2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound, Hermione didn't have much to pursue.
However, at this precise moment, a translucent blue light curtain suddenly materialized in front of Hermione's eyes. It flickered into existence, invisible to Mrs. Granger.
Is this a must-have for traversers—the System?
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat dry. Three distinct options floated on the light curtain:
[Option 1: Promise Mrs. Granger, agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Reject Mrs. Granger, saying that she just wants to be a mortal all her life. Reward: 1 Pressure Cooker.]
[Option 3: Tell Mrs. Granger, "Let me think about it again," but in the end agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
The options given by this system made Hermione feel incredibly embarrassed.
Was it hard to choose a pressure cooker resolutely for an ordinary life? A pressure cooker? really?
There was no way! She couldn't trade magic for kitchenware.
Hermione gritted her teeth, feigning deep contemplation. She spoke bravely, "I'll think about it."
At this time, Mrs. Granger's husband entered the room. He was dressed up in a sharp suit, looking extra gentle and decent, radiating a calm, fatherly aura.
Mrs. Granger turned and told her husband about Hermione's indecision.
Mr. Granger walked over, his shoes clicking on the floor. He patted Hermione's head with a warm smile, his hand heavy and comforting. "We respect Hermione's choice. If she doesn't want to be a magician, I will support her."
The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione took a deep breath, smelling the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She looked up and said solemnly, "Although learning magic sounds dangerous, I'm still willing to try."
[Congratulations for getting the reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief as the text flashed in her vision.
Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, her eyes glistening with moved tears. "I'm proud of you."
The family quickly packed up and drove to the train station.
London's King's Cross Station was a cacophony of sounds—the screeching of brakes, the chatter of thousands of travelers, and the hiss of steam.
Standing on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione was clutching the handle of her luggage trolley. Her knuckles were white. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing since she decided to go to Hogwarts.
Sure enough, she was still too timid.
Mrs. Granger and her husband had genuinely given Hermione the courage to be a Muggle all her life. Now that their daughter could become a legendary wizard, of course, they were proud parents.
Of course, not all Muggles liked magicians. Harry Potter's aunt, for instance, hated them with a passion. Ignorance and arrogance.
But the Grangers were different.
"Go on, dear," Mrs. Granger encouraged.
Hermione took a breath of the smoky station air, closed her eyes for a split second, and bravely slammed into the brick wall with her luggage.
Mrs. Granger and her husband behind her stood stunned for a moment as their daughter vanished into solid brick.
It wasn't until Hermione disappeared onto Platform 9¾ that Mrs. Granger turned, hugged her husband tightly, and whispered excitedly, "Our daughter really looks like she's going to be a great magician."
Mr. Granger, adjusting his glasses, spoke more rationally, though his voice held a tremor of emotion. "I hope everything goes in the right direction."
DO NOT READ DOEN #WORD COUNT ONLY
Chapter 1: The Acceptance Letter
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of h
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound, Hermione didn't have much to pursue.
However, at this precise moment, a translucent blue light curtain suddenly materialized in front of Hermione's eyes. It flickered into existence, invisible to Mrs. Granger.
Is this a must-have for traversers—the System?
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat dry. Three distinct options floated on the light curtain:
[Option 1: Promise Mrs. Granger, agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Reject Mrs. Granger, saying that she just wants to be a mortal all her life. Reward: 1 Pressure Cooker.]
[Option 3: Tell Mrs. Granger, "Let me think about it again," but in the end agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
The options given by this system made Hermione feel incredibly embarrassed.
Was it hard to choose a pressure cooker resolutely for an ordinary life? A pressure cooker? really?
There was no way! She couldn't trade magic for kitchenware.
Hermione gritted her teeth, feigning deep contemplation. She spoke bravely, "I'll think about it."
At this time, Mrs. Granger's husband entered the room. He was dressed up in a sharp suit, looking extra gentle and decent, radiating a calm, fatherly aura.
Mrs. Granger turned and told her husband about Hermione's indecision.
Mr. Granger walked over, his shoes clicking on the floor. He patted Hermione's head with a warm smile, his hand heavy and comforting. "We respect Hermione's choice. If she doesn't want to be a magician, I will support her."
