The first thing he felt was a horrible pain in his head.
The first thing he thought was that he would never drink again in his life.
The first thing he did was, of course, open his eyes.
Seeing the white ceiling above and the white walls, metal beds with white pillowcases, and curtains separating him from what appeared to be the shadow of a group of figures arguing.
But as he heard a group of hurried adult voices, he seemed to remember something, something that shouldn't have been there.
A whole life, not poured into his mind, but simply there from the beginning, like remembering what you did yesterday or something that happened years ago, was there, like a strange feeling of deja vu that you can't shake until it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.
Neville Longbottom.
An 11-year-old boy.
Shy and introverted, these were Neville's general "qualities."
He lived like a scared mouse, perhaps a frog, because he was, you know, Neville.
Neville from Harry Potter, who had the same name, the same appearance, the same personality, and the same story.
A strange look fell on his short hands.
It was him, wasn't it?
Neville Longbottom, from Harry Potter, an 11-year-old child.
You know when you have that thought. -"I wish I could go back to my childhood and enjoy everything I took for granted."
Well, he didn't feel that way now.
In fact, he felt like if it weren't for the pounding headache, he would have thought he was asleep.
He had this feeling of unreality.
But when the curtain opened and the hard, yet worried gaze of the lady with a dead bird on her head focused on him, he could only manage one word, just an acknowledgment. - Granny...
That was who she was, your grandmother, Augusta.
That was all he managed to say before fainting at the surprised cry of the worried old lady.
--x--
Augusta approached quickly, as fast as her tight violet formal skirt would carry her, touching Neville's forehead with concern.
Beside her, an elderly man with bruises on his body also looked worried.
-Augusta, I thought this would work, can you stop hitting me? - He asked distressedly, still with a guilty look, but the guilt was now clouded by all the pain in his body.
-Algie, I'm not done with you! Shut up! - Augusta looked like she would hit Algie again if he opened his mouth, so the man wisely shut his mouth.
But of course, Augusta wasn't surprised that it didn't take him ten seconds to speak again.
She knew her brother very well.
-Augusta, look on the bright side, at least we know he's a wizard. - The man couldn't help but rejoice.
All these years he'd put Neville through stressful situations, throwing him out the window was a desperate measure to prove the boy's potential, after all, he was already eleven years old.
Furthermore, with magic, the boy would at most need to drink a potion to heal any broken bone.
Augusta looked at him irritably and said. - Yes? After smashing your head off the second floor, being able to heal yourself is truly magical! Why don't you let me try it with you?
Augusta glared at him with a look somewhere between anger and frustration, but deep down, there was also a pang of relief.
Neville began to heal on his own, even before drinking any potion, this proved that the boy was, in fact, a wizard.
So yes, Augusta was happy.
Both that Neville's life was safe and that he was a wizard.
Seeing that his sister was about to jump on him and hit him with her bag again, Algie could only remain silent and back away a little further, but not before managing to say. - Well, at least it was on the grass.
Augusta gave him one last angry look before worrying about Neville and ignoring him.
Algie, on the other hand, was thinking that despite her age, his sister was still very agile. She chased him for a long time through the hospital after Neville was taken by the Mediwizards.
He'd taken more hits today than he had in the last few decades combined. If it weren't for the decorum of this being a hospital, he thinks he'd probably be in a wheelchair.
He was also worried about Neville, but he was relieved now, after all, he would never have forgiven himself if the boy had actually died.
Even more so with what happened to the sister's son and daughter-in-law...
Neville knew nothing about his grandmother and great-uncle's problems, it wasn't until the night that he woke up again.
Augusta was sleeping in the bed next to his, and Algie was on the couch not far away. The elderly couple snored, especially Algie, who sometimes seemed to wake up with his own snoring.
But Neville paid them no attention, instead, his brow furrowed and he was deep in thought.
He remembered something, the void, the altar, the connection...
As soon as he thought of this, his eyes seemed to glow in the dark room like small flashlights. Not only that, but in the center of his forehead, a vertical line slowly split down the center.
But the next moment, Neville felt extremely tired, as if he'd run a marathon. The skin on his forehead returned to normal, and his eyes stopped glowing.
Luckily, he was lying down, but he didn't even have the strength to move now, but he paid no attention to that.
His magic had already been heavily consumed before, trying to activate whatever it was now, took an even greater toll.
Instead, his eyes were unfocused, processing the information.
The shaman's altar, that's what he found in the void after he died. He connected to it, and the altar also brought him here.
This was a soul treasure, something from an ancient, long-destroyed magical civilization. Only the altar remained, wandering the void, absorbing its energy for who knows how long, until he found his soul.
Through the correspondence of high-dimensional information, he ended up in a world he had previously considered fictional.
He is Neville, but it was a coincidence, good luck, or bad luck, depending on your perspective.
The altar is a semi-sentient item, meaning it acts based on a specific pattern, but has no interests or desires.
His soul managed to survive in that chaotic void long enough for the altar to find them. It was chance that brought them together—luck, if you will.
The altar's power is based on the civilization it belonged to. The altar was a magical, alchemical item used to connect "shamans" to their animal patron.
Each shaman had their own altar, but it was stored in a spatial pocket when the planet was destroyed.
The currents of space distorted it and sent it into the chaotic void. It wasn't destroyed, there it slowly grew until it became semi-conscious.
It possesses information from its creation, even if it wasn't conscious at the time. This is because the way it "stores memory" is different from that of humans. Its memory is based on its own existential information. If something exists, it leaves information behind. The way the altar experiences the world is different because it uses this information as "memory."
But that doesn't matter now, it has bonded with it.
Its functions?
According to the altar, before the void, it could only connect with one patron, but now it has nine totem spaces. A mutation within that chaos void for who knows how long.
Totems are the physical representation of animal patrons, the patrons themselves are soul fragments of beasts that were brought back through a ritual to connect with the shamans.
A mixture of animal souls and the shaman's own soul to create something new, a patron.
Of course, the shaman needs to be compatible with the beast, and the beast itself needs to accept the shaman, but that's no problem for him, his altar has a contract success rate of practically 100%!
Even if this doesn't guarantee the patron's obedience, it's at least a good start.
Excitedly, Neville thought about the last bonus of his shamanic altar.
Touching the center of his forehead, he sighed. It was still far from him, the shaman's third eye, a racial ability.
Shamans are masters of the soul, spirit, and mind, their talent in this area is not insignificant, and the third eye on the forehead is the source of the shaman's power.
It's not actually a physical eye, but the stronger the shaman becomes, the stronger their spiritual attributes become, making the eye more powerful, to the point that casting spiritual magic with it becomes easier and more powerful.
Unfortunately, the altar doesn't know any magic from that world, that's not what it was created for, but luckily, the world of Harry Potter is a magical world.
Shamans measure their strength through soul rings. They use their animal Patronuses to absorb dead spirits and make them stronger. Through this spiritual connection, Patronuses and shamans become stronger together.
According to the altar, a nine-ringed shaman king is enough to destroy a country alone. The 10-ring state is purely theoretical, and it is said that whoever surpasses it can attain the divine.
Excited by the prospect, Neville was eager to begin this path, but then he remembered that he was still in the hospital, otherwise, his body was still so weak he couldn't even move.
He could only sigh and adjust his position to get more comfortable.
As mentioned before, he could have nine animal Patronuses, each one would be released when he obtained a new ring.
He found himself thinking about the magical animals of this world, he was tempted by the wide range of abilities.
But right now he's just a weak young wizard, his first patronus would depend on luck. Perhaps he can get help from Neville's family to get a good starting patronus.