Oliver was walking down the hallway.Just an ordinary high school student. He looked about as average as a person could be — plain face, blue eyes, black hair. A loner by nature. He didn't have many friends, and definitely not a girlfriend.
Days and nights were spent gaming and reading novels.His favorite? Harry Potter — along with an unhealthy amount of fanfiction.Like… a lot of fanfiction.
He was on his way home from school. Two subjects to retake, or he'd flunk the year. Not that he had trouble with school.I mean, how can you struggle with something you never actually do?
He was deep in thought."I need to study for tomorrow… but I still have four hundred chapters of that fic left to read."
So he walked forward, letting muscle memory do the navigating. Eyes unfocused. Brain offline.
THUD.It was fast and loud.
Oliver tripped on the edge of a brand-new rug lying on the floor.Mid-fall, his head collided with a cabinet.And just like that… he died.
I found myself in a white space. Sitting on a simple wooden chair. A plain white table in front of me. And across from it — an old man.
"Sorry," I said nervously.
He didn't respond. He was laughing. I mean really laughing. His hands clutched his belly, tears rolling down his face. Not from sadness — pure, unfiltered amusement.
I tried again, a bit louder this time. "Did you just hear a great joke or something?"
I mean, if I'm here, I might as well laugh too, right? Laughter is the best medicine…
The old man finally looked at me, still trying to hold it in. He almost succeeded.But then he met my eyes — and burst out laughing all over again.
Okay, now I was a little annoyed.
Imagine walking down a hallway, minding your business, and suddenly — boom — you're in some bizarre white void with a grandpa laughing his robe off at your expense.
A few minutes passed. Or at least it felt like a few. Hard to tell time without a watch.Eventually, he wiped his tears, grinned, and said:
"Normally, I'd judge your earthly life and decide your fate, but…"
I froze.
Judge my… life?Earthly life?Wait. Wait, wait, wait.
That's when everything clicked.
Hallway. Rug. Cabinet.White space.Old man.Laughter.I was dead.
My heart skipped a beat. For the second time in the last fifteen minutes.
"But I don't think that'll be necessary," he continued. "I have to thank you, really. I haven't laughed like that in centuries."
For a second, I thought he was joking. He wasn't.
"Oliver, your death was genuinely hilarious. One might say… you were defeated by a rug." His grin widened.
And if my heart were still beating, it would've stopped for the third time... this time from sheer embarrassment.
"I've seen your whole life," he said. "Which is why I'm going to let you reincarnate in the world of Harry Potter. Do you have any… special requests?"
I know this sounds crazy, but I just stared at him. Didn't say a word. Didn't even think.
The world of Harry Potter…
It didn't feel real. And yet...I actually wanted this.My real life had been dull, colorless, quiet.But now… wishes?
It felt like a fanfiction trope. A really solid fanfic trope. Not the Wattpad kind where Hermione falls in love with Voldemort and Harry runs a YouTube channel about potions. I'm talking the good stuff — adventure, growth, slightly-too-overpowered main character.
My brain kicked into overdrive. I'm not sure I've ever thought this hard in my life.
"I want to reincarnate as a Peverell," I began, trying to sound confident."But… skip the whole baby phase, please. Start me off at eight years old — solid age to begin. I want to keep all my memories from this life, and I want to be exceptionally gifted in both magic and academics."
I glanced at the old man, just to make sure I wasn't overstepping. He didn't react — so I kept going.
"My magical power should be basically unlimited. To put it simply… I want to be OP."
I stared him down.
He looked back at me with a flat expression. Lips pressed together, eyes unreadable.And then…He gave me a thumbs-up.
"Consider it done," he said. Then promptly burst out laughing again.
I sighed. "Are you always like this?" I asked, annoyed.
"Not really," he chuckled. "Rarely, actually. But you… you're special."
"Everything you just said — it's doable. No problem at all."
For the first time in ages, I smiled. It was happening. The kind of thing I only ever read about in fics was now real.
I was going to get another chance. A better one. And this time, I'd actually be special.
The old man looked at me again — this time, not amused. There was something softer in his eyes. "This is where we part ways. Good luck."
Just as the world began to blur, one last question slipped from my lips:
"Wait… how exactly did I die?"
The old man smiled, as if he'd been waiting for that. "You were walking down the hallway, tripped on the edge of a brand-new rug, and hit your head on a cabinet."
I said nothing.
I died… because of a rug?!
I just stared at him.He shrugged, snapped his fingers…
…and everything went white.
AN:
Just a quick note before we begin:
English is not my first language, so you might notice a few small mistakes here and there. I'm doing my best, and I appreciate your patience and understanding.
Also, I know this first chapter is a bit short, but I promise the upcoming ones will be longer.