London, August 1991.
The sun broke free from the clouds, cutting through the heavy fog to illuminate the damp pavement below.
A tabby cat crouched at the street corner, inspecting the road sign with serious focus.
In the blink of an eye, it vanished.
“Thank you for the fortune, Mr.
Prewett.” A man sat huddled at a street-corner fortune-telling stall, his shoulders hunched.
“My wife…
really did cheat on me…” “Ah, right.
Here’s the payment we agreed on.” “I’m so sorry.” Silas Prewett feigned a sorrowful sigh, though he pocketed the money with swift efficiency.
“If I may ask, how do you plan to handle this?
If you need fortune-telling advice, I can help.” “That won’t be necessary, Mr.
Prewett.
I plan to forgive her,” the man said, rubbing his hands together.
*Tsk.* *A cuckold after all.* Silas curled his lip inwardly, though his face maintained an expression of regretful sympathy.
“Good luck to you, sir.” After seeing the man off, Silas looked down and counted the cash—roughly 25 pounds.
Combined with the loose change he had earned earlier, he now had 28 pounds and 17 pence on him.
The money was secondary, though.
What mattered more was the prompt box floating before his eyes.
Silas focused on the virtual screen in front of him.
[You completed a scam] [Silver Tongue: Level 1 (34/100) — Proficiency +1] [Description: Oh, sir.
Go speak to them about anything—they’ll believe you.
Just watch your tongue; after all, trouble comes from the mouth.] [Effect: Your words pierce straight to the heart, making them much easier to believe.] He didn’t actually know any fortune-telling; it was all just a scam he had set up.
Using his little brothers from the orphanage, Silas had discovered the man’s wife was cheating long before this.
He had then deliberately lured the man to his booth and revealed the truth under the guise of divination.
Silas was too young—only eleven—so the man hadn’t believed him at first.
Not until the hard facts matched Silas’s words exactly.
However, this wasn’t the optimal outcome Silas had planned.
He had wanted to triple-dip on this: first, earn money for divining the affair; second, ask for a fee to give the husband advice on how to handle it; and third, turn around and demand a fee from the unfaithful wife for advice on how to handle her husband.
He hadn’t expected the man to just choose forgiveness.
Was she that special to him?
“Silas, I had a feeling you’d be here.” A familiar voice reached Silas’s ears, breaking his train of thought.
“Miss Granger…” Silas quickly stashed the cash, the expression on his face instantly vanishing as he put on a humble, polite demeanor.
In front of Hermione, he was always gentle and kind.
“Call me Hermione.” Hermione Granger sat across from Silas, resting her chin on her hands as she watched him.
“How’s business today?” “Not bad.” Silas shuffled the Tarot deck on the table.
“Want to try a reading?” Hermione looked at Silas’s pale, slender face, a flicker of sympathy passing through her eyes.
“All right, let me try one.
I want to know…
which school will I go to?” She was eleven this year, the age to transition to secondary school, and the question had been troubling her for days.
Aside from considering which school to attend, she also didn’t want to be separated from the boy in front of her, who had been her classmate for six years.
Silas wasn’t like other kids.
He didn’t laugh at her bushy hair, nor did he turn away impatiently when she talked about things she read in books; instead, he listened intently.
Even though he grew up in an orphanage, he was a gentle, kind boy—and he never lied.
Hermione thought to herself.
“Have you received any letters lately?” Silas asked.
He remembered that Hogwarts would send an owl with an acceptance letter before term started.
Since Hermione came from a Muggle family, a professor would visit in person later.
“Letters?” Hermione asked, puzzled.
“What letters?” “My parents were complaining a few days ago about some nonsensical scam letters, though—one of them even had my name on it.” *Looks like Mr.
and Mrs.
Granger ignored it,* Silas thought.
That happened often with Muggle families, which was why professors had to visit in person to explain.
After all, few parents would send their child to an obscure school based on a single letter.
“Never mind, let’s begin,” Silas said.
The Tarot cards, their backs painted with stars, were scrambled under his hands and then reshuffled back together.
“Focus on yourself and draw a card.” Silas held the deck with four fingers, fanning it out slowly before Hermione.
The spacing between every card was kept almost perfectly identical under his deliberate control.
Only then did he take the opportunity to carefully observe the young girl before him.
Bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and a slightly serious, bookish air.
Of course, none of that was the main point.
The main point was her name: Hermione Granger.
She looked almost identical to how she did in the *Harry Potter* movies.
It was precisely because of her that Silas, a few years after being reincarnated as a baby, finally realized this was the world of *Harry Potter*.
Hermione drew a Tarot card from the middle of the deck.
Flipping it over, she saw an old man holding a lantern and a walking stick, standing atop a snowy mountain peak.
“Ah, The Hermit card.” Silas took the card in his hand and looked at it closely.
