I can't say I lived a particularly exceptional or heroic life. I went to school, hung out with my one and only friend, and then I got sick—with some long-named disease or maybe cancer—that hospitalized me until I died at eighteen.
I say all of this just to put things into perspective, because what felt like only moments after taking my final breath, I came face to face with a rather bright, floating ball of light.
"Well, how odd," it said in the voice of a young girl. "To see you awake, young soul."
…Great. The glowing orb could talk.
"Uh," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "if you could point me in the direction of Heaven—or maybe Hell, though I don't think I did anything to deserve that—I'd really appreciate it."
The light simply hovered there. From how uncomfortable I suddenly felt, I was fairly certain it was staring at me. Just as I was about to speak again, it finally responded.
"Unfortunately, that isn't an option. You see, this area is more like a recycling center. Souls get scrubbed clean over time, and then—poof—a new baby is born. Though it is odd that you're conscious right now."
Ah. Reincarnation.
"Well," I said, "I just hope the next me gets a healthier body."
I paused, then added, "Would you mind putting me back to sleep? I don't really feel like going through the whole cleansing process while awake, you know?"
The ball began flying slow circles around me, as if examining a specimen.
"Nope. Looks like you're awake because your soul was already fairly pure. I'm not saying you were the purest person to ever die—you're just very lucky. This happens almost never. But hey, upside: you get another life with your memories."
I stared at the orb. It had just casually told a nerd like me the greatest thing imaginable. Then it dumped ice water on my enthusiasm.
"You'll be reborn into a world similar to your own, inhabiting the body of an infant who was going to die at birth. So no moral dilemma about stealing a life. And before you get excited," it added, "I can already see you thinking about overpowered reborn tropes—no power-ups, no cheats, no grand destiny."
Well… that sucked. Fair, but still.
"There will be no special abilities, no divine interference, and no communication from me once you're born. You're keeping your memories because you earned it by waking up here. You'll essentially be an extra in this world. Death won't interfere either, since you aren't trying to cheat the system like someone else."
That last part felt ominous.
Reading my thoughts, the orb continued.
"You'll be born into the world of Harry Potter. From what I can tell, you barely know the plot—mostly from those movies with Newt Scamander. Fantastic Beasts, was it? Anyway, you know a few scattered details about Harry's side of things, so good enough. Don't want life to be boring now do we?"
I blinked. "…Seriously?"
"Death dislikes those who mess with the life cycle," the orb went on, "but you're different. This life is being given to you, not taken. You'll live freely under their jurisdiction, die naturally, and then board the train to the afterlife—where you'll reunite with the family and friends you make along the way. Beautiful, right?"
I nodded slowly.
"Yeah," I said. "That sounds perfectly fine to me. You're giving me a second chance—I'm not about to screw it up by getting Death angry. Plus… people live longer there, don't they?"
The ball bounced excitedly.
"You'll be a wizard, so yes. The oldest naturally living wizard reached three hundred and fifty-five. Of course, your body still ages, so living that long comes with drawbacks—but I'm sure you'll decide what you want when the time comes."
I nodded again, more thoughtfully this time. I doubted I'd want to live that long, but that was a problem for the future.
"Well," I said, "I don't have any more questions. I just want to say thank you—to you, and to Death—for the new life. I'll live it with everything I've got."
With those final words, the world shifted.
Suddenly, I was sitting in a room, staring up at a beautiful woman clapping her hands excitedly as toys floated all around me.
…What's going on?
Just as that thought crossed my mind, I was bombarded with memories. Thankfully, it was only a mild discomfort that lasted a few seconds. I chalked it up to either the glowing light ball—or the fact that I'd been in this body since day one and was only now waking my original memories.
Looks like my name is Perseus Regulus Snow. A strange name, sure—but then again, wizards are all named strangely.
Personality-wise, it seemed I had remained a quiet child. I preferred staying close to my mother and never really had friends—not for lack of effort on her part. She tried putting me with other children, but it never quite worked. I'm betting the added maturity of my soul probably made bonding with kids my age difficult.