The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione took a deep breath, smelling the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She looked up and said solemnly, "Although learning magic sounds dangerous, I'm still willing to try."
[Congratulations for getting the reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief as the text flashed in her vision.
Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, her eyes glistening with moved tears. "I'm proud of you."
The family quickly packed up and drove to the train station.
London's King's Cross Station was a cacophony of sounds—the screeching of brakes, the chatter of thousands of travelers, and the hiss of steam.
Standing on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione was clutching the handle of her luggage trolley. Her knuckles were white. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing since she decided to go to Hogwarts.
Sure enough, she was still too timid.
Mrs. Granger and her husband had genuinely given Hermione the courage to be a Muggle all her life. Now that their daughter could become a legendary wizard, of course, they were proud parents.
Of course, not all Muggles liked magicians. Harry Potter's aunt, for instance, hated them with a passion. Ignorance and arrogance.
But the Grangers were different.
"Go on, dear," Mrs. Granger encouraged.
Hermione took a breath of the smoky station air, closed her eyes for a split second, and bravely slammed into the brick wall with her luggage.
Mrs. Granger and her husband behind her stood stunned for a moment as their daughter vanished into solid brick.
It wasn't until Hermione disappeared onto Platform 9¾ that Mrs. Granger turned, hugged her husband tightly, and whispered excitedly, "Our daughter really looks like she's going to be a great magician."
Mr. Granger, adjusting his glasses, spoke more rationally, though his voice held a tremor of emotion. "I hope everything goes in the right direction."
DO NOT READ DOEN #WORD COUNT ONLY
Chapter 1: The Acceptance Letter
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this wor
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound, Hermione didn't have much to pursue.
However, at this precise moment, a translucent blue light curtain suddenly materialized in front of Hermione's eyes. It flickered into existence, invisible to Mrs. Granger.
Is this a must-have for traversers—the System?
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat dry. Three distinct options floated on the light curtain:
[Option 1: Promise Mrs. Granger, agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Reject Mrs. Granger, saying that she just wants to be a mortal all her life. Reward: 1 Pressure Cooker.]
[Option 3: Tell Mrs. Granger, "Let me think about it again," but in the end agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
The options given by this system made Hermione feel incredibly embarrassed.
Was it hard to choose a pressure cooker resolutely for an ordinary life? A pressure cooker? really?
There was no way! She couldn't trade magic for kitchenware.
Hermione gritted her teeth, feigning deep contemplation. She spoke bravely, "I'll think about it."
At this time, Mrs. Granger's husband entered the room. He was dressed up in a sharp suit, looking extra gentle and decent, radiating a calm, fatherly aura.
Mrs. Granger turned and told her husband about Hermione's indecision.
Mr. Granger walked over, his shoes clicking on the floor. He patted Hermione's head with a warm smile, his hand heavy and comforting. "We respect Hermione's choice. If she doesn't want to be a magician, I will support her."
The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione took a deep breath, smelling the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She looked up and said solemnly, "Although learning magic sounds dangerous, I'm still willing to try."
[Congratulations for getting the reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief as the text flashed in her vision.
Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, her eyes glistening with moved tears. "I'm proud of you."
The family quickly packed up and drove to the train station.
London's King's Cross Station was a cacophony of sounds—the screeching of brakes, the chatter of thousands of travelers, and the hiss of steam.
Standing on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione was clutching the handle of her luggage trolley. Her knuckles were white. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing since she decided to go to Hogwarts.
Sure enough, she was still too timid.
Mrs. Granger and her husband had genuinely given Hermione the courage to be a Muggle all her life. Now that their daughter could become a legendary wizard, of course, they were proud parents.
Of course, not all Muggles liked magicians. Harry Potter's aunt, for instance, hated them with a passion. Ignorance and arrogance.
But the Grangers were different.
"Go on, dear," Mrs. Granger encouraged.
Hermione took a breath of the smoky station air, closed her eyes for a split second, and bravely slammed into the brick wall with her luggage.
Mrs. Granger and her husband behind her stood stunned for a moment as their daughter vanished into solid brick.
It wasn't until Hermione disappeared onto Platform 9¾ that Mrs. Granger turned, hugged her husband tightly, and whispered excitedly, "Our daughter really looks like she's going to be a great magician."
