Amid the muffled clamor in the background, Damien’s eyes snapped open.
A throbbing, hangover‑like headache made him groan.
The previous night he had stared at the system panel until his vision blurred, keeping constant watch over Remus Lupin’s fate.
But this fragile five‑year‑old body simply couldn’t sustain that kind of strain.
He couldn’t even remember when he had slumped forward and fallen asleep on the table.
He shook his pounding head and pushed himself upright with effort.
His legs and right arm were completely numb from the awkward position he’d slept in.
Then he glanced toward the window—and froze.
The wide, unobstructed view of the lake was gone.
In its place, his father was working shoulder‑to‑shoulder with a stranger: a middle‑aged wizard Damien had never seen before.
Their wands moved in quick, practiced arcs as massive logs rose into the air, shaping and slotting themselves together.
Beams were carved, fitted, and stacked in mid‑air; the skeleton of a log cabin already stood on the shore.
‘It worked?!’
The thought flashed through Damien’s mind like lightning, and joy surged up from deep in his chest, almost painful in its intensity.
He all but ripped open the system interface, his fingers trembling as he called it forth.
At once, a flood of messages slammed into his vision:
[System Prompt: Significant change detected in the host’s current timeline!]
[System Prompt: Key figure—Remus Lupin’s established fate has undergone a subversive change!]
[System Analysis in progress…
Warning!
Warning!
Multiple preceding key figures of the main plot timeline “Harry Potter” series:]
[Severus Snape, Sirius Black, etc…
Fate trajectories have deviated drastically!
The timeline is fluctuating violently!]
[Warning!
Warning!
Parts of the main plot “Harry Potter” series have collapsed!
System is urgently deducing a new timeline…]
Lines of glaring red system prompts filled his field of vision, the torrent of data making his eyes swim.
And yet, all Damien wanted to do in that moment was laugh.
After so much painstaking research and after enduring his body being torn apart by magic, he had finally gotten the result he’d been fighting for.
Remus Lupin had not become a Werewolf.
That prematurely aged, impoverished man finally had a chance to change his destiny.
“However…”
Damien fell silent, frowning in thought.
He hadn’t expected Remus’s altered fate to unleash such a massive upheaval in the timeline.
But when he thought it through…
If Remus never became a Werewolf, then the Marauders would have no need to become Animagi in the first place.
Without that, the incident where Sirius Black tricked Severus Snape into seeing Remus as a transformed Werewolf—where Snape had nearly been bitten—would never occur.
Later, when Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black eventually confronted each other, Peter wouldn’t be able to fake his death and escape, so Sirius would never be falsely imprisoned…
That single rescued fate had triggered a chain reaction powerful enough to twist the future Damien knew into something unrecognizable.
Damien chuckled to himself.
Now that he’d transmigrated, there was no way he was going to sit around for thirty years and wait for a bunch of middle schoolers to save him.
He had the system—yes… the system.
He almost leapt to his feet in excitement.
With fate fluctuating so wildly this time, the destiny points he’d earn…
‘Oh my god!’
He swallowed hard, heart pounding, thoughts racing.
With a life change this drastic, his grand plan of adding points—no, his glorious path of personal struggle—
It was in the bag.
Absolutely guaranteed.
Hands trembling with impatience, he scrolled to the very bottom of the system panel to check the latest notification.
As expected, a golden prompt flashed into view at the end of the system screen:
[The river of fate has surged into a tide due to the host’s intervention.
The turbulent waters allow the river of fate to flow wildly.
The system has captured a large amount of overflow energy for the host!]
[The Fate-Weaver standing at the crest of the tide shall reap a rich harvest!
Your current destiny points obtained: 50 points!]
“Fifty points!!”
Damien was so thrilled he almost overturned the table.
He sprang up from his chair and punched the air in his bedroom.
“YES!
YES!
YES!!!”
He had started out wanting only to free Remus from his tragic fate, yet the system’s generous reward—this irresistible windfall—sent him into pure ecstasy.
