Having finished his reply, Anduin sealed it in a fresh envelope and offered it to the owl perched on the windowsill. The owl deftly took the letter, secured it to its leg, and flew off without a backward glance.
"Wow, that owl's got some attitude," Anduin mused. "I wonder what the Wizarding World is like at this time. Did Voldemort get taken down by Harry yet?" His memories of Harry Potter were hazy at best.
He recalled friends mentioning Voldemort killing Harry's family, only to be defeated by the infant Harry himself. But what exactly was the state of the Wizarding World in 1980? What were the precise events of the original story? Anduin was utterly clueless.
"No point dwelling on it. I'll just wait for Hogwarts' reply," he decided. "In any world, strength is fundamental. Getting stronger can't be wrong." With that, he resumed his daily training. During his summer at the orphanage, Anduin had established a rigorous routine: warm-ups, boxing drills, Standing Post exercises, cardio, meditation, and even his "Psychokinesis" training—now rebranded as magic. Everything proceeded with unwavering discipline.
In such a structured life, time flew by. Less than two days after receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter, a special visitor arrived to see Anduin.
"Are you saying you're Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts?" Anduin asked the middle-aged woman standing at his door. The woman claiming to be Professor McGonagall wore square spectacles, her black hair coiled into a high bun, and a long, dark green robe.
"That's correct. I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I received your reply, Mr. Wilson. We conduct home visits for Muggle families unfamiliar with the Magical World," Professor McGonagall said, then, perhaps remembering Anduin's circumstances, added, "And for young gentlemen like yourself living independently, of course."
"Won't you come in and sit down, Mr. Wilson?"
"Oh, no, I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall. Please, come in. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this whole magic school thing." Anduin stepped aside apologetically, inviting her inside.
As soon as she entered, Professor McGonagall began observing the room. It was small, containing a bed, a desk with a chair, a bookshelf attached to the desk, a cabinet, and a clothes rack. In the corner, several dumbbells were neatly arranged. The bed was made with military precision, and a potted plant sat on the windowsill—if she wasn't mistaken, it was a pot of scallions.
The tidy room and clean, refreshing atmosphere impressed Professor McGonagall. Since this was an unannounced visit, it demonstrated the new student's usual self-discipline.
"I apologize, Professor McGonagall, the room is rather modest," Anduin said, moving to fetch the room's only chair.
"Please, Anduin, there's no need to apologize. You don't mind if I call you that, do you? I brought my own chair." With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall transformed a dumbbell into a wooden chair and sat down gracefully.
Anduin was momentarily taken aback by the display, but he maintained his composure. He pulled out the chair facing Professor McGonagall and sat down.
"The letter requested a response by July 31st. I assumed I wouldn't hear back or receive a visit until August."
"That's primarily for children from wizarding families. We visit those unfamiliar with the Wizarding World earlier, especially given the current sensitivity in the magical community..." Professor McGonagall trailed off, then quickly shifted to the main topic.
"Children with magical talent are notified of their Hogwarts acceptance when they reach the appropriate age. Hogwarts excels at teaching young wizards to control and use their magic. I trust you've noticed unusual occurrences around you in recent years? As young wizards awaken their Magic Power, they sometimes experience magical surges."
Anduin nodded, then waved his hand, summoning a cup to float before him.
Professor McGonagall watched, inwardly startled. Had he mastered the Levitation Charm so effortlessly? And without wand or incantation? "Mr. Anduin, are you certain you've never studied magic or received any instruction?"
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Anduin replied. "When I realized I was different, I started practicing on my own, through meditation and such. I thought it was just a special ability—what we ordinary people call it. Of course, I can't conjure a chair like you can."
"You'll learn that at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall assured him. She grew increasingly impressed with the young wizard before her. Self-disciplined, diligent, and hardworking—what a promising wizarding prospect! Yet, as she considered the turmoil in the Wizarding World and the lurking darkness, a flicker of anxiety crossed her face.
"Anduin, I'm heartened by your dedication. Let's get going. We're pressed for time. We need to finalize your transition with the orphanage and gather your school supplies."
Professor McGonagall was remarkably efficient. After a private conversation with the orphanage's administrators, she quickly finalized Anduin's enrollment arrangements. Anduin suspected she must have used magic, as the orphanage staff hadn't raised a single question.
"Did you use magic when you spoke to Sister Beatrice and the others?" Anduin couldn't help but ask. "They agreed so readily."
"Just a little Confundus Charm," Professor McGonagall replied with a rare, slightly mischievous smile. "It helps streamline things, doesn't it? Rest assured, it won't harm them, and they won't forget you. You can still return here during your holidays."
"Now, let's go and get your school supplies. Given your circumstances, I've applied to the Board of Governors for the Poor Student Assistance Fund. You'll receive an annual grant of twelve Galleons."
"Oh, right—Galleons are the currency of the Wizarding World. One Galleon is equivalent to seventeen Sickles, and one Sickle is equivalent to twenty-nine Knuts."
Only in Britain would even currency exchange be this convoluted, Anduin thought, his head starting to ache.