Mr. Granger, adjusting his glasses, spoke more rationally, though his voice held a tremor of emotion. "I hope everything goes in the right direction."
DO NOT READ DOEN #WORD COUNT ONLY
Chapter 1: The Acceptance Letter
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
Thely materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound, Hermione didn't have much to pursue.
However, at this precise moment, a translucent blue light curtain suddenly materialized in front of Hermione's eyes. It flickered into existence, invisible to Mrs. Granger.
Is this a must-have for traversers—the System?
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat dry. Three distinct options floated on the light curtain:
[Option 1: Promise Mrs. Granger, agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Reject Mrs. Granger, saying that she just wants to be a mortal all her life. Reward: 1 Pressure Cooker.]
[Option 3: Tell Mrs. Granger, "Let me think about it again," but in the end agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
The options given by this system made Hermione feel incredibly embarrassed.
Was it hard to choose a pressure cooker resolutely for an ordinary life? A pressure cooker? really?
There was no way! She couldn't trade magic for kitchenware.
Hermione gritted her teeth, feigning deep contemplation. She spoke bravely, "I'll think about it."
At this time, Mrs. Granger's husband entered the room. He was dressed up in a sharp suit, looking extra gentle and decent, radiating a calm, fatherly aura.
Mrs. Granger turned and told her husband about Hermione's indecision.
Mr. Granger walked over, his shoes clicking on the floor. He patted Hermione's head with a warm smile, his hand heavy and comforting. "We respect Hermione's choice. If she doesn't want to be a magician, I will support her."
The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione took a deep breath, smelling the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She looked up and said solemnly, "Although learning magic sounds dangerous, I'm still willing to try."
[Congratulations for getting the reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief as the text flashed in her vision.
Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, her eyes glistening with moved tears. "I'm proud of you."
The family quickly packed up and drove to the train station.
London's King's Cross Station was a cacophony of sounds—the screeching of brakes, the chatter of thousands of travelers, and the hiss of steam.
Standing on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione was clutching the handle of her luggage trolley. Her knuckles were white. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing since she decided to go to Hogwarts.
Sure enough, she was still too timid.
Mrs. Granger and her husband had genuinely given Hermione the courage to be a Muggle all her life. Now that their daughter could become a legendary wizard, of course, they were proud parents.
Of course, not all Muggles liked magicians. Harry Potter's aunt, for instance, hated them with a passion. Ignorance and arrogance.
But the Grangers were different.
"Go on, dear," Mrs. Granger encouraged.
Hermione took a breath of the smoky station air, closed her eyes for a split second, and bravely slammed into the brick wall with her luggage.
Mrs. Granger and her husband behind her stood stunned for a moment as their daughter vanished into solid brick.
It wasn't until Hermione disappeared onto Platform 9¾ that Mrs. Granger turned, hugged her husband tightly, and whispered excitedly, "Our daughter really looks like she's going to be a great magician."
Mr. Granger, adjusting his glasses, spoke more rationally, though his voice held a tremor of emotion. "I hope everything goes in the right direction."
Chapter 1: The Acceptance Letter
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound, Hermione didn't have much to pursue.
However, at this precise moment, a translucent blue light curtain suddenly materialized in front of Hermione's eyes. It flickered into existence, invisible to Mrs. Granger.
Is this a must-have for traversers—the System?
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat dry. Three distinct options floated on the light curtain:
[Option 1: Promise Mrs. Granger, agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Reject Mrs. Granger, saying that she just wants to be a mortal all her life. Reward: 1 Pressure Cooker.]
[Option 3: Tell Mrs. Granger, "Let me think about it again," but in the end agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
The options given by this system made Hermione feel incredibly embarrassed.
Was it hard to choose a pressure cooker resolutely for an ordinary life? A pressure cooker? really?
There was no way! She couldn't trade magic for kitchenware.
Hermione gritted her teeth, feigning deep contemplation. She spoke bravely, "I'll think about it."
At this time, Mrs. Granger's husband entered the room. He was dressed up in a sharp suit, looking extra gentle and decent, radiating a calm, fatherly aura.
