The transition back to the Harry Potter world was… gentle.
No tearing.
No screaming continents.
No cow shifters waving goodbye (thankfully).
One moment, I was closing the last gate out of Twilight—
The next, I was standing on a familiar grassy hill overlooking Britain, magic humming like an old engine that had never really shut off.
I breathed in.
"…Yeah," I said to you. "This place feels sane."
The universe, offended, immediately corrected me.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
[World Confirmed: Harry Potter Timeline.]
[Status: Stable.]
Good.
I took exactly three steps—
[Sign-In Available.]
I stopped walking.
"…You didn't have to wait," I told the system flatly.
The system, being itself, did not respond and instead dropped the reward straight into my soul.
Reward #1: Metamorphmagus
[Acquired: Metamorphmagus Trait.]
Information flooded in.
Control over—
• Age
• Height
• Build
• Hair
• Eye color
• Facial structure
Biological shapeshifting without wands, potions, or excuses.
I blinked.
"…So I can just—"
I thought younger.
My reflection in a nearby puddle shifted smoothly.
Eleven.
Then seventeen.
Then somewhere in between.
White hair darkened, lightened, lengthened.
"…That's broken," I concluded.
The system chimed softly.
[Note: No nerf applied.]
I smiled.
"Good," I said. "We're past that phase."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION (IMMEDIATELY RUDE)
[Sign-In Available.]
I didn't even sigh this time.
"Fine," I said. "Hit me."
Reward #2: Animagus (Ever-Changing)
[Acquired: Animagus – Adaptive Form.]
I felt it.
Not a single animal.
Not a locked shape.
But potential.
Anything.
Magical.
Non-magical.
Extinct.
Mythical.
The form wasn't chosen—
It was selectable.
"…I can be anything," I whispered.
Scáthach, who had arrived silently (because of course she had), raised an eyebrow.
"Dangerous," she said approvingly.
I looked at her.
"Do you know what this means?"
She smiled. "You will abuse it."
"Yes," I said proudly. "Responsibly."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION (THIS IS GETTING PERSONAL)
[Sign-In Available.]
I froze.
"…No."
The system ignored me.
Reward #3: Summon Ticket
The air tensed.
Reality braced itself.
I pointed at the sky.
"System. We just got here."
[Forced Summoning Initiated.]
"…Of course it is."
Summoning: When the Author Likes Blue Too Much
The ground cracked.
Mana surged.
A familiar Fate resonance rippled outward, sharp and noble and violently heroic.
I rubbed my face.
"Why is it always—"
The summoning circle flared.
A figure emerged.
Tall.
Armored.
Radiating knightly pressure like gravity.
Long blonde hair tied neatly back.
Blue eyes sharp as a battlefield horizon.
A crimson spear resting lightly in her grasp.
She looked around.
Then at me.
"…Lancer?" she asked calmly.
I stared.
"…Artoria Pendragon."
Specifically—
Lancer Artoria.
The other version.
The one with a spear and authority issues.
I sighed.
Deeply.
From the soul.
"Welcome to Britain," I said. "Again."
Artoria Assesses the Situation (Poorly for Me)
She straightened.
"This land feels… magical," she said. "And you—"
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…You are not human."
"That's been a recurring theme," I replied.
Scáthach laughed behind me.
Artoria turned sharply.
"…Teacher?"
Scáthach waved. "Hello, little king."
Artoria visibly stiffened.
"…Why am I here."
I raised a hand.
"Author's blessing."
The system chimed smugly.
[Author's Blessing Applied.]
Artoria closed her eyes.
"…I see."
She looked back at me.
"Are you my master?"
I paused.
"…Let's call it a collaborative disaster."
She nodded solemnly. "Understood."
Taking Stock (Because This Is My Life Now)
I looked around.
Harry Potter world: active.
Twilight world: closed.
Model–Monster World: thriving.
Abilities gained in the last ten minutes:
• Metamorphmagus
• Adaptive Animagus
• Full Shadow Monarch Authority
• Gate of Babylon
• Excalibur
• Avalon
• Scáthach as a personal nightmare
• And now, Artoria with a spear
I glanced at you.
"You see why I stopped asking 'why,' right?"
Artoria tilted her head.
"Who are you speaking to."
"Witnesses," I replied.
She accepted that immediately.
Knight mindset.
The Author Has Opinions
The system displayed one final message.
[Note: Narrative Acceleration Enabled.]
I groaned.
"Oh come on."
Scáthach smiled like Christmas came early.
Artoria tightened her grip on the spear.
"Then," she said, "what is our next battle?"
I looked toward Hogwarts' distant silhouette.
Toward magic.
Toward prophecy.
Toward a war that hadn't happened yet.
"…School," I said.
They both stared at me.
I shrugged.
"Trust me," I added. "That's where everything goes wrong."
The universe hummed.
The author sharpened their pen.
And I—
I prepared for class.
[Chapter Thirty-One Complete.]