Chapter 1: The Transmigrator
The void was a symphony of nothing, a quiet so deep it hummed. Leo, or whoever he was before, was just a consciousness floating in the black, the last echo of a Honda Civic peeling out on a wet highway. He'd died a spectacular, final death. And then… this.
A voice, like a thousand books rustling their pages at once, boomed from everywhere and nowhere. It spoke of a choice. Two worlds. The one with magic schools and boy wizards, and the one with gothic academies and a girl who liked to talk to the dead.
"Both?" Leo's mind was a static-filled radio. His sarcastic nature, a reflex he didn't even know he still possessed, kicked in.
"Both? Greedy much? I mean, who gets to pick? It's like a cosmic buffet, and I'm the main course."
A shimmering, impossibly complex sigil bloomed in the void. A sarcastic gift, the voice called it. A glowing quill, as if plucked from the quill of an ancient librarian, began scribbling in the air. As it wrote, Leo's memories felt like smudged ink. He remembered Voldemort, knew about him, but the details of his defeat, the how and why, were a blur. He knew about Crackstone, the founding tyrant, but the specifics of how he was defeated, the precise spell or monster, were a fuzzy mess. The world, it seemed, wasn't a neat, clean merger. It was a botched job, a hurried splice of two timelines.
A vision, sharp and brutal, flashed before his eyes. A swirling maelstrom of gothic shadows and distant roars. He saw Crackstone, not dead, but alive, chanting over a monstrous hydra. The creature, all serpentine heads and razor claws, rampaged through a school he recognized as Nevermore. Aurors in Ministry robes, not Hogwarts staff, sealed the gates, their faces grim. The vision vanished, replaced by the sarcastic, glowing script of the BOOST system.
[CONGRATS, KID. YOU'RE THE LAB RAT IN THE WORLD'S WEIRDEST EXPERIMENT. FUZZY MEMORIES? MY GIFT – DON'T THANK ME.]
The script flickered like a faulty HUD, the Entity's chuckle echoing in the void.
"Great, a cosmic troll. This is just my luck. I survive being turned into a pancake on the freeway just to become some higher being's plaything. At least it's not boring."
A musty book scent filled the air, the distant roar of a hydra a chilling counterpoint. The void was blending, molding.
[BOTH WORLDS? TWICE THE FUN, ZERO CONTEXT. ENJOY THE PLOT HOLES.]
"Thanks, troll," Leo retorted, his voice solid, no longer just a thought. "Fine. Let's roll." His eyes hardened. He wasn't a lab rat, not really. He was a survivor. And maybe, just maybe, this cosmic troll had given him a second chance. He felt a body form around his consciousness, the familiar disorientation of gravity returning. The last thing he saw before the void vanished was the quill signing off with a flourish. He felt the cold air hit his face.
The fall was brief, the landing shockingly soft. Not on stone, or dirt, but a tangle of thick ivy that smelled of damp earth and magic. The air was cold, a brisk October chill. He was on the grounds of a castle. And not just any castle—Hogwarts. A gasp escaped his lips, and he blinked, the world coming into focus. He was in the body of a boy, a lanky kid with dark hair and wide, hazel eyes. A familiar voice boomed nearby, and Dumbledore, looking older but still radiating a serene power, approached.
"My, my," the Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling. "A rather… dramatic arrival, Mr. Crowe. We were expecting you by train."
Dumbledore escorted him past the familiar grounds, a place he only knew from books and movies, to a part of the castle that looked… different. The stone was older, more gothic, with vines climbing the walls. This was Iago Tower, a name that felt both alien and strangely right.
They were greeted by a huddle of faces he knew instantly. Wednesday Addams, her dark pigtails stark against the backdrop of the castle. Enid Sinclair, a flash of bubblegum pink and vibrant warmth. A girl with a mischievous grin, Agnes, and a competitive-looking girl with sharp eyes, Lila. This was the Nevermore crew. His crew.
"You're… different, Benedict—cute!" Enid blurted out, her cheeks turning a bright pink as she waved from the west wing of the common area.
Leo, or Benedict Crowe now, realized the subtle division. The east wing, with its stark oak beds, was for boys. The west, draped in glowing vines and flowery wallpaper, was for girls. A faint, humming barrier shimmered between them, an invisible wall.
