What Child Didn't Want to Become a Student at Hogwarts?

The morning bell rang seven times. As sunlight streamed through the window into the room, eleven-year-old Jon, curled up beneath the blankets, reluctantly opened his eyes and crawled out of his warm bed.

If he did not get up soon, his mother's voice would probably carry through the entire street again.

"How could children still growing possibly go without enough sleep? Especially on a weekend morning." Jon muttered as he brushed his teeth. "Parents never consider their children's feelings. As expected, this rule applies everywhere in the world."

Jon Smith, now eleven years old, had been born in the town of Greenwich southeast of London. Once famous throughout the world for its meridian, the town had become a tourist destination after the observatory was relocated.

The Smith Family had lived there for generations. If there was anything that set them apart from other families, then there was indeed one small difference.

And that difference had also dealt Jon himself an enormous blow to his worldview.

His biological mother, now the mistress of the Smith Family, Lin Smith, was a witch.

It was based on certain things his mother had said that Jon had finally confirmed that he had truly arrived in the magical world created by J.K. Rowling.

Jon Smith, whose Chinese name was also Jon, was a reincarnator.

As a successor of socialism who had grown up in the twenty-first century, he had studied hard from childhood under his parents' strict supervision. Though he was not especially gifted, hard work brought rewards. One month before his death, he had just received an offer of admission to graduate school from a university.

His parents had been delighted. They had completely loosened their restrictions on him, and had not even stopped him from traveling to Britain with his friends.

Then disaster struck. He died in a car accident in a foreign land.

In his previous life, Jon had never been a particularly obedient child—though his teachers and parents saw him that way. Outside of studying, however, he had loved browsing articles about mysterious phenomena and all manner of legends. While others followed celebrity gossip, he paid attention to such "academic achievements" as cryptography, magic, bizarre tales, and famous scientists turning to the study of philosophy.

Naturally, he had not missed the Harry Potter series, the most successful work about the Wizarding world.

But that absolutely should not have been a reason for him to transmigrate into the magical world!

Of course, the situation was already settled, and complaining never solved anything. At least before he had gone abroad, he had bought an insurance policy naming his parents as beneficiaries. There was still his younger brother at home, so he did not need to worry about his parents' old age.

Thus, after repeatedly rebuilding his worldview throughout infancy, Jon had completely accepted the truth.

He had been reborn as the child of a witch, and he was about to become a Young Wizard.

"Jon, what are you doing?! Get down here!"

Hearing his mother shout, Jon hurriedly rinsed his mouth, put on his shirt, and went downstairs.

Mr. Love Smith was eating breakfast and reading the newspaper at the dining table on the first floor. Though his wife was a witch, he himself was an entirely ordinary person.

As a sociology professor at Greenwich University, Mr. Smith already possessed status and wealth. He had shown considerable interest in the fact that his wife was a witch, and had even wanted at one point to enter the Wizarding world and see it for himself. Unfortunately, Mrs. Smith had always prevented that from happening.

"Dad, hasn't my letter arrived yet?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. But if your letter had arrived, your mother would surely have told you right away, wouldn't she?"

Mr. Smith winked at Jon, clearly reminding him not to forget his father's little "wish."

Jon said nothing. Pretending not to notice, he turned to look toward the kitchen. Mrs. Smith was emerging with a plate of fries. She looked like an ordinary housewife, nothing at all like a witch.

That was merely an appearance. As her son, Jon knew perfectly well that this housewife was actually an employee of the British Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries.

That department was exceptionally secretive and had virtually no presence. Even Jon, who had read the Original Work several times and remembered most of the plot, had no other impression of it beyond the fight in the Hall of Prophecy.

But after Jon was born, this job had become increasingly optional—at least, Jon had never seen his mother go to work.

Fine. She was a housewife.

Jon silently snarked to himself and stuffed a fry into his mouth. He had been eating his mother's cooking for years, yet the fries were still delicious.

The family gathered around the dining table for breakfast, and the atmosphere was warm and harmonious.

Naturally, they were not eating alone. A pale green-feathered owl named Callie, Mrs. Smith's pet, was dining with them as well.

"The school should send the acceptance letter before tonight. But even if it doesn't arrive, there's no need to worry. It may be that you aren't old enough yet, though that is very rare."

Seeing her son's nervousness, Mrs. Smith comforted him.

Jon nodded calmly and suppressed the tension in his heart. Half of it came from finally entering the Hogwarts he had imagined countless times before, while the other half came from worrying that he might not be old enough to enroll this year and would have to wait until next year. Though he should theoretically have been old enough, unexpected things could always happen. He truly did not want to have anything to do with Harry Potter and the other two protagonists.

At least until he possessed the strength to protect himself, the less contact he had with them, the better.

Fortunately, his worries did not come true. Halfway through breakfast, an owl flew in through the window, dropped a pale yellow envelope onto the table, and landed beside Callie.

The two owls touched their beaks together, then shared breakfast from Callie's food box.

Mrs. Smith reached over to add bird feed to the box, while Jon picked up the letter together with his father.

Just as described in the book he remembered, the envelope was made of heavy parchment, the address was written in emerald-green ink, and there was no stamp.

Jon turned the envelope over and saw a wax seal upon it: a shield-shaped crest with a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter "H."

Mr. Jon Smith Currently Eating Breakfast 56 Kaitlyn Avenue Greenwich

"Oh! Such lovely handwriting."

Mr. Smith seemed even more excited than Jon, as though he himself were about to attend Magic School. "Let's open it quickly and see what it says inside!"

Now completely calm, Jon naturally knew what it said. He had probably read those words more than a dozen times, after all. He had once been a child who loved Harry Potter too.

What child did not want to become a student at Hogwarts?

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(Added on July 1, 2020: Dear readers, when reading, please use the mindset you have cultivated in the twenty-first century—the mindset of people who surf the internet on 4G or 5G networks and have received higher education. Please do not simply assume something is unreasonable. If it really seems unreasonable, please think about why I wrote it that way. Do you really think it is because I don't understand Harry Potter? If I didn't understand it, I could make more money writing a fantasy novel than writing this. I write fanfiction because I like it, for no other reason. I want to broaden this world rather than confine it solely to the Wizarding world's worldview from the Original Work. So you will definitely see what a larger world looks like, what the Muggle world is like, and what gods are like. This is not a matter of setting; this is what should exist, okay? I truly do not want to explain so much every single time. Repeating the same explanations over and over wastes a lot of time. So, later readers, please click the comments for this chapter. It isn't difficult. I'm begging you all. I'm nearly exhausted to the point of stupidity, really. Writing and reading should be relaxing, not something tiring and agonizing.)