what I've got: magic and psionics."

Psychic power, he reminded himself, was all about the strength of the will. It revolved around mental attributes and emotions. Without a proper path to follow, he would have to develop it on his own.

Magic, on the other hand, was about bending reality through sheer force of will. It, too, relied on mental strength.

The two disciplines complemented each other perfectly.

Ted crafted two small wooden discs and held them in his hands, focusing his mind. Using his psionic and magical abilities, he attempted to make them levitate and spin in midair.

He hoped this exercise would strengthen his psychic energy and refine his control over magic.

Thanks to his dedication and the demands of his odd jobs, Ted managed to learn two more spells within just two days.

From the clerk at the Magical Menagerie, he picked up the "Packing Charm," incantation: Pack.

This spell allowed clothes to fold themselves neatly and suitcases to organize their contents automatically. A must-have for any wizard on the go.

From Mr. Jiggers, the owner of the apothecary, Ted learned the "Bubble-Head Charm."

This spell, well-known from the original Harry Potter stories, formed a magical bubble around the caster's head, filtering air and allowing them to breathe underwater. It had been famously used by Fleur Delacour during the Triwizard Tournament. Beyond that, it was also an essential spell for handling materials with strong or even toxic odors—a lifesaver for potion makers and herbologists. (Basically, a perfect substitute for a gas mask.)

The Bubble-Head Charm was typically taught in fourth-year Charms class. The fact that Ted had mastered it in just two days left Mr. Jiggers stunned.

It only reinforced what Ted had observed—most wizards hit their peak magic ability when they graduated from Hogwarts, and many declined after that. The original books even mentioned that many adult wizards, including Ministry employees, struggled to cast a proper Shield Charm. And that was just a mid-level spell!

Of course, Ted figured it was the same as in the Muggle world. Most people forgot half of what they learned in school once they no longer needed it.

Every day, Ted worked diligently to accumulate experience while also striving to complete his exploration quest.

With Hogwarts starting in less than a month, he hoped to finish the task [Explore Diagon Alley (Green)] before then.

On August 8th, after finishing lunch at the Magical Pet Store, Ted was about to leave when the clerk called out to him.

"Wait up, Ted."

"What's up, John?"

John hesitated for a moment before explaining, "You know those talking raven eggs that hatched recently?"

"Yeah, I've been helping take care of them. Why?"

John sighed, spreading his hands. "Well… most of them are doing fine, but one chick isn't looking too good. It hatched late, and it's really weak. I don't think it's going to make it…"

Ted's expression darkened. He knew what that meant. If a creature wasn't strong enough to survive, it would be… discarded.

John continued, "I was thinking—if you're willing, maybe you could take it in?" His eyes held a silent plea. Working at the pet store for so many years, John truly cared about the animals, and he didn't want to see this little one perish.

Ted nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. I'll do my best to take care of it."

The chick was tiny, barely more than a bundle of fragile bones covered in wisps of black fuzz. Compared to its siblings—who had already grown fluff, were walking around, and squawking for food—this little one looked like it could keel over at any moment.

The only thing they could do was hope it survived.

From that day on, Ted carried a small wooden box with him everywhere. He fed the chick every two hours, even waking up in the middle of the night for its nighttime feedings. It was exhausting, but he didn't mind.

With the help of Mr. Jiggers' nourishing potion and Ted's relentless care, the tiny raven made it through its critical stage. Slowly but surely, it began to grow stronger.

Its feathers thickened, its legs steadied, and it even started letting out tiny, chirping calls with its yellow-edged beak.

Ravens were no ordinary birds. As members of the corvid family, they were highly intelligent and had strong social behaviors. They were the largest of the passerine birds, with glossy black feathers that shimmered with a purple-blue sheen, especially on their wings. Their throat and chest feathers were long and lance-shaped, making them look almost regal.

In Britain, ravens held a special place in folklore. Legend had it that if the ravens ever left the Tower of London, the entire British Empire would collapse. That was why ravens were kept and cared for at the tower, some living over forty years!

And as a magical variant, the talking raven was even more remarkable. Some were capable of learning human speech, and they could even be trained to deliver letters—making them a perfect alternative to owls.

Ted's little raven was especially sharp. It seemed to understand him, tilting its head whenever he spoke, responding with chirps as if holding a conversation.

He decided to name it Anzu, setting high expectations for his new companion.

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Word count: 1751

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