Slytherin devil

A/N: I am reviewing my chapters, the ones marked with 'rev' indicate that they have been revised. It's a pity that comments disappear during the revision, but I will still edit them to enhance the readability for those who have just arrived. Thank you.

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Vincent Salvatore, an Italian college student in the throes of boredom, was idly browsing the internet on his college campus. While perusing a random fanfic site, he stumbled upon a pop-up ad featuring a modern animation of two wizards engaged in a magical duel – one clad in white casting spells of the light side, and the other draped in black, invoking dark magic. This clichéd battle video ended at a climax, leaving Vincent feeling intrigued.

Advertisement: [Real life sucks, want to switch servers? We have magic...]

As Vincent pondered the realistic animation and potential for a new high-end game, he clicked on the ad, leading him to a minimalist website adorned with esoteric magic symbols.

[Select a magical fantasy world]

Vincent thought, "It must be one of those character simulation games." He clicked to explore the options: Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, and an almost endless list of other games. Vincent chose Harry Potter, as it had been his favorite story growing up.

-Assessing player life…

-Average college student with average intelligence, low charisma level, average general knowledge, poor financial situation, calculating...

-Player is a messed-up individual

-Player received 1335 points…

-Choose wisely…

A new page appeared, presenting a character creation sheet. Vincent hesitated, unsure whether to continue or close the page. Curiosity and boredom compelled him to proceed.

[ -Name = Vincent Salvatore

-Age = 23

-Points = 1335 ]

[Breed]

Muggle - Wizard - Goblin - House-elf - Demon - Dragon …

[Select family condition]

Orphan: 0 points -Muggle family: 200 points - Wizarding family: 600 points

[Magic Talent]

Squib: 0 points - Medium-Magic Talent: 100 points - High-Magic Talent: 200 points

High Demon Talent: 666 Points - Medium: 333 points - Low: 0 points

[unique skills]

Legilimency: 250 points - Occlumency: 300 points - Metamorphmagus: 300 points

Precognitive sight: 69 points - Parseltongue: 150 points

Natural Demonic Magic: 333 points

[Special Items]

-Demonic Grimoire: 333 - Dragon Egg: 5000 - Basilisk Egg: 6000 -Philosopher's Stone: 9999 -Amortentia: 90…

[start game]

Vincent decided to embrace the situation and pondered his choice. "What would I like to be?"

-Race

Vincent contemplated various intriguing options, including becoming a Witch with versatile magical abilities or a fearsome Dragon, imagining epic battles. He also considered being a mischievous house-elf for fun. However, his love for the theme of demons, especially Lucifer Morningstar, led him to select the Demon race. The demonic traits, such as growth through sin and soul-devouring, appealed to him.

-Family condition

Having a wizarding family could provide advantages but limit his freedom, while a muggle family seemed to offer disadvantages. Vincent opted for the orphan background.

-Skills and talents

Understanding the importance of talents for character growth, Vincent invested in high-demon talent, and natural demonic magic to ensure his character's demonic authenticity.

-Items-

Among the numerous items, the Demonic Grimoire piqued his interest, despite its lack of detailed explanations. With his magical talent, Vincent believed he could decipher the grimoire's secrets. He allocated a total of 1332 points and had nothing left that cost 3 points.

[ -Name = Vincent Salvatore

-Age = 23

-Race = Lesser Demon

-Family = Orphan

-Talents = High-Demon Talent

-Magic = Natural Demonic Magic

-Items = Demonic Grimoire ]

Vincent completed the minimalist character setup and clicked on "start game." A countdown commenced, and as it reached zero, a smartphone notification startled him.

"Successful transaction: your bank balance is 0.0.3."

His heart raced in despair as he realized all his savings had been stolen. Determined, he decided to visit the bank as soon as possible.

Ten minutes later, a young fat man with black hair and blue eyes found himself lying at the bottom of a staircase, nursing abrasions from the fall. His breathing was strained as he lamented his losses and the heart attack he was suffering. Regret and frustration filled his thoughts as he bemoaned his past choices.

And thus ended Vincent's last day on Earth.

..................................................

Yorkshire, England, in 1978 at an orphanage. It was a rainy night, and the somber ambiance was punctuated by the sound of dripping rain. Amid this gloomy setting, a cocoon-like structure formed from a reddish-black, blood-like viscous liquid, emitting a faint, opaque red glow. Raindrops appeared frozen in mid-air, and time itself seemed to pause. The world held its breath.

Tun… tun… tun...

A rhythmic drumbeat filled the air, marking the passage of time. Suddenly, the cocoon shattered, revealing a baby with pale skin, purple eyes, and features reminiscent of a predator, including sharp claws and teeth, and small horns. This unearthly combination somehow managed to appear incredibly cute.

