"Overprepared, Underaged, and Absolutely Not Ready (But Proud Anyway)"
Still can't legally drink, but I can collapse a ward scheme in under five seconds. Cheers.
Summer 1988 – Spring 1989
My second year in the magical world began with Grandfather dropping a thick binder labeled Hogwarts Curriculum Failures: A Working List on my desk and saying, "We start with the essentials." Apparently, dodging a Stunner was more important than memorizing the Goblin Rebellions in chronological order. Who knew? That year was all about foundations: real spellcasting drills, practical dueling, first aid for magical injuries (mostly self-inflicted), ward manipulation, and enough physical training to make my legs threaten to join in one of the goblin rebellions. It turns out, magical combat doesn't give you time for proper enunciation or a dramatic pose. Grandfather didn't smile much, but when I finally blocked a hex blindfolded, he nodded once—the equivalent of a standing ovation. I slept like the dead that night. Progress, after all, is exhausting.
Summer 1989 – Spring 1990
With Hogwarts now officially trailing behind me by a full two years in actual competence, I picked up Runes and Arithmancy as electives—mostly to keep up appearances. Truth be told, I'd already been knee-deep in both, courtesy of Grandfather's personal library and his infuriatingly Socratic teaching style. My runework evolved from carving basic fire-starting arrays to layering combat matrices that could, in theory, ruin someone's day. Arithmancy became my playground for creating theoretical spellcraft—though most of it exploded before it impressed. I learned that equations don't care how confident you are when you write them. On the side, Grandfather started including me in conversations about politics, bloodlines, and the "delicate art of not sounding like a pompous arse while still winning an argument." It was a high bar. I'm still not sure I've cleared it.
Summer 1990 – Spring 1991 (ending May 1)
By the time I'd gotten my letter for my fourth year, I'd gone from spell-crafter-in-training to full-time magical overachiever with insomnia. Grandfather had me designing rune circuits complex enough to impress a Department of Mysteries recruiter, assuming they weren't all too busy being cryptic. My arithmantic modeling could break apart standard spells and reconstruct them for new purposes—like turning a jelly-legs jinx into a temporary paralysis field, or transmuting a shield charm into a directed kinetic burst. I even started experimenting with layered trigger conditions in matrix chains, which is a fancy way of saying "my homework occasionally caught fire." Grandfather watched all this with unmistakable pride—the kind of pride that didn't need words. He didn't say "good job" often, but he started pouring me a nip of the good stuff instead of just one for himself. In his world, that was practically a standing ovation with a brass band.
And then, on the first of May, it happened.
No fireworks. No choir of angels. Not even a dramatic magical whoosh. Just a soft little ding—like a microwave finishing a sad meal—and the timer I'd been seeing in the corner of my vision for the last few years finally ticked down to zero.
I blinked.
Smirked.
And thought, Alright then. Let's find out what's been waiting for me.
...
Well, Chat, looks like we're finally here.
Been a long time coming, huh? Four years of nose to the grindstone, Hogwarts chaos, Grandfather's warrior-wizard boot camp, and the occasional bout of existential dread—only for the big mysterious countdown to end with a soft little... ding.
I half-expected a floating menu, maybe an anime girl with a clipboard welcoming me to Level Two of Existence. Or a loot box. Something flashy. Y'know, real streamer energy:
"YOOOOOO, CHAT, WE JUST UNLOCKED THE MYSTIC SYSTEMMMM! DROP SOME W'S IN THE COMMENTS IF YOU'RE FEELIN' THIS MAGIC!!! 🔥🔥🔥"
…but nope. Just me. Alone in the library. Staring at the air like a lunatic waiting for my destiny to buffer.
And then—because the universe has a sense of comedic timing—it goes full MMORPG on me.
[SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE][USER RECOGNIZED: Joshua E. Myrddin][COMMENTARY: I know it's the '80s, but stop monologuing like a coked-up Twitch streamer. You're embarrassing us both.]
Oh. Cool. It's snarky.
Great. I'm getting roasted by my magic software now.
Chat, pray for me.
[Memory Load Initiating in 3... 2... 1...]
Wait. Memory load?
...Shit.
...
It felt like falling backward through warm water—no splash, no resistance. Just a pull.
Then everything went still, and I was standing in that blank space again. You know the one. No walls, no floor, no sound. Just... void, humming like it was thinking.
And then they were there.