Slytherins, clustered near a far-off corridor, jeered. "Look at the half-breeds," one of them, a blond boy who had to be Draco Malfoy, sneered. "They get their own tower now. Probably for their own safety. Wouldn't want them to corrupt the rest of us, would we?"
The jeers were a physical blow, a harsh welcome to this new world. He looked at Wednesday, who was eyeing him suspiciously.
"Anomaly detected," she deadpanned, her voice as flat as ever.
Agnes, the prankster of the group, nudged him playfully. "New you? Amnesia suits you. Did you finally grow a spine?"
Lila, the girl who always seemed to be challenging someone, crossed her arms. "Prove you're not useless. The last Benedict was a waste of space."
The hostility was real, the suspicion palpable. But so was the camaraderie. Enid's blush, Agnes's teasing, Wednesday's strange acceptance—it all felt like a lifeline. He wasn't alone.
As the group started to disperse, Leo felt a nervous energy. He spotted a tiny rat scampering across the stone floor and, on instinct, knelt down. He held out a hand.
"Hey, little dude," he whispered. The rat stopped, its whiskers twitching.
"It's a pest, not a pet—though it matches your vibe," Wednesday said, a faint hint of a smirk on her face.
Enid giggled, "Vibe match!"
Leo smiled, a genuine, warm smile. He'd never felt so at home in his life. He named the rat "Pixel."
[WARNING: 37% OF 'FRIENDS' HIDE SOMETHING. BETS ON LILA?]
The message flickered in his vision, and he gave Lila a cautious, sidelong glance. A seed of doubt, of caution, was planted. He had allies, but this wasn't a simple world. He heard the echoes of the gargoyles outside, cold stone whispers. "Accident… closure…" The whispers, the Slytherin jeers, the distant fear in the eyes of Hufflepuffs—it was all part of the same thing. Prejudice. Isolation. He had to figure out why.
The Great Hall was a breathtaking sight, even to a cynical transmigrator. The enchanted ceiling, the floating candles, the sea of black robes. He stood at the front, the Sorting Hat, a patched and dusty thing, on a stool.
"Benedict Crowe."
His name echoed through the hall. He walked forward, nerves buzzing. The metallic tang of pumpkin juice and the low murmur of a thousand students filled the air. He sat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head.
"Brainy house? Fit—with a fuzzy brain. What if this is all some huge joke? Maybe the Entity just wants to see me make a fool of myself. I'm either going to be a hero or a punchline. I can handle either. Just… please not Hufflepuff."
"Hmm," the Hat hummed, its voice in his head. "A mind… full of both beast and sharp wit. A knack for strategy, a love of mysteries. Not Slytherin… not Gryffindor… a mind hungry for knowledge… and a heart that understands the strange and misunderstood. A Ravenclaw."
He heard a collective gasp. Draco sneered from the Slytherin table. "Freak in blue robes," he muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Leo, standing up and heading toward the Ravenclaw table, couldn't help but retort. "Jealous much, blondie?" A few Ravenclaws snickered, and even some Gryffindors let out a laugh.
[BOOST: AFFINITY HIGHLIGHTED. RAVEN'S CAW BOOSTED BY 20%.]
A raven, a real one, not an illusion, cawed loudly from the rafters and dove in a graceful arc, as if greeting him. He felt a surge of confidence, a quiet understanding of the System's purpose.
His eyes found Enid across the hall, and she cheered loudly, a bright, colorful beacon in the sea of black. She winked, and he felt a blush creep up his neck. His eyes then found a girl with bushy brown hair at the Gryffindor table. Hermione Granger. She was scribbling in a notebook, her eyes fixed on him, a look of intense curiosity on her face. A new alliance, it seemed, was forming.
He sat at the Ravenclaw table, a sense of belonging settling over him, a sense of rightness in a world that had, just hours ago, been a fever dream.
[RAVENCLAW? BOLD. LET'S SEE IF YOU'RE SMARTER THAN A TROLL.]
Leo grinned to himself, a small, knowing smirk.
"Challenge accepted," he muttered, picking up a goblet of pumpkin juice. "Let's see what this weird new world has in store."
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