Chapter 1: The Mysterious Smith
"Where am I?" Alexander Smith woke up with a start.
His mind was in chaos, as though filled with thick paste. Memories—short and warm, painful and sad, and finally numb—rushed in. They belonged to a seven-year-old British boy.
"My name is Alexander Smith." His voice abruptly shifted from Chinese to English, and from a deep adult tone to the clear voice of a young boy, as if two people were speaking in this small room.
"I am a wizard—the heir of a minor British magical family. My parents died in a magical experiment when I was five years old."
"I was left to live with a house-elf," Alexander recalled. A chill ran down his spine, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head.
He had been born on July 31st, 1980—the same day as Harry Potter, the boy who defeated Voldemort. Not long after, Voldemort was vanquished, and life at home had become more peaceful. His Ravenclaw parents finally had time to pursue their magical experiments.
"Hey, Jack." A creature with bat-like ears and large green eyes, the size of tennis balls, appeared before him.
"Master Alexander, if you need anything, I am at your service," the house-elf said with a bow.
"Please bring me a cup of black tea and light a candle. I need a moment to think," Alexander said, rubbing his temples.
As he organized his thoughts, a strange sensation filled his consciousness.
He could sense his own soul—radiant like a full moon—surrounded by fragments of crystal-like light, slowly being drawn inward and absorbed. His thoughts, like invisible tendrils, brushed against this "planet."
Then something clicked.
A glowing blue panel suddenly appeared before him. Alexander glanced at Jack and realized only he could see it.
In the upper-right corner was a full-body portrait of a young boy. When he focused on it, it expanded. The boy was around 149 cm tall, with short black hair, silver eyes, fair skin, and a trace of baby fat.
Below that portrait was his status screen:
Race: Wizard
Strength: 5 (Normal human limit: 10)
Constitution: 20 (Normal human limit: 10)
Magic Power: 10 (Normal human limit: 10)
Skills: Thinking Lv.1 (3%)
Alexander was immediately intrigued by the skills section.
He somehow understood its principle: as long as he did something wholeheartedly, a skill would be generated. And it could continue leveling up with no apparent ceiling.
Once he had a basic understanding of the interface, he turned his attention back to the attributes—strength, constitution, and magic power.
"It looks strange. Shouldn't it just be called 'magic'?" Alexander muttered.
To his surprise, the panel responded to his thoughts and changed "special variant mental strength" to "magic power."
By the time he looked up, it was already dawn. Staring at the rising sun through the window, Alexander whispered, "Just four more years... Hogwarts, here I come."
The Smith Legacy
The surname "Smith" was once common in Britain, originally referring to metalworkers. In the magical world, however, it represented a low-key but ancient family of alchemists. Each Smith bore subtle magical influence—rarely noticed, always hidden.
Inside a room made of silver-white metal, intricate magical symbols glowed along the walls. Directly across from the entrance hung a portrait of a kindly old man. A golden family tree sprouted from him, tracing all the way back to the Middle Ages.
At the very bottom was a single name: Alexander Smith.
His name was formed of ouroboros symbols—serpents endlessly devouring their own tails. The other names were formed of magical creatures: thunderbirds, phoenixes, leviathans. All those sigils were dormant, signifying death.
In that sacred room, Alexander turned the pages of a massive book titled Smith's Minutes—a generational record of inventions, methods, and magical theories passed down through the family.
Among the entries were:
A wand made of pure mithril infused with the essence of countless magical beasts
An invisibility cloak that mimicked its environment instead of disappearing
A wisdom hood that cooled the scalp and enhanced clarity of thought
But the most impressive invention was the hut itself—a portable alchemy lab accessible only to a living Smith descendant.
The glowing runes on its inner walls represented the pinnacle of Smith family magic.
It had been invented by the man in the portrait—William Smith.
According to tradition, each Smith had to invent something of magical significance before turning twenty-five. Failing to do so would forever bar them from the hut. Alexander's parents had never started their work due to war and poverty.
Ironically, Voldemort's defeat, peace, and the returning prosperity ultimately cost them their lives.
His father, George Smith, had developed an experimental metal wand. That wand—unstable and dangerous—was the cause of their fatal accident.
In the wizarding world, such metal-core wands had another name: guns.
Three Days Later
Race: Wizard
Strength: 7
Constitution: 21
Magic Power: 10
Skills: Thinking Lv.2 (5%), Body Refinement Lv.2 (70%), Alchemy Lv.1 (0.1%)
Three days had passed since Alexander arrived in this world.
He had spent his mornings reading and training, carefully working through his new identity. Leveling up his "Thinking" skill made his mind sharper, and even helped him retrieve long-buried memories from his previous life.
"Body Refinement" had sculpted his young body into something far healthier and more resilient.
He understood one core principle about the wizarding world: agility saves lives. Even the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, is useless if it misses.
Physical conditioning mattered too. Just look at McGonagall—respected and powerful, but nearly killed by a handful of Stunning Spells due to her frailty. Hagrid, by contrast, shrugged off spells like nothing thanks to his giant bloodline.
"Based on the past week's Daily Prophet issues Jack brought me," Alexander muttered, "it's safe to assume this isn't fan fiction. Which is a shame… I was hoping for a version of Snape who talks about troll brains and steals souls. Or Dumbledore handing out truth potions in cookies."
Still, the world and its stakes were real.
Ravenclaw's diadem was hidden in the Room of Requirement.
Tom Riddle's diary could be intercepted in second year.
Slytherin's locket might be found at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
Hufflepuff's cup lay in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault.
The ring and Resurrection Stone were trapped in the Gaunt shack.
Nagini remained at Voldemort's side until the end.
Theoretically, Alexander could send an anonymous letter to Dumbledore detailing the locations of the Horcruxes. Just don't wear the Resurrection Stone—resist the temptation. Everything else, except Nagini and Harry, could probably be handled in one day.
Though the Smith family had once repelled three of Voldemort's assaults, their secrecy meant no one remembered them—not even among pure-blood circles.
That worked in Alexander's favor. His power, knowledge, and bloodline gave him security. Even if Dumbledore found him, the man's moral compass would ensure protection.
But one question haunted him.
"If Dumbledore is so capable… why did I get sent here?" he whispered.
"For now, I'll let Alexander try the diary first. If he fails, then I'll act."