章 2: Professor McGonagall
Alex pushed open his window, letting fresh morning air fill his small room. After taking a deep breath, he changed into clean clothes and headed to the courtyard. He started each day with some light exercise before breakfast, and today was no different.
He began with a series of punches, his movements smooth and precise from years of disciplined practice. "Hah…" he exhaled, finishing his set and wiping the sweat from his brow. He stretched out, feeling the familiar relief in his muscles, and made his way to the cafeteria.
"Morning, Mother Triss," Alex greeted the elderly nun who ran the orphanage's daily routines. "I could smell that pumpkin porridge from outside," he added with a grin.
Mother Triss, stirring a large pot, smiled warmly. "Morning, Alex. Up early again, I see. If only the other children were as disciplined as you, I'd have much less to worry about."
She handed him a bowl of porridge, and Alex accepted it with a polite nod. "Thank you, Mother Triss."
He knew better than to say much more. If she knew he was really an adult soldier's soul in an eleven-year-old's body, she might not be as impressed by his discipline. After finishing breakfast, he thanked her again and returned to his room.
But as soon as he stepped inside, Alex froze. Something was strange. Sitting calmly on his desk was a brown owl, its sharp eyes fixed on him. The owl wasn't just sitting there—it was busy. With practiced skill, it untied a letter from its leg and set it neatly on the desk, then perched on the windowsill, waiting.
Alex stared, his mind racing. Slowly, he shut the door and walked over to the desk, picking up the envelope. There was no stamp. The address, written in bright green ink, read:
Mr. Alex Wilson, Ellens Church Welfare Home, Shaftesbury Street, London.
Turning it over, he saw a wax seal with a coat of arms—a large "H" surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.
"What kind of letter is this?" Alex muttered, carefully opening it.
Inside was a neatly folded letter that read:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Wilson,
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 September 1st.
We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
________
Alex blinked, reading the letter in disbelief.
"Hogwarts…?" He hadn't expected this. Sure, he had strange powers, but the idea that he was part of a magical world felt unreal. He'd always thought his "telekinesis" was just a superpower.
But now, he realized it was something more. Another thought hit him—he knew almost nothing about Harry Potter. His memory of his old life was foggy in places, but he knew Harry Potter became famous in the 1990s. And here he was, in 1980, receiving a letter from Hogwarts.
Curious and uncertain, Alex sat at his desk, glancing at the owl, which was still watching him intently. "Waiting for my reply, huh?" he mused. "I don't have any food for you, though."
The owl stayed silent, its gaze unblinking.
"Alright, alright. I'll write the reply."
Alex picked up a pen and paper, writing a careful response. He thanked them for the acceptance and mentioned that, as an orphan, he had no knowledge of the wizarding world. He asked if there was any help available to get him ready for this strange new life.
After folding the letter, he placed it in a fresh envelope and held it out to the owl. The bird took it without a fuss, tucked it into its feathers, and flew off into the morning light.
"Wow, that bird's all business," Alex muttered, watching the owl vanish. "I wonder what the wizarding world is like right now. Has Voldemort already been defeated by Harry?"
His knowledge of Harry Potter was limited—just bits he remembered from chats with friends. He vaguely knew Voldemort had attacked Harry's family but couldn't kill him. What was happening in the magical world in the 1980s, though, was a mystery to him, as was most of the story.
"Well, no point in overthinking it. I'll just wait for Hogwarts' reply. In any world, strength is what matters most. Getting stronger is always the right choice," he decided, turning his focus back to his daily routine.
Alex's summer at the orphanage followed a strict training plan he had set for himself. Each day, he started with a warm-up, then boxing, balance exercises, aerobics, meditation, and finally "telekinesis" training—though he now knew it was magic.
Each activity was carried out with military precision, one after the other, in an orderly fashion. Time flew by with such a routine, and just two days after receiving his Hogwarts letter, a special guest arrived at the orphanage.
"Are you saying you're Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts?" Alex asked, looking at the middle-aged woman standing at his door. She wore square glasses, had curly dark hair in a neat bun, and was dressed in a dark green robe.
"That's correct. I'm Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I saw your reply, Mr. Wilson. We visit Muggle-born students or those like you who are new to the wizarding world," Professor McGonagall explained, her voice calm but firm. After a pause, she added, "And, of course, we visit independent young men like yourself."
"Ah, sorry, Professor McGonagall. Please, come in." Alex stepped aside, a little embarrassed. "I'm still getting used to the whole magic school thing."
Professor McGonagall entered, glancing around. The room was small and modest, with a neatly made bed, a simple desk, and a shelf lined with books. In one corner, dumbbells were stacked, and on the windowsill sat a lone pot of green onions.
She noted the neat, organized space with quiet approval. It was clear that Alex led a disciplined life, something rare among children. It gave her a good impression.
"I apologize for the plain room, Professor. It's not much," Alex said, moving the only chair in the room toward her.
"That's quite alright, Alex. I brought my own chair." With a wave of her wand, the dumbbells in the corner transformed into a wooden chair. She sat down gracefully, her movements smooth.
Alex couldn't help but feel amazed. He had seen magic in action for the first time, but despite his awe, he maintained his composure.
Sitting across from her, he smiled slightly. "I thought you might reply in August since the letter asked for a response by the end of July."
"That's mostly for children from magical families," Professor McGonagall explained. "We visit children unfamiliar with the wizarding world a bit earlier. And these days, the magical world is… more on edge." She hesitated for a moment, choosing not to go into details.
"As you may have noticed, certain strange things have likely happened to you in recent years. Young wizards and witches usually experience accidental bursts of magic, called magical surges or 'underage magic.' Hogwarts teaches students to control and use this magic properly."
Alex nodded as she spoke. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, a nearby cup floated up and hovered in front of him.
Professor McGonagall's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That's remarkable—casting a levitation spell without a wand, and silently. Mr. Wilson, are you sure no one has taught you magic before?"
"Yes, Professor. I discovered my abilities on my own. I thought it was a superpower, like we say in the Muggle world. I practiced through meditation and trial and error. Of course, I'm nowhere near being able to do what you just did." Alex smiled modestly.
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