Chapter 2: 2: Scholarship System

The night deepened. Outside, a truck rumbled as it crushed the wet pavement.

London was becoming financialized; Canary Wharf was on the rise, but the street where the orphanage stood was still piled with uncollected trash bags.

The house always smelled of disinfectant, yet it couldn't mask the scent of decay. The caregivers were exhausted, and the children were as alert as wounded little animals.

Sean curled up in his old, cheap synthetic fiber bedding, fast asleep.

Just a moment ago, he had tested his unlocked green talent.

Regarding this, he only wanted to say one thing

"What kind of miserable life was I living before?"

It turned out that three practice sessions could yield one correct practice.

It turned out that wizards could actually perceive the pronunciation of spells.

For example, "Scourgify"—he had always thought it was "Scour—g—ify," but just a moment ago, a whim struck him: why couldn't it be "S—cour—g—ify"?

And so, in a mysterious state, he reaped his first [Proficient] rating.

A full 10 points of proficiency!

The progress that once took him five days...

He had achieved in five seconds!

No wonder it was a world of magical talent; he finally had a taste of it.

Tomorrow was the day Professor McGonagall would come to pick him up. He hoped he could perform well enough—at least well enough to reach the minimum standard for a scholarship.

Come to think of it, what was the scholarship standard for a first-year student at Hogwarts?

Sean didn't know, but he was certain he would reach it.

For no other reason than his own persistence.

As long as he could study magic tirelessly, he would surely be able to stand at the pinnacle of the magical world.

With beautiful fantasies of the future, Sean fell into a deep sleep.

……

September 1, 1991.

This was a special day; Sean was leaving the orphanage.

He nimbly packed his clothes. Only two undershirts and two pairs of trousers were barely usable; as for the rest, they were either too big or too small.

When he dragged a cheap suitcase to the door, he was surprised to find how few things in the orphanage actually belonged to him.

"Sean, you’d better not come crawling back because you can't afford the tuition fees! You’ll be sorry if you do!"

Caregiver Anna twisted her fat body, her tone as sharp and mean-spirited as ever.

"Don't you worry about that, Square Auntie! I hope you don't get kicked out due to the recent layoffs! But given your performance, you’re definitely going to be unemployed!"

After saying this, Sean scurried to the door, leaving behind only Caregiver Anna’s shrill curses.

Sean didn't understand the slang, so he just assumed she was swearing at him.

*Whew*—he had finally managed to talk back to that cylinder. She was the one who had turned a blind eye to the original owner's severe illness; she was one of the culprits behind the original owner's death.

In this world, no one knew about the original owner's death. Sean, who had transmigrated from another world, was the only one.

Giving her a harsh scolding could be considered collecting interest on behalf of the original owner.

In the past, this was something he wouldn't have dared to imagine, but now he had done it.

My god, Sean, how did you do that? You’re truly amazing, you guy!

With a smile, Sean trotted to the peeling paint door. The faded "Oak Children's Home" plaque hung crookedly, shedding dust in the wind.

Beneath the plaque,

Professor McGonagall wore square glasses, her black hair curled into a high bun. Her deep green robes, paired with a tartan shirt, gave her an air of sternness.

But when she saw the frail Sean running toward her, the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.

"Professor McGonagall, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting."

Sean had jogged all the way to Professor McGonagall. His health was poor, and he would pant after running just a few steps, but he always ran to Professor McGonagall like this.

It had been the same way during their last shopping trip. When Professor McGonagall asked why, the little guy had replied in a barely audible voice

"Important people... should be met by running."

The elderly cat-lady didn't say anything, but her heart had softened into a puddle.

"You may slow down, Mr. Green. We have plenty of time."

Professor McGonagall’s voice was not as stern as her expression. She gently took Sean’s hand.

Only to suddenly discover that this frail little guy was looking at her with caution and focus.

"S—cour—g—ify."

With the flick of Sean’s wand, the dust on Professor McGonagall’s hair vanished.

"Dirty things... shouldn't be on... your head."

Sean was still panting; after doing this, his breathing became even more labored. His voice was very soft, but also very stubborn.

Professor McGonagall stared at Sean, momentarily dazed, a flash of surprise and gratification in her eyes.

"A qualified Cleaning Charm. How long ago did you learn it, Mr. Green?"

Professor McGonagall asked as she gently led him forward.

"I only learned it yesterday, Professor."

Sean stopped panting. He lowered his head, his tone filled with caution and insecurity.

"You did very well, Mr. Green. It seems you really can earn that scholarship."

Professor McGonagall noticed that caution and smiled as she offered these words of encouragement.

Sean remained silent, only lifting his head to gaze at Professor McGonagall with bright, shining eyes before quickly looking away.

Inside, he was already popping champagne.

Given Professor McGonagall’s personality, once she said those words, half of his scholarship was already in his pocket. Although acting like a pitiful orphan was somewhat immoral, for the sake of the scholarship and surviving by leaving this deadly orphanage, Sean had no choice.

His body still needed recovery, and the scholarship was the money he had the best hope of earning.

Sure enough, in the next sentence, Professor McGonagall revealed news about the scholarship.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has already approved it. Within the first month, if you can achieve 'Exceeds Expectations' in all seven subjects, you will be granted a scholarship of six hundred Galleons."

Professor McGonagall spoke calmly of the news that made Sean’s heart race. She looked at the little boy beside her, seemingly waiting for his smile.

Unexpectedly, Sean only lowered his head further.

After a long while, his voice sounded weakly

"……Thank you, Professor. Actually, I know from books that Hogwarts doesn't have scholarships for first-year students. Thank you for your efforts in letting me study magic."

After saying these words, he didn't speak again.

These were his true feelings.

Professor McGonagall was stunned for a moment, and then, her heart softened just as slowly as her smile.

"This is what you deserve, Mr. Green. You don't need to thank me for such things."

She glanced at Sean inadvertently, only to collide with his cautious, stolen glance for the third time.

"How long have you been practicing the spell?"

Before arriving at the platform, Professor McGonagall asked her final question.

"Thirteen hours, Professor."

Sean answered honestly.

"In total?"

The professor’s gaze flickered, appearing somewhat heavy.

"Every day."

……

The train station was bustling with noise. Sean dragged his heavy suitcase, struggling to weave through the crowded throng.

"The Hogwarts Express is behind that platform. Don't be afraid, just run through it, Mr. Green."

Professor McGonagall’s words lingered in his mind. Looking at the solid wall, even though he knew there wouldn't be a problem, Sean still felt some anxiety. But the moment he thought that Professor McGonagall might still be watching, he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and merged into the wall.

But to a certain elderly cat-lady, it looked as if Sean had charged into the wall without a hint of hesitation.

"That child trusts you very much, Minerva."

An aged voice appeared beside Professor McGonagall.

"Getting top marks in all seven subjects is not a simple task. Do you believe he can do it?"

Out of some curiosity, a certain White Wizard asked this with a chuckle.

"Albus, even if there is only one person in all of Hogwarts who can do it, I believe it will be Sean."

Professor McGonagall’s gaze was firm; she was still immersed in that "thirteen hours every day."

Even in her most diligent times, she couldn't have maintained such intensity of study for two consecutive months.

Not to mention that group of mischievous little wizards at Hogwarts.

"Sean is a pitiful child, and also a... well-behaved and sensible child. He deserves that scholarship."

Professor McGonagall was silent for a moment before offering this assessment.

(End of chapter)