Soon, the baby's extra features began to fade. Horns retracted, pointed ears normalized, sharp teeth receded, and claws transformed into regular fingernails. Only his ice-white hair and brilliant purple eyes remained as distinctive features.

In the common room of the orphanage, a young woman with pale blond hair and blue eyes, dressed as a nun, took a break from her duties. Her name was Rose, and while she loved children, caring for so many could be overwhelming at times. She heard the sound of a baby's cries mixed with the rain and initially dismissed it as her imagination. However, curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to investigate.

Upon reaching the entrance, Rose discovered a soaked baby wrapped in unfamiliar, red, and dirty silk-like cloth. The baby bore a pendant with the name "Vincent Salvatore."

Overcoming her initial shock, Rose picked up the baby and comforted him. She brought him inside and introduced him to Matron Gina, who had just woken up from her nap.

Matron Gina, a weary woman in her forties, listened as Rose explained the discovery of the baby at the door. Gina's expression reflected the unfortunate reality of abandoned children. Financial troubles, drug addiction, violence – the reasons were numerous.

Gina instructed Rose to give the baby a bath and take him to the infirmary for a checkup. After his bath, the baby was adorned in adorable clothing and examined by Dr. Bean, a cheerful man in his sixties. To everyone's surprise, the baby appeared completely healthy.

Doctor Bean, a man in his 60s with cheerful features, stood by Matron Gina's side as he watched the child with a curious expression. The doctor swiftly conducted an examination, checking the baby's temperature, eyes, and ears. The only remarkable thing about the baby was the apparent intelligence in his eyes.

Doctor Bean remarked, "He's healthy. Luckily, he didn't even catch a cold."

Vincent, the baby in question, struggled to understand what was happening around him.

Vincent's Perspective

After enduring what might have been the worst day of my life and succumbing to death, I found myself in a desolate and dreadful limbo. I didn't feel pain anymore, nor anything else for that matter. I couldn't see, feel, smell, or hear—my mind was the only thing that remained active in this empty void.

My thoughts wandered through my memories, revisiting my dreams, the people I had loved and let down, and the profound sadness I felt. A vivid memory emerged:

In an aging farmhouse, a lady and a muscular young man, weathered by years of manual labor, conversed. "Mom, I'm leaving. I'm going to become rich, make tons of money, and become a successful businessman. I'll have a beautiful wife and buy you a mansion far from this remote place."

My mother responded, "Don't forget your roots, my son. We are children of this land, and we love it here. Pursue your dreams, but remember where you came from." That was the last time I had spoken to my mother, four years ago.

A profound sadness washed over me as I remembered my dreams and how I had abandoned my family. Something seemed to be siphoning off a part of me—a piece of my essence and memories.

Another memory resurfaced:

A man and two young boys, aged 8 and 9, hid in ambush. The older boy held an old rifle, guided by his father to shoot a deer at a distance of 80 meters. The younger boy, who averted his gaze, asked, "Dad, why do we have to kill it?"

The man, recognizing the boy's anxious eyes, replied, "My son, we need to eat. Our crops didn't yield enough, and we require dried meat for the winter. You must learn to hunt because, in this world, there's no peace. As long as something needs to eat, desire, or acquire something, something else will die, be stolen from, or deceived. Be the hunter, not the prey."

Reflecting on my father's words, I recalled how I had abandoned my family's ancestral land to fit into the modern system—a life of servitude, dissatisfaction, and constant pursuit of something elusive. I felt a deep disappointment in myself, and something seemed to feed on that anger.

As my memories regressed, I sensed that something within me was changing gradually. Limbo appeared to be drawing sustenance from my essence, while my soul, in turn, absorbed something from it.

"Why so serious?" I began to speak to myself, as if I were performing in a show. Time had lost its meaning in this place, and I was descending into madness. Unable to bear the emptiness any longer, I surrendered to insanity.

After what felt like eons or mere minutes, I grew weary of madness. While not entirely sane, I found solace in revisiting the fictional books I had cherished, particularly the Harry Potter series.

Finally, a breakthrough occurred. I regained tactile sensations and experienced intense pain. I realized I had a body again. A considerable amount of time passed, marked by excruciating pain. But now, I had ears and was aware of my surroundings. I found myself in a warm, wet, and constricted space—it was a cocoon. I seemed to be undergoing reincarnation.

Exploring my newfound surroundings, I came across a door with a small sign in English that I recognized: Santa Maria Foster Home.

It was raining heavily outside, and I used my baby's secret weapon, "Uhaa Uhaa uhaa uhaa uuha," for about two minutes until a young, pretty lady appeared.

.