After the lively, bustling day, Damien feigned exhaustion and slipped back to his bedroom early.
Under the warm yellow lamplight, he lifted his hand and gave a casual wave.
As his fingers traced the air, a translucent screen—visible only to him—shimmered into existence.
[Wizard Growth Support System loading complete.
Host’s physical functions have been scanned.
Magic assistance functions have been created based on the current world environment.
Please review, Host.]
In the center of the simple yet elegant interface, a line stood out—words Damien knew all too well.
He read it a few times, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; he’d played similar games a lot in his previous world.
With practiced ease, Damien tapped the review button and entered the system proper.
Humming a little tune, he scrolled leisurely through the interface, then opened the personal profile without hesitation.
As a seasoned gamer, if he couldn’t customize his avatar, then naturally the first thing to check was his stats.
Only, beside Damien’s personal holographic 3D projection, there were no familiar four basic attributes like Strength, Constitution, Intelligence, or Agility.
Instead, a row of personal data appeared:
[Name: Damien McGonagall]
[Age: 4 years and 10 months]
[Height: 3 feet 11 inches]
[Weight: 21 kg]
[Bloodline: Half-blood]
[Personal Talents:]
[1.
Visitor from Another World (Gold): The coincidences of the universe have converged upon you, allowing you to traverse the dimensions of time and space between worlds while preserving your sense of self.
Because of this special experience, your thoughts and memories will always remain independent and cannot be read or altered.
Your spatial perception has been greatly enhanced.
Your talent in Space-type magic and Memory-type magic +1.
Special: By changing the fates of characters in the current world, you can obtain special rewards.
O Fate-weaver standing at the crest of destiny’s tide, the long river of fate shall grant you generous gifts.]
[2.
Dreams Come True (Gold): Your long-cherished yearning for magic has finally become reality.
The Owl that is over thirty years late will, in the end, deliver your enrollment letter.
Because of this special luck, you gain an additional +1 experience bonus when learning and mastering magic.]
[3.
Transfiguration Family (Purple): A special talent inherited from your grandmother.
You possess sharper perception and comprehension in the field of Transfiguration.
Your talent in Transfiguration-type magic +1.]
[Achievements Earned:]
[Angling Master: You caught a 3-foot-1-inch carp on your first real fishing trip.
Your skill and luck have earned the admiration of all anglers.
Effect: Increases the chance of attracting a catch while fishing by 20%, and the chance of obtaining magical creatures by 5%.
Special: Aquatic magical creatures start with a Favorability of -20 (Dislike) toward you.]
[Abilities Earned: None]
[Comprehensive Evaluation: You lucky dog!!
I want to report someone pulling a legendary on a single draw!!]
Staring at this string of values, Damien felt more uneasy than pleased.
In this world, the greatest wizard alive also happened to be a master of memories.
If, one day, that wizard suddenly decided to take a peek into Damien’s mind and discovered he couldn’t… Damien didn’t even need to think with his heels to know how that would end.
After all, the role of kindly mentor was a limited-time offer reserved for Harry Potter.
To everyone else, Albus Dumbledore was the undisputed number one wizard in the world.
If Dumbledore truly became suspicious, Damien’s comfortable little life here would almost certainly be over.
The last person who had made him suspicious was Tom.
And according to the current timeline, and Tom ended up as the most hated guy with no nose.
With that thought, Damien sank into serious contemplation.
How was he supposed to make that wizard trust him?
While Damien was racking his brains about how to clear his name, downstairs in the first-floor living room, the McGonagall family sat gathered around the sofa, their expressions grave.
Catherine had dragged a chair over to the foot of the stairs and sat down to knit, a ball of yarn resting by her feet.
But her hands moved on their own, looping and pulling the yarn with practiced motions while her gaze stayed fixed on the second floor—more precisely, on Damien’s bedroom door.
“Generally speaking, a young wizard starts having magic outbursts at around seven or eight,” Minerva said at last.
“In special cases, they can appear as early as three.
But according to the records, an outburst that comes too early will affect the young wizard’s mind.
