Tom Wright had never been anyone special.
He wasn't the fastest, the smartest, or the strongest. He didn't have the kind of luck that saved people in tight situations, nor the kind of charm that made friends wherever he went. What he had was silence, solitude, and a stubborn spark of defiance. Life had beaten him down since day one, and still—somehow—he kept going.
The Millstone Home for Boys was more prison than orphanage. Cracked windows let in cold drafts. The food was bland at best, expired at worst. The staff did their jobs with mechanical detachment, never cruelty, but never kindness either. Tom learned early that tears did nothing, that no one came when you cried, and that the world didn't owe you a damn thing.
Books were his escape. He would steal away into corners with battered paperbacks, reading by flashlight under his sheets. His favorites were the fantasy novels—the ones with wizards, monsters, and secret worlds hiding just beyond reality. They were the only things that made his heart race. In a world where his name meant nothing, fantasy let him dream of a world where it might.
After aging out of the system at sixteen, Tom scraped by with dead-end jobs and cheap apartments. Janitor by day. Delivery driver by night. Sometimes, on his rare days off, he'd go back to the library and reread his old favorites, chasing the magic he'd never had. But reality was cold. Dreams were for people who could afford them. That all ended on a cold Friday night.
He was walking home in the rain, pizza box in hand, hoodie drawn up against the wind. The city was quiet, save for the occasional car. Then—a scream. Sharp, panicked, and close. Without hesitation, Tom turned and ran.
He found a woman struggling against a man in a ski mask, being dragged toward an alley. Tom didn't think. He hurled the pizza box, grabbed a metal pipe from a nearby trash heap, and charged. He swung wildly, caught the attacker in the ribs, and shouted for help.
The woman ran. The man didn't.
Tom barely had time to register the glint of the knife.
Pain exploded in his gut, hot and white. He stumbled, dropped the pipe, and fell against the wall. The world tilted. Blood soaked his shirt. The man ran, but Tom didn't see. His vision tunneled as he slid to the wet pavement.
His last thought was bitter and full of regret: I never even got to live…
Then, darkness.
And after what felt like both an instant and an eternity—light.
Warm, endless light. Not sunlight. Not heaven. Just a space without form, filled with gentle humming energy.
[Initializing Mana Predator System…]
[Reincarnation Protocol Activated]
[Host Identified: Tom Wright]
[World Selection: Harry Potter Universe]
[Primary Objective: Grow Stronger by Absorbing Mana from Defeated Magical Beings]
[Secondary Objective: Survive and Ascend]
Tom wanted to scream, to ask questions—but he had no voice. Only awareness.
[Welcome, Tom. You have been granted a second chance. This world is rich in magic. Thrive—or die again.]
When he woke, it was in a crib.
A real one. Wooden slats, soft blanket. His body felt wrong—smaller, softer, vulnerable. He couldn't move properly. His limbs flailed like a newborn's. Panic flared until a warm presence lifted him. A woman.
She was in her late thirties, with soft gray eyes and sandy-blonde hair tied in a braid. She smiled down at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
"Tom," she whispered, brushing his cheek, "my sweet boy…"
She was his mother. His mother.
Her name was Amelia Wright, and she was a kind-hearted squib who lived in a cottage on the edge of a sleepy magical village in Yorkshire. She didn't speak much of magic, only that it had taken her husband, and she'd rather her son live a normal life.
But Tom remembered everything.
And when he turned three, everything changed.
[Mana Sense Unlocked]
[Passive Absorption Activated: 0.1 mana/hour from ambient environment]
[Combat Absorption Locked – Awaiting Host Combat Initiation]
From that day on, the world looked different.
He could see mana—as glowing currents flowing through the air, woven into living things. Trees radiated calm green auras. Birds shimmered with blue-white wisps. Magical animals were brighter still, crackling with wild energy. Even his mother, powerless as she was, glowed faintly with a residual magical essence.
He practiced in secret.
At first, he could only absorb the ambient mana in the air—a trickle that felt like a warm breeze filling his chest. But slowly, it built up. He felt his body getting stronger, his reflexes sharper, his senses more acute. By the time he was five, he could hear birds fluttering in the woods long before they came into view. By six, he could leap higher than other boys, run longer, and never seemed to get tired.
But Tom was careful. Always careful.
He pretended to be a little clumsy around other kids. He let himself lose races, acted confused when other children talked about magical things their parents taught them. Amelia didn't want him involved with the wizarding world—and Tom didn't want to lose the only family he had.
But every night, he trained.
He would sneak out to the edge of the forest, where old magic still lingered in the trees. There, he would sit beneath a massive oak that pulsed with power. He'd close his eyes, slow his breathing, and draw the mana in.
[Mana Capacity: 38/50]
[Minor Enhancement: Reflexes, Vision, Strength (x1.2)]
When he turned eight, he discovered something new: mana threads. Lines of energy connecting magical creatures to the environment. By tapping into them—gently—he could leech off more potent sources. He experimented on rabbits and squirrels, never hurting them, just learning to feed.
He didn't want to be a monster. But he couldn't afford to be weak.
The System gave him daily missions—simple ones at first.
[Absorb 50 Mana from Ambient Sources – Reward: +5 Max Mana]
[Identify One Magical Creature – Reward: Mana Compression Skill]
He began to level slowly. Quietly. Without wands or spells, his magic was raw, primal—rooted in life itself.
By ten, he could generate faint pulses of force from his hands. He used them to knock over apples, start small fires, and repel water. Every trick he learned came from testing and failing a hundred times in the woods. No teachers. No books.
Only instinct—and the System.
Then, on the morning of his eleventh birthday, everything changed again.
He was eating toast and honey in their little stone cottage, the smell of rain coming in through the open window. His mother was humming to herself as she sorted the mail.
Then she stopped.
"Tom," she said, voice trembling.
He looked up. She was holding a thick envelope, cream-colored parchment sealed with crimson wax. His heart leapt before he even saw the emblem: a lion, a serpent, a badger, and a raven, surrounding a bold letter H.
She placed it gently on the table.
Tom stared at it. He could feel the magic humming from within.
[Quest Unlocked: Hogwarts Year One – Survive, Grow, Discover Your Destiny]
[Reward: System Upgrade + Spell Adaptation Skill Tree Unlocked]
He reached out, broke the seal, and opened the letter.
"Dear Mr. Wright,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"
As he read, his hands shook—not from fear, but from something deeper.
Excitement.
Anticipation.
Purpose.
For the first time in two lifetimes, Tom didn't feel like a mistake or a leftover.
He felt like a storm waiting to break.
And this time… he wasn't going to just survive.
He was going to rise.