He forced himself to take several deep breaths, trying to calm the heart that felt ready to burst out of his chest.
How should he use these fifty points?
To push his personal struggle to the next level… a flood of ideas crashed through his mind.
Just then, his mother Catherine’s voice floated up from downstairs:
“Damien, come down as you’re already awake!
I want to introduce you to a new friend!”
Catherine’s gentle tone sounded as mild as ever, but Damien could hear the undercurrent beneath it.
He shivered, hastily smoothed the joy from his face, grabbed a clean shirt from the wardrobe to replace his pajamas, and rushed downstairs.
He had a strong hunch that if he didn’t perform well in what was coming next, Catherine might not be so interested in being a kind mother anymore.
Many years later, when the renowned Professor Remus Lupin was invited by Myrinne Abber, the editor-in-chief of The Daily Prophet, to write his memoirs,
He deliberately chose his first meeting with Damien as the opening chapter of his legendary life:
“That year, I was not yet five years old and had just survived a Werewolf attack that almost destroyed everything I had.
Fortunately, I was rescued in time.
To avoid possible retaliation, our family accepted the generous invitation of Damien’s father, Mr.
Robert II, and moved to the Scottish Highlands, household and all.
“Aunt Catherine, Damien’s mother, was as warm as the morning sun.
She welcomed us into a cozy living room and provided our family with everything she could.
To be honest, her enthusiasm left me a little overwhelmed.
At that time, I was still drowning in the fear of the Werewolf attack; even the slightest noise would send my heart racing.
Just as I was holding a cup of hot tea, trying to settle my nerves…”
“A loud cheer suddenly rang out from the second floor.
Heavy footsteps followed, and I was so startled that the teacup slipped from my hand and fell straight onto the carpet.
Aunt Catherine’s expression immediately became… quite spectacular.
You see, just five minutes earlier, she had been talking a mile a minute with my mother, exchanging parenting tips,
And she could not resist boasting about the fruits of her efforts—her son Damien, a model of gentlemanly behavior.
However, the first impression Damien left on our family clearly differed greatly from her description.”
“But when he finally came downstairs, I must admit, he truly lived up to all of Aunt Catherine’s earlier praise.
He looked gentle, refined, and courteous, every inch a little gentleman.
However…”
Beneath Professor Lupin’s full head of silver hair, his slightly clouded eyes gleamed with mischief.
He winked at Myrinne and continued with a smile:
“That fellow Damien was born an old man in a child’s body.
Whenever I was with him, I always felt as though he were decades older than I was; the things that occupied his mind were completely different from mine.
Only in a few rare, very special moments could I catch a glimpse of the part of him that was truly his own age.
But that’s a side of him he would never let me tell you about.”
Myrinne Abber later recorded this encounter in her book:
“Professor Lupin stated quite frankly that, even before he turned five, he had already felt—deeply—the unique charm of the legendary wizard Damien McGonagall.
Moved by that charm, he took the very first step on the path of his own legendary life.
As we all know, legends always start a little early.”
—Excerpt from Fighting the Curse: The Life of Hogwarts’ Lifelong Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor by Myrinne Abber, Gold-Medal Editor-in-Chief of The Daily Prophet
“Behind Damien McGonagall’s brilliant, dazzling résumé lies a hidden, unfathomable cunning.
With cruel and malicious methods, he slyly harmed countless people of noble character!
All of this is recorded in detail in my mother’s journals.”
—Excerpt from The Double Life of Damien McGonagall by the exiled wizard Rachel Skeeter
The waters of Ochertyel had long since frozen solid under the brutal cold of the Scottish Highlands.
A thin crust of frost glazed the withered grass along the lakeshore, crunching crisply beneath each step.
Remus and Damien walked side by side through the pale, wintry landscape.
“So…” Remus cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed into them, his breath puffing white in the air.
He still wasn’t used to the biting Highland wind.