In other words, little Damien needs guidance; otherwise, he risks becoming an Obscurial.”
Minerva’s expression was grave as she gave voice to the fear weighing on all of them.
“Little Damien is very smart,” Robert Jr.
muttered, as if trying to reassure himself.
“He’s a good boy.
He can understand magic correctly.”
“What if he thinks his magic will hurt Catherine?”
Malcolm’s words cut straight to the heart of it.
In this family, aside from the wizards, there were two Muggles.
They had no way to defend themselves against magic.
Robert Jr.
opened his mouth, then only managed a weary sigh.
“You’re right, brother.
If something like that really happened, little Damien would definitely blame himself.”
A heavy silence settled over the living room, as if it had stolen everyone’s voices.
“Normally, once a child’s mind matures at seven or eight, they can control that wild magic,” Isobel said slowly.
“But Damien is too clever, and he’s strong-willed.
Take the fishing incident today—an ordinary child would’ve let go of the rod long ago, but he insisted on hauling the fish out by force.”
She paused, then went on, “The root of it is that little Damien is smarter than Minerva, Malcolm, or Robert Jr.
were at four—no, I should say he’s much more mature.
Little Damien has his own opinions and independent way of thinking.”
Her three once-immature children sat clustered around her again, listening to the quiet authority of their mother’s years.
“I think Damien’s view of magic is positive, at least for now.
We just need to teach him the basics of the wizarding world ahead of time.
Let him learn more, and I believe little Damien will be able to control himself.
Yes, my grandson is much more mature than Robert Jr.”
“Mom,” Robert Jr.
said, embarrassed, “I know I’m not as good as my son.
You don’t have to keep bringing it up.”
“At least Damien can actually catch a fish.
If you’re not convinced, go catch one yourself.
After all these years without using magic, you can’t even get a single fish scale.”
Malcolm slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders, teasing him with obvious affection.
“Alright, that’s that.
Minerva, help little Damien draw up a study plan.
We’ll take turns finding time to sit with him—reading and teaching him about magic.
Now, lift the Silencing Charm.
And mind your tongues later; don’t say anything that’ll make Catherine worry.”
With Isobel’s decision, little Damien’s preschool education plan was officially set.
Robert Jr.
walked over to Catherine with a broad smile and quietly told her about Damien’s upcoming studies.
Catherine was a little doubtful—this “result” didn’t quite match the grim faces she’d seen on the family a moment before.
Still, she chose to believe him.
Robert Jr.
had never hurt her.
On the second weekend after Damien’s magic riot, Minerva—who usually only visited once a month—broke her routine and came again.
This time, however, her expression was serious, and floating in the air behind her were all the standard first-year textbooks from Hogwarts.
Damien, who had been loitering in the garden, was called back to the living room by Catherine and walked straight into this sight.
His usually gentle aunt stood there with an icy look on her face, seven or eight thick textbooks hovering behind her, radiating the presence of an academic expert—a true titan in her field.
Damien swallowed.
Only then did he really understand why the chaos-makers of Gryffindor behaved so meekly under Minerva.
With an aura like that, what teenager would dare provoke her?
Damien dragged his feet over one small step at a time, a painfully eager smile plastered across his face.
“My most beautiful auntie, are you here to see me today?”
He forced his eyes as wide as they would go, trying to weaponize cuteness and stir Minerva’s maternal instincts.
Judging by her current expression, though—the unmistakable look of a teacher about to open “Mother’s Classroom”—it didn’t look like he’d be getting off lightly.
In his mind, a familiar “lecture” track of unbearable lessons started playing on loop.
While his thoughts drifted, Minerva’s next “incantation” fell from above, calm and precise.
“Damien McGonagall, since you have already shown a talent for magic, you must learn to control your power and become an excellent wizard.”
Her voice was level, almost cool.
She shot him a sidelong glance; the light flashing off her square spectacles was so cold it shattered the ingratiating smile he’d worked so hard to put on.
Damien straightened up at once, standing still for the coming lecture.
“Starting today, you will begin learning the basic knowledge of the wizarding world.
