Alistair stared blankly at Vinda Rosier, needing several seconds before the meaning of the word Squib fully registered in his mind.
Once it did, his expression collapsed.
Had he really transmigrated into the Harry Potter universe, inherited the Grindelwald bloodline, survived a Dark wizard attack, and still ended up without any magic?
What kind of terrible luck was that?
As a devoted Harry Potter fan in his previous life, Alistair couldn’t accept the idea of finally entering the Wizarding World only to remain permanently outside everything that made it magical.
He wanted to see spells performed with his own eyes, visit places he’d once known only through books and movies, and experience the strange creatures and mysteries scattered throughout the magical world.
Above everything else, he had to attend Hogwarts.
The castle had occupied far too much of his imagination growing up for him to simply accept never setting foot inside it.
Students entered around eleven and spent seven years learning magic without worrying about college applications, school districts, or choosing between different high schools the way Alistair remembered from America.
Compared with his previous life, receiving one owl and being sent off to a magical castle sounded almost unbelievably convenient.
Then Alistair suddenly realized something and looked up.
“Mrs.
Rosier, I’m eleven this year.
If I really were a Squib, then Hogwarts wouldn’t send me an acceptance letter, right?” Hope immediately returned to his eyes as he continued, “But it’s only July.
Hogwarts doesn’t start until September first, so maybe my owl just hasn’t arrived yet.” If there was even the slightest possibility that Vinda and the others had reached their conclusion too early, he intended to cling to it.
Unfortunately, Vinda looked at him with obvious regret and slowly shook her head.
“Alistair, it seems Libby really did teach you quite a bit about the Wizarding World.
What you said would normally make sense.” She hesitated before continuing, “But we’ve already checked.
Three days ago, the last owl delivering this year’s Hogwarts acceptance letters finished its task and returned.” The moment those words left her mouth, Alistair felt as though he’d been struck by another curse.
The Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance at Hogwarts were legendary for identifying children who possessed enough magic to attend the school.
If his name had never appeared and no letter had arrived, then the conclusion seemed painfully obvious.
He really had no magical talent.
For some reason, Argus Filch immediately appeared in Alistair’s mind.
The thought did absolutely nothing to improve his mood.
Vinda noticed his dejected expression and sighed.
“Don’t look like that, Alistair.
Living among Muggles isn’t necessarily a terrible thing.
The Wizarding World isn’t nearly as wonderful as you imagine, and what happened tonight should make that clear enough.” Her gaze briefly moved toward the aftermath of the attack.
“Some of us did more than our share of similar things when we were younger.
Perhaps staying away from this world will ultimately be safer for you, and at least the Grindelwald bloodline won’t disappear.” Alistair reluctantly admitted that life without magic wouldn’t exactly leave him helpless.
He knew enough about the future to make money through major sports results and then invest early in companies that would eventually become enormous, including Apple, Amazon, Google, and others that hadn’t yet reached anything close to their future value.
With enough patience, financial freedom before thirty would hardly be impossible.
He could live comfortably, travel wherever he wanted, and never worry about money.
Unfortunately, none of that sounded nearly as exciting as Hogwarts.
A life spent quietly becoming rich wasn’t what Alistair wanted after somehow crossing into a magical universe.
Still, wishing harder wasn’t going to suddenly create magic inside him, so he forced himself to suppress the disappointment.
“Thank you, Mrs.
Rosier,” he said sincerely.
His gaze moved toward the others gathered around the room.
“And thank all of you too.
You saved my life tonight, and I won’t forget that.” Vinda immediately waved away his gratitude.
“Don’t say that, Alistair.
In truth, what happened tonight is partly our fault.” Her expression became noticeably guilty as she continued, “For years, I’ve stayed close to you because protecting you was my responsibility.” Alistair immediately remembered the clothing shop she’d operated nearby and finally understood why she had spent so much time in the neighborhood.
Vinda hadn’t simply happened to live close to him.
She had been watching over him.
“But when we learned that you appeared to have no magical talent…” Vinda paused and corrected herself.
“When we believed you were a Squib, I couldn’t accept it.
I left for several days because I needed to speak with these old friends.” Her expression became distant.
“We’ve already experienced this kind of disappointment once before, with your father.” The other members of the Alliance grew quiet.
