‘Expecto Patronum!’
A slightly hazy white bird flew from Black’s fingertips and wheeled happily beneath the ceiling.
‘Wandless magic isn’t that difficult, then,’ he muttered, rubbing his nose.
It still felt like a dream.
Black hadn’t been born in this world.
Or rather, he had—but he’d already lived in another one first.
When he’d arrived, he had found himself a baby, abandoned on the doorstep of an orphanage.
Before he’d quite recovered from that discovery, he’d been given another shock.
This was the world of Harry Potter.
The person who had left him there had taken out a wand after setting him down.
Black had distinctly heard a quiet murmur of ‘Apparition’.
Then the stranger had vanished.
Abandoned by a wizard.
That surely gave him a decent chance of being one himself.
After Mrs Marian, the woman who ran the orphanage, had found him and taken him inside, he had waited eagerly for some sign of magic.
It had come when he was five: his first burst of accidental magic.
What surprised him was how quickly he’d learnt to control it.
Before long, he could cast a few ordinary spells without a wand.
Now he had attempted something as advanced as the Patronus Charm and succeeded on his very first try.
Still without a wand.
Even Black thought that was a little excessive.
Naturally, it had left him curious about his origins.
Unfortunately, when Mrs Marian had found him, the only thing he’d had with him was a metal tag.
A few letters on it appeared to form a name, but the inscription was incomplete.
The latter part looked as though it had been worn away.
Black Grin…
Whatever came after ‘Grin’ was illegible.
Mrs Marian had simply named him after what she could read.
Black Grin.
The tag was peculiar in another way, too.
Even after he had become thoroughly proficient with the Mending Charm, he had never managed to restore it.
‘With this much magical talent already…’ Black murmured.
‘Imagine if I had a system as well.
Practically everyone who ends up in another world gets one.
I’d be unstoppable.’
He sighed.
‘Shame about that.’
For all the advantages of his new life, he had never awakened any sort of system to help him along.
He’d always felt slightly cheated by the omission.
Then a voice sounded.
[Keyword detected.
Awakening system.]
Black sat motionless in his room.
All this time.
All this time, and the reason it hadn’t appeared was that he had never actually said the word ‘system’?
[Heightened emotional state detected in host.]
[Binding Emotion Chest System to host.]
[System binding complete.]
It took Black only five minutes in the privacy of his room to work out the essentials.
The Emotion Chest System did much as its name suggested.
Whenever he caused someone else to experience a strong emotion, he had a chance of receiving a chest.
There were five tiers: Bronze, Silver, Gold, Diamond and Supreme.
Anger counted.
So did excitement, pleasure, happiness and various other emotions.
But getting a reaction out of someone didn’t guarantee a reward.
The more capable the person was, and the stronger the emotion they felt, the greater his chance of receiving a chest—and the higher its likely quality.
Suppose, for instance, that Black angered Dumbledore and Neville to precisely the same degree.
Dumbledore would be very likely to yield a high-quality chest.
Neville might yield nothing at all.
Even if he did produce one, its quality would be lower than Dumbledore’s.
There was simply too great a difference in their abilities.
‘Strong emotions… exceptionally capable people…’
Black considered that.
‘Anger’s probably the easiest strong emotion to provoke.’
After all, upsetting someone was usually far less work than pleasing them.
‘Right.
So it’s really a Blood Pressure System.’
A smile crept across his face.
‘In that case, all I have to do is get people worked up…’
‘Black?’
Mrs Marian’s voice came from outside.
‘What is it, Mrs Marian?’
He tidied his room before opening the door.
‘Take this and buy some treats for everyone, dear.
You can keep the change as pocket money.’
Smiling, she pressed some money into his hand.
‘You don’t need to give me anything, Mrs Marian.
You know I’ve got money.’
Hermione Granger walked along a quiet road on the outskirts of London with a spring in her step.
She slipped a hand into her pocket.
Her fingertips met a slender length of wood.
A wand.
Even now, she could scarcely believe what had happened.
A month ago, an owl had arrived at their house carrying a letter.
According to its contents, she had been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Magic.
It was ridiculous, of course.
Delivering a letter by owl was certainly an inventive touch, but the Grangers had still assumed the whole thing was an elaborate practical joke.
Then, a few days ago, a stern woman calling herself Professor McGonagall had knocked on their door.
She had turned her father’s favourite vase into a cat.
That had settled the question rather decisively.
An entirely new world had opened up before Hermione, full of mysteries she hadn’t even known existed.
‘I’m a witch,’ she said softly, still marvelling at the words.
‘I wish September would hurry up.’
A little way ahead, she spotted a cake shop.
She rarely ate sweet things.
Her father was a dentist.
Still, one treat now and then couldn’t hurt.
In her present mood, that was all the encouragement she needed.
She went inside.
A boy was already standing at the counter with his back to her.
His pale blond hair was slightly untidy.
Hermione was just turning towards the display to choose something when he spoke.
‘That one!
And that one.
Oh, and that one too!’
The plump shopkeeper smiled at his young customer.
‘Of course.
Anything else?’
‘No, those are the ones I don’t want.
Could you wrap up everything else?’
‘Sorry—you want what?’
The shopkeeper stared at him, evidently waiting for the joke.
Then the boy placed a thick wad of banknotes on the counter.
Behind him, Hermione’s eyes widened.
All of it?
Surely he couldn’t possibly eat that many cakes.
Then another thought struck her.
If he bought everything, what was she supposed to have?
She looked at the few things he had rejected.
Plain bread.
Every last one of them.
Not a single cake.
What a thoroughly annoying boy.
Black was enjoying the shopkeeper’s astonishment.
[Shock detected.]
[Chest draw in progress.]
[No chest obtained.]
Pity.
Apparently, the shopkeeper wasn’t particularly exceptional at what he did.
His cakes weren’t especially good, after all.
That must have reduced the chances.
Black was still feeling mildly disappointed when another notification arrived.
[Anger detected.]
[Chest draw in progress.]
[Silver Chest obtained ×1.]
Anger?
Who had he upset?
He turned round and found a pretty little girl glaring at him.