[Ding! Mission Alert: The Supreme Wizard of the Human World is on his way to your home to recruit your elder sister. Your sister possesses a top-grade spiritual talent, which has made the Supreme Wizard greedy with ambition.]
Side Objective: Make the Supreme Wizard appreciate your own talents. ( Completed)
Main Objective: Gain admission into the magical academy alongside your sister. ( Completed)
Main Mission: The White Emperor and his ministers have arrived at your house. The Supreme Wizard has sensed your sister's immense potential and wishes to take her as an apprentice. Surprise the Emperor with your abilities. ( Completed)
Side Mission: Befriend his Summoned Beast. ( Pending)
Seeing all the completed missions on my interface, my heart soared with joy. I couldn't resist opening the rewards panel.
[Ding! Congratulations! You've received: Snake Talisman.]
[Ding! Congratulations! You've received: Changeable Patronus.]
[Ding! Congratulations! You've received: Ariana Dumbledore's Soul (Ghost Form).]
The last reward made me rub my eyes in disbelief.
A soul? The system gave me a ghost? What am I supposed to do with it? Other transmigrators get overpowered skills and cheat items. Why does my system feel so... bizarre?
Still, I suppose having a system, even a weird one, is better than nothing.
The Snake Talisman granted me invisibility—classic and useful. The second reward, the Changeable Patronus, let me summon not just one, but three Patronuses at once, in any form or size—be it a dragon, an angel, or even a puppy. I chuckled to myself, Well, I guess I'll wait for Sirius Black to escape Azkaban before pulling off that particular trick.
As for Ariana Dumbledore's soul… I decided to keep her in the inventory for now. As a system-generated spirit, she would possess all my knowledge and memories, so I wouldn't need to explain my rebirth or the system to her. I'd release her later. Maybe tomorrow.
That night, I drifted off to sleep, feeling like the gears of destiny had started turning.
.....
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts...
After departing the Grangers' residence, Dumbledore and the four house heads returned to the castle. Inside the Principal's office, a heavy silence hung in the air. No one could quite process what they had witnessed.
First, the strange translucent screen that appeared out of nowhere, showing a vision of the future. Second, a nine-year-old boy's name being inscribed in the Book of Admission. Third, the magical outburst in Hearth Granger—so powerful, so... eerily reminiscent of Lily Potter.
And finally, the display of Nature and Healing Magic by the child.
It was known that young wizards and witches often experienced emotional surges of uncontrolled magic. But this? This boy had channeled his magic—not in fits of emotion—but in focused, deliberate ways. He made an entire potted plant bloom at his touch. That alone was a feat. And then there was his healing magic. Healing—one of the most demanding magical disciplines. Even during Voldemort's rise, Death Eaters avoided harming healers due to their rarity and importance.
Yet this child, Hearth Granger, had performed it effortlessly.
Snape sighed heavily and rubbed his temples.
"Severus," Dumbledore began, gently, "Hearth is fine. He's not the child of James and Lily. I used Legilimency. The memories are intact and truthful. Hearth is indeed the biological son of the Granger couple. From an early age, he has shown a fascination with only two things—nature and superheroes. You felt that overwhelming vitality in their backyard, didn't you? That wasn't coincidence. He's been using Nature Magic subconsciously for years."
"But what about his appearance? The Phoenix? His healing ability?" Professor Flitwick asked, his brows furrowed in concern.
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Isn't that proof of his innocence and purity of heart? Even I dare not confirm the presence of an Ice Phoenix... there are still many things in this world beyond my understanding. But one thing is certain—this child must be brought to Hogwarts. Tomorrow, Minerva, I ask you to escort both him and his sister."
Professor McGonagall nodded silently, and the professors left one by one.
...
The Next Morning
I woke up early, the buzz of excitement in my chest impossible to ignore. Our family had breakfast in record time as we waited for Professor McGonagall's arrival.
Hermione, of course, was excited about the books.
Me?
I was waiting for a new system mission. In most fanfictions, protagonists always get a mission when they step foot in Diagon Alley. I wasn't expecting much. After all, my system was as unpredictable as it was eccentric.
Soon, Professor McGonagall arrived, and we traveled by Knight Bus—a decision we quickly regretted and vowed never to repeat.
