Prologue

Sunshine seeped in through the cracks in the shabby brown curtains, and the fresh morning air washed away some of the stuffiness in the small attic.

Perhaps due to its proximity to the sea, the humidity here remained as high as ever. Even on the attic, moss still climbed and expanded its territory in the corners, leaving patches of inexplicable vitality.

While men in London were still cuddling with their wives or mistresses in bed, or perhaps both, those guys were still sound asleep on their soft beds. The people of Topoint, on the other hand, were already busy with their day.

This was the morning of a port city. Shortly after shaking off the drunkenness of the night before, it welcomed another round of noise and bustle, as if people didn't need sleep.

Of course, all the lively scenes had nothing to do with the residents of Taymore Lane.

Maca was a resident of this dark alley in the east of Topoint. Although he was born in Plymouth, what difference did it make?

The poor had their own way of life, and naturally they had their own choices. In this alley full of "ideals" and "future," it was much more peaceful than places like Plymouth where multiple forces converged.

Here, there were not many official eyes, let alone the heavy influence of financial giants. Those were all in Plymouth! In this port city where everything was hidden in the dark waters, there were only various underground transactions.

Although Maca was young, he lived day and night here with his natural intelligence and extraordinary shrewdness. He had just returned from the colorful night scene two hours ago and was sound asleep on his somewhat old bed! He didn't care about the few more cargo ships on the pier.

While he was lost in his dream, there was suddenly a rapid flapping of wings outside the window, as if something had landed on the narrow windowsill.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

It seemed like a bird was pecking at the window frame, and the dull sound came through the curtains.

Maca frowned in his sleep, but he wasn't disturbed. He turned over and pulled the covers over his head.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

Three more soft knocks, as if someone was knocking on the door, made him wonder what was going on outside.

"Boom, boom, clang-"

Three more knocks, perhaps the last one knocked it off balance, and the old window glass immediately fulfilled its mission, and the shattered glass fell to the ground with a clatter. If there weren't curtains blocking it, the glass fragments would have probably splashed all over the bed.

The tattered covers were suddenly lifted, and Maca stared at the window in a daze. He looked around and looked confused, which was quite amusing.

Suddenly, Maca pulled open the curtains, but then froze.

Outside the window, a pale grey owl was standing there, its big eyes meeting Maca's gaze. Soon, the owl tilted its head, dryly chirping, seeming a bit embarrassed by its mistake.

Maca blinked a few times, not knowing what expression to make. Because he found that he was on a owl and saw the kind of agility that only humans could show.

"Can owls be so smart?" Maca found himself doubting life.

"Hoo-"

Just as Maca was full of question marks, the owl softly chirped and then stretched out its left claw, placing a letter on the edge of the windowsill.

On the thick parchment envelope, the address was written in emerald green ink, and there was no postage stamp on the envelope. Maca was stunned for a moment, picked it up, and saw a crimson wax seal and a shield emblem. Around the capital letter "H," a lion, eagle, badger, and snake each occupied a quarter of the space.

At the top of the emblem was a word that was unfamiliar yet familiar to Maca.

"Hogwarts?" Maca pronounced the word, his tone full of surprise and confusion.

He didn't rush to open the envelope, but stared blankly at the shield-shaped emblem, his thoughts drifting further away. After a while, he finally came back to his senses.

He wordlessly tossed the envelope onto the bed and curled up, holding his head tightly with his pale, bony arms. His dull black hair hung messily between his fingers, seemingly telling the story of his dark and bitter past.

"Only now..." After a long while, Maca let out a groan full of frustration from his dry throat, "Huh - this is ridiculous."

Suddenly, a sea breeze blew in through the window, making him feel particularly cold.

Yes, it was still a time unrelated to the heat of June in Topoint.

...

The sun gradually rose a bit, bringing a touch of warmth to the seaside town. Maca sat on the sloping roof outside the window, leaning against the outer wall of the attic, looking at the shimmering surface of the Thames River in the distance. The sunrise rose from the border of the water and sky, giving the blue river surface a layer of shining gold.

For Maca, who often wandered the streets late at night, this was a rare and unparalleled sight.

