The m, the orphanage was quiet.

  Alex pushed open his window, letting fresh m air fill his small room. After taking a deep breath, he ged into clothes and headed to the courtyard. He started each day with some light exercise before breakfast, and today was no different.

  He began with a series of punches, his movements smooth and precise from years of disciplined practice. “Hah…” he exhaled, finishing his set and wiping the sweat from his brow. He stretched out, feeling the familiar relief in his muscles, and made his way to the cafeteria.

  “M, Mother Triss,” Alex greeted the elderly nun who ran the orphanage’s daily routines. “I could smell that pumpkin pe from outside,” he added with a grin.

  Mother Triss, stirring a rge pot, smiled warmly. “M, Alex. Up early again, I see. If only the other children were as disciplined as you, I’d have much less to worry about.”

  She handed him a bowl of pe, and Alex accepted it with a polite nod. “Thank you, Mother Triss.”

  He knew better than to say much more. If she knew he was really an adult soldier’s soul in an eleven-year-old’s body, she might not be as impressed by his discipline. After finishing breakfast, he thanked her again auro his room.

  But as soon as he stepped inside, Alex froze. Something was strange. Sitting calmly on his desk was a brown owl, its sharp eyes fixed on him. The owl wasn’t just sitting there—it was busy. With practiced skill, it untied a letter from its leg a ly on the desk, then perched on the windowsill, waiting.

  Alex stared, his mind rag. Slowly, he shut the door and walked over to the desk, pig up the envelope. There was no stamp. The address, written in bright green ink, read:

  Mr. Alex Wilson, Ellens Church Welfare Home, Shaftesbury Street, London.

  Turning it over, he saw a wax seal with a coat of arms—a rge “H” surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.

  “What kind of letter is this?” Alex muttered, carefully opening it.

  Inside was a ly folded letter that read:

  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

  Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Css, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, Iional federation of Wizards)

  Dear Mr. Wilson,

  leased 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.

  Term begins oember 1st.

  We await your owl by han July 31st.

  Yours sincerely, Minerva Magall, Deputy Headmistress

  ________

  Alex blinked, reading the letter in disbelief.

  “Hogwarts…?” He hadn’t expected this. Sure, he had strange powers, but the idea that he art of a magical world felt unreal. He’d always thought his “telekinesis” was just a superpower.

  But now, he realized it was something more. Ahought hit him—he knew almost nothing about Harry Potter. His memory of his old life was foggy in pces, but he knew Harry Potter became famous in the 1990s. And here he was, in 1980, receiving a letter from Hogwarts.

  Curious and uain, Alex sat at his desk, gng at the owl, which was still watg him ily. “Waiting for my reply, huh?” he mused. “I don’t have any food for you, though.”

  The owl stayed silent, its gaze unblinking.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll write the reply.”

  Alex picked up a pen and paper, writing a careful response. He thahem for the acceptand mentiohat, as an orphan, he had no knowledge of the wizarding world. He asked if there was any help avaible to get him ready for this strange new life.

  After folding the letter, he pced it in a fresh envelope and held it out to the owl. The bird took it without a fuss, tucked it into its feathers, and flew off into the m light.

  “Wow, that bird’s all business,” Alex muttered, watg the owl vanish. “I wonder what the wizarding world is like right now. Has Voldemort already beeed by Harry?”

  His knowledge of Harry Potter was limited—just bits he remembered from chats with friends. He vaguely knew Voldemort had attacked Harry’s family but couldn’t kill him. What was happening in the magical world in the 1980s, though, was a mystery to him, as was most of the story.

  “Well, no point ihinking it. I’ll just wait fwarts’ reply. In any world, strength is what matters most. Getting stronger is always the right choice,” he decided, turning his focus back to his daily routine.

  Alex’s summer at the orphanage followed a strict training pn he had set for himself. Each day, he started with a warm-up, then boxing, bance exercises, aerobics, meditation, and finally “telekinesis” training—though he now k was magic.

  Each activity was carried out with military precision, oer the other, in an orderly fashion. Time flew by with such a routine, and just two days after receiving his Hogwarts letter, a special guest arrived at the orphanage.

  “Are you saying you’re Professonagall from Hogwarts?” Alex asked, looking at the middle-aged woman standing at his door. She wore square gsses, had curly dark hair in a bun, and was dressed in a dark green robe.

  “That’s correct. I’m Minerva Magall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I saw your reply, Mr. Wilson. We visit Muggle-born students or those like you who are o the wizarding world,” Professonagall expined, her voice calm but firm. After a pause, she added, “And, of course, we visit indepe young men like yourself.”

  “Ah, sorry, Professonagall. Please, e in.” Alex stepped aside, a little embarrassed. “I’m still getting used to the whole magic school thing.”

  Professonagall entered, gng around. The room was small and modest, with a ly made bed, a simple desk, and a shelf lined with books. In one er, dumbbells were stacked, and on the windowsill sat a lo of green onions.

  She he , anized space with quiet approval. It was clear that Alex led a disciplined life, something rare among children. It gave her a good impression.

  “I apologize for the pin room, Professor. It’s not much,” Alex said, moving the only chair in the room toward her.

  “That’s quite alright, Alex. I brought my own chair.” With a wave of her wand, the dumbbells in the er transformed into a wooden chair. She sat down gracefully, her movements smooth.

  Alex couldn't help but feel amazed. He had seen magi a for the first time, but despite his awe, he maintained his posure.

  Sitting across from her, he smiled slightly. “I thought you might reply in August sihe letter asked for a response by the end of July.”

  “That’s mostly for children from magical families,” Professonagall expined. “We visit children unfamiliar with the wizarding world a bit earlier. And these days, the magical world is… more on edge.” She hesitated for a moment, choosing not to go into details.

  “As you may have noticed, certain strahings have likely happeo you i years. Young wizards and witches usually experience actal bursts of magic, called magical surges or ‘underage magic.’ Hogwarts teaches students to trol and use this magic properly.”

  Alex nodded as she spoke. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, a nearby cup floated up and hovered in front of him.

  Professonagall’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “That’s remarkable—casting a levitation spell without a wand, and silently. Mr. Wilson, are you sure no one has taught you magic before?”

  “Yes, Professor. I discovered my abilities on my own. I thought it erpower, like we say in the Muggle world. I practiced through meditation and trial and error. Of course, I’m nowhere near being able to do what you just did.” Alex smiled modestly.