Genetically, though? I'd hit the jackpot.
I had medium-length, wavy black hair, and the best way to describe my features would be haughty or aristocratic. That said, it was definitely a handsome face. My eyes, however, were the most striking—an intense shade of grey, identical to the woman standing in front of me.
The excited woman in question was my new mother, Alyssa Ann Snow. She had long brown hair, grey eyes, and a look of pure joy on her face. That excitement was understandable—I had just exhibited my first burst of accidental magic.
"Percy, look at you. I'm so proud!" I heard her say, her strong British accent still present even after six years in America.
The amazement was impossible to hide—after all, it was magic. Watching the toys slowly descend around me, I couldn't help but whisper,
"Awesome."
Time Skip — Five Years
The past five years were amazing.
After my first display of magic, my mother took me to explore the magical market in Salem.
From the outside, the entrance looked like any ordinary building, but after tapping the door with your wand and stepping inside, the scene shifted completely—transforming into something akin to a bustling supermarket filled with all kinds of magical shops.
Luckily for me, my mother worked at the pet store. She had always loved magical creatures, even growing up, so every day I was able to follow her to work and wander freely through the market, exploring store after store.
When I was eight, boredom got the better of me, and I wandered into a shop called Wolfe Fine Wands. That decision led me to meet an older woman with a grey monstrosity on her head—something she probably claimed was hair—who was laughing to herself as she polished a wand behind the counter.
She caught me staring, looking at her mildly creeped out. Just as I turned to leave, I felt a hand grab my collar. Without warning, she practically kidnapped me to demonstrate the proper way to clean a wand—apparently, taking care of one's future partner was very important.
When I finally escaped, I told myself I would never return.
Naturally, I ended up back there the very next day.
And the day after that.
Soon, it became routine to sit and watch adults come in to find new wands. Every single time, the woman would berate them for taking such poor care of their partner, much to my amusement. It was a surprisingly entertaining process.
At ten, Wolfe even offered to show me the delicate craft of wandmaking.
After my first attempt, I was informed—very bluntly—that I had absolutely no talent for it.
The wood, apparently, cried miserably when I began carving. I thought it was unfair to judge me after only one try, but wandmakers are notoriously sensitive about such things, so perhaps I truly lacked the touch.
Either way, I can't say I was all that disappointed. I didn't want to be a wand crafter in the first place.
Present day~ January 25 1991
I had been having a wonderful dream—one I couldn't remember the moment I woke—when I was abruptly jolted awake by something landing on my chest with a soft screech and a series of chitters.
I opened my eyes to find Koko standing squarely on my chest, holding two letters in her talons.
Koko was a barn owl my mom had gotten me a few days earlier from the shop where she worked. She's rather large for her species, standing at about twenty inches tall with an impressive wingspan of four and a half feet. Her most striking feature, however, is her coloring. She's a beautiful, uniform black, which was how I thought of her name. Koko, which meant night.
"Good morning to you as well, Koko," I murmured. "What is it you've brought me so early in the morning?"
As I took the letters from her talons, Koko clearly decided her business with me was finished. She hopped off the bed and made her way downstairs, no doubt intending to mooch bacon off my mom.
My attention snapped back to the letters in my hands, and a surge of excitement shot through me. Finally—I'd received my acceptance letter from Ilvermorny.
But oddly enough, there was a second letter.
From Hogwarts.
I barely processed it before jumping out of bed and racing downstairs to tell my mom the incredible news.
"Mom, I got my acceptance letter! I even got one from Hogwarts!"
I yelled as I ran downstairs, skidding into the kitchen just as I finished speaking.
"That's wonderful, dear. I was worried Hogwarts wouldn't send the letter," she said warmly, smiling as she fed Koko bits of bacon before continuing.
"Which school are you thinking of attending? I personally recommend Hogwarts, since it's the one I went to—but I've heard great things about Ilvermorny as well."
