CHAPTER 1
Winter, 1987. East Tibet, China.
A dilapidated wooden house on the southern slope of the East Tibet Plateau groaned under the weight of the biting cold wind, its creaking sounds lost in the vast, frozen wilderness.
Inside, a ten-year-old boy named Moriarty Slytherin lay curled up in the corner, wrapped in every piece of clothing and fabric he could find. His small frame was shivering violently, his lips a deep shade of blue, icicles forming on his eyelashes. His silver-gray hair, dull and unkempt, added to his ghostly appearance.
Yet, despite the creeping frost overtaking his limbs, he clung desperately to a long, black wooden box, his arms wrapped tightly around it. His fingers, numb and stiff, refused to let go.
Sensing the last remnants of warmth fading from his body, Moriarty gritted his teeth and muttered, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.
"Great Slytherin, forgive me… I would rather die than suffer like this any longer."
---
Three hours later.
A furrow formed between Moriarty's brows, and a flicker of struggle crossed his face.
Strictly speaking, he was no longer the original Moriarty Slytherin. The body remained the same, but the soul within had changed.
The consciousness now inhabiting this fragile frame belonged to an agent—an elite operative from another world. A man of precision and discipline, fluent in five languages, adept at infiltration, combat, and survival. He had experienced life-and-death situations countless times.
The real Moriarty was gone, but the new Moriarty had no intention of following him into the abyss.
His mind quickly processed the memories of this body, absorbing the knowledge of a world brimming with magic and mystery.
"Amazing. Even as an exiled descendant, the last Slytherin knows more about magic than most wizards," Moriarty muttered hoarsely. His throat burned from the cold, and the frostbitten skin on his face stung with every movement.
Then, a terrifying thought struck him.
"Wait. What if this body is a Squib? If that's the case… I'm going to freeze to death here."
His breath hitched. The knowledge of the wizarding world was useless if he lacked magic himself.
As panic threatened to take hold, he suddenly felt something solid pressing against his chest.
"The black box…"
It was the only thing the original Moriarty had protected with his life.
Digging into the inherited memories, Moriarty recalled the legends surrounding this object. The Slytherin family revered it, yet feared it in equal measure.
"They say this is a treasure passed down from Salazar Slytherin himself… And that it holds an agreement with our ancestors?"
But now was no time for reverence.
He was freezing to death. If this so-called treasure was worth anything, it had better save his life.
Forcing his numb hands to move, he struggled to pry open the black box. The wood was ice-cold beneath his fingertips. After a few agonizing seconds, the lid finally creaked open.
Inside, resting on a bed of dark velvet, was a silver staff, about 80 centimeters long. Beneath it lay a roll of aged parchment.
Moriarty's eyes locked onto the staff.
A lifeline.
With great effort, he reached for it, his fingers trembling violently. He had barely grasped the cool metal when—
Ding!
A mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[System activated: Behind-the-Scenes Big Boss System detected.]
[The host has discovered a magical item. An initial lottery draw is available.]
Moriarty's thoughts screeched to a halt.
"A system?" His frozen lips barely moved as he whispered. "A… novice gift pack?"
He had seen countless stories where systems granted their hosts immense power.
This was his salvation!
"Quick! Draw the lottery! Give me a spell to heal my body! Or at least one to keep me warm! A flame charm—something useful!"
[The initial draw contains items from the Harry Potter world.]
[Possible rewards: 50 everyday items, 10 magical artifacts, 10 alchemical tools, 10 spells, 10 potions, 10 wands.]
[Would the host like to proceed with the draw?]
"Yes!" Moriarty agreed without hesitation.
[Good luck, host.]
A tense moment passed. Then—
Ding!
[Congratulations! The host has obtained… a pair of wool socks!]
Moriarty stared blankly as a pair of thick, white socks appeared in his hands.
"...What?"
[The initial draw is complete. Wishing the host success in becoming the ultimate behind-the-scenes boss of the Wizarding World.]
"YOU CALL THIS GOOD LUCK?!"
If he hadn't been half-frozen, he would have exploded in fury. Out of all the possibilities, he had drawn a pair of socks?!
"If I die here, will you give me a scarf next?!"
The system remained silent.
Moriarty took deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He had one last option.
"The staff… This thing was revered by the Slytherin family. Maybe I can use it."
With the last of his strength, he gripped the staff firmly.
Ding!
[The host has discovered and possessed the Staff of the Slytherin Patriarch.]
[Reward: Three additional lottery draws.]
[Special exploration draw unlocked.]
"Exploration draw?"
This sounded more promising than the previous lottery.
"Draw all three!"
[Drawing now…]
Ding!
[Congratulations! The host has obtained: a bottle of Polyjuice Potion.]
Ding!
[Congratulations! The host has obtained: 50 square meters of system storage space.]
Ding!
[Congratulations! The host has obtained: ten years' worth of magical power.]
Moriarty's heart pounded.
Magic power!
It surged through his veins like liquid fire, a warmth spreading from his core. He was no longer an ordinary child—he was a wizard. A powerful one.
He lifted the staff once more, instinct guiding him as he channeled his newfound energy.
A surge of golden light burst from the silver staff, piercing the roof of the cabin and illuminating the dark, snowy night.
At that moment, far away in the western reaches of Scotland, within the hidden fortress of Hogwarts, an ancient book trembled.
The Book of Admittance, bound in dragon hide, flipped open on its own. The Quill of Acceptance, quivering in the dimly lit tower, dipped into the enchanted ink and scrawled a name across the empty parchment.
Moriarty Slytherin.
---
Back in the frozen cabin, Moriarty let out a shaky breath.
He was alive. He had magic.
And now, Hogwarts knew his name.
"Looks like my journey has officially begun," he murmured, gripping the staff with renewed determination.
The Behind-the-Scenes Big Boss System had given him a mission—to become the most powerful force in the wizarding world by 2012.
Failure meant obliteration.
But Moriarty Slytherin never planned on losing.
He had twenty-five years to become the mastermind behind the Wizarding World.
And he would start now.