Late August.
The last day of the holidays.
Soren broke his usual routine.
Instead of studying behind closed doors, he stepped out of his room.
Before leaving the orphanage for Hogwarts, he needed to plant a few pieces on the board, setting up pawns for the future.
An ambitious man didn’t need to know he’d landed in the Harry Potter universe to craft a detailed, far-reaching plan for his life.
In his grand blueprint, Brent Orphanage held critical early-stage value.
The orphans who lived here were overlooked by the outside world.
Under normal circumstances, none of them would amount to much.
But flip that around: these were people with no families, no social ties, no clear direction.
Aimless, unattached, full of uncertainty.
Weren’t they the perfect foundation?
Show them hope.
Share a taste of profit.
Plant the seed of loyalty in their hearts.
When the time was right, Soren would only need to raise his hand, and he’d have himself a loyal personal guard.
His original plan had been to lead them into business.
Now?
Still business.
Just…
the target had shifted from stocks, real estate, and the internet to something with far greater market potential: magical goods.
Over the past few days, he’d studied Magical Drafts and Potions cover to cover and found no shortage of moneymaking opportunities.
Once he got hands-on practice at school and sorted out a supply chain, he could start turning potions into products.
And the ultimate goal behind all of it?
Nothing noble.
It was about money.
Soren had lived enough life to know that whether in ancient times or modern, East or West, getting anything done required two things: money and people.
The wizarding world was no different.
His current thinking: recruit the orphans first, find some low-profile ways to generate income, and build up seed capital.
As for converting Muggle currency into wizarding money in bulk, that would have to wait until he actually visited Gringotts.
No rush.
Rehearsing his recruitment pitch in his head, he kept walking toward the fourth floor.
Brent Orphanage was a private institution with some history behind it.
The main building was a four-story structure.
The first two floors housed the children’s living quarters.
The third held offices and the director’s room.
The fourth floor sat mostly unused.
For safety reasons, the rooftop was off-limits to kids.
Only a staff staircase led up there, used for hanging laundry.
That left the other side of the fourth floor practically deserted.
The empty classroom at the far end had become contested territory, the “must-have stronghold” that the older kids fought over and occupied year-round as their secret base.
As he walked, a small shadow fell in behind him.
At first she tried to stay hidden, darting between doorways.
Then she grew bolder and trailed him openly, making zero effort at stealth.
Only one kid in this entire orphanage had the nerve.
It was Ayla.
Soren gave up trying to shake her and brought her along for the ride.
At the landing between the third and fourth floors, a “sentry” spotted them.
The moment he recognized Soren’s face, he yelped and sprinted back to warn the others.
Standard protocol for when the caretakers did surprise inspections.
Soren didn’t speed up.
He kept his pace, unhurried.
Ayla hid half her body behind him, peeking around at everything like this was some kind of adventure game.
A few minutes later, they reached the empty classroom.
The door was locked from the inside.
Through the grimy windows, a cluster of teenage boys could be seen huddled within, watching them nervously.
“Open up, Sean.
I need to talk to you all.”
Soren tried diplomacy first.
“Piss off, you evil dark wizard!
You’re not welcome here!”
Sean’s face was rigid with defiance.
Safe behind a locked door, he ran his mouth freely.
“Ha…
fine.
So much for courtesy.”
A quiet sigh.
Then Soren raised his wand with a smile, slashing it down like a drawn sword.
“Alohomora!”
Unlike the soft murmur he’d used to open the barn door, this time he shouted the incantation at full volume.
The charged emotion amplified the magic.
The embedded lock clicked open, and the force that followed slammed the door inward.
It cracked against the wall with a booming thud, chipping off plaster.
The sheer violence of it sent the boys shrieking, scrambling into a pile.
Their “dark wizard” had just blown through the door.
A few quick-thinking kids bolted for the back exit, desperate to escape.
But Soren wasn’t about to let anyone run.
A graceful flick of the wand.
A sharp snap.
Silent casting.
Wingardium Leviosa!
Several chairs rose off the floor on their own, streaking ahead to pile up in front of the back door, sealing it shut.
Watching the impossible happen a second time, the would-be escapees lost all hope.
They scrambled back and pressed themselves against the wall with the others, drawing what little comfort they could from numbers.
Sean and his closest cronies stood slack-jawed.
They’d been calling Soren a dark wizard for ages, but it had never been based on anything real.
Just rumor-mongering.
He was always skulking around being mysterious, sticking his nose into everyone’s business, and since none of them could beat him in a fight, mouthing off was all they had.
Who could have guessed…
he actually was a dark wizard?
“W-what do you want!?”
His mind raced through recent memory, searching for anything that might have provoked this.
Nothing.
They’d been giving him a wide berth.
Why was he coming after them now?
Soren didn’t answer right away.
He stepped forward at a leisurely pace.
With each step he took, the boys pressed further back until every one of them was flat against the wall, wishing they could melt into it.
Soren stood in the center of the classroom, surveying the boys he’d single-handedly cornered, and spoke in a calm voice:
“I said I just want to talk.
Also, I’m a white wizard, not a dark wizard.
Don’t let me hear that baseless rumor again, or there will be consequences.”
“T-talk about what?” Sean managed.
“About…” Soren paused, then casually raised his wand toward him.
“Right.
Before we talk, we need to address your little problem.
I asked you to open the door.
You refused.
Then you threw insults at me.
I can’t just let that slide.”
Silent Wingardium Leviosa again!
The wand tipped upward.
Sean screamed as his feet left the ground.
His back pressed flat against the wall.
The magical force hauled him into the air.
His legs pedaled wildly, finding nothing beneath them.
Panic seized his body rigid.
A choking sensation followed.
Desperate, he clamped both hands around his own neck, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.
His face swelled red.
A terrifying portrait of a boy about to suffocate.
The other boys were horrified.
The timid ones were shaking so hard their legs buckled, ready to drop to their knees and beg.
Even Ayla flinched.
She reached out hesitantly and touched Soren’s arm, wanting to intervene.
Every eye in the room fixed on Soren’s face.
His expression shifted through several phases before settling on something between exasperation and mild disgust.
“Sean…
what are you doing?
I’m gripping your jacket and hood.
Why are you choking yourself?”
“!?”
Sean blinked.
Under the stares of his friends, he loosened his grip on his own throat, and suddenly he could breathe again.
It wasn’t a choking spell…
He’d thought…
he’d actually thought…
ugh.