It was another sunny day. After completing his unwavering morning exercises, Ryan ate a beef-and-potato casserole over rice—the house-elf version Jack had prepared according to his verbal instructions.
He drank his black tea and, as usual, drifted in a sea of memories. Suddenly, he remembered the depiction of the second floor of Black Family House: on the wall next to the stairs, a row of wrinkled heads belonging to aged, immobile, and decapitated house-elves.
Something was wrong. Sirius's family had possessed many house-elves, though eventually only Kreacher remained. Yet, according to the original books, house-elves also had parents. Winky mentioned serving the Crouch family since birth, long before her mother and grandmother.
Choosing Jack as the family's sole house-elf wouldn't be right, would it?
"Jack," Ryan called out.
"Young Master Ryan?" Jack instantly appeared.
"Are you the only house-elf in our family?"
"Young Master Ryan, our household has always served the Smith family. The pride of our kind lies in keeping everything in perfect order before appearing before our masters. However, only one house-elf regularly presents themselves; the others continue working quietly in the kitchen and other quarters."
Have you heard of Kreacher?
"Young Master, are you speaking of Kreacher from the Black family? He is a rather worthless house-elf. My peers say he is constantly confused and his household is a mess."
"Okay, I understand. I've finished my meal. You can clear the plates; I'm going to take a nap."
After a long conversation with Jack, Ryan discovered that house-elves, much like Winky, maintained their own distinct societies. The Crouch and Malfoy families were unrelated, yet Winky knew Dobby, understood his character, and was aware of his yearning for freedom and the associated shame.
According to the original novel, most house-elves served wizarding families as a whole, yet they retained their own communities. They knew or regularly contacted extraordinary or unusual house-elves—otherwise, how else would new generations be born and raised?
The core issue was that most wizards never bothered trying to understand them. It was a fascinating world of magic.
Time flew by, and evening arrived. Ryan's dinner consisted of Three Cups Chicken. Jack's culinary skills were truly exceptional; based on just a few descriptive words from Ryan, he could flawlessly recreate a foreign dish.
Perhaps inspired by Hermione or Jack's unusual behavior during their recent trip to Diagon Alley, Ryan found himself unusually curious about house-elves that day.
After dinner, he called Jack over once more.
"Jack, during our last trip to Diagon Alley, how did you feel after putting on my grandfather's magic hat?"
"Young Master Ryan, upon wearing the magic hat, I temporarily lost ordinary consciousness. The memories left by Old Master George took over; my thoughts became active, and I remembered who I truly was. Only after removing the hat did I return to my usual state."
"Jack, do you have a child?"
"Yes, his name is Claude. He is an immature house-elf who helps out in the kitchen."
With his immediate curiosity satisfied, Ryan asked Jack to bring him The Governors Who Gained Power—Percy's favorite book from the original series. He critically examined the political struggles of the wizarding world, constantly sighing and thinking, Is that really all there is?
He stayed up late into the night, washed his hands, and finally drifted off to sleep.
In his dream, Ryan—unable to feel magic like a true hero and constantly subjected to ridicule—found himself trapped inside a wand shop. Various disembodied heads floated in the air, surrounding him and hurling insults: Zhou Yi from his past life, Daniel's Harry Potter, Emma's Hermione, and even Jack's head.
What is happening? Ryan thought, astonished, as he realized his cognitive abilities were improving yet again.
He suddenly remembered he possessed a system! What did it matter if Harry Potter had powerful magical perception if he was only focused on a single direction of growth? He could do the same, and even view the status panels of other people and creatures, just like in a game.
Three months had passed.
Ryan had developed a strict daily habit: spending an hour each afternoon following his nap on systematic observation. Every day, he asked Jack to bring him different objects or living organisms, touching them, examining them from various angles, and summarizing their traits.
Eventually, Ryan's status panel updated:
Race: Wizard
Power: 13 (Normal human limit: 10)
Constitution: 28 (Normal human limit: 10)
Magic Power: 20 (Normal human limit: 10)
Skills: Thinking Level 3 (11%), Body Modification Level 3 (54%), Alchemy Level 2 (44%), Spells Level 2 (19%), Potions Level 2 (2%), Transfiguration Level 2 (53%), Martial Arts Level 2 (2%), Research Level 1 (2%)
"Jack, stand still for a moment and don't resist."
Ryan stared intently at the summoned house-elf, his young face tense.
A clear blue frame materialized across his field of vision. In the upper right corner appeared a full-body image of Jack: smooth and hairless skin, massive bat-like ears, tennis-ball-sized eyes, and a sharp black butler's uniform. Above it hovered Jack's exact statistics:
Race: House-Elf
Power: 6 (Normal human limit: 10)
Constitution: 22 (Normal human limit: 10)
Magic Power: 33 (Normal human limit: 10)
Skills: Cleaning Level 5 (56%), Apparition Level 4 (33%), Magic Control Level 3 (65%), Planting Level 2 (32%), Cooking Level 5 (59%)
What dazzling statistics! Except for physical strength and stamina, every metric far surpassed his own. Truly amazing. The house-elf army from the seventh book played a massive role during the Battle of Hogwarts; Kreacher, for instance, could Apparate straight to the cave where Voldemort hid his Horcrux—partly because Voldemort deeply despised house-elves and utterly underestimated them.
It looks like I'm going to break my routine again, Ryan decided. He would visit an ice-cream parlor on a British street, hone his skills while enjoying a treat, and see who could possibly escape his sharpened perception in the future.
Hahaha, Harry Potter, what can you possibly do against me?
12 Little Newport St, Chinatown, WC2H 7JJ, right next to Chinatown. A dessert shop serving authentic Old Guangzhou flavors. Ryan had chosen this spot after extensive exploration; it wasn't overly sweet and lacked bizarre artificial coloring. But none of that could mask his mood at the time.
Ryan had learned from The Magic of Names that names carried inherent magic. Inheriting the Smith surname meant it should normally be difficult for ordinary people to easily identify him.
However, Ryan hadn't anticipated that a mysterious spell would activate upon his transmigration. His striking, handsome face now radiated like a beacon in a crowd, turning heads everywhere he went.
Unfortunately, his desire for peace and quiet was immediately shattered.
Ryan wore a sullen, scowling expression, yet various elderly women and eccentric aunts kept approaching him to chat. Perhaps, to them, the sulkier he looked, the more endearing he appeared.
Noticing the commotion, the shop owner eventually canceled Ryan's order because he was drawing entirely too much attention from female patrons.
Naturally, where there were crowds of women, male customers soon followed.
As people came and went, Ryan noticed that ordinary Muggles consistently registered stamina scores below 10 and possessed zero magical power. He recalled the initial classification of magical power on his panel: Special Variant Mental Power.
Lost in deep thought while monitoring his constantly evolving investigative skills in his mind, Ryan suddenly felt that all current obstacles were entirely surmountable.