R.O.B. 37, looking the same as always—that half-smile, like someone watching their favorite slow-burn drama finally pay off. And Merlin, sharp and timeless in a black-and-emerald three-piece suit, his long silver hair flowing like he'd just walked out of legend and into a high-stakes business negotiation.
They didn't launch into some cryptic riddle or dramatic monologue. Merlin just looked at me and said, "We agreed your memories would return at the right moment. This is that moment."
I must've looked skeptical, because he added—"The lock wasn't punishment. It was mercy. Time to grow without the weight. And now, you're strong enough to carry it."
R.O.B. gave a small nod. "You've done well, Josh. The system's built with fail-safes—snapshots, rollbacks. We're not here to break you. We just needed to give you room to become someone who could choose their own path… once they remembered what was at stake."
And for a second, I didn't say anything.
Then I just nodded. No clever comment. No sarcastic jab. Just—"Okay."
The void dissolved.
And everything came rushing back.
...............
Well, Chat... What Do I Know Now?
That little timer finally ticked to zero. No fireworks. No booming voice from the heavens. Just a snarky system message and the quiet drop of a memory payload that's been waiting in the wings for nearly four years.
It wasn't like remembering a dream. It was like waking up from one. Like the world had always been a little out of focus, and now everything had snapped into place.
So—let's take stock, shall we?
Harry Potter (Canon-ish)
The world I'm in? It's definitely Harry Potter. But not the movie version. Too much texture. Too many cracks. This is the books—warts, plot holes, and all. Hogwarts is as enchanting as it is criminally unsafe. The curriculum is... lacking. The government? A bureaucracy that makes the DMV look efficient. And I've yet to see anything like the over-the-top magical duels from the films. Things are subtler. Messier. Older.
I haven't met him yet—not officially. But all signs point to this being the same year Harry Potter is supposed to start school. And if the story tracks, then he's probably somewhere in Surrey right now, miserable, underfed, and unaware he's a celebrity in robes waiting to happen.
But here's where it gets weird: this version of the world is...thicker. Denser. Some things that were just fan theories or AU headcanons? They're real. The heir rings aren't just plot devices—they're power. Literal magical signatures tied to blood and legacy. There's evidence of ancient enchantments layered through Hogwarts itself—magic that no one talks about but everyone reacts to.
Even the goblins aren't playing their background role quietly. There's an edge to them. Authority. Territory. Engineering precision behind the vaults and the blades alike.
So yeah—this might've started as the books, but it's strayed. Or maybe the books were always just the shallow end of a deeper pool.
Dresden Files (Magic With Teeth)
Then there's the Dresden Files knowledge—coming in like a fire hose at full blast.
In Dresden, magic isn't just point and shoot. It's intention. Will. Personal cost. Everything you do leaves a mark, and balance is mandatory. You throw a curse, and it echoes. You summon something? You'd better have a circle and a backup plan. You bind a spirit? That's a contract now—and you're on the hook.
And here? It matches.
The ancient magics Hogwarts glosses over? They operate on the same principles. You can't just toss Latin and wiggle a stick. You've got to mean it. Want it. Pay for it. Occlumency isn't just a privacy tool—it's insulation. A firewall for the soul. The heir rings feel like built-in geasa. The cursed objects in the dorms? They whisper. And the longer you're around them, the more your thoughts bend.
It's subtle, but it's Dresden-style subtle. Which means dangerous, permanent, and 100% not in the syllabus.
The system here might not look like the White Council, but the rules are the same. And if nobody's teaching them... then everyone's playing with live wires blindfolded.
And Me?
I've been walking through this twisted, canon-adjacent sandbox for years now—training, observing, guessing. But now I know. I see the layers. The shape of the chessboard.
Canon gives me the map. Dresden gives me the compass. But this world? It's been modded. Fanfic tropes stacked under the surface like cheat codes half-implemented and left to rot.
Powerful rings? Check. Ancient bloodlines? Yup. Hogwarts being semi-sentient and full of half-forgotten, unstable magic? Triple check. And goblins who act like territorial engineers with their own magic and runic language? Basically canon now.
I'm not just some plucky first-year anymore. I'm Joshua E. Myrddin, fully aware, finally equipped, and two steps ahead of where I should be... assuming I don't trip over a trope or trigger a side quest labeled "DO NOT TOUCH."
I don't know who else remembers what I now do. Or if they even exist yet. But if someone does—and they've had this level of access longer than me—then we're already behind on the next move.
So yeah, Chat... the game's changed.
Let's see what I can break before it breaks me.
...