Mrs. Granger turned and told her husband about Hermione's indecision.
Mr. Granger walked over, his shoes clicking on the floor. He patted Hermione's head with a warm smile, his hand heavy and comforting. "We respect Hermione's choice. If she doesn't want to be a magician, I will support her."
The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione took a deep breath, smelling the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She looked up and said solemnly, "Although learning magic sounds dangerous, I'm still willing to try."
[Congratulations for getting the reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief as the text flashed in her vision.
Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, her eyes glistening with moved tears. "I'm proud of you."
The family quickly packed up and drove to the train station.
London's King's Cross Station was a cacophony of sounds—the screeching of brakes, the chatter of thousands of travelers, and the hiss of steam.
Standing on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione was clutching the handle of her luggage trolley. Her knuckles were white. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing since she decided to go to Hogwarts.
Sure enough, she was still too timid.
Mrs. Granger and her husband had genuinely given Hermione the courage to be a Muggle all her life. Now that their daughter could become a legendary wizard, of course, they were proud parents.
Of course, not all Muggles liked magicians. Harry Potter's aunt, for instance, hated them with a passion. Ignorance and arrogance.
But the Grangers were different.
"Go on, dear," Mrs. Granger encouraged.
Hermione took a breath of the smoky station air, closed her eyes for a split second, and bravely slammed into the brick wall with her luggage.
Mrs. Granger and her husband behind her stood stunned for a moment as their daughter vanished into solid brick.
It wasn't until Hermione disappeared onto Platform 9¾ that Mrs. Granger turned, hugged her husband tightly, and whispered excitedly, "Our daughter really looks like she's going to be a great magician."
Mr. Granger, adjusting his glasses, spoke more rationally, though his voice held a tremor of emotion. "I hope everything goes in the right direction."
Chapter 1: The Acceptance Letter
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound, Hermione didn't have much to pursue.
However, at this precise moment, a translucent blue light curtain suddenly materialized in front of Hermione's eyes. It flickered into existence, invisible to Mrs. Granger.
Is this a must-have for traversers—the System?
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat dry. Three distinct options floated on the light curtain:
[Option 1: Promise Mrs. Granger, agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Reject Mrs. Granger, saying that she just wants to be a mortal all her life. Reward: 1 Pressure Cooker.]
[Option 3: Tell Mrs. Granger, "Let me think about it again," but in the end agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
The options given by this system made Hermione feel incredibly embarrassed.
Was it hard to choose a pressure cooker resolutely for an ordinary life? A pressure cooker? really?
There was no way! She couldn't trade magic for kitchenware.
Hermione gritted her teeth, feigning deep contemplation. She spoke bravely, "I'll think about it."
At this time, Mrs. Granger's husband entered the room. He was dressed up in a sharp suit, looking extra gentle and decent, radiating a calm, fatherly aura.
Mrs. Granger turned and told her husband about Hermione's indecision.
Mr. Granger walked over, his shoes clicking on the floor. He patted Hermione's head with a warm smile, his hand heavy and comforting. "We respect Hermione's choice. If she doesn't want to be a magician, I will support her."
The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione took a deep breath, smelling the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She looked up and said solemnly, "Although learning magic sounds dangerous, I'm still willing to try."
[Congratulations for getting the reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief as the text flashed in her vision.
Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, her eyes glistening with moved tears. "I'm proud of you."
The family quickly packed up and drove to the train station.
London's King's Cross Station was a cacophony of sounds—the screeching of brakes, the chatter of thousands of travelers, and the hiss of steam.
Standing on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione was clutching the handle of her luggage trolley. Her knuckles were white. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing since she decided to go to Hogwarts.
Sure enough, she was still too timid.
Mrs. Granger and her husband had genuinely given Hermione the courage to be a Muggle all her life. Now that their daughter could become a legendary wizard, of course, they were proud parents.
Of course, not all Muggles liked magicians. Harry Potter's aunt, for instance, hated them with a passion. Ignorance and arrogance.
But the Grangers were different.
"Go on, dear," Mrs. Granger encouraged.
Hermione took a breath of the smoky station air, closed her eyes for a split second, and bravely slammed into the brick wall with her luggage.