I have brought you the first-year textbooks for Hogwarts.
“Your dad went to Diagon Alley to buy books for you.
Tonight, he will bring back some other foundational books.
I believe you are smart enough to know how much learning can help you, right?”
Minerva’s steady, emotionless tone drilled straight into his skull.
For a moment Damien felt as though he’d been dropped back into the “happy” days of his previous life, standing in front of his homeroom teacher’s desk.
“Okay, Auntie.”
He answered honestly and without protest.
Her sudden shift into full seriousness hit him hard, reminding him that the woman in her thirties standing before him was Dumbledore’s most capable assistant—and a master of Transfiguration.
Seeing that her warning had taken root, Minerva’s voice eased slightly.
“Study hard, and you will find that magic has its own mysteries.
You cannot purchase a wand until you go to Hogwarts at age eleven.
“Until then, your father, your uncle, and I will tutor you in basic theoretical coursework and knowledge of various magical creatures.
“Now, today we begin our first lesson.
Although I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts, a young wizard’s first lesson must still be the most basic principles of Charms.”
With that, Minerva opened The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and sat with Damien in a corner of the living room, beginning his very first formal lesson in magic.
“Miranda Goshawk is regarded by Professor Flitwick as the most knowledgeable Charms master in the world today.
Her understanding of Charms is very unique.
“She believes that the pronunciation of the incantation, the wand movements, and even the wizard’s own will all play indispensable roles.
“Today, we will first get a general understanding of basic spellcasting pronunciation and a few fundamental wand movements…”
An hour and a half slipped by before Damien realized it.
The theoretical foundation of a Transfiguration master had its own special allure; even while teaching Charms, Minerva explained complex ideas in simple terms.
Under her guidance, Damien’s grasp of magic advanced in leaps and bounds.
Just as Minerva wrapped up the lesson, a small red dot suddenly appeared in Damien’s field of vision.
He tapped it lightly.
[Detected that the host has performed an efficient magic study session.
Magic growth progress bar unlocked.
Experience gained this time: +1.]
Finally.
A rush of emotion surged through him.
Half a month after obtaining the system, he had finally managed to earn experience through his own effort—even if he still didn’t know what those experience points were actually for.
But for someone with lousy hand–eye coordination, any game where you could grind and grow was a good game.
From that day on, Damien’s carefree childhood gained a new companion: academic pressure.
Fortunately, he was still young, so each lesson remained relatively simple.
Having lived two lives, Damien understood better than most how important learning truly was.
So, caught in a steadily rising spiral, he began to slowly comprehend the ways magic was perceived in the wizarding world: its underlying principles, its many magical creatures, and the strange phenomena woven through it all.
Two months flew by.
Damien devoured every scrap of knowledge he could find, his curiosity about magic pushing him to make connections and ask questions no one around him had thought of.
Before long, Robert Jr.
and Malcolm simply couldn’t keep up.
You couldn’t really blame them.
They were grown men who’d been out of school for years; it was unrealistic to expect them to recall every detail—especially in a field as fluid and subjective as magic.
So their arrangement shifted.
Damien spent his weekdays buried in books on his own, then waited for the weekends for Minerva to come by and give him proper, structured answers.
Just like that, his daily routine took shape.
He woke up at dawn for a run, came back for breakfast, then sat through his mother’s Muggle-style early childhood lessons.
After lunch he napped, and once he woke, he plunged into wizarding texts.
“Hogwarts: A History.”
“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.”
Most recently, “The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.”
After dinner, he would jot down notes or quietly experiment with his so‑called System.
On the surface, it was an easy, almost idyllic life.
Underneath, Damien’s thoughts were already fixed on the future.
The next thirty-odd years would be the so‑called “good old days” of that energetic little gang led by Comrade Tom.
Even under Dumbledore’s leadership, the Order of the Phoenix would lose more than half its members.
Just look at Ron’s mother, Molly Weasley.
She came from the old Prewett family, but by the end of that war, both of her brothers were dead.
The only reason the Weasleys made it through was that they were pure‑blood and hadn’t joined the Order at the time.
