Night had long fallen over Sheffield, coating the industrial city in a thick layer of smog and cold rain.
High above, the soot-stained clouds drifted past a pale, fractured moon.
Sweeping down from the night sky, the perspective narrowed, diving past the jagged roofs of towering factories and dark brick alleys until it reached the edge of the city.
There stood St.
Jude’s Orphanage, a somber, gothic structure of decaying stone and rusted iron gates.
Through a high, cracked window on the third floor, a dim orange light flickered from a single candle inside a cramped, drafty bedroom.
Inside, a small boy sat on the edge of a creaking iron bed.
He was eleven years old, small for his age, with a slender, frail build.
A mess of pale blond hair fell over his brow, framing a pair of striking blue eyes that seemed oddly distant.
Without warning, a gust of wind rattled the wooden window frame.
Slipping through a gap in the glass, a heavy parchment envelope drifted into the room.
It did not fall like ordinary paper; it floated with unnatural grace before coming to rest lightly in the boy’s small hands.
Frowning, the boy turned the letter over.
There was no stamp, no address, only his name written in elegant, glowing ink: Leon.
He broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter.
“Greetings, young soul.
First, accept my apologies.
Your death in your previous world was an administrative oversight—an accidental mistake on my part.
To balance the scales, I have granted you a second chance at life.
You have been placed in the universe you once enjoyed above all others: the world of Harry Potter.
To ensure your journey remains interesting, I have gifted your mind with a unique capability—a supercalculating mind.
Your memory is absolute, your speed of thought beyond human limits, and your mental processing capable of breaking down complex structures in mere fractions of a second.
Your past personal memories have been wiped to spare you unnecessary grief, leaving only your knowledge of this fictional world.
Consider this a blank canvas.
Live as you see fit.”
Leon stared at the parchment, his breath catching in his throat.
‘Reincarnation?
Death?
Wiped memories?’
A cold sweat broke out across his forehead as panic seized his chest.
He desperately reached into his mind, trying to grasp anything from his past—his old name, his parents’ faces, his childhood home, his friends.
There was nothing.
Just a terrifying, hollow void where a whole lifetime should have been.
Hyperventilating, he gripped his pale hair with trembling hands, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
The realization that his entire identity had been erased left him feeling profoundly hollow and terrified.
He frantically searched for current memories instead, but all he found were hazy, faint fragments: a gloomy orphanage, tasteless meals, and a quiet, sickly eleven-year-old named Leon who spent his days alone.
For minutes that felt like hours, he sat frozen in the quiet room, struggling to process the sheer horror of being a ghost to himself.
Gradually, as his frantic breathing slowed, his eyes drifted back to the glowing text on the paper.
‘Harry Potter’s world…
A supercalculating mind…’
Slowly, the existential dread began to yield to a quiet, burning realization.
The past was gone, unrecoverable and painless, but the future…
the future was wide open.
He wasn’t just alive; he was in a universe where magic existed, equipped with a mind built to master it.
A spark of awe ignited in his chest, steadily swelling until a breathless, incredulous smile stretched across his pale face.
He was in the world of magic.
‘If I have a supercalculating mind, I need to test it,’ he thought, his heart shifting from terror to intense focus.
‘I need to know if this is real.’
Leon stood up on unsteady legs and walked over to the dusty desk.
He picked up a small wooden button and placed it near the edge.
Stepping back, he pointed his finger at it.
‘Move,’ he commanded mentally.
Nothing happened.
The button sat motionless under the dim candlelight.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again, trying to force his willpower into the air.
“Move,” he muttered aloud, straining his eyes.
Still, nothing.
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes.
Frustration crept in, making his temple throb.
‘Think,’ Leon told himself, forcing his panicked frustration aside and leaning into his new ability.
‘Magic in this world responds to intent, emotion, and precise mental structure.
I’m treating it like a muscle I don’t know how to flex.’
He closed his eyes and began to analyze the sensation in his body.
Instead of just wishing for the button to move, his mind started calculating—processing the distance (exactly forty-two centimeters), the friction of the desk’s surface, the mass of the wooden button, and the precise vector of force needed.
As his mind calculated the exact variables, he felt a faint, latent warmth deep within his chest react to the mental blueprint.
He opened his eyes.
His gaze locked onto the button with absolute, razor-sharp focus.
He didn’t just feel anger or desire; he constructed the exact physical action in his mind.
‘Vector: forward.
Force: minimal.
Trigger.’
A sharp pulse of energy rippled from his brain down his arm.
Clack.
The wooden button jerked violently, sliding three inches across the desk before tumbling off the edge onto the floor.
Leon gasped, staggering back and catching himself on the iron bed frame.
His head throbbed with fatigue, but his eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated triumph.
It had taken grueling effort and calculation, but he had done it.
Wandless, non-verbal accidental magic, harnessed through sheer mental structure.
Exhausted but exhilarated, Leon walked over to the open window and leaned out into the cool night air.
The cold breeze refreshed his flushed skin, but his mind was ablaze with ambition.
‘Power.
Influence.
Wealth.
Magic.’
He wasn’t going to be a background character or a pawn in someone else’s war.
With his abilities and his knowledge, he would build his own empire.
He imagined his future—becoming an unbeatable sorcerer, ruling from the shadows, commanding respect, and living a life of absolute freedom.
A confident, sharp smile broke across his young face as he inhaled the fresh breeze, his heart full of hope for the journey ahead.
‘My new life begins now—’
FLASH!
A blinding, scarlet light burst right outside his window without warning, illuminating the room in a crimson glare.
Before Leon could even move a muscle, the spell struck him square in the chest.
His vision went black, his mind cut off in a millisecond, and his limp body collapsed onto the hardwood floor.
This is the first time I’ve written a novel.
After reading so many Harry Potter fanfictions, I was bursting with ideas of my own.
I finally gave in and put them down on paper.
I hope you enjoy it.
Feel free to leave a comment to share your thoughts.
Did you expect that ending for the first chapter?