The Void
Her soul peeled away like old skin.
Darkness. Not the darkness of night—she knew that darkness. This was something else. A hum of nothing. A silence so deep it had weight. She felt herself unraveling, molecule by molecule, memory by memory. The universe was digesting her.
No.
The word had no mouth. But it had weight.
She pushed. A soul shouldn't be able to push. The dead don't struggle. The dead don't bargain. But Sylvia had spent thirteen years learning that bodies break before wills do. And her will was the only thing she had left.
Something cracked.
Reality tore.
She tumbled through dimensions—past flashes of things she didn't understand. A man in red and gold flying. A green giant roaring. A castle with candles floating in mid-air. A boy with a scar on his forehead. The darkness clawed at her, trying to pull her back, trying to dissolve her into nothing. Her soul screamed without a throat.
Then, just as she felt herself beginning to fragment—
Impact.
Present – Hogwarts Grounds, Near the Great Lake
Something soft beneath her.
Sylvia didn't know what it was at first. Her face was pressed against it. Cool. Prickly. Alive.
She opened her eyes.
Green.
She had never seen green. Not really. The world she was born into had been brown and gray from the beginning. The bombs fell before she took her first breath. The sky had always been the color of old bruises. The ground had always been cracked earth and dust.
But this—this was green. Thousands of tiny blades reaching up toward a sky that was blue. Blue like nothing she had ever imagined. The men who used her had tried to describe colors sometimes. "The sky was blue," they said, "like a robin's egg." She never knew what a robin's egg looked like.
Now she did.
She lay there for a long moment, breathing. The air smelled clean. No smoke. No rot. No burning flesh.
Where am I?
She sat up slowly. Her body felt wrong. Lighter. Younger. Different.
A castle loomed in the distance—turrets, windows glowing with warm light, bridges connecting impossible towers. It looked like something from the broken stories. The magical school. The boy with the scar. The terrorist who couldn't die.
Hogwarts.
She knew the name but not much else. The men who bred her had told her fragments between thrusts. A world of wizards. A school for children. A dark lord who split his soul because he was afraid to die. Three children who fought him and won.
That was all she knew. No details. No names except Harry Potter. No understanding of magic beyond wands and spells and green killing light.
And the other world—the one with superheroes—she knew even less. Men who could fly. A giant in green. A man with a shield. Aliens who invaded cities. That was it. Broken pieces. Imaginations filling the gaps.
She didn't know if any of it was real.
But the castle looked real.
Her throat burned. She crawled toward the water—a great lake, black and deep—and cupped handfuls to her lips. Cold. Clean. Real.
Then she saw the body.
A man lay twenty feet from her, facedown in the grass. His robes were fine—dark blue, embroidered with silver. His hair was gray, his skin pale. He wasn't breathing.
Sylvia crawled closer. Her hands shook. Not from fear—she had forgotten fear years ago—but from confusion.
The man's face tugged at something. A memory that wasn't hers.
She touched her own face.
Pain.
It hit her like a thunderbolt. Images, sounds, feelings—none of them hers. A woman's voice: "You're a metamorphmagus, dear. Change your nose if you're bored." A man's voice: "Tonks, focus. The Ministry didn't send you here to daydream." A voice like grinding stones: "Constant vigilance."
Memories flooded in. Not hers. A girl who laughed too loud. A mother who cried at her wedding. A father who told terrible jokes. A school with moving staircases. A pink-haired witch who tripped over her own feet.
Nymphadora Tonks.
She hated the name. That much was clear from the memories. She went by Tonks. Just Tonks. Auror in training. Metamorphmagus—she could change her face, her hair, her voice. Her mentor was someone called Mad-Eye Moody, a paranoid warrior who saw enemies everywhere.
And she was here. At Hogwarts. Security for something called the Triwizard Tournament.
The last memory hit hardest.
Green light. A voice—Barty Crouch Jr. A spell aimed at her back. Falling. Darkness.
Tonks had died.
And now Sylvia was wearing her skin.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
A translucent screen flickered in front of her eyes. Blue text on a black background. Hovering in the air like a ghost.
Sylvia stared at it.
What the—
Before she could react, a second screen materialized—this one larger, divided into sections, pulsing with soft light.
USER DATA PANEL
ATTRIBUTEVALUESTATUS
STRENGTH 10/100 Weak
MAGIC 40/100 Untrained – Memory Fragmentation
VITALITY 10/100 Medical assistance required
INTELLIGENCE 50/100 Average
CHARM 40/100 Noticeable
RACE Human (Metamorphmagus / Witch)
TALENTS
Metamorphmagus (Active)
Occlumency (Pending)
Sylvia read the panel twice. Then a third time.
Her eyes stopped on MAGIC: 40/100 (Untrained – Memory Fragmentation).
Untrained?
She had Tonks' memories. She knew Tonks had trained as an Auror. She had studied spells. She had passed exams. She had cast magic in the field.
So why did the system say untrained?
Sylvia closed her eyes and reached for those memories. A spell to disarm. She could almost see it. The wand movement. The incantation. Expelli— no. The word slipped away like water through fingers.
Another spell. A shield. She remembered casting it. But the details were gone. The feeling of magic flowing through her wand was there, but the knowledge—the precise, usable knowledge—was foggy. Broken. Like trying to read a book with half the pages torn out.
Memory fragmentation.
She understood.