Damien, on the other hand, was a half‑blood with an aunt who happened to be Dumbledore’s deputy.
For him, there was no real question about which side to stand on.
Who in their right mind would choose to follow a madman who spent his days casting Avada Kedavra?
But if, one day, the great wizard probed his mind and discovered he couldn’t open it at all—that there was nothing to see—then mere lack of blind devotion might easily be taken as outright betrayal.
Caught between giants, Damien let out a long, tired sigh.
Under both of those titans, his gift for being “absolutely invisible” might turn into a liability.
Since there was no way he could suddenly become some peerless powerhouse overnight, what he really needed were companions—friends who could grow with him, just like James Potter and his band of Marauders.
Interestingly, though the Order of the Phoenix suffered horrifying casualties, every Marauder except James himself came through alive.
And among them, Damien’s favorite had always been the one who spent his life poor and worn down, yet remained gentle and brave: Remus Lupin.
The only problem was that Remus was a Werewolf, so getting close meant watching the full moon.
But right now… he shouldn’t have been bitten yet.
Not yet…
The realization hit him like a lightning strike.
‘Remus Lupin was only four years old when he was bitten by the Werewolf Fenrir Greyback.’
‘That was a Muggle-born wizarding family.
Remus’s father worked at the Ministry of Magic.
Fenrir bit young Remus in revenge, turning him into a Werewolf.’
‘That beast, Fenrir Greyback… he bit Remus just because Remus’s father saw through his true identity.’
Buried memories surged to the surface.
Damien shot to his feet.
A sharp instinct told him that if he could change Remus’s fate, the reward would be beyond anything he could currently imagine.
Saturday, 16 January 1965
Damien’s Home
That morning, Robert Jr.
and Catherine were sprawled together in bed, savoring a rare, lazy weekend.
Pale winter sunlight slipped through the curtains and spilled across the sheets, while outside, heavy snow sagged on the garden hedges, cutting the warm bedroom off from the frozen world beyond.
Wrapped snugly in their blankets, the two of them were on the verge of surrendering completely to comfort when footsteps sounded in the hallway, shattering the drowsy stillness.
Catherine lifted one leg and gave Robert Jr.
a light kick.
“Go keep Damien company while he reads.
Go downstairs.
I can’t get up.”
Her voice was lazy, tinged with a husky allure as she leaned against his shoulder, playfully wheedling her husband.
Robert Jr.
rolled his eyes in despair, scrubbed Catherine’s hair with a vigorous rub, then threw back the warm covers and got up.
His legs wobbled a bit as he shuffled step by step toward the door.
“Love you, hubby.” A spark of mischief flashed in Catherine’s eyes before she flopped back on the bed in a big star shape and drifted peacefully off to sleep again.
Though he left the bed reluctantly, Robert Jr.
still cared about his image.
He gave his wand a quick flick, changing into a decent set of clothes, then opened the bedroom door and murmured quietly to Damien:
“Mom is resting.
Let’s go downstairs.”
At those words, Damien—already on edge these days because of the Remus matter—felt a stab of guilt.
He nodded quickly and followed his father, the two of them tiptoeing down to the first floor.
“Are you hungry, Damien?
Do you want something to eat?” Robert Jr.
asked gently once they’d reached the sitting room.
This son of his was nothing like other young wizards—no mischief, no wild pranks.
Damien was quiet.
Even his favorite outdoor activity was something as calm as fishing—
(Of course, after that one time he actually hooked a fish, Damien had been banned from fishing, in case he accidentally used magic again and hurt something.)
Damien studied his father of this lifetime.
Even after living through two lives, he still couldn’t help but be intoxicated by such a gentle, harmonious household.
“Oh, no thank you, dad.
But I do have some questions I want to ask you.”
He lowered his gaze slightly to hide his emotions.
At just five years old, if he wanted to figure out whether there was still a way to help Remus, the only person he could rely on was his father, a proper member of the wizarding world.
“So you’re curious about the classification of werewolves, are you?
