The moment he stepped through the doorway, the world shifted beneath his feet. The sterile white walls and floor of the empty room vanished, replaced by the uneven rhythm of cobblestone underfoot. A breeze kissed his face, laced with the scent of old parchment, melted chocolate, roasting nuts, and something faintly metallic, like warm iron.
He staggered forward slightly, catching himself before he could fall. Voices swirled around him—laughter, conversation, the distant cry of a vendor advertising "Self-Stirring Cauldrons, half off today!" He blinked several times, trying to make sense of it all.
Then he saw it. And everything inside him stilled.
Diagon Alley.
It was exactly how he'd imagined it—and yet so much more. The narrow street curved gently, lined with impossibly tall, leaning buildings that looked like they were balancing by magic alone. Shop signs creaked as they swung lazily in the breeze, boasting names like Flourish and Blotts, Magical Menagerie, and Quality Quidditch Supplies. Robed figures bustled past him, some hurrying, others wandering at their leisure, none so much as glancing at the boy who had just materialized in their midst.
No one noticed him appear out of thin air.
His heart thundered as he looked down at himself. His adult frame was gone. In its place was a leaner, younger body—gangly arms, a slightly oversized robe, and legs that didn't quite match his sense of balance. A child, maybe eleven or twelve years old.
He patted his pockets and found two things. A letter and a bag of Galleons
Unfolding it, he immediately recognized the seal. His breath caught.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
First-Year Student Shopping List:
1 Wand
1 Set of Black School Robes
1 Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
1 Cauldron (Pewter, Standard Size 2)
1 Set of Glass or Crystal Phials
1 Telescope
1 Set of Brass Scales
1 Owl, Cat, or Toad (optional)
Note: First-years are not allowed their own broomsticks.
A laugh bubbled up from his chest—light, giddy, disbelieving. "I'm a student," he whispered. "I'm going to Hogwarts."
He turned in a slow circle, clutching the letter like a lifeline. The Reality Traversal System hadn't just dropped him into the world—it had written him into it. He wasn't an outsider here. He was part of it. A real wizard. A real first-year.
There was only one thing to do now—shop.
He joined the steady flow of people and let it carry him forward. Before long, he found himself standing in front of a squat little building with purple lettering on the windows: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Inside, the shop was warm and lit by floating candles that flickered gently above bolts of fabric. Robes of every size and color lined the walls. Before he could say a word, a cheerful woman approached.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked with a kind smile.
"Yes," he replied, still a bit breathless.
"Step right up, then. We'll get you sorted."
As he stepped onto a low stool, a measuring tape began snipping around him of its own accord. Another boy was already standing beside him—pale blond hair, cool gray eyes, and the unmistakable air of someone used to getting what he wanted.
"First year as well?" the boy asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Did you go to the Quidditch World Cup last year?"
The words hit like a spark to dry kindling. The World Cup last year?
He shook his head. "Didn't get the chance. You a fan?"
The boy brightened slightly. "Of course. Montrose Magpies all the way."
He nodded politely, but inside, his thoughts were racing. Draco Malfoy? Had he just shared a fitting room with Draco Malfoy?
Before long, Madam Malkin handed him a bundle of neatly folded black robes and shooed him off. He barely had time to reflect before the next shop caught his eye—Flourish and Blotts.
The bookstore was a dream. Books towered in great uneven stacks, shelves stretched to the ceiling, and ladders zoomed around like enchanted bees. Some books whispered softly, others rattled in their chains. He traced his fingers along their spines reverently as he located the required titles.
Then came The Apothecary. A hardy mix of herbs, decay, and something that reminded him of a campfire. Jars lined the walls, filled with eye-of-newt, powdered root of asphodel, and stranger things still. With the coin pouch he found tucked into his belt, he purchased the basics and exited into the sunlight.
Next was Eeylops Owl Emporium. He stood before the cages for a long time, debating. Owls were iconic. Cats, endearing. Toads… less so. But one bird caught his eye—a sleek, black owl with golden eyes that met his gaze with eerie intelligence.
"I'll call you Noctis," he whispered. The owl ruffled its feathers and gave an approving hoot.
Finally, he found himself before the oldest and most mysterious shop on the street—Ollivanders. The windows were foggy, and the entire place exuded the kind of ancient weight that made your bones hush.
The door creaked open at his touch. Inside, boxes upon boxes were stacked in precarious towers. It was quieter than a whisper.
"Ah." A soft voice floated through the dim air. "A new student. I wondered when I'd be seeing you."
The man emerged from the shadows, silver-haired, wide-eyed, and curious—Ollivander, the wandmaker.
He approached slowly, peering at the boy with unsettling intensity. The wand-choosing process began in earnest, with boxes flying, wands fizzing, shelves nearly collapsing. Wand after wand rejected him—until Ollivander stopped.
"Curious," he murmured, plucking a wand from a dusty top shelf. "Try this."
The wand was holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core.
He barely gripped it before something surged through him—warmth, light, a pulse like a heartbeat that echoed in his chest and fingertips. The room grew still.
Ollivander smiled. "A wand of great potential. And a connection to destiny."
The boy froze. He knew that description. That wand. That core.
Harry Potter's wand.
Surely not the same one. Surely just a match. A similar pairing. The system wouldn't make him… him, would it?
He left the shop with the wand still pulsing faintly in his hand and a dozen questions swimming in his head. Was this really just a chance to explore?
Or had the system dropped him into something different than he imagined?
He paused at the edge of the alley, looking out at the magical world bustling before him. He had his robes. His wand. His books and supplies. Even a loyal owl perched on his arm.
Was he just a regular student, or something, rather, someone else?