Chapter 1

I woke up without an alarm clock, something that's been happening to me a lot lately. Old age is just around the corner, a thought flashed through my mind as my sleepy eyes tried to finally open. I suppressed my yawn so as not to wake Mariya, since we had a good time with her last night.

I grin in my head. I had decided to remember the old times. I couldn't resist, especially after the conversation with the new students. They had stirred my soul with their "reincarnation". So I thought, why not? Mariya didn't mind. Well, how could she? How can you say no to the rector, who decides not only about the scholarship, but also about your future?

But I clearly saw a certain squeamishness in the girl's eyes, and my health hardly allows for such entertainment. So what can I say about making a girl feel good? A few dozen stiff movements, fondling her breasts, licking her lips... Ugh, I even felt disgusted. But why not? She's a big girl, and there was no coercion on my part... uh... physical, that's the right way to put it. That's the only thing that didn't happen. Heh-heh.

I finally wake up and realize that the pieces of the puzzle don't fit together. This isn't my room. And also... it's not my body. I look at my hand. They are small and childish. The room is unknown, what the...

Against my will I thought back to last night's conversation. Fuck that! My hands automatically explore my body, the usual skinny body of a boy. I can feel his ribs and shoulder blades. He's wearing an old, faded shirt and sewn pants with holes in the pockets. Though the pockets are leaky, they are not empty. My hand fumbles for a piece of paper, well-well, what have we here?

I catch myself trying to fix my glasses, which I do not have. Well, if I've got it right, I'll have to wean myself off my old habits.

The short note is in Russian:

`This will be interesting. Change the world and you'll be rewarded. However, I would not be upset if you simply decided to start a new life. There's nothing holding you back in your old one.

P.S. Body memory will wake up in a minute after you read this note, better lie down.

P.P.S. There is still life in the old dog, I respect that! You'll get a little bonus for that.`

As soon as I read the last word, the note turns to ash and slips through my fingers. I hum and shake it off. Bonus? Lie down? Well, why not to lay down.

I lay down and close my eyes. The note was right about one thing, there really was nothing holding me back in my old life. I broke up with my wife and now I only hang out with students. Rarely, at my age there is not much desire, but from time to time... Children are grown up and we communicate only on holidays, often all communication is reduced to short correspondence and sending money. Friends and buddies are good at their homes.

But here the memory of the boy whose body I had occupied began to seep into my mind. It would be more accurate to say the character I invented.

Wolfgang Weiber, seven years old. Pure-blooded German. He hardly knows anything about his parents, only that they hid him from someone and put him in the Wool's Orphanage. He is on good terms with the orphanage, as his parents left a decent donation to Mrs. Cole, the orphanage's director. Also some documents about their son and a medallion that Mrs. Cole promised to give him on the day he turned 16. Little Wolfgang did not like his name, it was too long and he was often teased about it. A few of his friends called him just Wolf. That wasn't a bad thing.

From practical skills I got knowledge of conversational English, some writing skills and a sense of magic. Ever since he was a child, Wolf could feel a kind of power, an energy within him. He could use it to heal a scratch, for example. Or push his attacker away. But mostly he just made his fists hit harder.

And he had to fight a lot. Living in an orphanage since he was born... that's not very pleasant for today's times. What can I say, if modern orphanages are often shabby places, I, who worked in education for many years, know this personally, but here, in the past...

Up to the age of five, there is some attention from the orphanage's teachers, but they mostly pass this task on to the older girls, who are more or less in good credit. These girls receive extra food for their help.

At that time, the previous owner of the body acted like a typical child. No matter how much of a wizard he was. Shitting in his pants, crying, playing, fighting. My memory, which I searched through, was helpful in showing moments when he screwed up hiding magic, but the kids accepted it as standard, and the older ones either preferred to ignore it or blamed it on exhaustion.

Then school started. I chuckled in my head. Education here was... my respect. Church school spent more time on prayers and praising God than on knowledge.

School would last until the age of 12, and then there would be work. Or rather, work starts at ten. The little ones are just pushed into factories, workplaces, construction sites, and other places. People are needed everywhere, even such small and weak ones. But bring-and-take works almost everywhere. Especially now, when technology is just beginning to knock timidly on the door of progress. Manual labor is almost everywhere.

For two years you worked as a messenger boy, half day, combined with school, then a full shift. And that's until you're 16. And then that's it, you can go out on your own. By that time, an orphanage student should have some income and a place to sleep. Otherwise you can't survive. The salary is a pittance. But it should be enough for a bed in a cheap night shelter, as well as meager rations to keep from starving. That's all you can count on. At least for those who come from an orphanage.

For the girls, the situation comes with some adjustments on the production side. But the key role does not change. Either go to work, where you will be pushed by the orphanage staff, who will most likely get their dividends, or find a place in life on your own.

In these situations, men often turn to criminal activity. Women have much worse choices, but at least they have some. Besides, no one forbids a good marriage, which is quite rare, but it happens.

