A Letter Under the Drizzling Rain

1991, United Kingdom, West End of London.

The sky looked like a damp rag that refused to dry all year, pressing heavily and greyly against the rooftops, and even when the sun occasionally showed its face, it instantly shrank back.

London in July always drifted with a biting mist, occasionally spitting a light rain that was never heavy, yet perpetually falling.

Pattering on and on, endlessly.

Another dull and boring day.

Gavin Gu stood by the window, watching the rain streaks slowly sliding down the glass, clicked his tongue, and offered this assessment.

Actually, Gavin quite liked the rain; in his past life, he loved hiding indoors or staying in a car on rainy days, watching raindrops beat against the glass, which gave him a special sense of coziness.

Three years ago, he transmigrated into this body.

He was the child of a Chinese family, living in one of the most respectable neighborhoods in London, with a house large enough, a location good enough, care thorough enough, and plenty of—

Overcast days.

"If this goes on, I'm going to start hating the rain," Gavin muttered softly, as time was enough to exhaust all good feelings.

"Master Gu, it's time for today's lessons."

Mrs. Carlos's voice came from outside the door, carrying a well-trained politeness.

"Got it."

Gavin acknowledged the call and turned back to his desk.

Placed on the desk were the textbooks for the eighth grade of an English primary school.

Math word problems, geometry and algebra, Latin, science.

The contents were neat, and the paper was exquisite.

The only problem was—

To someone who had gone through nine years of compulsory education in China, the senior high school entrance exam, the college entrance exam, studying abroad, and finally rolled around in the beatings of international society, looking at these things felt somewhat like bullying.

"Algebraic equations."

"Solving triangle side lengths."

"The English Reformation."

Gavin flipped through two pages and let out a light sigh.

"I used to think passing the civil service exams was the peak of life, but I never expected there to be a hidden plot of re-enrolling to repeat the sixth grade of primary school."

To suffer a little less, Gavin had already revealed a tiny bit of mathematical talent to his parents, skipped two grades at school, and secured an admission offer from Eton College.

Eton normally admitted students at age 13, with interviews and acceptance at age 11.

So he only needed to wait for the summer vacation to end, and he could enroll.

Yet his rigid Chinese parents insisted that he review more to cope with the upcoming middle school life.

Closing the book and sitting cross-legged on the chair, Master Gu began today's real morning lesson.

In his previous life, he was a standard corporate drone.

Projects were never finished, messages were never fully replied to, and demands were never done changing. To prevent himself from suddenly dying of overwork in front of the computer one day, he forced himself to develop a habit of daily exercise and Meditation.

Originally, it was just to extend his life.

He didn't expect that after transmigrating, this would instead become his favorite part.

Without these two Meditation sessions a day, he truly didn't know how he could escape the sanction of depression in rain-filled London.

Closing his eyes, he slowly adjusted his breathing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The world quieted down bit by bit.

The sound of rain, the wind, the subtle movements of servants walking downstairs, and even the rhythm of his own heartbeat all became clear.

His muscles relaxed, his breathing lengthened, and his thoughts gradually steadied.

This is still the comfortable part.

Thirty minutes later, Gavin opened his eyes, feeling as though he had finally come back to life.

Compared to doing primary school math problems, Meditation was an adult activity.

The morning lessons ended very quickly.

To be precise, he finished reviewing "what needed to be learned today" very quickly.

Mrs. Carlos had already grown numb to this.

As a private butler, she used to worry whether this young master wasn't applying himself to his studies, until she suddenly learned that he had skipped grades at school.

Later on, she even saw the acceptance letter from Eton College, for which the mistress had more than doubled her salary.

So she decided to stop expressing opinions in areas she didn't understand.

Lunchtime arrived.

Gavin walked over to the dining table and sat down, taking a look at today's dry lunch.

White bread.

Cheese.

Canned beans.

A fried egg.

A bit of lettuce.

Plus a small piece of smoked salmon.

"..."

He fell silent for a few seconds.

Mrs. Carlos stood to one side, asking with a hint of concern:

"Master Gu, is there something wrong with today's lunch?"

"No."

Gavin looked at the plate, his tone calm.

"I was just wondering how the British ever built the British Empire on this kind of diet."

Mrs. Carlos didn't understand.

But she was used to it.

The young master always said things she couldn't understand.

Gavin picked up his knife and fork, gave himself a mental pep talk for a moment, and then reluctantly reached for the slice of bread that was as hard as a building material.

The blade sliced across, producing a slight friction sound.

"Very good."

He nodded.

"Today is another day of laying bricks."

Just at that moment—

"Thud!"

A muffled sound came from the window.

Gavin's movements paused, and he turned his head to look.

A grey owl was plastered against the outside of the window, striking the glass with a rather persistent posture.

"Thud!"

"Thud!"

"Thud!"

The rhythm was steady, the attitude resolute.

It looked like it was executing some kind of mission.

"Ah!"

Mrs. Carlos was startled by this sight, and the napkin in her hand almost dropped to the floor.

"Good heavens! What is this thing?"

She glanced at the owl still hitting the window, then looked at the expressionless Gavin, and ultimately chose the solution she was best at—

"I'll go get a broom!"

After speaking, she turned, hoisted her skirt, and hurried downstairs.

Gavin looked at the owl outside the window, slowly stood up, walked to the window, and reached out to open it.

