---
Ricardo Almeida never imagined that his final act in this world would be heroic. In his thirty-five years of life, he had been an ordinary man—a history teacher with a passion for fantasy books and a relatively simple life in São Paulo. On that rainy Wednesday afternoon, as he was returning from work, everything changed in the blink of an eye.
A little girl, no older than six, was chasing a ball that rolled toward the busy street. The bus driver didn't see her. Ricardo did. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, pushing the child onto the sidewalk. The impact was brutal. He didn't even feel pain—only a white flash followed by a sensation of floating.
When Ricardo opened his eyes again, he was no longer on the avenue. He found himself in an empty space, clean and white, almost sterile in its simplicity. In front of him, a humanoid figure dressed in a perfectly grey suit watched him with eyes that seemed to contain galaxies.
"Ricardo Almeida," the figure spoke, its voice sounding like many voices in unison. "Welcome to the Interstice."
"I... I died, didn't I?" Ricardo asked, surprised that he didn't feel fear or sadness.
"Yes. Your physical body ceased its functions exactly three minutes and twenty-two seconds ago, Earth time." The figure consulted something that looked like a translucent tablet. "Cause of death: cranial trauma and internal bleeding resulting from impact with a large vehicle. You saved Sophia Mendes, six years old. She will live."
Ricardo nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "At least that."
"Normally," the figure continued, which Ricardo assumed was some kind of administrator or guide, "I would direct your soul to the next plane of existence, based on the karmic balance accumulated during your life. However, your final act was of such pure altruism that you qualify for a rarity."
"A rarity?"
"A second chance. Reincarnation with conscious choice and a wish."
Ricardo blinked, confused. "What do you mean, a wish?"
"A modification of parameters in your new existence. Something you want to carry with you or change in the environment you are going to. There are limitations, of course. You cannot wish for omnipotence, omniscience, or changes that would cause fundamental imbalances in the reality you choose."
"Chosen reality?" Ricardo repeated, his mind quickly processing the possibilities. "You mean I can choose where I'm reborn?"
The Administrator slightly tilted his head. "Within the spectrum of realities compatible with your energetic vibration, yes."
For a moment, Ricardo was silent, absorbing the magnitude of that information. All those stories he loved, all those worlds he had fallen in love with through books... could they be real? And could he go to one of them?
"The world of Harry Potter," he finally said. "Does that exist?"
The Administrator consulted his tablet. "Ah, the reality of the Boy-Who-Lived. Yes, it exists as a conscious variant in our multiverse. Interesting choice. In which period would you like to reincarnate?"
Ricardo thought carefully. If he was going to that world, he needed to be strategic. "Six years before Tom Riddle's birth."
"1920, then," the Administrator made notes on the tablet. "This will give you enough time to establish yourself before the major events of that timeline. And what about your wish?"
Ricardo already knew what he wanted. "Maximum magical talent. Greater than Merlin or Dumbledore's. I want to have the highest magical potential that world has ever seen."
The Administrator raised an eyebrow—or something that looked like an eyebrow. "Ambitious, but within acceptable parameters. However, I must make an alert about your memories."
"My memories?"
"You may reincarnate with the memories of this life—your personality, your experiences, your general knowledge. However, you will not retain specific knowledge of the future of the timeline you are going to."
Ricardo frowned. "Why?"
"Paradoxes," the Administrator explained. "If you know exactly who will die, when, and how each significant event will occur, it will create an imbalance in the natural progression of events. History needs to flow organically, even with your interventions."
"So, I won't remember the story of Harry Potter?"
"You will have a general impression—you'll know there is a dark side, a savior, you will have a rough idea of when important events will occur. But specific details—names, deaths, exact prophecies—will be hazy, like a dream you can't fully recall."
Ricardo reflected on this. It was fair. He didn't want to just reenact the story he knew—he wanted to live it, shape it in his own way, make a real difference.
"I accept the terms," he finally said.
The Administrator nodded in approval. "There's one more choice to make: your new identity. You can be born into a well-established wizarding family or as a Muggle-born. Each path has its challenges and advantages."
"A Muggle-born family," Ricardo replied after a moment of reflection. "Ordinary people who discovered they have magic, but who value knowledge."
"Elliott family," the Administrator decided after consulting his tablet. "Eleanor and Edward Elliott, both Muggle-borns who met at Hogwarts. He works at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Muggle Artefacts, she is a spell researcher at St. Mungo's. Comfortable economic position, without ostentation. The Elliotts are expecting a child soon—you."
Ricardo felt a wave of excitement and nervousness. "And my name?"
"You can choose your first name. The rest will be determined by your new family."
After a moment of reflection, Ricardo smiled. "Raphael. Raphael Elliott."
"Raphael Elliott," the Administrator repeated, typing something into his tablet. "An appropriate name for one destined to heal."
A golden light began to emanate from the ground beneath Ricardo's feet, forming a circle that slowly expanded.
"Last chance to reconsider," said the Administrator. "Once the transition begins, there is no turning back."
Ricardo took a deep breath. He would leave behind everything he knew, everyone he loved. But the opportunity was unique—to live in a world of real magic, perhaps even change the course of a war that would cost countless lives.
"I'm ready," he stated.
The Administrator touched one final point on the tablet. "Raphael Elliott, you will be reborn with the greatest magical potential the wizarding world has ever witnessed. Use it wisely." He paused significantly. "One last thing: power attracts power, and great talents rarely go unnoticed. Be prepared for the consequences of your choice."
Before Ricardo could respond, the golden light intensified, enveloping him completely. He felt his body—or whatever form he had in that place—dissolve into shining particles, each containing fragments of his consciousness.
His last sensations were warmth, comfort, and a soft melody that seemed to come from everywhere. Then, darkness. Followed by pressure, movement, and finally, the most basic and primal sound a human being can make: a newborn's cry.
"It's a boy!" exclaimed the midwife, handing the dark-haired baby to his exhausted but radiant mother. "A healthy and strong boy, Mrs. Elliott."
Eleanor Elliott held her son for the first time, marveling at his exceptionally alert eyes for a newborn. "Hello, Raphael," she whispered. "Welcome to the world."
In their small but comfortable home on the outskirts of Cambridge, Edward Elliott watched his wife and child with pride. Behind him, in the dark hallway, a figure that only he could see—something resembling a man in a grey suit—nodded in approval and vanished.
At the same moment, at Hogwarts, in the headmaster's office, a magical quill floated over a large book bound in green leather and wrote by itself in bright golden ink:
"Raphael Edward Elliott. Born on October 31, 1920. Accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The journey of Raphael Elliott, formerly Ricardo Almeida, had only just begun.
---