Mrs. Granger and her husband behind her stood stunned for a moment as their daughter vanished into solid brick.
It wasn't until Hermione disappeared onto Platform 9¾ that Mrs. Granger turned, hugged her husband tightly, and whispered excitedly, "Our daughter really looks like she's going to be a great magician."
Mr. Granger, adjusting his glasses, spoke more rationally, though his voice held a tremor of emotion. "I hope everything goes in the right direction."
Chapter 1: The Acceptance Letter
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound, Hermione didn't have much to pursue.
However, at this precise moment, a translucent blue light curtain suddenly materialized in front of Hermione's eyes. It flickered into existence, invisible to Mrs. Granger.
Is this a must-have for traversers—the System?
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat dry. Three distinct options floated on the light curtain:
[Option 1: Promise Mrs. Granger, agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Reject Mrs. Granger, saying that she just wants to be a mortal all her life. Reward: 1 Pressure Cooker.]
[Option 3: Tell Mrs. Granger, "Let me think about it again," but in the end agree to go to Hogwarts boarding school. Reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
The options given by this system made Hermione feel incredibly embarrassed.
Was it hard to choose a pressure cooker resolutely for an ordinary life? A pressure cooker? really?
There was no way! She couldn't trade magic for kitchenware.
Hermione gritted her teeth, feigning deep contemplation. She spoke bravely, "I'll think about it."
At this time, Mrs. Granger's husband entered the room. He was dressed up in a sharp suit, looking extra gentle and decent, radiating a calm, fatherly aura.
Mrs. Granger turned and told her husband about Hermione's indecision.
Mr. Granger walked over, his shoes clicking on the floor. He patted Hermione's head with a warm smile, his hand heavy and comforting. "We respect Hermione's choice. If she doesn't want to be a magician, I will support her."
The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione took a deep breath, smelling the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She looked up and said solemnly, "Although learning magic sounds dangerous, I'm still willing to try."
[Congratulations for getting the reward: 1 Primary Magic Book.]
Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief as the text flashed in her vision.
Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione, her eyes glistening with moved tears. "I'm proud of you."
The family quickly packed up and drove to the train station.
London's King's Cross Station was a cacophony of sounds—the screeching of brakes, the chatter of thousands of travelers, and the hiss of steam.
Standing on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione was clutching the handle of her luggage trolley. Her knuckles were white. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing since she decided to go to Hogwarts.
Sure enough, she was still too timid.
Mrs. Granger and her husband had genuinely given Hermione the courage to be a Muggle all her life. Now that their daughter could become a legendary wizard, of course, they were proud parents.
Of course, not all Muggles liked magicians. Harry Potter's aunt, for instance, hated them with a passion. Ignorance and arrogance.
But the Grangers were different.
"Go on, dear," Mrs. Granger encouraged.
Hermione took a breath of the smoky station air, closed her eyes for a split second, and bravely slammed into the brick wall with her luggage.
Mrs. Granger and her husband behind her stood stunned for a moment as their daughter vanished into solid brick.
It wasn't until Hermione disappeared onto Platform 9¾ that Mrs. Granger turned, hugged her husband tightly, and whispered excitedly, "Our daughter really looks like she's going to be a great magician."
Mr. Granger, adjusting his glasses, spoke more rationally, though his voice held a tremor of emotion. "I hope everything goes in the right direction."
2033. Oakhaven, a remote, quiet city.
Elara Vance had just finished her college entrance examinations. To the outside world, she was the definition of perfection. Since childhood, she had possessed excellent academic performance, porcelain-fair skin, and a family standing that, while not exorbitantly wealthy, firmly placed them in the upper class of Oakhaven.
Elara had received a superior education, developing an all-around aptitude for physical activities, intellectual pursuits, and aesthetic grace. Her large eyes were like the brightest stars in the night sky, deep and intelligent, making her the kind of "outstanding child" parents constantly compared their own offspring to.
However, only Elara knew the truth. From the moment she became sensible, strange things happened around her every few seconds.
Her luck was terrifyingly good. She could win the lottery just by buying a drink at the corner store, and she would inevitably find money on the ground while walking with another bottle in hand.