The next second, the owl fluttered in headfirst, crashing with a snap onto the dining table, managing to wreck Gavin's lunch.

It fluttered its wings a few times first, managed to stand steady, and then immediately lowered its head, starting to drink the juice in Gavin's cup as if no one else was around.

It drank with great devotion, and one could tell it hadn't drank water in a long time.

"You certainly don't stand on ceremony."

Gavin evaluated it thus.

But his gaze didn't linger on the owl for long.

There was something tied to its leg.

Gavin reached out and untied it.

It was a letter.

The pale yellow envelope had neat edges, and the paper looked as though it had an antique quality to it.

Written on the front in green ink were the words:

**United Kingdom, West End of London, Mayfair

18 Upper Grosvenor Street

At the dining table

To Gavin Gu**

Gavin froze.

More precisely, his whole body froze.

He reached out and picked up the envelope.

It wasn't heavy.

Yet it felt heavier than anything else.

Slowly, he turned it over.

A red wax seal was stamped on the back.

A shield-shaped crest.

A capital "H."

Surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.

The dining room was so quiet that all he could hear was the rain and the thumping of his own heart.

The owl was still drinking the juice.

Rain trickled down the window, leaving one transparent trail after another.

Gavin stood motionless, staring at the envelope in his hand and listening to his heartbeat. For a long while, he said nothing.

"...No way. Is this real?"

As an ordinary person from the twenty-first century who'd grown up watching Harry Potter, he knew exactly what this was.

And that was precisely why, in that instant, it all felt so absurdly unreal.

For three years, he'd thought he'd simply been transported to Britain in the nineties.

An ordinary world with terrible weather, mediocre food, and an education system that held no surprises.

At most, he'd had the added benefit of being "a little bit rich."

He'd almost accepted that he'd spend the rest of his life as an unremarkable, wealthy British kid, following the expected path: attending Eton College, getting into a decent university, then repeating a respectable but dull life in some field or other.

But now—

An owl had crashed into his world.

"So this isn't ordinary Britain after all?"

Gavin gently ran his fingers along the edge of the envelope and murmured to himself.

"Or is this a reward for three years of boring life?"

He was about to open the letter when the dining room door suddenly flew open.

Mrs. Carlos charged back in, looking murderous. She had a broom in her hand, as if she'd summoned every last ounce of courage.

"Get out! Get out, you horrible thing!"

She waved the broom at the owl on the table.

"Get out of my house!"

The owl spread its wings and deftly dodged the swing, circled once, then flew out through the open window.

Before leaving, it even glanced back at Gavin, as if to express its displeasure.

"Sorry,"

Gavin apologized in his mind.

"But I can't do anything about it right now."

"Master Gu, are you all right?"

Mrs. Carlos set down the broom, still looking shaken.

"Did it scratch you?"

"No."

Gavin shook his head and discreetly slipped the envelope into his coat.

"Maybe it was just thirsty and came looking for a drink."

Mrs. Carlos didn't press him.

Something about it struck her as odd, but since the young master was unharmed, there was no need to investigate further.

She silently closed the window again, then glanced at the glass of juice the owl had made a mess of. She decided she'd write down the day's strange events in her work journal later.

After she left, Gavin sat back down at the dining table and placed the letter on it.

He didn't open it right away.

Leaning back in his chair, he lightly tapped the tabletop.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"Of course I'm going to Hogwarts."

There was no need to hesitate.

If he'd ended up in the Harry Potter world and didn't go to Hogwarts, that would be like buying an annual pass to an amusement park and only eating an ice cream at the entrance.

The question was—

How?

He knew all too well what his parents were like.

Like most Chinese parents, they loved him and were willing to give him the best resources.

But their idea of "the best" was definitely Eton College, Oxford or Cambridge, a respectable degree, and a stable, predictable path in life.

Not a magic school that sent letters by owl and couldn't even explain its address properly.

"If I show them this letter..."

Gavin seriously considered the consequences.

"They'll just think I've gone mad."

"I'll have to find another way."

Since his parents could only accept a stable, predictable future—

Why not give them one?

For example—

Skip Eton College altogether.

Go straight to Oxford.

"Time to show them what I can really do."

Gavin pulled himself out of his wandering thoughts and picked up the letter from the table.

This time, he didn't hesitate. He cracked the red wax seal, opened the envelope, and pulled out the parchment inside.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class)

Dear Mr. Gu,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of the required books and equipment.

The term begins on September 1. We will await your owl's reply by July 31.

Yours sincerely,

[Signature]

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Every word was familiar.

Every word was enough to make a Harry Potter fan from the twenty-first century's heart race.

He read the entire letter from beginning to end, then carefully went over the attached lists of books and supplies.

Then he came to a conclusion.

"Time is short."

There were only two months left until the term started.

Two months to not only handle his parents and secure enough freedom for himself, but also to make the whole thing logically sound.

Each task sounded difficult, but right now Gavin did not feel a single trace of hesitation in his heart, only a chest full of excitement.

Gavin picked the dry piece of bread back up from the table where it had left the plate, as if he had suddenly grown an appetite.

"Let's start with Oxford."

With that, he brought a knife down hard and sliced into a certain piece of building material.

Outside the dining room, the rain gradually subsided, and the wind blew through the treetops.

The streaks of water on the window glass slowly dried a bit.

At this very moment, a soul from another world truly began to take its first step toward this world.