After wrestling with his nerves for a long while, he finally mustered the courage to voice the question that had been gnawing at his heart:
“Damien, in… in that vision you saw, was I… was I scratched by the werewolf… badly?”
He ducked his head a little.
He hadn’t even turned five yet, and his curiosity was too fierce to push down any longer.
At his words, Damien turned to look at the boy walking beside him, just a bit shorter than he was.
Under the thin sunlight, Remus’s light brown hair looked especially soft, almost downy.
Damien smiled and answered in a relaxed, almost teasing tone:
“Don’t worry, Remus.
Even if you were scratched by accident, it definitely wouldn’t ruin your looks.
I’m sure it wouldn’t stop a pretty girl from falling for you at first sight.”
“I—I did not!” Remus’s face flared scarlet, heat rushing all the way to the tips of his ears.
It felt as though steam might burst from the top of his head.
At four years old, he couldn’t fully make sense of such grown‑up teasing.
Flustered and mortified, he stamped his foot in protest, but no words came.
Seeing him like that, Damien couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing.
His warm, ringing laughter echoed over the frozen surface of Ochertyel.
After that brief bit of joking, the tightness in Remus’s shoulders slowly eased.
When Damien saw the tension leave his face, he asked, as if in passing:
“By the way, Remus, when did you find out you were a wizard?”
“Last year,” Remus replied, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes.
“Last summer, I suddenly wanted to make a teacup fly.
Then the teacup in my mother’s hand actually took off.
My dad was so happy that day—he picked me up and spun me around again and again.
I never knew he could get that excited.”
“That’s wonderful,” Damien said, genuinely impressed.
Then he fell silent for a moment.
When he spoke again, his tone had turned more serious.
“Remus, if… I mean, if you really had been bitten by the werewolf in that attack last night, would you… would you blame your father?”
Remus stopped short for a heartbeat, his small brows knitting together.
“Oh… I don’t know,” he said at last, uncertain, his voice dropping to a murmur.
“Dad said it’s because he offended that… that werewolf, and that’s why I was the target of such cruel revenge.
But wasn’t it because that werewolf hurt two innocent Muggles first that he was brought before my father?”
As he spoke, Remus’s gaze slowly grew steadier, more determined.
“So, no matter what happens, I won’t blame Dad.
He just did what he thought was right and protected other people.
No one should be punished for doing the right thing, right?”
“Remus,” Damien called his name softly, a faint note of admiration in his voice.
“What is it?” Little Remus looked up at him, puzzled.
“Nothing.” Damien smiled and ruffled his soft hair.
“I just think that when we go to Hogwarts, you’ll definitely be sorted into Hufflepuff.
I heard from my father that the people there are all upright, just like you.”
“Maybe,” Remus muttered.
“My dad graduated from Hufflepuff. This story is hosted at g.com.
But he always says he isn’t brave enough and hopes I can be a bit braver—ideally, sorted into Gryffindor.”
He sighed as he said this, looking a little dissatisfied.
Hearing that, Damien’s smile faded.
His expression grew unusually serious.
He turned and met Remus’s eyes, speaking clearly and deliberately:
“But in my opinion, Remus, your father, Mr Lyall, dared to question the Committee Chairman’s wrong judgment and stick to what he believed was right.
I don’t think he lacks courage at all.
He is very, very brave.”
Remus stared blankly at Damien.
The other boy’s eyes were bright and utterly sincere, carrying a quiet, convincing force.
Slowly, Remus began to smile; the gloom on his face melted away.
“Dad will be so happy when he hears you say that!”
Damien laughed too.
“How about this?
At dinner tonight, why don’t you say those words to Uncle Lyall?
But say you thought of them yourself—don’t mention me.”
“Why?” Remus asked, confused.
“Didn’t you say it first?
And… wouldn’t that be lying?”
His understanding of what counted as a “lie” was still hazy, but his honest instincts told him Damien’s idea wasn’t entirely right.
“Of course it’s not a lie.” Damien winked and spread his hands as he strolled along the lakeshore, looking perfectly relaxed and composed.