I nodded slightly. I knew she had attended Hogwarts, but she had never mentioned asking them to send me a letter too.
"I'd like to go to Hogwarts," I said. "From the research I've done, Ilvermorny requires students to leave their wands at school during breaks, and magic in general is pretty restricted in America. England is far more relaxed with its rules."
She listened carefully, then nodded. Pulling out her wand, she gave it a wave. Instantly, the items around the house began packing themselves away. Within fifteen minutes, all our belongings sat neatly stacked in front of us.
"I can't say I love your reasoning for leaving," she admitted gently, "but I dearly miss home myself—and I'm glad you chose Hogwarts. I already have a Portkey prepared to take us back to our cottage in England."
I stood there, slack-jawed, staring at her.
"…that was quick."
"Of course." she said with a small smile.
"Well," I said after a moment, "I'd like to get my wand here first. I've spent a lot of time with Madam Wolfe, and I know she makes excellent wands."
"Are you sure, dear?" she asked. "Ollivanders Wand Shop makes excellent wands as well. Mine came from there."
She smiled fondly at her wand. I remembered her telling me it was willow with unicorn hair.
"I'm sure, Mom," I replied. "The least I can do for Madam Wolfe—after she taught me proper wand cleaning—is choose one of her wands instead of Ollivanders'. I'm sure she'll be thrilled."
With that decided, we made our way toward Wolfe Fine Wands.
After a few moments of walking, we reached the wand shop and stepped inside. Madam Wolfe was at the counter, talking to her wand as usual.
"Good morning, Madam Wolfe," I said. "Guess what? I finally got my acceptance letter. I'm going to Hogwarts!"
At the mention of Hogwarts, she straightened abruptly.
"Hogwarts, you say?" she replied, eyeing me closely. "Then I suppose you'll be getting your wand from Ollivanders Wand Shop?"
She looked more than a little annoyed at the implied shift in allegiance.
"No way!" I said quickly. "Why do you think I'm here? I'm getting my wand from you. I know how good your work is—I've been snooping around for years, after all. Figured I'd take one of your wands to England and show Ollivander who's really best."
For a moment, she stared at me—then broke into a warm, joyous smile unlike any I'd seen since the day I met her. I had to admit, it suited her.
"Those are fine words, Percy," she said. "Very well. I'll fetch a wand I've made for you. Since you've been here so often, I've been testing woods and cores for compatibility over the years. I must say, knowing the wizard a wand is meant for makes all the difference."
With that, she disappeared into the back room.
My mother leaned down and whispered in my ear, "It looks like you made the right choice coming here. A personalized wand—how thoughtful of her."
All I could do was nod. I was really going to miss this place.
Madam Wolfe soon returned, carrying a long, narrow box. She placed it carefully in front of me and opened the lid.
I couldn't help but smile.
Inside lay a jet-black wand, uniquely twisted from the handle before gradually narrowing toward a fine tip halfway along its length. The handle was deep black, capped with a metallic band at the top and a matching metallic base, both etched with delicate runes that glimmered faintly along their surfaces.
As I admired it, Madam Wolfe spoke.
"This wand is thirteen and a half inches," she said. "Ebony, with a Thunderbird tail feather core. It's a very loyal wand once it chooses its partner, and it's particularly well-suited for Transfiguration and all forms of combative magic. I must say, I do hold the same opinion as Ollivander—the wand chooses the wizard. Even if I made this with you in mind, it may still reject you."
I nodded and reached out, wrapping my fingers around the wand.
Seeing it had made me smile—but holding it felt like finding something I'd never realized was missing. Something clicked into place. I felt… whole.
"Excellent," Madam Wolfe said approvingly. "A perfect match. I hope you both have a wonderful journey together."
"Thank you, Madam Wolfe," I said sincerely. "I appreciate the care you put into my wand. I promise I'll take just as good care of it from here on out."
With that, I left the shop beside my mother, wand in hand, ready to begin anew in England.