When Jeremy woke with a start from his bed, he had not yet realized that his surroundings had changed, and he still thought he was on the battlefield between Konoha and Iwagakure.
It was only when he subconsciously went on alert, preparing to reach for a kunai to block any possible attack, that he discovered he could not extract any chakra, and there was no kunai in his hand.
Jeremy's eyes flew open, he sat up, and cautiously looked around; the Byakugan, unique to the Hyuga clan, swept the area with a cold, killing intent.
The wooden house, the nineteenth-century European-style decor, the quiet and somewhat gentle atmosphere, the birdsong and faint voices of people outside the window, all told him that this place did not seem to be a battlefield.
Jeremy was dazed for a moment, then looked down and found that his original sixteen-year-old body had shrunk to around ten years old, and his body showed not a single trace of having been trained.
He silently pinched the soft flesh on his arms and stomach, feeling somewhat depressed.
The abdominal muscles he had trained for years to obtain, the abs he was so proud of, eight of them, and now, after one transmigration, they were gone.
Jeremy exhaled heavily, assessed his body, and finding no serious issues, he finally got out of bed to slowly investigate the room, preparing to accept the information about his second transmigration.
It was really not surprising at all, since he had already quietly transmigrated once before, Jeremy thought, with a hint of gloom.
Recalling the past sixteen years of diligent training without daring to rest, Jeremy nearly spat out a mouthful of bitter, aged blood.
The Second Shinobi World War period was not a good time at all; there were many ninja, many jutsu, they struck ruthlessly, and death came quickly.
If he had known that dying in battle would allow him to transmigrate a second time, he would not have trained so desperately and would have just killed himself long ago.
The Naruto world was far more dangerous; in that place, no one valued human life, and even if he became a member of the Hyuga clan, there was no guarantee that when he went on missions in the future, he would not be killed by ninja from other villages.
Oh, right, and there was also the possibility of being killed by ninja from his own village.
Fortunately, as a Hyuga, he was still able to awaken the Byakugan and possessed fairly decent ninja talent; after over ten years of training, he was also a qualified ninja.
Before he died, Jeremy had already reached the strength of a Jōnin.
If it were not for the restrictions of the Branch House, and the fact that some jutsu could only be learned by the Main House, he would have been promoted to Jōnin long ago.
Jeremy found some food in the kitchen downstairs, eating as he walked around.
This world seemed quite good, relatively peaceful; perhaps he would not have to exhaust himself just to stay alive.
Hopefully, he could live to a ripe old age this time, Jeremy thought, full of anticipation.
He had originally been an ordinary person; if he could live a stable life peacefully, who would want to kill and set fires every day?
The small room he had just woken up in, judging by the arrangement of the items, should be his own bedroom.
To find information about this body, he would need to go to the adult's room, or the study.
Jeremy chewed on his bread as he walked slowly.
This was a two-story small house; the first floor had the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and a guest room. Up the wooden stairs, the second floor held a master bedroom, a small bedroom (the room he woke up in), and also a study and a bathroom.
The layout was very simple, and there were no hidden rooms or similar spaces.
But the items throughout the small house felt somewhat off, and there was an inexplicable sense of incongruity.
The home had appliances like a refrigerator, television, and dishwasher, but they were very new, looking as if they had never been used.
Yet, judging from the wear and tear on items like the sofa and carpet, it seemed as if people had lived here regularly.
It was not until Jeremy opened the study and saw the familiar Hogwarts school crest hanging behind the desk that he finally understood which world he had come to.
Before he transmigrated, this novel had been a global phenomenon; he was also a huge fan.
The moment he realized this, a sharp pain shot through Jeremy's head, and a dizzying array of memories surged forth, rushing in all at once, regardless of whether his mind could contain them.
Jeremy endured the pain, clutching his head and sweating profusely. It was a while before the memory transfer ended.
Closing his eyes and sifting through them, Jeremy finally fully absorbed the original owner's memories.
It was now July 1982.
The Dark Lord had just failed in his assassination attempt on Harry Potter a few months ago, and had vanished (crossed out) died.
Forgive Jeremy for using the word assassination, after all, it was a dark and windy night for murder, walking alone down a dark alley; the Dark Lord clearly had ill intentions.
