5: Could this ever defeat me?

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Ding!
Congratulations, you have acquired the extraordinary trait: Butcher’s Instinct.
In the kitchen, just as Ian was about to swiftly dispatch the hen before him, a look of delight crossed his face. He then began to examine the effect of this trait.
Obtaining an extraordinary trait meant that a skill had advanced to a new level, that he had grasped part of the skill’s true essence.
Much like psychological traits—cognitive perception, for example.
But what effect could a biological dissection trait have?
Ian studied the trait and discovered that the Butcher’s Instinct allowed him to instantly analyze the optimal anatomical structure of any living creature he faced.
How to put it? This skill was better than nothing.
He looked at the captured hen.
At that moment, Ian felt as if he could see through the bird’s feathers and pinpoint the perfect spot to strike.
Then, with a movement of the blade, a crisp “click” resounded.
The hen’s life was ended decisively.
Even the chefs nearby couldn’t help but praise his skill.
“Wow, Ian, your butchering skills just keep getting better!”
After killing the chicken, Ian helped cut the meat already plucked by the cooks.
With a few swift, precise slices, the chicken was neatly portioned.
Ian smiled and replied, “Heh, quite a bit more practiced now.”
Acquiring this extraordinary trait had indeed accelerated his progress.
Such ordinary skill traits were certainly remarkable, but still only remarkable. Ian couldn’t help but wonder—once he learned magic, would the extraordinary traits born from it be even more powerful and wondrous?
Unfortunately, he still had to wait another half month for the owl to deliver the books he needed to study.
To this day, Ian still didn’t understand why Dumbledore insisted on a home visit first.
Was the allure of the Wood Orphanage really that great?
That morning, sitting at his desk, Ian found it hard to focus on his reading.
“So long to wait! I really want to learn magic!”
Days passed slowly.
Ian felt time dragged on endlessly, a feeling that couldn’t even be compared to the agony of waiting for an online order—like knowing a goddess was about to appear, yet still having to wait for the postal service to deliver her.
“After all, I am an adult soul.”
Ian struggled to describe his feelings—impatient? Eager? They seemed to mean the same thing.

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In truth, it was the anticipation of discovering a new world, the thrill of stepping from reality into a realm filled with magic.
Not just an adult soul—any normal person would be irresistibly drawn to explore such mysterious magic.
On this day, Ian chose to play hooky.
Although he was the boss of his own little stall… as an adult, he needed to make adult decisions. How hard could it be to visit Diagon Alley?
Could this really stump me?
Pocketing the modest fortune he had saved, Ian relied on his faint memory of the original story to search for the Leaky Cauldron somewhere in sprawling London.
That was a pub invisible to Muggles, only visible to wizards; through it, he could enter Diagon Alley—the wizard’s territory.
In the original tale, Harry Potter had entered Diagon Alley this way.
So Ian wanted to try the same.
But he only knew the pub’s name, not the actual location.
The streets were crowded.
Ian slipped into the throng, having wandered through many blocks. Yet, scanning the shops lining the streets, he saw no sign of the pub.
“Minotaur Pub… Jenny’s Diner, Tomorrow’s Eatery, KFC…”
An array of shops, but none were his target.
Like the platform nine and three-quarters in the original story, the Leaky Cauldron could only be seen by wizards—logically, Ian should be able to see it; he just hadn’t found the right spot.
“Hm?”
While searching, Ian suddenly sensed he was being followed—unease crept in.
Human traffickers?
Organ trafficking isn’t really a thing these days, is it?
He quickened his pace, turning several corners, glancing back—there was a figure clad in a black cloak, face obscured.
Hmm.
That made sense.
This attire hardly looked like cosplay.
A dark wizard abducting a young wizard—no one knew the reason, but it wasn’t like he was desperate for an heir to inherit dark magic.
“I’ve been targeted!”
Ian’s heart tightened.
He panicked slightly.
Luckily, he spotted the entrance to a subway station and hurried inside—the cloaked figure stayed outside, not following him in.

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Perhaps the other dared not use magic in a crowded place.
After all, abducting young wizards and defying Ministry regulations would result in vastly different levels of pursuit.
It was roughly the difference between breaking the law and committing an act of terrorism.
His heart pounded wildly.
Ian was relieved to board the subway, and an hour later, he returned to the Wood Orphanage.
“Today was really dangerous! The magical world is definitely chaotic!”
Before the square, boxy orphanage building, Ian’s slight figure slowly walked along the path. He failed to notice two shadowy figures watching him from the darkness.
Among them was the man Ian had come to regard as the “dark wizard.”
Dumbledore’s steady voice whispered beside the cloaked man.
“Isn’t it a bit too cautious to prevent him from encountering the magical world prematurely?”
The cloaked man remained silent, like a statue in the night. His thoughts drifted back to an hour ago—he had cast a mysterious spell on Ian, preventing him from seeing the nearby Leaky Cauldron. Yes, Ian hadn’t failed to find the place; magic had simply concealed it from his sight.
“Diagon Alley isn’t a playground for children. Plenty of dark wizards are active there. I don’t want him to end up like his foolish…”
The cloaked man’s words abruptly stopped. Turning his head, his deep eyes fixed on Dumbledore. After a long silence, a hoarse voice spoke.
“He belongs to Slytherin.”
He said no more and, leaving only a breeze and fading magical traces, instantly vanished in a phantom apparition.
“Wood Orphanage…”
Dumbledore stood alone.
He continued to gaze quietly at the weathered gate of the orphanage, staring at the worn sign as if lost in memories, a complex expression crossing his face.
“I hope this time, I will not make a mistake.”
Dumbledore sighed heavily.
Then, turning, he melted into the night.
Only, his departing figure seemed somewhat stooped.