The wand felt warm in his hand, almost pulsing with energy as he stepped out of Ollivanders. The polished holly wood glinted in the sunlight, and though he should've felt triumphant, yet a strange unease curled in his chest. His steps slowed, the excitement of Diagon Alley fading into the background hum of chatter and footsteps.
Ollivander's voice echoed in his mind: "Holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core."
He knew that combination. Everyone did. Harry Potter's wand. The twin to Voldemort's.
It couldn't be a coincidence—could it?
He glanced around, half-expecting someone to point at him and shout, "That's Harry Potter!" But no one looked twice. Witches and wizards bustled past with bags in hand and children in tow, too preoccupied to notice a boy standing frozen outside a wand shop.
Slowly, he lifted a hand to his forehead. Smooth. No scar.
Relief trickled in—but it didn't last.
If I have Harry's wand… did the system make me Harry?
He turned down a quiet alleyway, the noise fading behind him. Out of sight, he drew in a breath and focused.
"System."
A glowing blue screen shimmered into existence before his eyes, clear and familiar.
[Reality Traversal System]
Current World: Harry Potter
User Role: Protagonist (Default)
He hadn't wanted to believe it, but now he couldn't deny it. He was the protagonist.
"No, no, no," he whispered. "I didn't ask for this."
He wanted to experience the world, not become the center of it. He didn't want to fight a dark lord, fulfill a prophecy, or die for the greater good. That wasn't adventure—that was a death sentence wrapped in drama.
"I don't want this," he said aloud. "Take me back. To the white room."
The screen flickered. For a moment, everything twisted, colors smearing and melting around him. Then, silence.
White light.
The smooth floor of the room welcomed him like a breath of fresh air. The bed, the blank walls, the door—everything was as he left it. Peaceful. Quiet.
He sat down on the neatly made bed.
"System," he said, "can I change my role?"
A soft chime rang out as the blue screen updated.
[User Role Modification]
Would you like to change your role in the 'Harry Potter' world?
[X] Protagonist
[ ] Supporting Character
[ ] Random Background Character
Note: Manual role change causes targeted reality to reset.
He blinked, not expecting the system to actually offer a choice. No resistance. No cryptic warnings. Just… options.
A slow smile crept onto his face.
"Make me a random background character."
[Role Change Successful]
New Role: Random Background Character
His clothing shimmered briefly, the wizarding robes replaced with a plain white shirt and trousers. His limbs felt the same, but lighter somehow, like the invisible weight of fate had lifted from his shoulders.
"System, send me back to the Harry Potter world."
The door clicked open again, light spilling out. Without hesitation, he stepped through.
The cobblestones greeted him once more, the scent of chocolate and parchment swirling in the air. Diagon Alley buzzed with life, but this time, everything felt different.
He grinned.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the Hogwarts letter again and read it properly for the first time. The name at the top made him blink. He hadn't read it the first time but it must have said 'Harry Potter'.
Ethan Wright.
Not his real name. The system must have generated a new identity. Perfect.
No prophecy. No pressure.
Now he could enjoy this world the way he'd wanted to from the beginning. He could go to class, brew potions, practice spells, and maybe—maybe—even try out for Quidditch. All without the looming threat of death.
He spun on his heel and made his way back to Ollivanders, eager to see how much had changed.
The bell above the door jingled as he entered. The shop was as dusty and crowded with boxes as before, but the mood had shifted. Lighter. Less intense.
Behind the counter, Ollivander looked up. His silvery eyes twinkled as he stepped forward.
"Ah, a new student," he said kindly. "Come in, come in. Let's find your wand, shall we?"
No recognition. No cryptic comments about destiny. Just the quiet professionalism of a man who had done this thousands of times.
This time, the wand fitting was different. The first wand he tried hissed and sparked. The second caused a shelf to collapse. The third let out a high-pitched whine and jumped from his hand.
Then came the fourth.
It was plain, with a reddish hue and a slightly curved handle. The moment his fingers closed around it, a cool breeze seemed to swirl through the shop. Warmth spread up his arm and into his chest like a gentle heartbeat.
Ollivander leaned in, pleased. "Cedar, ten and three-quarter inches. Dragon heartstring. Quite stubborn, but loyal once mastered. Excellent."
It wasn't Harry's wand. It was his.
Ethan Wright's.
He left the shop beaming, his new wand snug in his hand. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light across the street. For the first time, he really saw Diagon Alley—not as a stage for a hero's journey, but as a world teeming with life, magic, and stories that weren't all his to carry.
A world he could explore at his own pace.
He wandered through the shops, ticking items off his list. His robes were fitted at Madam Malkin's—no Draco Malfoy this time. He browsed Flourish and Blotts, flipping through spellbooks with wide-eyed wonder. He picked out potion ingredients at the apothecary and lingered in Eeylops Owl Emporium, finding the same black owl from before, naming him 'Noctis' as well.
As he made his way back through the bustling street, wand and supplies in hand, he glanced around at the people—He was one of them now. A nameless character. No hero. No villain.