The carriage slowly descended from high above and finally stopped in a narrow alley.
Once the carriage came to a halt, Ethan was the first to open the door.
He jumped down and landed steadily in an extremely showy pose.
After straightening up, he stretched while taking in the crowded street beyond the alley.
Professor Fig stepped down from the carriage at an unhurried pace, then turned back to ask George, “Are you really not coming with us to Gringotts?”
“No.
There’s still a pile of work waiting for me at the Ministry of Magic.
Ah, until we meet again, Mr.
Ethan.” George turned and gave Ethan a small bow, then drew his wand.
“Apparition.”
With a spherical ripple in space, George vanished in front of them, just as he had appeared.
“All right, we should head to Diagon Alley.” Professor Fig walked out of the alley and turned back at the entrance to call Ethan over.
“It’s still some distance from here to Diagon Alley.
We’ll have to walk for a bit.”
“Got it, Professor.
I’m coming.”
Ethan quickly caught up with Professor Fig, keeping half a step behind him as he followed at a steady pace, while thinking back over everything that had happened over the past week.
…
Ethan had arrived in this world a week ago.
To put it simply, he was a transmigrator.
He could no longer remember the details of how he had crossed over.
All he knew was that he had closed his eyes and opened them again, and somehow gone from the bed in his own home to a hospital bed.
An oxygen mask was strapped to his face, an IV drip was attached to his left hand, his whole body ached, and he looked as if half his life had nearly been taken from him.
“So it’s an unfamiliar ceiling.”
Ethan silently mocked the situation, then struggled to sit up slowly and looked around.
“Where…
am I, ngh!”
A sudden, splitting headache made Ethan clutch his forehead.
He braced himself against the bed with his other hand and slowly lay back down.
Along with the pain came a flood of fragmented memories pouring into his mind.
Ethan lay on the bed, breathing heavily as he carefully sorted through the chaotic pieces of information.
“The Holy Grail War…
an explosion…
a wizard…
a human sacrifice…
Damn it, what the hell is all this?”
Ethan’s memories from before his transmigration told him that things like the Holy Grail War were nothing more than fictional concepts from anime and games.
He himself had only been an unlucky gacha player of one particular game from that IP.
But the memory fragments that had just surged into his mind were telling him that all of it had truly happened, and that he had experienced it personally.
Creak.
The hospital room door was pushed open, and a silver-haired old man walked in.
He looked at Ethan lying on the bed and asked with a smile, “Oh, you’re awake?”
Ethan sat up again and studied the old man.
A face full of wrinkles, a hooked nose, high cheekbones, blue eyes.
A typical Western face.
The face was unfamiliar, which meant he was not someone Ethan knew in this world.
He was dressed in ordinary clothes rather than a hospital uniform, so he clearly was not a staff member either.
Then why had he come to see him?
“Who are you?” Ethan asked.
“Eleazar Fig.
Just call me Fig.” Fig smiled and sat down familiarly in the visitor’s chair beside the bed, then reached out and gently pressed Ethan’s shoulder.
“You must be Ethan.
For now, it would be better for you to lie down and rest.”
Ethan neither lay down nor answered.
He simply stared fixedly at Fig’s face.
“I know you must have many questions right now, but I’ll have to explain things slowly.
During that time, you should lie down and rest.” Fig kept smiling as he withdrew the hand pressing on Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan stopped insisting and lay back down on the hospital bed.
“You may begin.”
“All right.
Then let’s start with who I am…”
From Fig’s rambling explanation, Ethan learned the general outline of what had happened.
A British dark wizard had fled to China and carried out a dark magic ritual in an attempt to gain power and immortality.
After years of research, he had fused Eastern and Western Magecraft systems and produced a warped blood sacrifice ritual similar to the Holy Grail War.
Ethan had been one of the unlucky people chosen as a pawn for that ritual.
Fortunately, something went wrong with the ritual.
The dark wizard suffered a backlash, triggering an explosion that destroyed the entire town, while Ethan, who should have died as a sacrifice, miraculously survived.
Fig was a professor at a certain Wizarding School and, as the highest-ranking person who happened to be on a business trip nearby, had been put in charge of cleaning up the aftermath.
“…And that’s the situation.
You can ask whatever you want now.”
Professor Fig finished speaking at an unhurried pace, took a cup from his pocket, and sipped some water.
“Why was I chosen?”
“Because you have an extremely strong affinity for Magic.
In other words, you’re exceptionally talented.
You’re a natural-born wizard, Ethan.”
“What about the others?
Were they like me too?”
“No.
They were just muggles, ordinary people.
That Dark Wizard originally intended to sacrifice the others through a dark magic ritual to strengthen your power, then take your life and everything you are for himself…
But as you can see, he failed.”
“…Then what am I now?” Ethan looked at Professor Fig and asked, “Do I still count as human?
Or have I already become some kind of product of dark magic?
Mr.
Fig, are you here to…
‘deal with’ me?”
“No, Ethan.” Professor Fig’s expression turned serious.
“There is one thing you must understand.
Just like the people who died, you are a victim.
We will not do anything to you.”
Ethan fell silent, lying on the bed with his eyes closed without saying a word.
Seeing this, Professor Fig sighed inwardly.
“This is still far too much for a child,” he thought.
After a long while, Ethan opened his eyes and asked cautiously, “Then what am I supposed to do next?”
“As I said earlier, you’re a natural-born wizard.
I imagine Hogwarts would be very happy to accept a student with such a bright future.”
“Hogwarts?” Ethan looked shocked.
Hogwarts.
Ethan still had some impression of the word.
It was the Wizarding School from a certain fantasy novel, located in the Scottish Highlands.
The school was full of talented people, the spells sounded wonderful, the classes were interesting, and he had desperately wanted to spend his whole life there as a student.
But Hogwarts and the Holy Grail War were clearly two completely unrelated things.
How had they ended up in the same world?
“The finest Wizarding School in the world.
And its current headmaster is also the greatest in history, Albus Dumbledore,” Professor Fig hinted.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re in a hurry to lure me away, Professor?” Ethan caught the meaning behind his words and laughed.
“In a sense, that is exactly what I’m doing.
After all, Hogwarts is in Britain, while according to your region, you should be attending the local Wizarding School.
Still, the choice is yours.
As a victim, wanting a change of environment to clear your head is perfectly reasonable.”
Professor Fig winked at Ethan and gave him a sly, calculating smile.
“So, Ethan, will you choose to come with me to Hogwarts, stay here and wait for the local Wizarding School to admit you, or continue living as an ordinary person?
That last option is possible as well.
I’ve already spoken to the people in charge here, and they can let you return to normal life.
It all depends on you, my dear friend.
Make your choice.”