Hogwarts: Card System

Remember last Christmas, when Ted discovered the hidden Ravenclaw chamber?

At that time, there was a mission reward—a rare card: [Rhea's Last Egg (Purple)].

This egg contained an Azerothian red dragon.

If it could hatch, it would be legendary.

This wasn't just another Norwegian Ridgeback like the one Hagrid raised.

Dragons in this world in Ted's opinion, were more like wyverns.

Compared to the high-fantasy dragons of Azeroth or Dungeons & Dragons, these were more like magical beasts—far less intelligent, unable to speak, weak in both magic and strength.

Forget about transforming into human forms or living for thousands of years.

Ted had long known about the conditions needed for hatching, and the requirements were absurd.

He had no hopes of gathering everything before graduation.

But fate had other plans. Just days ago, he stumbled upon two essential materials—Terra Magic Silver Ore and High-Strength Magical Beast Fossils.

The first was a silver ore known as Terra, altered by magic over centuries in specific conditions.

Since it was still raw, only goblin metallurgists skilled in forging magical metals recognized its value.

Some clueless wizard had tried to sell a bunch of old junk to a second-hand shop. The shop refused, and Ted snatched it up through his wizarding auction network.

The second material came from an ancient, long-extinct magical canine.

Under the right conditions, its bones absorbed ambient magic, fossilizing into a rare but seemingly useless material.

A young wizard, not even old enough for Hogwarts, had found the fossil and nearly trashed it.

His mother, thinking it was just a hard rock, listed it in exchange for a Muggle model car.

The total cost for both materials? Less than half a Galleon!

Absolute steal!

Ted smirked, triumphant. "A true protagonist always finds hidden treasures! If you're not making insane trades, are you even the main character?"

Still, hatching a red dragon was a distant dream.

Forty different magical ingredients were required, along with an immense amount of magic and heat.

Sixteen of the materials were commercially available, but their price was staggering—two to three thousand Galleons at the very least.

The other twenty-four?

They didn't even exist in standard magical markets.

Even the well-connected Mr. Jiggers had only heard of a few, while others remained complete mysteries.

For now, Ted would have to rely on his expanding online auction network and hope the right materials surfaced.

Since the dragon egg was out of reach for now, it was time to proceed with another plan—hatching a psicrystal!

When Ted first became a psion, he had unlocked a unique ability: the creation of a psicrystal.

A psion could fragment part of their own consciousness into a crystal, granting it intelligence and turning it into a loyal assistant.

It functioned much like a wizard's familiar or a ranger's companion—an invaluable asset.

Ted's latest mission reward had granted him the perfect material: [Magic Pattern Amethyst (Blue)].

That morning, after Jerry left for his job at the apothecary, Ted made his way to the basement of the Leaky Cauldron.

This basement had become his and Jerry's unofficial secret lab, a place for experimenting with magic.

The space had been abandoned for years, filled with dust and forgotten items. 

Before starting school, Ted had secured rights to use it in exchange for cleaning and disposing of old junk.

Now, sitting at the workbench, he focused on the [Magic Pattern Amethyst (Blue)] in his mind.

A second later, a lavender crystal with red, web-like patterns materialized in his palm.

It was the size of a goose egg, its many facets glinting under the dim basement light. 

The deep purple hue mixed with intricate crimson veins made it look almost alive.

Ted could feel the dense magical energy within. 

This was prime material for enchanting.

He placed the crystal on the table, pressed his hands together, and shut his eyes.

Psionic abilities had a different approach from traditional magic. While spells required incantations and rituals, psions wielded raw mental power.

No need for runes. 

No need for magic circles.

The silent basement suddenly filled with an eerie breeze. 

A faint, melodic chime echoed through the air.

 The table trembled. 

Ted's hands began to glow with soft, pulsating light.

Three minutes passed. Ted exhaled and opened his eyes.

The crystal hadn't changed.

"Did it fail?" he murmured, uncertain.

"Haha! Fooled you—it worked!"

The crystal suddenly sprouted six thin, spider-like legs and scurried across the table in a frenzy.

"Yahoo! I'm born!" it cheered, despite lacking a mouth. Its voice resonated in the air, a product of psionic vibration.

"Oi, stop!" Ted lunged forward, fearing it would tumble off the table and shatter.

The newly-formed psicrystal skidded to a halt, then strutted back toward him like a proud peacock.

"My dear master, what are your orders?" it asked, its tone overly theatrical.

Ted squinted at it. "So… you're my psicrystal?"

"Indubitably! I am your psicrystal, a fragment of your consciousness! A hand that reaches beyond the body! An eye that never tires! A—"

"Okay, okay! I get it!" Ted groaned, rubbing his temples. "Where did you get this much personality?"

The psicrystal shook its small body. "Thanks to you, of course! What a gift~"

Ted sighed. "Right… so, do you have a name?"