We entered the Leaky Cauldron, the hidden pub outside Diagon Alley. Despite the bad rep in many stories, the place was clean and full of character. There was a medieval charm to it—candlelight flickered in brass sconces, and the scent of British ales mingled with that of spell-drenched air.
Then came the iconic moment.
"Now, remember the steps—three up and two across from the bin," Professor McGonagall instructed.
The bricks rearranged themselves with a rumble, and the wall parted to reveal the magical world hidden behind the mundane.
My jaw dropped.
Towering, crooked buildings leaned toward each other, displaying glittering windows filled with spellbooks, cauldrons, and magical trinkets. The scent of parchment, fresh pumpkin pasties, and bubbling potions filled the air. Owls hooted from Eeylops Emporium. The clinking of coins echoed from Gringotts. It wasn't just a marketplace—it was a living, breathing testament to the wizarding world.
We withdrew gold from the bank and then visited Flourish & Blotts, followed by Madam Malkin's for our robes.
Finally, only two things remained—our wands and our pets.
As we made our way toward Ollivander's, my system pinged once more.
[Ding! The host is about to meet the greatest spiritual alchemy craftsman. His creations are coveted by demons, humans, elves, and dwarves alike.
Main Mission: Spread your fame wide and far by making the master voluntarily offer you his finest weapon.]
I nearly laughed aloud. Seriously? This defective system again?
Inside Ollivander's, there was no dramatic flair. No ominous whisper about "the wand choosing the wizard." He greeted Professor McGonagall and started fitting Hermione with her wand.
When it was my turn, he glanced at me, then hesitated.
"Well, child," he said kindly, "you're a bit young. Perhaps in two or three years, you can come back with your sister. For a moment, I mistook you for another young witch I remember seeing…"
Before he could finish, Professor McGonagall handed him my admission letter. He paused, took a good look at me, and then exhaled sharply. I knew he had been talking about Lily Potter.
Wand after wand was tested in my hand, but none gave the familiar spark. Yet something strange happened.
"They all seem… obedient," Ollivander murmured. "Every wand core submits to him. Every wood type becomes energized in his presence. But this isn't entirely a good thing. You see, wands are deeply personal—meant to bond once, for life. Replacing them isn't easy. And your son... well, he's confusing them all."
"Hearth can perform natural and healing magic freely," Professor McGonagall offered.
Understanding lit Ollivander's eyes. "That explains it! Wait here."
He disappeared into the depths of his shop and returned with a very old box.
Inside was a wand of pure white wood, veined with silver. It looked almost divine.
"This wand," he said softly, "is made from silver birch—a wood symbolizing healing, purity, and renewal. Twelve inches in length. The core? A feather from a Griffin. Wild, untamable, yet noble. We know very little about their wand behavior. The core adapts uniquely to each wielder."
I reached out and touched the wand.
A pleasant chill coursed through me, as if the wand had awakened something deep within. My soul stirred—calm, powerful, whole.
Then, without even realizing it, my magic surged.
A shiver ran not just through the boy, but through the very air, crackling with an energy that made the glass cases of wands hum. "Curious," Ollivander murmured, his eyes wide, "Very curious indeed."
Then, it happened. A silent gasp escaped Hermione Granger's lips, her hand flying to her mouth. Beside her, Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions a mixture of shock and utter disbelief. A blinding white light erupted from the wand tip, and from it, three distinct, magnificent forms burst forth.
First, a resplendent ice phoenix unfurled wings of shimmering frost, its piercing, ethereal cry echoing off the shop's high ceilings. It circled Hearth once, a swirl of crystalline beauty. Next, a majestic four-winged angel materialized, its form glowing with an otherworldly grace, its silent presence radiating immense, serene power that seemed to soothe the very dust motes in the air. Finally, with a thunderous roar that vibrated through the floorboards, a colossal, powerful griffin appeared, its leonine body rippling with muscle, its formidable eagle wings spanning an impressive breadth, its eyes fixed on Hearth with unwavering loyalty.
Professor McGonagall, who had accompanied the Grangers, stood frozen, her usually stern features slack with astonishment.
Ollivander, a man who had seen countless first wands, simply stared, his mouth slightly agape. The air thrummed with residual magic, a testament to the extraordinary event. Never in living memory had a single wizard, let alone a first-year, produced not one, but three Patronuses at once, and such magnificent ones at that. The silence that followed was heavy with wonder and the dawning realization of something truly remarkable.