Chapter 1
Magic
Noun
The power of apparently influencing events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.
Magic, I’ve come to learn, tends to surprise people. To come with extra, unintended side effects. Sometimes these side effect are good, like a spell that’s used to till the earth accidentally watering it at the same time. Sometimes the effects are inconsequential, like a spell meant to bind an enemy using rope, instead binding them with bolts of fabric. Sometimes these side effects can be… bad, like a potion meant to cure burn wounds healing the wounds by melting them off.
My first experience with magic was a strange mix of all three. For some reason or another, rather than being sent off to the ‘next great adventure’, I was instead yanked into the dead body of Charles, a boy with no friends or family. Not even a surname to call his own. For Charles, it probably wasn’t an ideal situation, to have his previously lifeless body puppeteered by myself. Me on the other hand, I’m quite appreciative. Not being dead and all. I guess the inconsequential side effect would have to be the mind numbing agony as my soul was shoved into a space it had no right being in, as the body fought against its new host, and as whatever was forcing me into this situation moulded my essence to suit its needs.
And that is how this story starts, not with a bang, but with a screaming 19 year old stuck in a 10 year olds body, found curled in the foetal position at the base of the stairs by the head matron of the orphanage.
Welcome to the story of Charles Nite
---o-o-o------------
When I woke, it was to the smell of antiseptic and the sterile lights of a hospital. While not the most normal of situations, as of this moment I find myself more occupied with an immense headache and a brand new set of memories. 10 years’ worth of memories, to be exact. My name is… was I guess, Alex. I was a second year mechanical engineering student. I had friends, flatmates, family. Hopes and dreams too. And now all of that is gone.
Because Alex died. The victim of an ill secured drill bit and a lack of eye protection led to a near instant and mostly painless death. The key word there being mostly. Now due to some quirk of the universe my memories, memories of a completely different life, reside in the body of Charles No-Surname.
On one hand I’m angry. I have lost everything that I have ever held close, everything I have ever loved. All of my life’s work was for nothing.
On the other hand, a much larger hand, I can’t help but feel excited. See, I have Charles memories, thank goodness for that. And thank goodness I’m the dominant personality, having not just Charles memories but his personality kicking around in my head would make this a hell of a lot harder to adapt to.
For some reason I wasn’t just shoved into the first random body that came around, no no no. I was shoved into a child who could do the impossible. Not always, and not consistently. But sometimes, Charles would want something so badly, it would just happen. On those nights when for some or the other reason, Charles heard noises outside and he would be just so scared, his teddy would just… appear in his arms. And that one nasty old bat of a matron who used to constantly insult the children, just on and on she never stopped. Well, when she insulted Charles, he’d get so angry, and somehow, someway she would be punished. Hair that was once blond, now a putrid green. And her cigarettes suddenly disappearing. Her car windscreen cracking and so much more.
In my previous life I was a massive Potterhead. I have the series near memorized, i read a good deal of fan fiction too, and let me tell you. This is a hell of a lot like the self inserts I liked reading.
---o-o-o------------
The week that followed was a blur of bed rest and information gathering. The doctors hadn’t found anything officially wrong with me, but head wounds are always fussed over. Fortunately for me, an overworked and understaffed hospital couldn’t spare the extra bed for a kid that was fine according to all the tests. So, after a last check in I was sent back to the orphanage.
Not just any orphanage. Wool’s orphanage. Otherwise known as the cradle of Tom Marvolo Riddle, one of the most one dimensional villains I have ever read about.
I really wanted to see this as proof of being in the Harry Potter universe, but realistically I could be a mutant in marvel at this point and I wouldn’t know any better. I’m trying not to assume anything off my own knowledge, mostly because even if I am in the Harry Potter universe, it doesn’t mean it’s the cannon universe. I just really hope its not one of those Lord Hadrian Potter-Slytherin-Gryffindor-Black_... universes.
After getting back, not much happened. I was instructed to get some bed rest and mostly was just left alone. This let me gather some quick information. Firstly, its 1984, 7 years before cannon starts. Also, a good few years before google is released which makes this place infinitely worse than my old world and newspapers my new best friend.
Second, and most important, the orphanage isn’t a hell hole. The matrons aren’t abusive, just mildly neglectful, and even then, it’s not on purpose, there’s simply to many children to look after and not enough adults to help. The other orphans aren’t mean to me either. It seems more like everyone just ignores each other unless your friends, and as we’ve already covered, Charles wasn’t really a friends guy.
Other than that, I confirmed I’m not in marvel, dc or, thank God, worm. It’s hard trying to figure out what universe I’m in without bias. All I really know is I have some form of power and it’s not common to have powers. Luckily for me there’s a fairly easy way of checking whether I am indeed in the Harry Potter universe. All I need to do is head to bulls head passage in charring cross road. Its not even far from here either, only about a 15 minute walk. Hopefully, this will lead me to finding the leaky cauldron and not an optometrist like it is in my old world.
I once won a pub quiz with that knowledge.
---o-o-o------------
Sneaking out was a lot easier then expected. The matrons don’t really check on me and I don’t have to go to school due to the whole cross universe migration thing (and wont reliving primary school be hell) so I quite literally just left through the front door.
It took me nearly thirty minutes of walking, a hell of a lot of wrong turns, and asking kind old lady for advice but finally, here I stand. Never before have I been as happy as I am looking at this dingy old rundown pub. It actually is quite a smart hiding place. Pubs are fairly common around this area and the cauldrons entrance is just rundown enough that most people would prefer to go to a more put together one nearby, but not bad enough that you think it would be weird for people to enter. That’s before you add magic to the equation, then it goes from impressive to scarily effective. An older couple glaring at a man dressed in a pink and green polka dot suit suddenly get this blank expression on their face as he disappears into the entrance, after they just turn and resume glaring at something else.
Now stood in front of the door, I take a deep breath and square my shoulders before opening it. Immediately I’m overcome by it all. The books never really described what walking into the leaky cauldron for the first time is like. Harry was more worried about the attention then anything else, but all I can focus on is the sheer, overwhelming magic of the scene. It’s use is just so casual.
I have to fight myself to walk like I belong, to not gawk at the man whose robe sleeves look like shimmering purple fire. Not on fire but actual fire given form. To not stare at the lady casually stirring her drink, a ghastly, bubbly green concoction that kept on forming tentacles to fight off her spoon. Not even staring at the pale man at the bar sheathing a sword, a bloody sword, into a tattoo of a lion that just gulps it up and wonders off his hand up his sleeve.
The entire scene was insane. Not just the casual uses of magic but the magical clothes and items and drinks and photos and… not a single object in here was normal. Hell, that man just reached into a toad on his shoulder to pay his bill. He pulled coins from a toad. And this isn’t even Diagon alley, just a pub at the entrance!
At this point I’m not even trying to keep the grin off my face, just trying not to look manic about it. Seeing a man walk through a door into a closed off alley near the back I remember why I’m actually here and scramble to follow him. I open the door as he opens the alley and I watch as the bricks fall not down, but to each side, splitting the wall in half. And then I take my first steps into the magical world.
And that’s a damn sight more impressive than the cauldron.