The key—and the curse—was that she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the item would inexplicably materialize in her pocket the next day, just like Santa Claus delivering unwanted gifts.
Elara used to be terrified. As long as she picked up things that didn't belong to her, she would have nightmares. Now that seventeen years had passed, she didn't dare tell anyone her secret. She lived cautiously, treading lightly through life, because the nightmares were too visceral, too terrifying.
She didn't want to be attacked in her sleep.
But the phenomenon was still here.
On this day, the humid air of Oakhaven was heavy with the scent of impending rain. Suddenly, the soft whoosh of wings cut through the silence. An owl swooped low past Elara's head, the wind from its flight messing her hair, and dropped a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment at her feet.
It was an admission letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
"What the hell is this?" Elara muttered, staring at the wax seal.
Although she had always picked up strange things, this was undoubtedly the strangest. The parchment felt rough and ancient against the pavement.
"Whose prank is it?"
Elara knew she had to pick it up. If she didn't, the admission letter would appear directly in the pocket of one of her outfits tomorrow. She shuddered, remembering the incident with the bowling ball.
Once, she had found a bowling ball inlaid with gold edges on the sidewalk. She thought it was impossible—a hallucination—so she walked away. The next day, that heavy, gold-rimmed bowling ball had materialized directly inside the pocket of her favorite coat. The fabric hadn't stood a chance; the pocket exploded, and the clothes were torn to shreds.
Looking back, she felt a wave of disgust. It was a violation of physics and privacy.
Resigned, Elara bent down. However, this time, she never had the chance to dream. The moment her fair fingers brushed against the Hogwarts admission letter, a suction force akin to a black hole erupted. The world twisted, colors bleeding into darkness, instantly dragging Elara away from Oakhaven and into another world.
A world that should only exist in movies: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Elara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced herself to calm down, her uneasy pupils darting around the room, searching for any traceable information.
The room was cozy, smelling of old paper and lavender. Her eyes landed on a mirror standing in the corner.
Girls are naturally concerned about their appearance, and Elara was no exception. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet.
In the mirror, a beautiful face stared back. It was a face Elara was intimately familiar with: Hermione Granger.
With long, bushy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, Hermione was described as plain in the original novels, but in the movies, she was a beautiful child. It seemed Elara had crossed into the movie universe.
Taking a deep breath, the new Hermione stroked her face in the mirror. It was so real. Every inch of skin, every pore, transmitted a tactile signal to her brain. She could feel the warmth of the cheeks, the texture of the hair.
Suddenly, Hermione's pupils contracted.
The door to her room creaked open. A middle-aged woman with the same shade of brown hair entered. She did not appear in the original movies often, but Hermione recognized her at a glance. She was Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother in this world. A dentist living with her husband in a modest, tidy house in the London suburbs.
"Hermione, it's getting late. Although we are very reluctant, you are about to start school."
Speaking of which, Mrs. Granger acted like any ordinary, caring mother. She began helping Hermione pack, folding robes and organizing books, before handing her an envelope.
It was the acceptance letter from Hogwarts Boarding School.
Had Hermione been Sherlock Holmes, she would have found Elara's fingerprints on the familiar admission letter, even though in this world, this version of Hermione had never touched it. It was this admission notice that had acted as the catalyst, pulling her across dimensions without the slightest precaution.
Hermione's heartbeat accelerated violently. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, a frantic, thumping rhythm that signaled pure anxiety.
Hogwarts? Magic? Wars?
Hermione tried to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Well, can I not go?"
Mrs. Granger paused, her eyes still full of expectation for her daughter to become a student of magic. She walked over, the scent of mint and sterile dental office clinging faintly to her clothes. She hugged Hermione, whispering into her ear.
"Darling."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. "I know you're nervous, and so are we. We've never been to Hogwarts after all, and we're worried about your safety."
She pulled back to look Hermione in the eyes. "But, Hermione, be brave. This may be the most important moment of your life, to be a great wizard, otherworldly."
No! Hermione screamed internally. I do not want this!
Hogwarts has Voldemort. There are basilisks, dementors, and death eaters. What if she died?
Hermione, who had lived her previous life in cautious fear of nightmares, was about to refuse. It didn't matter if she was a Muggle for the rest of her life. As long as she was safe and sound,