Chapter 1: Let Go of That Owl"Alan Cecil."

Minerva McGonagall took a deep breath as she looked at the eleven-year-old boy in front of her, momentarily stunned by his appearance.

The boy had long, pale blond hair and an almost ethereal beauty, like something out of a mythical tale. His ragged, ill-fitting clothes and the dirt on his face did little to diminish the elegance of his features. Of course, due to his age, it was premature to call him handsome. He was simply—adorable. Yet even that youthful cuteness was enough to melt the hearts of most women.

When Alan looked up and saw McGonagall, his light green eyes showed a flicker of hesitation and surprise.

"You… who are you?" Alan Cecil asked cautiously.

His accent was a bit unusual, but he could speak and be understood.

"I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Professor of Transfiguration—Minerva McGonagall," she replied, her voice calm but firm. "I'm here today because of your admission—"

She paused mid-sentence, her composure wavering as her eyes landed on the scene before her. Her brows furrowed as she added, with a sudden urgency, "But first, Mr. Cecil… would you please put down that poor owl?"

Clutched tightly in Alan's arms was a scruffy-looking owl. The poor creature, with feathers askew and wild eyes, was staring directly at McGonagall as if begging for salvation. It flapped its wings frantically, trying to break free, but Alan's grip, while seemingly gentle, was firm and unrelenting.

McGonagall's sharp eyes quickly assessed the rest of the scene: beside Alan was a clutter of objects—some wild garlic and basil freshly picked, a slightly rusted knife, and a small fire already lit.

Judging from the setup, if she had arrived even a few minutes later, the owl—Hogwarts' own letter carrier—might have ended up roasting over the fire.

McGonagall exhaled, silently thanking her instincts. Because this child's background was unique, she had chosen to personally follow the owl soon after sending it off. Thankfully so, or else Hogwarts might have lost a very dedicated feathered employee today.

Looking around, she spotted the crumpled Hogwarts letter lying on the ground. She bent down and picked it up, inspecting it quickly.

Fortunately, Alan hadn't tossed it into the fire yet.

"Child," she began again, watching as Alan still showed no signs of releasing the owl, "you must understand—that owl is not for eating."

Alan tilted his head slightly, clearly trying to process what she was saying. His eyes showed the gears turning in his mind, like someone assessing whether the loss of a potential meal was truly necessary.

Then, in a sudden motion, he yelped as if burned and flung the owl away as though it were a red-hot ember.

Owl: ...Gah?!

The owl tumbled to the ground, rolled over a couple of times, and sat dazed and dusty. It staggered to its feet, fluffed its wings awkwardly, and fled without so much as a single hoot.

Alan wiped cold sweat from his brow and turned his gaze back to the elderly woman who called herself Minerva McGonagall.

So that explains it, he thought. No wonder that owl was so hard to catch!

He had wrestled with it for quite a while before capturing it. Who would've guessed—it was actually a Hogwarts letter-carrying owl. A magical owl. And with that realization came an even greater one.

He had time-traveled. He was in the world of Harry Potter.

Alan Cecil was a transmigrator. He had no parents in this world and had been placed in an orphanage after mysteriously arriving as a baby. Life there was hard and food was scarce. So at the age of ten, frustrated by the meager meals, Alan had left the orphanage to survive on his own—in the wilderness.

For nearly a year, he had lived like this.

And truth be told, surviving in the wild wasn't something a regular eleven-year-old should have been able to do. But Alan wasn't just any boy.

He had a cheat.

A system.

The Food System.

It had awakened the moment Alan consciously decided to live on his own, and ever since, it had been the key to his survival. The system had passively strengthened his body from the start, granting him a boost in stamina, agility, and resilience—essential traits for a life in the wild.

But that was only its basic function.

Its true value was this: by eating food—any food—he could gain "Strengthening Points." And more importantly, if the food came from a special creature, he could even gain abilities from what he consumed.

Ordinary creatures provided minimal gains. Repeated meals helped, but their effectiveness declined quickly.

Since his awakening, Alan had hunted and eaten rabbits, birds, stray dogs—anything he could get his hands on. But no matter how much he ate, nothing triggered the system's advanced features. No abilities. No transformation.

He'd started to think the "special creatures" requirement might be a myth.

But then—McGonagall arrived.

A witch from Harry Potter's world. A world teeming with magical beasts, enchanted items, and powerful spells.

So this is the magical world. And I'm a wizard, too.

Alan's heart raced with excitement. Not because of the magic wands or the flying brooms. Not even the spells.

What thrilled him most was this: he now knew what "special creatures" were.

And Hogwarts? That was an all-you-can-eat buffet of opportunity.

For a brief moment, Alan's eyes sparkled like someone who had just discovered gold. Professor McGonagall, unaware of the exact nature of his thoughts, watched him curiously. His expression made her a bit uneasy.

Was he… drooling?

She cleared her throat politely. "Mr. Cecil? Mr. Cecil?"

Alan blinked, snapping out of his food-fueled fantasy. He hastily wiped the corner of his mouth, even though there was nothing there. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?"

She gave him a soft, almost motherly smile. "I asked if you were ready to come with me—to the magical world, where you belong."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall," Alan said without hesitation. His light green eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I've been looking forward to this my whole life."

—Especially to tasting all those magical ingredients.

McGonagall stood for a moment, her thoughts lingering on the odd child before her.

A boy who had left the orphanage at ten.

Who survived alone in the wilderness for a full year.

And who nearly cooked a Hogwarts owl for dinner.

This was not a normal first-year student.

Yet, as strange and rough as his background was, there was something compelling about him. An unyielding will, a tenacity she had rarely seen even among adult wizards.

Perhaps he had been bullied in the orphanage—forced to fend for himself, driven to escape a life of helplessness. It would explain a lot. His quick reflexes. His hardened demeanor. Even his bizarre outlook on owls.

And that face—those wide, innocent eyes on an almost otherworldly visage—made it hard not to feel sympathy. No matter how bizarre the situation, he didn't seem like a bad child.

Just… deeply unusual.

McGonagall glanced once more at the fire pit and the wild herbs scattered around it.

Yes. Unusual, indeed.

But if there was one place in the world that embraced the unusual, it was Hogwarts.

With a sigh, she took out her wand and gave it a casual wave, extinguishing the fire and clearing the mess with practiced ease. The letter, now in her other hand, she presented to Alan.

"This is your official letter of acceptance to Hogwarts," she said.

Alan accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly—a habit from living on his own and being cautious around strangers.

He opened it and scanned the words, but truthfully, he already knew what it said. He wasn't here by accident.

He was here for magic—and everything that came with it.

Especially the edible parts.

McGonagall turned, motioning for him to follow. Alan picked up his few belongings—a small bag with herbs and a crude handmade fork—and followed the professor down the hill, away from the campsite.

As they walked, his mind was already racing.

Magical beasts. Potions. Spell-enhancing foods. Forbidden Forest creatures. Dragons. Hippogriffs. Merfolk. Unicorns…

He grinned to himself.

Finally, after surviving the ordinary world with ordinary animals—he had reached the culinary promised land.

The magical world better prepare itself.

Because Alan Cecil had arrived.

And he was very hungry.