The morning bell chimed seven times.
Golden sunlight slipped through the curtains, cutting across the rumpled blanket where an eleven-year-old boy lay curled like a hibernating badger.
With a groggy sigh, Jon Smith dragged himself out of bed. His hair stuck up at odd angles, like a startled puffskein. If he did not move soon, his mother's voice would echo through the entire street again.
"Honestly," he muttered while brushing his teeth, glaring at his reflection. "How can a growing boy ever get enough sleep? Parents never understand the suffering of their children. Must be a universal law."
Their family lived in a small, ivy-covered house near the Thames. It was quiet, sunlit, and perfectly ordinary.
Except for one thing.
Jon's mother was a witch.
That single truth had rewritten his entire life.
Accepting it had not been easy. Not when he had already lived an entire one before.
In his previous life, Jon had been a twenty-first-century university student. He was diligent, exhausted, and raised by parents who measured love in grades. He studied hard, earned a postgraduate placement, and finally won their approval.
Then, during a short trip to England, a car crash ended everything.
He died far from home. At least, he had thought bitterly in his final moments, the insurance payout would take care of his family.
His second life began quietly, wrapped in the scent of tea and rain.
Born to a witch and a Muggle-born sociology professor, Jon eventually accepted the impossible truth.
He now lives inside the J. K. Rowling's wizarding world.
That realisation had taken years to settle.
Now, sitting in a cosy London kitchen, he no longer questioned the absurdity of it all. He simply brushed his teeth, dressed neatly, and tried to behave like any ordinary eleven-year-old boy.
"Jon! Are you awake yet?"
His mother's voice floated up from downstairs. It was warm, patient, and impossible to ignore.
"Coming!" he called.
In the dining room, his father, Henry Smith, was already at the table, reading the newspaper over tea and toast. A sociology professor at the University of Greenwich, Henry was practical, curious, and thoroughly Muggle. Despite knowing his wife's secret, he lived quite happily in the ordinary world.
He glanced up with a grin. "Morning, son. Sleep well?"
"Barely," Jon muttered, taking his seat. "Any post for me yet?"
Henry chuckled. "If something magical had arrived, your mum would have told you already. Still, if it ever does, save me a look, will you?"
Jon rolled his eyes, but smiled. His father's fascination with magic was equal parts charming and dangerous.
Right on cue, his mother appeared from the kitchen.
Balancing a plate of chips and a mug of tea, Lynn Smith looked like any ordinary English housewife. She was cheerful, composed, with dark hair tied back neatly. But Jon knew better. Behind that gentle smile was a seasoned witch who had once worked in the Department of Mysteries. Even now, her wand was never far from reach.
"Good morning, sweetheart," she said, setting down the plate. "Eat before it gets cold."
"Yes, Mum."
He bit into a chip. Crispy outside, soft and buttery inside. Perfect.
Breakfast passed peacefully. Cutlery clinked, sunlight spread across the table, and the comforting smell of oil and tea lingered in the air. Even Carly, the family's pale-green owl, joined them, perched proudly beside Jon's chair.
Halfway through the meal, Lynn glanced at her son. "Normally, Hogwarts letters arrive by evening," she said lightly. "Do not worry if yours does not come today. Sometimes the owls are delayed."
Jon nodded, pretending calm while his heart began to race. Excitement tangled with fear.
He knew Hogwarts. He had read about it hundreds of times.
But to live it, to walk those halls for real, was something else entirely.
And what if the letter never came?
A shadow swept past the window.
A brown owl glided in, scattering crumbs as it dropped a pale-yellow envelope beside Jon's plate. Then it hopped over to Carly with a cheerful hoot.
For a moment, Jon forgot how to breathe.
Henry's eyes widened, then sparkled. "Well? Do not keep us waiting, son. Open it!"
Lynn smiled softly, already reaching for the birdseed tin.
Jon picked up the envelope with trembling hands.
Thick parchment. Emerald-green ink. No stamp.
On the back was the Hogwarts seal. A lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake circled a golden H.
He read the address aloud.
Mr Jon Smith
Having Breakfast
56 Catelyn Avenue
Greenwich
A laugh escaped him. Of course, it knew exactly where he was.
"Oh, that handwriting!" Henry said, leaning closer. "Marvellous penmanship. Go on, read it!"
Jon smiled. He did not need to. He already knew every word.
Still, he broke the seal carefully, fingertips tracing the parchment as though it were sacred.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…
A shaky laugh escaped him.
It was real.
All of it.
The magic. The letters. The world he had once read about from the safety of another life.
As the Hogwarts crest gleamed in the morning light, one thought rose above the rest. It was simple, human, and full of wonder.
After all, in my previous life, what child did not want to be a student at Hogwarts?
He exhaled slowly, a smile spreading across his face. Somewhere deep inside him, the grown man he used to be whispered in quiet awe.
Dreams do not die.
They just wait for another life to begin.
(End of Chapter 1)