July 21st, 1991 — Early Morning, South Kensington, London.
At 101 Garden Street stood a grand three-story villa, its tall doors and pointed rooftop cutting a proud silhouette against the London morning. A white picket fence circled the front garden, lending the home a dignified calm. This wasn't just any home — it belonged in South Kensington, a place where only the upper crust of the middle class could afford to live. Lawyers, dentists, anesthesiologists. The respectable elite.
But even in this prestigious neighborhood, No. 101 drew special attention. The property was nearly double the size of its neighbors, complete with a spacious backyard. And inside, in the plush living room, sat the villa's master — Alex Gunter — locked in a silent staring contest with a round-faced Scottish owl that looked particularly displeased.
...
A minute later, the chubby owl gave an annoyed flutter, dropped the letter it had clutched in its talons, and flew off in a huff. Before leaving, it left a "parting gift" on Alex's floor — a petty protest against the man's refusal to offer any food.
Alex barely glanced at the mess. His focus was on the envelope in his hand.
"101 Garden Street, in your stately drawing room — Mr. Alex Gunter."
His hands trembled slightly as he read the text aloud. Pale yellow parchment. An insignia marked with a lion, a snake, a badger, and a raven.
Could the hint be any more obvious?
A deep swirl of emotion coiled inside him. He had thought, until this moment, that he'd simply been reborn into the mundane world of 1980s London. But no. This was the wizarding world of Harry Potter.
Hogwarts. Hermione. Luna. Fleur...
No, no — that wasn't the point. He wasn't here to meet characters from a story.
The point was magic.
Alex had been a regular reincarnator — a workaholic in his past life, victim of the 9-to-9 grind. He'd literally worked himself to death, and when he opened his eyes again, he was in the body of a young orphan boy in 1980s England. Classic protagonist material.
He thought a system would awaken, that he'd conquer the world with cheats and hacks. But eleven years had passed. No system. No miracles.
Just a sharper mind, stronger memory, and a few peculiar mental abilities that came with his rebirth. But those alone had been enough. With a touch of financial know-how from his past life, he'd quietly started an investment firm — with the orphanage director fronting the paperwork — and made a fortune.
Every year he donated a slice of his earnings back to the orphanage, but he still kept tens of thousands of pounds for himself. Two years ago, he'd bought this house and moved in alone.
He'd thought this life would stay simple. Wait for the dot-com bubble, scoop up some cash, then ride the crypto wave. Easy money. Quiet life.
But this... this changed everything.
Magic was real.
His heart thudded with a chaotic blend of awe and dread. He wasn't a die-hard Harry Potter fan, but he'd seen all the films. He knew the general flow of the story. And one thing was certain: this world was anything but peaceful.
It was 1991. He was going to Hogwarts the same year as Harry Potter.
From Year 1 to Year 4, he could probably coast under the radar — live his life without getting entangled with Dumbledore or the so-called Golden Trio. After all, most of the trouble in those years had been either Harry's own fault or Dumbledore playing puppet master behind the scenes.
But in Year 5, Umbridge would come. And from then on, things would spiral. By Years 6 and 7, Hogwarts would basically be a war zone — Voldemort's territory.
Scratch that — the entire magical world would be a war zone.
Still... how could he not be drawn to magic? Even back when he'd watched the movies, he'd been captivated by the wonder of it all. Now he was actually here.
Would it be so bad to study magic up until fifth year? Pass the O.W.L.s and then disappear somewhere to live off the grid?
Lost in thought, Alex finally broke the seal and opened the envelope.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Order of Merlin, First Class)
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Due to special circumstances, a professor will visit your residence on July 31st to provide further explanation.
Deputy Headmistress
Minerva McGonagall
Just as he finished reading, a soft ding echoed through his mind.
"Ding."
"Host has come into contact with this world's supernatural system. Scanning world…"
Another ding.
"Scan complete. Calibrating custom system based on world laws."
"System calibration complete. Magic Summon System is now online."
"Welcome to the Magic Summon System. This system is non-sentient and offers no analysis or feedback. It carries no penalties and is safe to use."
Alex twitched.
So that's why his system hadn't shown up — it was waiting for him to touch the true core of this world. He'd been living like a Muggle this whole time, never awakening the magic around him.
Well, now it was here. As long as he didn't get reckless, Hogwarts shouldn't be too dangerous.
"System," Alex said aloud, lips curling into a sly smile. "Introduce yourself. And since you're so late, I expect compensation. I want my newbie package now."
He'd spent enough time in online web novels in his past life to know how to milk a system dry. When it came to squeezing perks out of magical cheat systems, he was practically on Dumbledore's level.
"Ding. System has been dormant for 11 years. Stored energy will be split 50/50 with host. Awarding 5000 gold coins to host."
"Distributing newbie package. Open now?"
"Yes. Open it."
"Opening package... Congratulations! You've gained a Bloodline Awakening Opportunity. Wizard Spirit Bloodline activated."
In the blink of an eye, Alex felt like a volcano had erupted inside his body. Heat surged through his veins, overwhelming and wild — and then it settled into a quiet flow.
He focused inward.
Where before he could only faintly sense his "superpowers" — which were actually just trickles of magic — now the magic coursed through him like a small stream. Calmer. More controlled. More his.
He was satisfied. In every world, bloodlines were precious. Any advantage granted by blood — even in magical fiction — was never something to scoff at. There was a reason every fantasy protagonist had dragon blood or some ancient lineage.
With this, he'd be able to learn self-defense far quicker.
"System," he asked again, "what do I do with the gold coins?"
Sure, it had split the stored energy 50/50 like a crooked landlord, but the starter gift wasn't bad. He'd let that slide.
For now.
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