“After our master was imprisoned, we needed someone from the Grindelwald family who could eventually stand up and carry the name forward,” Vinda explained.
“Naturally, our hopes first fell on your father.” She sighed heavily.
“But in the end, he was also proven to possess no magical talent.
Back then, we were still younger and convinced ourselves there would be another chance in the next generation.” Vinda’s voice gradually became more emotional.
“We believed that even if your father had inherited no magic, perhaps his child would.” Her lips trembled slightly.
“We simply never imagined that even you would…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
The elegant witch who had calmly faced armed Dark wizards earlier suddenly looked like an exhausted old woman carrying decades of disappointment.
Behind her, several members of the Alliance lowered their heads or quietly sighed.
Alistair suddenly found himself trying to comfort the same people who had casually used the Killing Curse less than an hour earlier.
“Mrs.
Rosier, everyone, it’s really fine.
The Muggle world is developing incredibly quickly now.” He gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Technology keeps advancing every year, and maybe one day life there will become just as interesting as life in the Wizarding World.” Alistair hadn’t intended the statement to mean anything profound, but the reaction was immediate.
Every person in the room suddenly stopped moving.
Vinda slowly raised her head.
Several elderly witches and wizards stared directly at Alistair.
His heart skipped a beat.
“W-What?” For one terrifying moment, Alistair wondered whether he’d accidentally revealed too much about his knowledge of the future.
Had he said something the original owner of this body could never have known?
In a room filled with experienced Dark wizards, exposing the truth about his transmigration was one possibility he desperately wanted to avoid.
Then Vinda stepped toward him.
“So similar…” she whispered.
Her hand gently touched Alistair’s cheek while she stared at him with a distant expression.
“Far too similar.” Her eyes became misty with old memories.
“That’s almost exactly what our master once told us in Paris.” Relief immediately washed through Alistair.
Apparently, he hadn’t exposed himself at all; he’d simply reminded them of the mysterious man they had followed decades earlier.
Before anyone could say more, a sudden impact came from the window behind Alistair.
Crash!
He spun around and stared at the feathered shape outside the glass.
“Is that…an owl?” The room immediately erupted into chaos.
“Quick, let it in!” someone shouted, while another rushed toward the window.
“Don’t let the owl get away!” Within seconds, the same elderly Dark wizards who had calmly killed armed intruders earlier were scrambling around because a single owl had arrived.
To understand why, it was necessary to go back slightly.
At almost the exact moment Alistair had awakened in this world, something unusual happened deep inside Hogwarts Castle.
High within one of its towers, an old quill resting beside a silver inkpot suddenly began to tremble.
Without anyone touching it, the faded feather slowly rose into the air and drifted toward an enormous ancient book bound in dark dragon hide.
The Book of Admittance opened by itself.
Then the Quill of Acceptance touched the parchment and carefully wrote a new name.
Alistair Vance Grindelwald.
Not long afterward, hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor outside the Headmaster’s office.
Professor Minerva McGonagall stopped before the entrance and gave the password.
“Sherbet Lemon.” The hidden doorway opened, allowing her inside.
A short while later, Albus Dumbledore appeared before her in his nightclothes, looking considerably less imposing than one might expect from the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and one of the most respected wizards of the age.
“Oh, Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore greeted pleasantly.
“What brings you here so late?
Has something happened at Hogwarts?” Seeing the seriousness on her face, he lifted one hand reassuringly.
“There’s no need to rush.
Tell me what happened.” With a casual gesture, a glass of chilled lemonade floated toward her.
“Perhaps you’d like some lemonade first?” McGonagall didn’t even glance at the drink.
“Dumbledore, forget the lemonade.
There’s something you need to know immediately.” Her expression remained unusually serious.
“It concerns one of this year’s incoming students, and I would consider the situation urgent.” Dumbledore raised one eyebrow, though his demeanor remained calm.
“A problem involving one of our new students?” he asked lightly.
“Professor McGonagall, you know I’ve always had complete confidence in you, so I’m sure Hogwarts hasn’t suffered some catastrophic administrative failure.” A faint smile appeared beneath his beard.
“What happened?
Surely one of the children hasn’t eaten the owl carrying their acceptance letter?” Dumbledore chuckled at his own joke.
Then he took another sip of lemonade.