"Everyone ready? Start CPR!"
"Quick, get the defibrillator—again!"
"Harder!"
...
Sean felt his body floating in a gray, empty space.
His consciousness was slipping—he must be dying.
Facing death, he felt a faint fear. But if given another chance, he would still choose to save that little girl.
It's just… there were people he cared about in this world, and people who cared about him.
Amid the doctors' anxious cries, Sean's consciousness slowly sank into an endless abyss.
"In my next life, I'll be steady. Stable. As stable as possible!"
...
The sky hung low and suffocating, its grayness pressing down like a shroud.
London's skies were always overcast. Paired with its low, European-style buildings, the city exuded an eerie, timeless gloom.
Dead leaves, swept by sharp gusts of wind, scuttled past eaves and along walls like wandering spirits announcing death—whirling around an old, classical British villa.
Inside, the house was spacious and elegantly decorated in vintage European style. In the center of the room stood a soft, inviting bed. Beside it sat an old lamp with a classical design, and across from it, a small wooden cabinet with intricate carvings.
A large, floor-length window occupied one wall, draped with heavy curtains. A raised platform near the window held a desk and a lounge chair, upon which lay a folded copy of The Times.
A small boy lounged lazily on the chair. He had light blonde hair, skin pale as snow, and eyes that stood out like stars in the predawn sky—clear as mountain springs, flickering with depth and light.
At this moment, he was staring at something unfamiliar: an owl.
A creature he had never seen in his past life.
The boy's name was Mike Brian. Nine years ago, on an operating table, he slipped into a coma—and quietly, painlessly, transmigrated into a new world: 1982, London, England. He became a two-year-old child.
At first, Brian rejected this absurd reality. But when he realized he'd landed forty years in the past, joy took over.
His goal? Simple: get rich.
But at two years old, how could he convince his parents to buy up all the Lafite wine of the year?
Ask for wine instead of milk? They'd probably spank him.
Win the lottery? Who remembered British lottery numbers from the 1980s?
Still, none of that mattered now—because something strange was happening in this version of Britain. Why were owls appearing in broad daylight?
He stared blankly at the owl perched outside his window—specifically, at the thick parchment envelope clutched in its talons.
Brian blinked.
Was he dreaming?
He stood up, rubbed his eyes, and when the owl remained, very real and very persistent, he reached forward and yanked the curtains shut with a swish.
"Damn it. An owl in broad daylight? That's bad luck. Good thing I caught it early."
The owl was instantly furious. A Hogwarts messenger owl, ignored? Unheard of.
It slammed itself into the glass twice, then gave up and flew around the house. Spotting an open window, it darted inside, flapped madly toward Brian's room, and dropped the letter at his feet—then pecked him. Hard.
"Ow!"
Brian cried out and stared at the owl in disbelief.
Was this really an owl, or a demon in disguise?
Just as he was about to retaliate, footsteps echoed from the stairwell, followed by a soft voice: "Brian? Are you okay? I thought I saw something fly in."
A woman entered—elegant in a long black gown, her light brown hair swept into a graceful updo. Time hadn't left a trace on her face; it had only refined her beauty. Her swan-like neck, refined chin, and warm gaze gave her a timeless charm.
Elinore, Mike Brian's mother, took one look at the owl and her son, and stopped in her tracks, stunned.
Her son had always been oddly mature—perhaps a bit lazy. Every summer, he'd either read newspapers in his chair or write at his desk. He never played with the neighborhood children.
Lowering her gaze in thought, she noticed the letter at Brian's feet—and her expression changed.
The owl, sensing her recognition, gave a proud hoot and prepared to leave. But not before flapping its wings aggressively at Brian one last time before flying out of the room.
"Mom..." Brian started awkwardly. He'd never felt so childish.
But Elinore cut him off with a gentle smile. "Since you're fine, I'll head downstairs. I made some snacks—you can come join me."
With that, she turned and gracefully exited the room.
Brian picked up the envelope with a sigh and flopped onto his lounge chair. Rocking back and forth, he examined the letter. The brown parchment envelope was addressed in emerald green ink:
Mr. Mike BrianSecond Floor Bedroom, Seaside Villa No. 2, King's Road, Whitstable
No sender was listed.
He turned the envelope over, revealing a wax seal with a strange emblem: a shield bearing a large "H," surrounded by four creatures—a lion, eagle, badger, and snake.
Brian narrowed his eyes. A strange sense of familiarity washed over him.
He gently broke the seal, pulled out the letter, and began to read:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and WizardryHeadmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class; Supreme Mugwump; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Brian,We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment.The term begins on September 1st.We await your owl no later than July 31st.
Sincerely,Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
Brian's hands trembled slightly.
A Hogwarts acceptance letter.
That explained everything. Who else used owls for mail?
He had really transmigrated into the Harry Potter universe?
For the past nine years, he'd been carefully planning his life as if it were the real world. Now—this.
What should he do?
He tapped the armrest of his chair rhythmically, a thinking habit he'd developed over time.
Then, suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed in his mind:
[Wizarding System Activated. Acceptance Letter Detected.]
[Generating Beginner Task…]
[Ding! Novice Task: Obtain a suitable wand and cast your first spell without guidance.]
[Task Description: As a future top-tier wizard, how can you not know any spells? Learn your first spell before school starts to receive your reward. Pursue a bright future!]
Brian raised an eyebrow.
Was this his golden cheat code? At least it came with motivation built in.
Though he'd read the Harry Potter books and watched the movies, that was over a decade ago. He remembered the major events but had forgotten most of the details.
What now?
Suddenly, he sat up straight, grabbed a pen and a blank booklet, and began writing furiously. His first entry read:
Seven-Year Study Safety Guide, Rule No. 1:Stay as far away from Harry Potter as humanly possible.