[Not to interrupt but user input required]
[ALERT 1: INITIAL GREETING]Welcome, Joshua E. MyrddinTransmigration Status: ✅ CompleteMemory Sync: ✅ Stable
On behalf of R.O.B. Unit 37 and Merlin (Myrddin Emrys):
Merlin: "No road worth walking is ever paved in gold. You've chosen well. Use the time I bought you."R.O.B. 37: "Everything you need is already in place. We'll be watching the playthrough—good luck, kid."
[ALERT 2: SYSTEM CORE ONLINE]
Core Functions: ACTIVE
You now have access to:— Inventory (storage that laughs at the concept of space)— Skills (some assembly required)— Map (yes, with magical fast travel)— Quest Log (try not to die)— Configuration (tinker at your own risk)
"Welcome to the interface. Try not to break anything important."
[ALERT 3: LOCAL MAP UNLOCKED]Current Location: Greater London, England
Points of Interest Nearby:
The Leaky Cauldron
Hogwarts
Hogsmead
Diagon Alley
Gringotts Bank
Myrddin Family Flat
Myrddin Family Manor
Leyline Convergence Site (Unregistered Node – Scanning...)
Navigation markers placed.Fast-travel anchors available at bound locations.
[ALERT 4: WELCOME PACKAGE DELIVERED]
Starter Kit Deposited into Inventory
Contents:
1,000,000 Galleons (Personal vault , now linked to Inventory)
Collapsible Shield Watch (Mithril & Goblin Silver, rune-inscribed)
Enchanted Suit Set (Sapphire-Black-Bronze; armored, climate-adaptive, self-repairing)
Multiversal ID Token (Psychic-paper analog with interdimensional legitimacy)
Skill Unlocked: [Analysis Lv. 1]
All items soul-bound. Tampering will result in dramatic irony and system laughter.
[ALERT 5: CHAT FUNCTIONALITY ONLINE]System Chat Interface is now live.Private Channels, Logs, and Contact Lists unlocked.
Customize settings anytime. Or don't. The UI won't judge you (much).
[ALERT 6: OPTIONAL QUEST TRIGGERED]
⚠ Magic Spike Logged – Beyond Accidental Threshold ⚠
Title: Observe and Assist – The Boy Who Lived
Location: Paddington Station, London
Unstable magical surge detected near Harry J. Potter. Exceeds all known "accidental magic" parameters. No adult wizards in range. Muggle-heavy zone. Congratulations: you've stumbled onto a plot hook.
Suggested Action:Locate the boy. Observe. Intervene if things go sideways. Keep it subtle.
Rewards:
???
???
???
Optional in name only. Ignore this, and your previous memories won't mean shit.
...
Well. That was a lot.
I sat there for a long second, blinking at the air like it might change if I stared hard enough. Spoiler: it didn't. The system window just hovered there, smug in its glowing clarity, practically daring me to ignore it.
A million galleons in storage. A magic watch that could probably tank a Killing Curse. A fast-travel map like I'm in bloody Skyrim. And a sarcastic UI that clearly thinks I'm two IQ points away from licking a cursed object just to see what it does.
And now this quest.
Paddington Station. Harry Potter. May 1st, 1991.
He's not supposed to be in London today. He's supposed to be miserable in Surrey, breaking dishes and hiding under stairs—not lighting up leyline monitors with raw, unstable magic. Whatever's going on, it's not canon.
Not even close.
And that's what gets me.
Because if Harry's in London, unsupervised, and cooking the ambient aether like a toddler with a flamethrower… that means something changed. Maybe someone pushed it. Maybe someone let it happen. Maybe the clock started ticking early, and nobody told me.
And this isn't just a Dresden-style "magic leaves fingerprints" problem anymore. This is a narrative fracture. A timeline deviation. The kind of thing that shouldn't be possible unless someone else is pulling strings—or unless I already did.
I should be excited.
Nervous.
Curious.
But mostly, I just feel that creeping sense you get when you look down and realize the trail you were following is gone—and the forest is very, very quiet.
"Observe and assist," huh?
Yeah. That's code for: if I don't step in, something's going to go nuclear and the fallout will hit Hogwarts, the ICW, and probably my grandfather's favorite armchair.
Mystery rewards? Sure. That's ominous.
But the real reward here is not watching the canon detonate in real time.
I rub my temples. Let the weight of it all settle in.
And finally, I mutter under my breath—half-prayer, half-punchline:
"Fuck me sideways. The story is already off the rails."