He stared blankly into the distance, but held the unopened letter tightly in his hand. The letter was so light, yet he constantly felt the weight it pressed on his heart.

"Scoff."

The envelope was gently torn open, and two textured sheets of paper were neatly folded together, pulled out at the same time by Maca. He shook the corner of the letter with a clatter, and the beautiful handwriting gave him a strange sense of unreality.

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards, President of the Wizarding Association, First-Class Wizard of the Order of Merlin)

Dear Mr. Maca McClain:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of required books and equipment. The semester begins on September 1st. We will await the return of the owl carrying your reply by July 31st.

Also, if the owl needs to stay with you for a while, please feed the little guy.

---------------------------

Maca read the contents of the letter repeatedly before turning to the next page, but before he could read more, he pursed his lips and stuffed the paper back into the envelope.

"Yes, yes, it still costs money." Maca muttered under his breath, "Tuition is exempt, but other fees are inevitable. I should have thought of that!"

He sighed and climbed back into the attic with a gloomy expression, pulling out a few pieces of gray paper from the small cabinet next to the bed and throwing them on the table. Then he pulled out a dirty, dusty suitcase from under the bed and opened it with a clatter, taking out a long, narrow box.

This was a pen, not a good brand, but it was the only birthday gift his deceased mother had left him. It was also the most precious thing to him in his life, other than British pounds.

"Oh, I need ink too! Ink!"

He murmured as he prepared to write a reply. Not far away, the light gray owl was tilting its head and watching Maca's busyness curiously.

Although he was a bit rusty with the pen, he still remembered how to spell words. Maca had a good memory, as evidenced by his ability to memorize a large number of scattered British pound amounts without error. However, it was inevitable that the letters he wrote were slanted and crooked.

As a result, he ended up writing several useless pieces of paper.

Watching the owl fly out of the window, disappearing around the corner quickly, Maca's heart finally calmed down a bit.

He really didn't expect to see a glimmer of miraculous light in his despair, and he never expected that this glimmer of light was related to Hogwarts, which he had almost buried deep in his memory.

"Hogwarts, ha!" Maca chewed on the word again, a pure innocent smile that he buried with his deceased mother in the old Plymouth cemetery, appearing on his face.

As Maca was lost in thought about his not-so-distant future, in Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey, the boy who lived had just woken up in the cupboard under the stairs. What awaited him was a chaotic life, disrupted by an unexpected visitor.

For Maca, the past two months may have been an ordinary life journey, but now everything had changed.

Maca bid farewell to the small attic that accompanied him through three dark years, as well as the pub owner Uncle Anglus who gave him his first job. He sold everything he could to the black market buyers he often frequented, carrying all the pounds he had earned and his rekindled hope, and boarded the ferry to Plymouth.

Only in Plymouth could he board the train to London and start his new journey in life.

"Let's go see Mother first!" Maca leaned on the railing of the ferry's deck, looking towards the other side of the River Tamar, murmuring to himself.

The time spent on the River Tamar was not too long, and the distance between the two sides of the river was not far. Soon, Maca was standing in a slightly messy cemetery.

When he was just nine years old, Maca spent the last of his father's money to buy a luxurious tombstone for his mother. Not for anything else, but because it was the first time he admitted in his heart that this woman who was always busy with money was his mother.

"Mother..." Maca gently stroked the cleaned tombstone, even though it was noon, it was still surprisingly cold. "This seems to be the second time I've called you 'Mother'."

He paused and continued, "To be honest, I still can't call you that naturally. I don't know if I should or if I have the right to. But, no matter what, you are my mother now. My... mom."

"Cough, I know, it still sounds hesitant, but I called you anyway, so just bear with me for now..."

Perhaps because of the atmosphere or the three years of emotion and longing, Maca spoke intermittently for a long time. It was almost dusk when he stood up and patted his pants, sighed, and planned to find a cheap hotel to stay in for the night, and take the train to London tomorrow from the city center.

Just as he turned around, a flash of light gold passed by in his vision. In the glow of the sunset, it emitted a unique radiance...