The Order of the Phoenix, along with the Ministry of Magic, had begun trials against Death Eaters and pure-blood families. Several months had passed, and finally, those who needed to go to Azkaban had gone to Azkaban, those who needed to pay fines had paid, those who needed the Imperius Curse had received it, and the situation had finally calmed down.
Then the original owner, that is, Jeremy Pringle, his father, the pure-blood wizard Lawrence Pringle, and his mother, the Muggle-born witch Anne Dawson, had returned from taking refuge in the Muggle world.
Although Lawrence was a pure-blood, he was not from a large, prominent family; it was just that, through consistent good fortune, several generations of his family had intermarried with pure-blood wizards. The family had produced excellent wizards, weak wizards, and even Squibs had appeared.
Anyway, over several generations, they had gained no fame in the magical world.
His father and mother had met and gotten to know each other during their school years, marrying after graduation. At that time, the Dark Lord had not yet risen, and although the magical world looked down on Muggle-born wizards, it was still relatively peaceful.
It was not until shortly after the original owner was born that the Dark Lord rose to power, and the Pringle family's days became difficult.
To protect his wife and son from the Dark Lord's persecution, Lawrence resolutely decided to leave the magical world and go into hiding in the Muggle world.
Initially, this decision was very correct; they spent five or six happy years together. Jeremy's memories showed that during that time, in little Jeremy's recollections, even the air seemed sweet.
Recalling the original owner's past, Jeremy could not help but sigh; his parents truly loved him very much.
They hoped he could be unbound, stay away from conflict, do what he wanted in life, and grow freely.
And they did not hesitate to oppose the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters for this, picking up their wands and fighting back resolutely.
They had fought Death Eaters just before the Dark Lord vanished, sustaining severe injuries. Just as a Death Eater's curse was about to hit Jeremy, the Dark Lord disappeared. The Death Eaters sensed something was wrong, stopped their attack, and hastily pulled up their sleeves, terrified.
They had no time to continue targeting Jeremy's family; within a few breaths, they rapidly retreated.
Jeremy's parents survived, but unfortunately, their injuries were too severe, and they both passed away a few months later.
Little Jeremy could not bear the blow, fell into deep sorrow, and grieved alone at home.
Then, he starved to death.
That was the origin of Jeremy.
"So, we are fated to meet. You are Jeremy, and I am also Jeremy. Your parents hoped you would be free, and I also hope to gain freedom. Don't worry, I will live on well, and I will definitely cherish this life."
After Jeremy uttered this sigh, he decided from then on to be Jeremy Pringle.
In that instant, the compatibility between his soul and body rose to a new level.
Indeed, this magic thing was very closely connected to the soul and consciousness.
"Knock, knock, knock."
A tapping sound came from the window. Jeremy turned his head and could not help but raise an eyebrow.
Well, well. The owl he had desperately wished for back when he hadn't transmigrated was now standing vividly on the windowsill, tilting its little head and looking at him.
Jeremy opened the window, took the owl, retrieved the letter, looked around a bit, fetched a slice of bread and a slice of ham from the kitchen, and also poured a small bowl of clean water to reward the messenger.
The owl chirped happily, gently rubbing against Jeremy.
Jeremy stroked the owl once before opening the letter.
There was nothing much to say; it was the exact same form letter, just with a different name.
He found a pen in the study, carefully replied to the letter, indicating he was very happy to enroll, then sat in the chair, waited until the owl had eaten and drunk its fill, and finally attached the reply and let it leave.
Jeremy was somewhat excited; the schooling period at Hogwarts now should be very peaceful and also very safe.
By the time the Boy Who Lived enrolled, he would already be an adult and graduated. Not only would he have the means to protect himself by then, but he could also run all over the world.
No matter how powerful you, Dark Lord, are, if I take a passport and go to America, Russia, China, North Korea what can you possibly do to me?
Wait another seven years for you to die, and I will be a hale and hearty fellow once more.
This life is set; live to a ripe old age, live to a ripe old age.
Jeremy thought joyfully.
Thinking this way, Jeremy ate and drank his fill, planning to go to the bathroom to deal with a physiological need.
Accidentally catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Jeremy was instantly shocked.
No, what is going on? Did the Byakugan transmigrate with him?
(This book was formerly known as: HP: When the Caged Bird Hyuga Came to Hogwarts)