Hermit Wizard - Chapter 83

“You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one,” Dumbledore told Harry Potter with absolute certainty.But what if Voldemort did have a friend? Not just a friend but the friend? A millennia-old wizard, who learned the secret of Hogwarts from the great Four founders, and had his own goals to take over the world?To stop that ancient wizard, an ancient power is called upon . . . in the form of a girl. A Muggle-born at that.Christina Norton has powers beyond anyone's imagination but she is too caught up in the Chosen One Harry Potter's life and catastrophes. But as she starts to uncover the plans of Voldemort, she realizes someone else is working with him. Someone who wants her dead. Why? She doesn't know. She just knows she has to save her loved ones and Hogwarts from Malgino and for that she is ready to go to the end of the world.And fight whoever comes in her way.

One day, when a novelist woke up from a restless sleep,he realized that he had transformed into his 12-year-old self.

By Xishui River, there lived a family with the surname Ruo, whose luck was so disastrously poor that it was as if misfortune was possessed by their very souls. When other families had bountiful harvests, the Ruo Family harvested not a single grain. Their planted vegetables were devoured by insects, their chickens got chicken plague, their pigs got swine fever…Despite the household being full of strong men, they were either mad, crippled, or blind…What would have been a family of great prospects became the poorest within ten miles.The only thing that others envied about the Ruo Family was its thriving male members! The old lady of the Ruo Family had given birth to six sons, who then gave her four grandsons. She dreamt day and night of having a granddaughter. When she finally got a grandchild, to her dismay, the child was mentally disabled: at over three years old, she still couldn’t speak or walk, couldn’t even eat or relieve herself without help.Everyone thought the Ruo Family would never turn their fortunes around in this lifetime! That was until the half-old three-year-old mentally disabled child suddenly called out, “Mom…”The heavens began to change.The world began to turn mysterious.In the Ruo Family’s courtyard, the persimmons ripened overnight. The vegetables in the fields, nearly nibbled bare by insects, turned lush and green. The old hen that had never laid eggs suddenly started laying…While others faced famine, the Ruo Family’s granary was full.The eldest son was no longer mad, the second son was no longer crippled, the third son was no longer blind…The old lady of the Ruo Family, with her hands on her hips, laughed heartily to the sky, “Who says my Xuanbao is a dimwit? She’s clearly a treasure of blessings!”(This is a farming novel with a hint of fairy charm, where the female protagonist in a previous life was a just-awakened daylily that has reincarnated as a human.)

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.