Chapter 1: The Letter from the Sky

The morning had started like any other.

Harris Wells had just finished his morning run, breath steady, sweat lightly beading on his forehead. The forest trail was calm, birds singing lazily in the trees. After returning home, he wiped off his face, grabbed some toast from the kitchen, and sat near the window.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

A sudden fluttering sound echoed through the room. A strange wind swept past his ears, though the windows were shut.

Then came the knock.

Not from the door. Not from the floor. But from above the chimney.

Mara, his foster mother, looked up from her cooking. "Now who on earth...?"

A second later, thump!

A large, tawny owl fell straight out of the chimney, flapping once before landing neatly on the table. It had a letter tied to its leg, an envelope made of thick parchment, cream-colored and heavy.

Mara shrieked and dropped her spoon. "Oh my heavens!"

But Harris didn't move. He just stared.

He knew what this was.

The owl hooted once, held out its leg, and waited.

With slow steps, Harris walked to the table, untied the letter, and flipped it over.

There it was.

In perfect, elegant handwriting:

Mr. H. Wells

The Upstairs Room,

Wishing Well Cottage,

Elderfield Village.

His hands trembled just a little as he opened the envelope. Inside were two papers, one thick and formal, the other like a supplies list.

He began to read:

---

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Wells,

We are pleased 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 on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

---

He read it again.

And then again.

Even though he had known this moment was coming, even though he had dreamed of it for years… seeing it with his own eyes made it real in a way nothing else had.

He was going to Hogwarts.

He was finally stepping into the story, his story, not as a reader, not as a dreamer, but as someone who could change the ending.

Mara stared at him, confused. "Harris... What is that? Some school letter?"

He looked at her, and for the first time in years, he didn't have the words.

"It's… a special school," he finally said. "A place for people like me."

Thom, his foster father, peeked in from outside, wiping his hands with a rag. "Well, that owl looks like it means business. What's this all about then?"

Harris didn't answer directly. He just smiled big, honest, hopeful.

"I think it's time I told you everything."

Later that evening, as the sun set over Elderfield, Harris sat with Mara and Thom, telling them the version of his truth that they could accept. About magic. About wizards. About Hogwarts. He left out the darker parts. The reincarnation. The war that was coming. The names that would bring fear.

He told them enough to help them understand why he had always been different.

And they… believed him.

Maybe not all of it, but enough.

"Whatever this school is," Thom finally said, placing a strong hand on his shoulder, "if it's where you belong, we'll support you."

That night, Harris lay in bed, the Hogwarts letter pressed to his chest.

All his years of secret study, training, and discipline had led to this.

And yet… something in his heart whispered:

"This is just the beginning."