“This represents your pursuit of wisdom and love of reading, though it also means you often feel lonely because of it…” Hermione nodded.
That indeed described her current situation.
“Though I think…
the core meaning of this card should be that you’re going to pursue hidden knowledge.
Maybe you’ll go to an unknown school of magic.” Silas delivered the answer in a playful, joking tone.
“Haha, if only you could come with me.” Hermione assumed he was joking and didn’t think much of it.
She blinked at him, finally revealing her true reason for coming to find him.
“I didn’t bring any money when I left the house, so…
come to my place for dinner.
Consider it payment for the reading.” Whenever the girl wanted to show kindness, she always found an excuse.
Ever since she learned Silas was an orphan whose parents had passed away, she often invited him over for dinner.
First, because she liked him as a friend, and second, because she wanted to look after him.
Since Silas looked so thin, she was always worried he was malnourished.
“Then thank you very much, Miss Granger.” “Just call me Hermione,” she said, standing up from the booth and emphasizing it once more.
“Silas, you’re always so formal.” The spot wasn’t far from Hermione’s house.
Packing up their things, the two quickly arrived at their destination.
“Good evening, Mr.
Granger, Mrs.
Granger.
Sorry for intruding.” “Mr.
Prewett!
Welcome, welcome.” “Come on in!” The Granger family had long grown familiar with this polite, sensible boy, and they all liked him very much.
“You two go play for a bit, dinner will be ready soon.” “Follow me, let’s go upstairs.” Hermione led Silas toward her bedroom.
“Don’t eat too many sweets—it’s bad for your teeth,” Mr.
Granger, a dentist, called out from behind his newspaper, giving his habitual reminder.
“My dad bought me an illustrated book last week, but I’d already read it back in Year Three.
He can never remember which books I’ve read.” “I think it’s because you read too fast.” “It’s because I never have anything else to do, and you don’t come over to play.” “Sorry, I…” “No, I should be the one apologizing.” Hermione tucked her unruly hair behind her ear, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“I forgot you have to earn money fortune-telling.” “It’s fine.
Earning a dinner once in a while isn’t bad.” Hermione was amused by him.
She led him over to her packed bookshelf, enthusiastically re-introducing her various books until Mrs.
Granger knocked on the door.
“Is it time for dinner, Mum?
It’s still early.” “No…” Mrs.
Granger looked hesitant, her gaze falling on Silas.
“I’m sorry, Silas, but I’m afraid we can’t host you tonight.” “Why?!” Hermione’s voice rose, confused and displeased.
“We have an important guest downstairs, and we need to discuss something very serious shortly—it’s regarding your schooling, Hermione,” Mrs.
Granger explained helplessly.
“It’s all right.
I’ll take my leave then.
See you later, Hermione.” Silas walked up to Hermione with a smile and said goodbye.
As he reached the doorway, he deliberately looked back at Hermione once more, showing just the right amount of reluctance.
This made Hermione feel sad and guilty.
“Goodbye, Mrs.
Granger.” Watching Silas head downstairs, Mrs.
Granger couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt.
This child lived a tough life, yet he was always so well-behaved and sensible.
And it was precisely his sensible nature that broke one’s heart.
However, both she and her husband took what the guest downstairs said very seriously, so they had to wrong him for now.
“Goodbye, Mr.
Granger,” Silas called out as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
His eyes subtly swept toward another person sitting in the living room.
She was a stern-looking woman wearing square glasses, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, wrapped in an emerald-green cloak.
*That must be Professor McGonagall, here to take Hermione to school, right?* Based on his memory of Harry Potter, Silas deduced the woman’s identity.
“Please wait a moment, Mr.
Prewett.” Mr.
Granger felt somewhat awkward; treating his daughter’s friend like this certainly wasn’t his intention.
“Hermione made these sandwiches.
Please don’t mind taking them with you.” *Prewett?* McGonagall paused.
That surname was rare in the wizarding world, but in the Muggle world, it was just an ordinary name.
It wasn’t that unusual; plenty of people in London were named Prewett.
However, hearing that name suddenly reminded Professor McGonagall of the Prewett brothers who had died in the Wizarding War.
The Prewett family had been an ancient and respected pure-blood wizarding family, as well as staunch supporters of the Order of the Phoenix.
Regrettably, in the struggle against Voldemort, the Prewett line had been virtually wiped out.
Before marrying Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley was a member of the Prewett family.
McGonagall glanced at Silas with a touch of curiosity.
Dark brown hair and brown eyes…
It couldn’t be such a coincidence, could it?
Despite thinking so, McGonagall kept her eyes fixed on Silas.
As he turned to look at her, McGonagall finally saw his full face.
That brief glance made McGonagall’s heart skip a beat.
This child’s features…
actually bore a striking resemblance to Fabian Prewett!