July 1991
Sean stared at the shattered desk before him, a heap of splintered wood, then glanced at his parents in the doorway. Adrian and Margaret's faces held more than shock—a glint of envy and barely contained excitement.
What was happening?
How had this desk broken?
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In his past life, Sean had read every Harry Potter book, but he never imagined waking in the wizarding world.
For ten years, he'd planned to excel in private school and pursue a bright future, free of magical complications.
Now, he realized he was in Harry Potter's world, set to start Hogwarts alongside the Boy Who Lived.
The path ahead seemed perilous.
Sean sat on the sofa, holding a goblet of pumpkin juice, pausing his complaints.
If he could choose, he'd avoid the magical world entirely. But he recalled something called an Obscurus—a dangerous force that could arise if a magical child suppressed their power. Even a slim chance of that fate was too much to risk.
Besides, his parents hoped he'd embrace magic. Adrian and Margaret were Squibs, cast out by the Bulstrode family. A magical child could restore their pride and perhaps regain some family favor. It was the pure-bloods' way of controlling their outcasts.
Sean looked up as Adrian returned from a phone call. "Dad, do wizards use phones?" he asked.
Adrian, proud of his magical son, replied, "The family doesn't. Wizards use owls or Floo powder. Phones are for peripheral members like us, contacting the Bulstrodes through intermediaries."
So, Squibs couldn't even reach the family directly. Sean's regard for the Bulstrodes chilled further.
Margaret remained silent. Sean wasn't surprised. He knew her Muggle-born parents had died years ago, likely during the Dark Lord's reign, when Muggle-borns were targeted. He didn't ask for details; it would only reopen old wounds.
Sean sipped his pumpkin juice, its warmth ideal. As the goblet emptied, a knock sounded at the door.
Adrian stood, visibly excited, and opened it. Three robed figures entered: two middle-aged, one elderly. The old man in the center ignored Adrian's attempt to speak and Margaret's greeting, fixing his gaze on Sean, who sat on the sofa.
This arrogance dispelled Sean's last shred of goodwill toward the Bulstrodes.
"You are Sean? Sean Bulstrode?" the old man asked.
Sean set down his goblet. He disliked them, but he wouldn't shame his parents. He'd reclaim their dignity, starting now. Standing, he bowed slightly. "I am Sean Bulstrode, son of Adrian Bulstrode and Margaret Carter."
The plump man behind the elder sneered, "Heh, Squib."
Sean's expression hardened. Politeness had its limits, and insulting his mother crossed them.
Before he could respond, the old man snorted. "Barnabas, you're rude. I taught you etiquette, but you've forgotten it. When we return, copy the family etiquette until I'm satisfied."
Barnabas, though unrepentant, lowered his head and agreed under the old man's authority.
The elder turned to Sean. "Are you satisfied with this punishment?"
Sean paused, studying the man, then nodded. "Thank you."
"I'm Gideon Bulstrode, father of Adrian and Barnabas. Call me Grandfather." Gideon drew a badge and a gold-embossed parchment from his robes, placing them in Sean's hand.
"This is the family crest and scholarship. If your father were a wizard, you'd have greater privileges. As a Squib, he was expelled, so you're a talented outsider. It's family rules, not personal. You understand?"
Sean nodded. "I understand. A family needs rules to endure. But as my grandfather, what will you give me?"
Adrian and Margaret's faces showed fear. Barnabas smirked, restrained by his punishment.
Gideon smiled slightly. He knelt to Sean's level, surprising Barnabas and the woman beside him
"I like smart children. Choose one of three gifts—an early Hogwarts present from your grandfather."
Gideon slowly opened his hands, and three small whirlpools shimmered between them, coalescing into an old notebook, a pure white pocket watch, and a gold badge.
Sean glanced at the badge, noting its similarity to the family crest Gideon had given him earlier, differing only in material and subtle details.
"Can you tell me what these are?" he asked.
Gideon regarded him calmly. "That's for you to discern. If you don't know, trust your instincts. A wizard's intuition often guides him true."
"Instincts…"
Sean murmured, reaching out to touch the items.
Barnabas's face soured. "Father, didn't you promise the pocket watch to Miles? How can you offer it to a Squib's son?"
Gideon's eyes flashed with displeasure, but his expression remained neutral. He kept his gaze on Sean. "Choose one. Follow your instincts."
"Father, Miles—"
"Out!"
Gideon's shout reverberated, and the room's lights flickered wildly. Windows and doors flung open, a fierce wind surged through the house, and Barnabas was swept up in a vortex, expelled from the room with a crackle of energy.
As Gideon's anger subsided, the lights steadied, and the windows and doors closed. Adrian and Margaret paled, clearly shaken.
Sean, too, was startled by Gideon's display. He studied the old man, now composed, and swallowed hard.
Was this truly the Harry Potter world? It felt far more volatile than the story he remembered, where wizards traded spells like polite fencers.
"Don't be afraid, Sean. Choose."
Gideon's third prompt was firm, and Sean didn't hesitate. His fingers brushed the gold badge, then the pocket watch, before settling on the old notebook.
Perhaps it was intuition, or maybe the echo of Harry Potter finding Snape's notes in the books, but the notebook drew him in.
He grasped it, and the pocket watch and badge vanished from Gideon's hands.
Gideon rose, his face unreadable. "In a month or two, Hogwarts' owl will arrive. Follow the letter's instructions to enroll. But first, a few words.
Though you weren't raised among the Bulstrodes, your name carries our legacy at Hogwarts. Your actions will reflect on us. I don't expect you to play the perfect pure-blood—few could, raised as you were. My only demand is this: do not disgrace the Bulstrode name. Can you manage that?"
"Don't disgrace… what does that mean? No cheating on exams? Paying attention in class? Avoiding fights?" Sean's mind raced. If Gideon's rules were too restrictive, he'd return the gift. He wasn't here to chain himself to pure-blood nonsense.
Gideon seemed to read his thoughts, shaking his head. "I don't care about trifles. Cheat, but don't get caught. Drift in class, but pass your exams. Fight, even duel, but win. Understood?"
Sean's lips twitched upward. "I understand."
"Good. I'll watch your first term with interest."
Gideon turned toward the door. Before leaving, he glanced at Adrian. "If Sean needs anything, send an owl. And… your mother misses you. Write to her."
Adrian's eyes reddened, and he nodded silently.
Gideon departed with the middle-aged woman leaving the house quiet.
Adrian's face lit with joy. Despite Sean's protests, he scooped his son up, planting over a dozen kisses on his face. Margaret swatted Adrian, scolding his lack of composure in front of Sean, though her smile betrayed her delight.
The family spent the day in high spirits. That night, Adrian and Margaret talked late into the evening, only stopping because of work the next day.
Sean closed his bedroom door and lay on his bed, staring at the starry sky through the window.
The day's events swirled in his mind, his thoughts racing. It was hours before sleep crept in. Just as his eyes fluttered shut, a thought jolted him upright.
Since arriving in this world, Sean had possessed a unique mental interface, displaying his skills—mathematics, literature, music—and earning points through academic challenges to enhance them. It had fueled his confidence in mastering private school.
Now, with his magic awakened, he wondered if the interface would reflect his new powers.
He summoned the panel, but instead of the familiar display, a notification appeared:
[Due to special circumstances, the system is upgrading. Timeframe unknown. Please wait.]
Sean sighed. Typical.
He flopped back onto the bed and closed his eyes. Though the notice was vague, he suspected the upgrade tied to his magical awakening. What would the new interface offer? The thought lingered as he drifted to sleep, anticipation flickering in his dreams.