The merge hadn't been perfect. Tonks' magical knowledge had been damaged when her soul died. When Sylvia's soul forced its way in, pieces had scattered. She had the impression of spells but not the execution. She had the memory of training but not the muscle memory.
She was a witch with a wand and no working knowledge.
Forty percent, she thought. That's what's left. Fragments. Hints. Not enough to cast reliably.
She opened her eyes.
I need to relearn everything. Or the system needs to give me spells.
She filed that away.
Then she looked at VITALITY: 10/100 (Medical assistance required).
That's worse.
She felt it now that she was looking for it. A weakness in her bones. A shallowness in her breath. The killing curse had damaged more than her memories. It had damaged her body. She needed a healer. Soon.
STRENGTH: 10/100 (Weak) – Don't get into a fight, may be a after affect of transmigration .
INTELLIGENCE: 50/100 (Average) – She wasn't a genius. Fine. She didn't need to be.
CHARM: 40/100 (Noticeable) – She could work with that.
She closed the panel.
A small ping sounded in her mind.
[SYSTEM INBOX: 1 NEW MESSAGE]
She focused on it. The inbox opened automatically.
SYSTEM MESSAGE – LUST SYSTEM OVERVIEW
Welcome, Host. The Lust System is now online.
This system is not intelligent. It does not think. It does not feel. It processes commands and distributes rewards based on quantifiable actions.
HOW TO EARN LUST POINTS:
Lust Points are earned by interacting with the opposite gender (males, for your current host body). Points are calculated based on two factors:
Increasing desire in the target
Physical relationships with the target
The number of points awarded depends on the target's LUCK STAT. Higher luck = higher point yield. This applies to both desire generation and physical intimacy.
Example:
*Target with LUCK 10/100 → 1-5 points per interaction*
*Target with LUCK 80/100 → 40-60 points per interaction*
Points are automatically tracked. No manual input required.
LOTTERY SYSTEM:
Basic Lottery (300 points): Opens 5 boxes. Common tier items (80% average tier, 20% common tier)
Intermediate Lottery (600 points): Opens 3 boxes. Average tier items (80% rare tier, 20% average tier)
Advanced Lottery (900 points): Opens 3 boxes. Rare tier items (80% godly tier, 20% rare tier)
Lottery rewards include: spells, abilities, stat boosts, temporary buffs, rare magic tomes, and rare items.
LUST POINTS CURRENT BALANCE: 0
The screen folded itself into a small corner of her vision—present but not intrusive.
Sylvia sat in the grass, processing.
So I get points by making men want me. Or sleeping with them. And the luckier the man, the more points I get.
She almost laughed.
I've been doing this since I was ten. For bread. For survival. Now I'm doing it for magic lottery boxes.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
[INCOMING: NEWBIE GIFT PACK]
A new icon appeared in her vision—a small wrapped box, golden ribbon, pulsing gently.
Accept?
Sylvia reached out mentally. The box opened.
NEWBIE GIFT PACK – CLAIMED
ITEMDETAILS
Lust Points +600
Occlumency Rank 3/10 (Mortal Tier)
Effect:Protects the mind from Legilimency masters of the same race. Does not block gods, cosmic entities, or races beyond mortal comprehension.
User-based anomalies: Nullified from timeline.
[LUST POINTS: 600]
Sylvia felt the Occlumency take effect immediately—walls in her mind. Not physical walls. Mental ones. Shields. She could feel thoughts settling behind them, memories locking into place where no wizard could reach.
Rank 3. Enough to block most Legilimens. Maybe even masters of the same race—human wizards.
Same race only, she noted. Not gods. Not aliens. Not whatever else is out there in the superhero half of this world.
She looked at her point balance.
600. That's two Basic Lotteries. Or one Intermediate. Or I could save for Advanced.
She decided to wait. She didn't know what the boxes contained. Better to understand the world first.
She looked back at the dead man.
Something about him tugged at Tonks' fragmented memories. Barty Crouch Sr. Ministry official. Strict. Cold. Father of a Death Eater.
And he was dead on the grass, fifty feet from where she'd woken up.
Timeline anomalies nullified.
The system had erased whatever change had caused this. Put everything back on track. Tonks was still dead in the original story. Crouch Sr. was still dead here.
But she—Sylvia—wasn't supposed to exist.
She stood up slowly. Her legs wobbled. Vitality 10. Medical assistance required. She felt every point of that number in her bones.
Find a healer. Find out who to trust. Find a high-luck target.
She looked at the castle. Then at the dead man. Then at the green grass beneath her feet—green, still unbelievable—and the blue sky above.
I know almost nothing about this world. A magical school. A terrorist who can't die because he split his soul. Three children who fight him. Superheroes and aliens somewhere else. That's it. That's all I have.
But I know how to survive. I know how to read men. I know how to make them want me.
And now I have a system that rewards me for it.
She looked at her point balance again.
[LUST POINTS: 600]
Two lottery spins. Or one. Or save for something better.
"Fine," she said. "I'll play your game. I'll collect your points. I'll open your boxes."
She turned toward the castle.
"But I'm not dying again. Not for this world. Not for anyone in it."
She walked.
Behind her, Barty Crouch Sr. lay dead in the grass.
Ahead of her, Hogwarts waited—full of wizards who had no idea that the pink-haired Auror they remembered had been replaced by a ghost from a dead world.
Sylvia pulled Tonks' jacket tighter around her shoulders.
Let's begin.