Wiltshire, England, 1991 — Malfoy Manor.
Malfoy Manor lay beneath a pale morning sky, its silvered windows reflecting the mist that curled lazily over the grounds.
Within its ancient stone walls, one of the upper rooms was unusually quiet.
An eleven-year-old boy sat cross-legged upon a grand four-poster bed, a heavy book balanced effortlessly in his hands.
His hair was platinum blond—almost white in the sunlight—and his eyes, a soft shade of grey, moved swiftly across the page with practiced ease.
There was something strikingly gentle about him, a softness that stood in contrast to the cold elegance of the Manor itself.
Victor Malfoy closed the book with a small, satisfied sigh.
"Well," he murmured to himself, stacking it neatly atop several others, "I've nearly finished the second-year books as well."
Before he could reach for another, the door to the room swung open without warning.
Draco Malfoy stood there, pale and sharp-featured, his expression already carrying the familiar hint of impatience.
"Big brother," Draco said, lifting his chin slightly, "Father wants you downstairs. We're leaving for Diagon Alley—to get our things for Hogwarts."
Victor looked up, a faint smile touching his lips as he slid off the bed.
"At last," he said quietly, reaching for his robes. "I was beginning to wonder if the day would ever come."
You might wonder why Draco called him big brother—after all, Draco Malfoy had no siblings in the books or films.
To understand that, we must go back eleven years.
Back to the moment he arrived in this world.
He had transmigrated into the Wizarding World and been reborn as the twin brother of Draco Malfoy.
They bore the same pale hair, the same blood, and nearly the same face—though his own was undeniably the more handsome—but fate had played a small trick. He was born two minutes earlier.
And in the Malfoy household, that was more than enough to make him the elder brother.
Like many transmigrators, he did not come alone.
Soon after his birth, something strange made itself known to him—a presence that lingered at the edge of his awareness. It called itself a system. Yet unlike the ones he had read about, this one was… peculiar.
Useful, certainly—but only if one had the patience of a saint.
The system never answered questions. It never explained itself. It did not react to commands or thoughts. It simply existed, silent for long stretches of time, only to grant rewards at its own whim—sometimes as rarely as once a year, like an especially ungenerous Christmas.
Its name appeared only once in his mind.
[Most Fortunate Man]
How it judged fortune, he had no idea.
In the eleven years since his rebirth, the system had granted him only five rewards.
The first was a Status Screen, allowing him to view his own attributes and other unfamiliar information.
The second was Eyes of the Dead, a strange ability that let him perceive things that ordinary people—and even most wizards—could not see.
The third was a Magic Heart, the nature of which he was still only beginning to understand.
The fourth was Enhanced Intelligence, a gift that explained his unnaturally quick grasp of spells, theory, and magic far beyond his age.
And the fifth…
A Fragment of an Old Key.
What it unlocked—or whether it unlocked anything at all—remained a mystery.
[Status Screen — Victor Malfoy]
Name: Victor Lucius Malfoy
Age: 11
Blood Status: Pure-blood
House (Unassigned): Hogwarts Awaiting
Title: The Fortunate One
[ Core Attributes]
Magic Power: C+
(Exceptional for his age; deep, stable magical reserves rather than raw explosiveness.)
Magic Control: A
(Fine control and precision; suited for wandwork, rituals, and subtle spells.)
Mental Strength: A
(High resistance to mental strain, fear, and magical pressure.)
Intelligence: S
(Enhanced comprehension, memory retention, and analytical ability.)
Luck: ???
(Unmeasurable — affected by the Most Fortunate System.)
[Innate Traits]
Magic Heart (Unique): A rare magical core structure that continuously refines mana, improves spell stability, and accelerates magical growth. Becomes stronger with age and practice.
Eyes of the Dead (Passive):
Allows perception of: Residual magic , Deathly auras ,Lingering souls or curses,Objects influenced by death or ancient magic
Enhanced Intelligence (Passive): Grants superior learning speed, logical reasoning, and spell analysis. Particularly effective in magical theory, runes, and alchemy.
***
They descended the marble staircase and entered the drawing room.
Lucius Malfoy stood near the tall windows, his cane resting lightly in one gloved hand, long blond hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. His mere presence seemed to straighten the air itself, as though the room dared not fall into disorder around him.
Seated nearby was Narcissa Malfoy.
She rose the moment she saw the boys, her expression softening in a way it never did for anyone else. Crossing the room, she placed a gentle hand on Victor's shoulder, her fingers brushing affectionately through his pale hair.
Victor had always been her favourite—though she would never admit it aloud.
Unlike Draco, Victor had shown remarkable intelligence from the age of five. He read ahead, listened carefully, and grasped concepts far beyond what was expected of a child his age.
In a household that prized lineage, legacy, and excellence, such talent was impossible to ignore.
Naturally, he was pampered.
After all, what parent wouldn't take pride in a genius child—especially in a family like the Malfoys, one of the most respected pure-blood houses in the Wizarding World?
Draco scowled slightly at the scene.
"Mother, you always treat big brother better," he complained.
"If you want praise, study harder, little brother," Victor replied calmly.
"Hmph. I am good," Draco snapped.
"But not as good as me," Victor added mildly.
Lucius observed the exchange in silence, a faint, satisfied expression touching his face.
This was exactly as it should be.
He was a pure-blood wizard to the core, and he expected nothing less than excellence from his children. The fact that his eldest son already surpassed others his age filled him with unmistakable pride.
Victor's brilliance was not merely a personal achievement—it was a symbol of Malfoy superiority.
And one day, Lucius fully intended to ensure the world knew it.
Lucius turned toward the fireplace.
"Time to go."
A small crystal bowl of Floo powder rested on the mantel. Lucius took a pinch and handed it to Narcissa first. She stepped into the fireplace.
"Diagon Alley," she said clearly.
Green flames rose, and in the next moment, she vanished.
Victor followed, gripping the powder tightly. The familiar spinning sensation surrounded him as emerald fire flared around his vision.
It lasted only a second before his feet touched solid ground again.
He stepped out into the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace.
Draco appeared beside him a moment later, brushing soot from his sleeves with an annoyed huff.
Lucius emerged last, looking as composed as ever.
The pub was crowded with witches and wizards, many accompanied by children not much older than Victor and Draco. Some conversations paused briefly at the sight of the Malfoys, but Lucius paid them no attention.
He led them toward the brick wall behind the bar. With a practiced motion, he tapped the correct bricks with his wand.
The wall shifted apart, revealing Diagon Alley beyond.
The narrow street was already bustling. Shop windows glittered with cauldrons, books, robes, and magical instruments. Owls hooted from cages, and the air was filled with excited chatter from families preparing for Hogwarts.