I opened my eyes to floating stars and soft music.
Not the metaphysical kind. Real, literal, floating stars. A mobile made of polished wood and glittering runes twirled slowly above me, casting tiny constellations on the ceiling. The crib beneath me was carved from dark oak, the blanket wrapped around me smelled faintly of lavender, and I was ninety-five percent sure my hands were too small to hold chopsticks.
Which meant one thing.
I was a baby.
There was a brief, agonizing moment where my brain tried to reject that information. I flailed my arms, tried to sit up, made a noise that could only be described as a squeaky hiccup, and then accepted the cold, drool-soaked truth.
Reincarnated.
Of course.
There had been no white-robed god. No "choose your powers" wheel. No cheat menu.
Just Truck-kun doing his usual work and my consciousness rebooting inside a new body that couldn't even hold up its own head.
Brilliant.
A shadow passed over the crib.
A woman leaned into view, she is tall, graceful, and terrifyingly elegant. She had silver-blonde hair, the kind of bone structure that screamed old money, and green eyes that looked like they were used to seeing people bow.
"There you are," she said, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "My little Lucian."
Lucian.
I squinted at her like that would bring clarity, but all I got was a soft pat on the head and a blanket tuck that felt suspiciously practiced.
"My sweet boy. So alert already."
She said it like it was a good thing.
Lucian Greengrass.
The name settled in like a book slamming shut.
I knew that name. Greengrass. A pure-blood family from the Harry Potter universe. Not one of the major players, but prominent. Respected. Traditional.
Which could only mean one thing.
I was in the Harry Potter world.
And I was in a pure-blood wizarding family.
I lay very still for a long time after that, blinking slowly at a floating snitch circling the crib post.
There were worse worlds, I told myself. At least I wasn't reborn into a zombie apocalypse or an otome game where I was the ugly fiancé.
Still. This had complications.
It didn't take long to learn the house was massive. Magical. Ancient. The floors were stone, the halls were full of whispering tapestries and enchanted sconces. Portraits followed you with their eyes. House-elves popped in and out with muffled pops. Everything felt old, powerful, and expensive in the kind of way that makes you afraid to sneeze near the furniture.
The language barrier didn't last long. Whether by reincarnation perk or toddler absorption rate, I understood everything within a few weeks. I couldn't speak yet, but I could listen. I listened to names. To voices. To the way people moved around me.
I was born into the Greengrass family.
My mother was Lady Selene Greengrass, a composed, cool, and unnervingly efficient. The kind of woman who could host a dinner party, duel a dark wizard, and correct your posture all in the same breath. My father, Lord Cyrus Greengrass, had the emotional range of a well-polished wand holster. He wore formality like a second skin and rarely spoke above a quiet baritone.
They were not unkind. But they were pure-blood aristocrats through and through. Dignity was their native language.
And then there was Daphne.
My twin sister.
She was born six minutes before me and carried those six minutes like they came with a title and legal authority. Even as a toddler, she was poised. Observant. Quietly terrifying. She didn't cry. She didn't babble. She watched.
And she liked me.
It was hard to tell at first. Her expressions were subtle. But she never pulled away when we sat side by side, never hogged the storybooks, and always handed me the less-chewed teething ring.
Once, when I sneezed and knocked over a lamp, and I swear it is purely by accident, then she waddled over, stared at the shattered base, then at me, and patted my arm like I had disappointed her on a spiritual level.
I think that was her way of saying "be more careful next time."
She was the composed one.
On the other hand, I was the one they called "spirited."
I kept a low profile.
I observed. Learned the daily rhythms of the manor. Studied the people around me. I knew how stories like this went. If I made too much noise too early, I'd be on the Ministry's radar before I could even hold a wand. No thank you.
Still, weird things started happening.
Subtle at first.
A ripple of air when I focused too hard.
A flicker of light when I mimicked a wand motion I'd seen in one of Father's books.
It wasn't wild baby magic. It felt… intentional.
And it only happened when I moved deliberately. When I focused with the kind of intensity anime protagonists reserve for shouting their move names before the final blow.
I didn't say anything, of course. I wasn't insane.
But something in me stirred. Something quiet, patient, and absurdly dramatic.
I had a suspicion.
A very stupid one.
And then one night, I woke to the sound of a soft ding and a glowing rectangle hovering in front of my crib.
[System Booting…]
[User recognized: Lucian Greengrass]
[Initializing Anime Protocols…]
I blinked. Once. Twice.
"Are you serious," I whispered, except it came out more like "mrrph?"
Across the room, Daphne snored gently, a small book still clutched in her hands.
The floating screen pulsed softly.
[Welcome to the Anime System.]
[Please enjoy your new life.]
I stared at the screen.
It stared back.
Somewhere in the background, I swear I heard a distant anime opening chorus start playing.
Of course.
Of course I had a system.
And not just any system.
An anime system.
This was going to be a problem.
But also?
It was going to be amazing.