And finding a way to make money was essential. After all, from the time you left school - from 12 to 16 - you were no longer treated as a child. Work a full shift? Earn money? Then you have to buy your own food. It's up to you whether you do it in the cafeteria, at the factory, or bargain with the cooks at the orphanage. But you won't get food for free.

So you'll have to work like a squirrel in a cage. Work 16-hour shifts in a factory for a few pennies, which are immediately wasted on a meager ration. At least they don't take away the roof over your head, but after 16 years you have to find it yourself. Well, or find an alternative. No one would force you to go to the factory, but after a few days of hunger you would run for it yourself.

Take food from the little ones? Well-well, the way to deal with such sly ones was invented a long time ago. Physical punishment is popular here, even for minor crimes. If you snap back, you'll be dealt with by a guard who's a pretty tough and capable man.

In extreme cases, no one forbids him from bringing in help, though in my memory that only happened once, when a group of guys conspired and tried to overthrow the system. They did it. They were in the city hospital for four months, and when they got out, they got the "good news" that they were no longer in Wool's orphanage, so they could go wherever they wanted and do whatever they wanted. No one ever heard from them again.

It's a good thing I'm out of danger, or rather on the edge of it, because I can go to Hogwarts at the age of 11. Now I see why Riddle was so excited. The perspective, even with magic, was not so good.

I would still have time to think about the future, but what about my memory?

Among his peers, he was not a star, but he put himself on a good level. At this point in my mind, I think that here it is, a "bonus" from the unknown ... um ... superbeing? After all, who were those guys? Magicians? Hardly the kind of thing that today's wizards can do, except for the greatest archmages. Gods? Maybe, but why? Well, I have no idea, at least not yet.

My body had a good relationship with the staff of the orphanage and the other children. A few times he successfully covered for the local "authorities" when they were caught doing something wrong. He helped the girls find a snitch among themselves who would leak information to the teachers in exchange for extra food.

His talent for mentalism helped. He literally caught their thoughts and led the other girls to a hideout with evidence of a local rat. After finding a stash of food and even a particularly rare candy that many had never eaten in their lives, they quickly put two and two together, especially when they waited for the "hostess" of the stuff to return for a snack.

Despite his good connections, he never made any close friends. Maybe the reason was his rather distant character. Because of that, he had to fight more than once or twice. The good thing was that subconsciously strengthening his body with magic played an important role in his fights, even against older boys. This also contributed to his good reputation.

He never told anyone about his unique abilities. "Past me" didn't trust people too much, because when he talked to the same person often, he could sense their emotions and shades of thought. The residents of the orphanage, as well as the staff, were not very good people, even though they controlled themselves for the most part. However, this did not apply to their thoughts, so the boy suffered from loneliness, preferring it to the constant negative thoughts of his acquaintances.

I understand that, but what about school?

Of course, like the others, he went to the church school where he learned to read and count. Other sciences were not given to orphans, the main emphasis being on prayers and services, "God willing". Fortunately, as a professor of literature and president of a large university, I had considerable knowledge of my own. Unfortunately, I did not speak English. I learned German and then French. So the boy's poor knowledge was very good for me. The important thing was not to show too much of my knowledge.

Tom Riddle knew Wolf. Their paths had crossed in the dining hall and in church. An ordinary, quiet boy. But if Wolf had not been touched, thanks to Mrs. Cole's patronage, the good treatment he received from the older boys, and his reputation as a «straight guy», then the reason why Tom had not been bullied, I could not understand.

I mean, I couldn't understand it before. Now that I know the background, I understand everything perfectly. As well as the fact that the character corresponded to the legend I made up yesterday. Most likely, this mysterious medallion, which is in Mrs. Cole's possession until I`ll become an adult, would give me some clue to find my parents.

After thinking about it, I decide to deal with the medallion later, maybe even when I'm at Hogwarts. I begin to search my new memory more carefully. It is more like a movie with full immersion and a sense of emotion than just a momentary realization.

From the age of five, the boys were in the care of their older "comrades," often given daily tasks: they were mostly runners, beggars, sometimes "on the lookout," sometimes even stealing. They were rarely sent out to steal, however, that required a special experience, and the little thieves who were caught had a hard time. It could even lead to death, which would have tragic consequences for the smart guys who sent the child "on the case".

Of course, in most cases this was done by those who did not want to work "honestly". I understand them very well. At this time, production was extremely harmful and very unsafe. People were injured there very often, the workload is very heavy, and by the time they reached the age of thirty, the workers looked like fifty-year-olds. It makes you wonder if you'd rather risk getting shot or stabbed in the stomach than "work hard" and die in your fourth decade.

The girls had their own "sensei," who taught them quite similar but different directions. Wolf knew almost nothing about them. He himself was not interested in the girls because of his young age, and he could not ask the elders for details because their paths did not often cross, except for a few cases where the situation had developed by itself. But did it happen by itself? Anyway, it doesn't matter, now the "character" has already been created, so no one will influence my fate, only myself... However, this would be to my advantage as a transmigrator.

There was enough memory, but I managed to go through it all in just an hour. Just at dawn, the loud and shrill voice of Mrs. Petters was heard in the corridor:

"Get up, you lazybones! Wake up!"