"I must trouble you to provide one, dear master!"

Ted smirked. "Alright then… how about 'Gold Medal Hong Kong Division'?"

"...Perhaps reconsider?"

"Fine, fine." He glanced at the red webbing inside its body. "Alright, I'll call you Parker."

"Obey, master! Parker has been named!"

Ted grinned. Despite its eccentricity, the psicrystal had turned out well.

His reward for successfully hatching it was tangible.

+2 Intelligence. +2 Perception. +3 Spirit.

Additionally, Parker could act as a reserve for his psionic energy, increasing his mental power by 20%.

A huge win.

The main reason Ted's psicrystal, Parker, was so powerful came down to the materials used in its creation. 

They weren't just good—they were exceptional. 

As a result, Parker's abilities were much stronger than usual, and Ted himself received a massive boost in feedback and power.

Psicrystals were invaluable to psions. 

They acted like an external processor for the mind, amplifying abilities and even allowing for remote use of psychic powers. 

Compared to traditional magic, this was far more efficient, even surpassing some of the best wizard familiars.

Not only could Parker enhance Ted's abilities, but it also had access to a portion of his psychic powers. 

If Ted reached a high enough level as a psion, Parker might even learn to fly—or better yet, teleport.

As Ted thought more about it, he realized how similar this was to Ravenclaw's mind magic. 

The process essentially involved cutting and copying a fragment of his own consciousness to create an independent, clone-like existence.

Unfortunately, Ravenclaw's original research had been lost to time. 

The path had been abandoned, and after a thousand years, no wizard had successfully revived it or taken it further.

...

The development of Ted's wizarding marketplace, Arcane Exchange, was going surprisingly well. 

Wizards had hoarded an absurd amount of second-hand magical junk over the centuries. 

Every day, dozens—sometimes hundreds—of items were listed, with a steady stream of buyers making purchases.

Some wizards sold things they no longer needed. 

Others browsed for useful materials. 

Some even left requests for rare items they couldn't find anywhere else.

Bartering was also common. 

In those cases, Ted acted as an intermediary, ensuring both parties got a fair deal. 

He verified item authenticity, provided detailed appraisals, and ensured all information was accurate.

As for the actual trade? 

He didn't care.

 He simply charged an appraisal fee and let the buyers and sellers handle the rest.

The first week of summer break flew by. 

Jerry finally got a break from his part-time jobs, so Ted posted an announcement on the Exchange—"Taking a day off!"

Jerry worked two jobs and barely made two Galleons a week.

Ted, on the other hand, had raked in eleven Galleons just through appraisal fees. 

The platform fee was minimal, and with his growing reputation, more and more wizards sought his expertise.

Even those unsure about the value of their items took a chance on Ted's services.

...

On his day off, Ted decided to study magic in the basement of the Leaky Cauldron. 

This time, he focused on magic from the DND system—Azeroth's combat spells were too loud and destructive for a confined space like this.

He had already learned that the hard way.

Back at school, he had once attempted to study Fire Storm.

It was a disaster.

After two days of preparation, his first attempt failed so spectacularly that he nearly burned down an abandoned classroom. 

The only reason it didn't turn into a full-blown catastrophe was that he had sealed the room with a soundproofing charm beforehand.

It took over a dozen Aguamenti spells and multiple Freezing Charms to put out the flames. 

Then, more than thirty Reparo spells to restore the classroom.

That experience had been humbling.

He realized he lacked the proper theoretical foundation, control over magical energy, and the necessary skill level for advanced destructive spells. 

Some high-tier magic was simply out of his reach for now.

And if he couldn't learn it safely, he wasn't going to risk blowing himself up.

So, in the basement, he focused on learning magic with low lethality and minimal destructive power.

When he got tired of studying, he wrote letters to his friends.

A week passed, and almost all of them had responded.

Hermione's letter was written in precise, structured handwriting. 

She complained about how dull life was without being able to study or use magic.

Ron's letter was a chaotic mess of connected words and scribbled-out sentences. 

He grumbled about how Fred and George had raided their house for "valuable junk" and scolded Ted for not telling him about Arcane Exchange first.

Neville's letter had a lot of corrections and hesitant phrasing. 

He seemed unsure about many things, but he missed Hogwarts and was already looking forward to the new term.

Hagrid had also written, though his handwriting was almost unreadable. 

Ted could only make out a third of the message. 

Apparently, Dumbledore had sent Fluffy, the three-headed dog, back to Greece.

As for Harley, she didn't write much. Instead, she preferred visiting Diagon Alley in person. Ted and Jerry had already run into her four times this week!

...

A new month began.

On the morning of July 1st, as soon as Ted opened his eyes, the system sent him a notification:

[Ding! Talent [Knowledge of Other Worlds (Gold)] has been triggered…]