“It’s just that you happened—purely by coincidence—to leave out a few tiny, insignificant details, that’s all.
What matters is that this will help Uncle Lyall feel a bit more at ease.”
Remus nodded, half-comprehending.
Then he tilted his small head, studied Damien very seriously for a moment, and suddenly said, “Damien?”
“Hm?
What is it, Remus?” Damien glanced back.
“I have a feeling you’ll definitely go to Slytherin in the future,” Remus said with absolute certainty.
Damien’s smile froze.
He stared at Remus in disbelief and said, “Remus, has anyone ever told you…”
“Told me what?” Remus tilted his head again, his wide eyes full of curiosity.
“…that your insults are really nasty?” Damien finished with utter sincerity.
On the frozen lake, the reflections of the two children overlapped as they chased each other and laughed, their ringing voices driving away the winter chill.
They passed a carefree afternoon by the water until sunset, when the evening glow spilled over the pale land.
They returned to the courtyard of Damien’s home.
There, beside the yard, a wooden house—cleverly assembled from massive logs of different sizes and colors—had already taken shape.
The fresh scent of timber mingled with the smell of damp earth, faint but pleasant in the air.
Robert Jr.
and Lyall sat beneath the warm porch of Damien’s house, drenched in sweat, each holding a bottle of steaming Muggle beer as they chatted.
Catherine and Hope moved in and out of the new wooden house, carefully arranging and decorating it; from time to time, their cheerful laughter floated out.
“Whew… mission accomplished at last!” Robert Jr.
wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned at Lyall.
“The main structure’s done.”
“In the next couple of days, we’ll slowly sand it down and fine-tune everything, make it even more beautiful and comfortable.”
Following Robert Jr.’s example, Lyall raised the bottle and took a long swallow of beer.
The cold, slightly bitter liquid slid down his throat, making him shiver, but it washed away most of his fatigue.
He turned to the small house, its scent of fresh-cut timber drifting on the night air.
Gratitude flickered in his eyes, tinged with unease at what lay ahead.
Somewhat awkwardly, he said to Robert Jr.
“Thank you so much, Robert.
It’s just… the villagers on the other side of the lake… will they come over often?
To be honest, except when I’m investigating supernatural events, I’m… not very good at dealing with Muggles.”
Robert Jr.
lifted his beer bottle, a sly smile curling his lips.
“Don’t worry, Lyall.
My father is the only church pastor around here.
You’ve dealt with Muggles, so you should know what that title means in the countryside.
He’ll help you, make it easier for the nearby residents to accept your family.
After all…”
He tipped back his head and emptied the bottle.
Only his final words lingered in the air:
“Everything is by God’s guidance.”
At that, the tension in Lyall’s shoulders eased.
With the warmth of the house at his back and the alcohol spreading through his chest, he no longer felt as stiff and reserved as when they’d first met.
He ventured a sincere invitation.
“Once we’ve settled in a bit tomorrow, I’d like to invite your whole family over to try some of my cooking.
I spent some time in South America years ago and learned some local specialties; I hope you’ll like them.”
“Oh, Lyall, do you cook often at home?” Robert Jr.
asked, genuinely surprised.
“Uh, yes.” Lyall scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed.
“To be frank, Hope’s cooking is… well… a bit inconsistent.
So whenever I’m home, I’m usually the one who cooks.”
At that, a knowing grin spread across Robert Jr.’s face.
He lowered his voice and gave Lyall a conspiratorial wink.
“Then we’ll have to exchange culinary tips in the future.
I won’t lie to you, Catherine’s cooking… is a total catastrophe!
In our house…” Robert Jr.
puffed out his chest proudly.
“Only I am allowed in the kitchen!”
The two men met each other’s eyes and burst out laughing in instant, wordless understanding.
Sometimes, friendship between men is just that simple.
All it takes is one small thing in common—like the fact that both of them are absolutely confident in their cooking.