The Magic World is one of the few existences scattered across countless time and space dimensions. Most of them are material planes, with any fantasy or magical world being exceedingly rare. In fact, when compared to the vast, boundless universe, life itself is an incredibly rare phenomenon—let alone a world formed by intelligent beings.
In the next moment, Wang Yong found himself standing on the streets of London.
The shift between light and darkness left him feeling a bit uncomfortable. He had gone from a bright world to the infamous fog of London. The entire city seemed to be shrouded in a faint bluish-gray glow, giving the world an oppressive, melancholic air. In the distance, he could see the corner of Big Ben peeking through the mist.
In an instant, he had arrived in a London from another time and space. It was almost unimaginable.
Suddenly, he noticed that the British were incredibly tall—he had to look up to see them properly, often standing on tiptoe.
He looked down at himself. "What's going on here?" He was staring at a pair of small, immature hands and feet. A child in a wizard's robe, standing alone in 1990s London. It just looked so out of place.
"You've returned to when you were eleven, child," Xiao Yi's voice echoed with an air of wisdom.
Wang Yong's mind was a bit chaotic. His home address—what time was it now?
"Don't worry," Xiao Yi continued, "Your home is in the suburbs of London. Your parents are orphaned wizards from China, killed by Voldemort in the insert decade."
"You grew up alone, and you share the same year of birth as the great Savior, Harry Potter."
"No house-elf to help me?" Wang Yong asked.
"Nope. You've been living independently. Well, that's how it is."
Wang Yong couldn't help but feel a strange sense of admiration for his own fabricated identity. He could fend for himself since the age of one—truly a divine talent bestowed upon him.
At least, he noticed that he could understand the London English quite well, as if it were his mother tongue. He sighed with relief. With his limited language skills, just living here would be a challenge, let alone learning magic.
He reached into his pocket and was pleasantly surprised to find a few hundred pounds. "I love you, Xiao Yi."
Wang Yong barely recalled the address of his new home in this world.
He made his way to the subway station and headed back.
It was June, the early summer in London. The weather wasn't too bad, though the fog still lingered.
The subway station was almost empty.
Wang Yong sat at a corner of the train. The speed of the London subway wasn't very fast, allowing him time to think.
He stared at the pitch-black space outside the subway, and suddenly, a new thought crossed his mind.
"Xiao Yi? How's my magical talent?"
"You already have a bit of psychic talent," Xiao Yi replied. "With my help, you could reach the level of Hermione."
"I see." Wang Yong's expression became more serious. Magic in the Harry Potter world wasn't like the martial arts or immortal realms, where you could store power. Rather, magical talent was like a conduit through which magic flowed. Magical energy generally didn't run out, perhaps because it came from the external world, and the person only needed to channel it. Magical talent determined the size of the conduit.
For instance, Harry Potter's magical talent was on par with Voldemort's. Hermione's hard work was commendable, but her magical talent was considered average.
Seeing Wang Yong's thoughts, Xiao Yi reassured him, "Don't worry so much. We haven't just crossed into this world. Maybe the next world will have something to enhance your magical talent."
"True," Wang Yong nodded, his mood lightening. Having crossed through so many worlds, he didn't need to get hung up on the gains and losses of one place.
Wang Yong noticed a discarded newspaper nearby—The Times, April 1991. A wave of relief washed over him. If his calculations were correct, this year was the one when the great Savior—Harry Potter—was entering Hogwarts. He was fortunate to start school in the same year as him. It carried risks, but more importantly, it meant he would encounter all kinds of bizarre things. As long as he didn't cause major disruptions, everything should unfold as it should. Hopefully.
Yet, Wang Yong already had some plans forming in his mind.
Soon, he arrived at the place he could now call home in the magical world. It was a detached house, its tall roof hinting at the abundant rainfall of London. It was quiet, the streets in the neighborhood were sparsely populated, yet there was still a sense of life. It didn't feel ghostly or eerie. Despite his boldness, Wang Yong had no intention of causing trouble in an unfamiliar place. And this was the Magic World. Even though it seemed peaceful, the shadows of danger lurked, even in the smallest details.
Wang Yong opened the door and walked through the house. On the surface, everything seemed normal, but there was no mistaking it—this was a wizard's home. In the corner, a broomstick seemed ordinary at first, but when Wang Yong waved his hand, it sprang to life, clearly a flying broom. In the study, shelves were filled with wizarding books like The History of Magic in England, The Twenty-One Principles of Transfiguration, and How to Make Money in the Muggle World—Skirting the Law.
Wang Yong perused the collection. It wasn't bad. One book was tightly bound with a leather strap, and when he touched it, it began to thrash around wildly—clearly the legendary Monsters' Monster Handbook. Another book, half-buried in the sand, looked like The Invisible Art of Invisibility. But how these books worked, Wang Yong was still clueless.
Maybe I should visit Diagon Alley tomorrow, Wang Yong thought to himself.
By evening, Wang Yong rummaged through the fridge and found some meat and a small amount of vegetables. After eating, he lazily flipped through some magical textbooks. These things were still a bit too advanced for him. He lay in bed.
The waning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow on his youthful face. "It's still a bit lonely," he muttered.
Suddenly, he had arrived in such an unfamiliar place. No familiar faces.
"Ding-dong." The doorbell rang.
Wang Yong sat up. "Who could that be? I really hope it's not a thug. With my current state, if I meet criminals, it'd be a dead end."
Even as he said this, Wang Yong went downstairs and peeked through the peephole. A young woman stood at the door, with a little girl by her side. The woman wore single-lensed glasses and a beige wizard's robe.
Wang Yong tilted his head. "Strange."
He opened the door—there seemed to be no threat.
"Wang Yong!" The woman suddenly hugged him, pressing his small head deep into her chest. For a moment, he found it hard to breathe.
"Perks!" Wang Yong silently screamed, though it didn't do him any good.
"Auntie Bourns, hurry up and put him down. He looks too smug," the little girl complained, pouting.