September 1, 1992. King's Cross Station, London. Platform 9¾.
It was the day of the year when new students enrolled at the only school of magic in Britain—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
For young witches and wizards who were attending or about to attend Hogwarts, taking the train from King's Cross Station was the only way to reach Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
As a result, the entire platform was crowded with people and especially bustling.
Students of all ages and their parents, come to see them off, walked along the platform, pushing piles of luggage.
Owls flew overhead, shedding a few feathers.
Several cats darted nimbly between people's feet.
Beside the platform, a dark red steam engine stood waiting.
The sign hanging on the train read, "Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock."
In a quiet carriage near the rear of the train, a boy sat alone in a compartment, resting his chin on his hand as he watched the crowded platform outside the window.
His black hair was slightly curly but not untidy. Like his clothes, it gave him a neat, well-groomed first impression.
He wore a plain wizard's robe with a blue badge embroidered over the chest.
Along with a bronze-colored eagle, the badge bore the words "Ravenclaw."
At that moment, although he was looking out the window, the noisy scene outside wasn't reflected in his clear blue eyes. His thoughts had wandered elsewhere.
Scott Trollope had been born into an ordinary family in the port town of Hastings in southeast England. He was fourteen years old and a fourth-year student in Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Besides all that, he had another identity that set him apart from ordinary people—a transmigrant.
Fourteen years had passed since he was reborn in this world with his memories of his previous life.
Scott had no idea why, after dying unexpectedly in his previous life, he had been reborn in this world with his memories intact.
All he could do was sigh and think, The past is beyond recovery.
As for this life, his childhood before the age of eleven could only be described as unremarkable.
He wasn't a famous child prodigy or the richest man in the world. He hadn't rushed to publish the Harry Potter novels before anyone else, bought Apple stock, or taught himself to hack and clean out the Bank of England... He didn't even have the transmigrant's standard-issue system.
After his brain had fully developed in infancy and he could think independently, he had quickly accepted his new identity and simply grown up as usual.
The first time he noticed something was amiss, of course, was when he suddenly experienced a burst of magic.
There was no need to go into detail about what happened. In short, afterward he quickly accepted yet another new identity—apparently, he was a young wizard.
He hadn't thought he was a mutant or that he had awakened some supernatural ability. The burst of magic had felt unmistakably real, and this was Britain, so among the many possible explanations, he naturally chose the most likely one.
When he received his letter of admission to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven, his parents, Michael and Emilia, had accepted the truth just as readily.
They hadn't made a fuss or treated their wizard son like a freak.
It was worth emphasizing that the Trollopes were a thoroughly Muggle family. Michael and Emilia ran an antique shop together.
There were no witches, wizards, or Squibs among their relatives or friends, and their house had no hidden Chamber of Secrets or Magical portraits.
Once Scott had confirmed his suspicions about this world, he had felt a little regret that he remembered only a rough outline of the Harry Potter story, but he hadn't become anxious over it.
He hadn't been a fan of the Harry Potter books or movies. In his previous life, he had only read the entire series gradually, like everyone else, while he was a student.
Even the wildly popular film adaptations, which had taken the world by storm, were ones he'd only watched the first two of when he was young.
Still, he thought that remembering the general outline was a bonus, and he ought to be pleased with his fairly good memory. After all, being able to recall the broad strokes of an entire story after being reborn years later was impressive enough.
In any case, Scott had first boarded the Hogwarts Express in 1989, at the age of eleven. At the Sorting Ceremony, the Sorting Hat had placed him in Ravenclaw House.
He had expected his easygoing nature to land him in Hufflepuff House.
But he hadn't expected the Sorting Hat to see that his intelligence and talent stood out far more than his easygoing personality.
It was worth emphasizing that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry didn't use Legilimency on young witches and wizards.
Neither the Sorting Hat nor Headmaster Dumbledore seemed to have the slightest interest in the unremarkable memories inside a young wizard's head.
Scott figured they could easily judge a person's abilities and character, so memories weren't all that important.
He knew that as long as he acted like a perfectly ordinary student at school and didn't do anything too outrageous, no one would pay special attention to him.
On the contrary, if he acted suspicious and showed excessive wariness all the time, he would only make people wonder what he was hiding.
Everything had gone just as he expected. Since beginning his magical school life, Scott had safely completed three years as a wizarding student.
Toot, toot...
The train's long whistle interrupted his thoughts as it started moving.
Scott came back to himself and watched the scenery outside the window recede for a while. Then he took a book with a brightly colored cover from the bag beside him.
Vacation with a Hag, by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Lockhart was one of the people Scott still vaguely remembered from the story. He was also the professor assigned to teach them Defense Against the Dark Arts that school year.
Scott remembered that Lockhart was a fraudulent glory-seeker. The stories in his books came from adventures he had stolen by casting Memory Charms on the people who had actually lived them.
But although Lockhart was a fraud, Scott thought his books were still worth a look.
After all, apart from the protagonist's name, the adventures themselves were real. Otherwise, Lockhart couldn't have won the honors that had made him so famous with those stories.
The train raced across the countryside as Scott turned the pages now and then.
He didn't read very carefully, only skimming through once and marking the genuinely useful information with a pen.
Naturally, he skipped over all the passages in which Lockhart bragged about himself.
When he had read about half the book, Scott suddenly put down his pen and turned toward the compartment door.
Five seconds later, the compartment door slid open.
"Excuse me..." The young witch holding the door poked her head into the compartment and asked hurriedly, "Have you seen Harry Potter and Ron Weasley today?"
Scott saw that she had thick brown hair and a pair of prominent front teeth.
He knew the girl: Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter, the Chosen One's, friends.
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