I must say, you’re progressing through your reading very quickly,” Robert Jr.
said, a little surprised.
“Although werewolves are all humans who’ve been infected and transformed, in a broad sense, the wizarding world still classifies them as Magical Creatures rather than a type of wizard once they’ve changed.”
He settled comfortably onto the sofa, launching into the explanation with ease.
Damien seized the opening to ask what he really wanted to know.
“So werewolves are also managed by the Ministry of Magic?
Under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, right?”
“Oh, certainly.
But when it comes to werewolves, there are some special distinctions.
There are three different departments involved with them.”
“There are those responsible for helping the poor people accidentally harmed by werewolves, and those in charge of punishing the evil werewolves who intentionally attack innocents.”
“I saw in The Daily Prophet that there have been lots of werewolf attacks recently.
Have those evil werewolves been caught, or did they get away?” Damien asked in a seemingly casual tone, though his hands curled into tight fists.
“Sigh, well…”
Robert Jr.
hesitated, but seeing how eager his son was to learn, he finally answered softly:
“That werewolf did escape.
He was very cunning—he pretended to be an ordinary Muggle and fooled the people on the Review Committee.
But don’t worry, the Ministry will catch him.”
Damien’s thoughts drifted back to the memories of his previous life.
If the timing was right, this should be the very incident where Lyall Lupin offended Fenrir by seeing through his werewolf identity.
In J.K.
Rowling’s supplemental writings, it was a very typical Harry Potter–style story.
Lyall Lupin, a member of the Review Committee, had gone out to identify werewolves and help the Ministry.
Right there in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he came face-to-face with Fenrir Greyback, who’d been brought in on charges of attacking two Muggle children.
But Fenrir Greyback was slippery.
He posed as a terrified Muggle who knew nothing, successfully deceiving Lyall’s colleagues.
After all, the key piece of evidence—Fenrir’s wand—had never been found.
No wizard would willingly abandon their wand.
Exploiting that ingrained assumption, Fenrir managed to slip through the net and escape punishment.
Lyall Lupin, an accomplished expert on Dark creatures, recognized Fenrir’s telltale habits at a glance and correctly guessed he was a werewolf.
He immediately and firmly demanded that the review committee keep Fenrir in isolation until after the next full moon.
His colleagues rejected the proposal out of hand.
Their mockery ignited Lyall’s temper; he jabbed a finger at Fenrir and shouted, “Soulless, evil, deserving only of death!”
For that outburst, Lyall was thrown out of the office.
The Chairman of the Committee personally apologized to Fenrir.
Because of that humiliation, Fenrir chose a particularly cruel form of revenge: he decided to make Lyall Lupin’s son, Remus Lupin, a werewolf as well.
Even though Robert Jr.’s story left Damien’s thoughts in chaos, he forced himself to stay calm and kept chatting with him about the basics of the wizarding world.
Robert Jr., for his part, did his best to answer every question, softening the details and putting things as kindly as he could.
So father and son passed a pleasant morning together.
The easy, warm mood lasted right up until a bleary-eyed Catherine came downstairs and caught Robert Jr.
explaining the tricks and habits of wizarding thieves to Damien.
That was where the calm ended.
The harmonious father–son moment shifted into a tender but tense exchange between husband and wife.
Damien simply widened his innocent eyes and put on his most guileless expression, making it look as though the whole conversation had been entirely Robert Jr.’s idea.
“Honey, I’m going to have a little talk with Daddy.
Be good and wait a bit, then Daddy will cook for you.”
Damien ignored Robert Jr.’s pleading look; in a way, he figured, this was also a chance to help heat up the couple’s relationship.
That night, Damien paced his bedroom, going over everything he had learned from Robert Jr.
again and again.
“Remus was attacked before his birthday, and Lyall has already offended Fenrir Greyback, so I don’t have much time left.”
He brooded in silence, weighing his options: what method could he use to expose Fenrir—and, more importantly, how could he pass on that information without drawing suspicion to himself?
Outside, the wind howled against the windows.
In the dim light, something dark and determined flashed in Damien McGonagall’s eyes.