Book Eater - Chapter 43: Return Home After Five Years (4)

A heroine dedicated to creating great wands and magic props;
A heroine dedicated to 100%(?) avoiding mischief and bad luck;
Meet George Weasley, a resourceful(?) daring, careful prankster for twenty years.
Is their collision a lose-lose or a win-win cooperation?

This is the story of Miss Ollivander, who doesn’t know the development of HP’s story, and the lovely Weasley family, George. In addition to the magical joke product and the Horcrux Deathly Hallows, how can other magical items help in the world of HP?
[I want to save all the characters I want to save]

Editing!
I reread the first few chapters over the weekend and found a lot of typos and bugs. In order not to affect your reading, I will revise a few chapters every few days. The plot will not change, but I will fix the problems raised by my friends in the comments before~ Sorry readers who have read it!
Content Tags: Anglo-American Derivatives

Search keywords: protagonists: George Weasley, Gwen Ollivander ┃ Supporting roles: Fred Weasley, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger ┃ Others: HP Doujin

One sentence introduction: If you can’t save the world, then save your brother?

Intention: fall in love with George Weasley, do scientific research, and invent. If you can participate in saving the world, accompany your boyfriend to help.

- Description from novelbuddy

A skilled but unfortunate modern-day assassin was killed in a freak accident. However, he soon found himself summoned to another world by an evil wizard, who had him possess the body of a boy as an experiment. After successfully planning the evil wizard’s downfall, he used the wizard’s body as a springboard to gain influence and power in his new world.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.