August, 1991. Devon, England – Billage of Ottery St Catchpole.
To the north of the village stood a lush green hill. At its summit sat a traditional European-style house, its lawn carefully maintained. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of a plane tree beside the wall, tinting them with a warm golden hue.
A long-eared owl flew in from the distance, clutching a brown letter in its talons. After circling twice in the air, it landed on a window ledge near the tree.
Tap, tap.
The owl pecked at the glass.
The window was opened by a black-haired boy with naturally curly hair. His features were handsome, his attire neat and well-kept—someone who naturally left a favorable impression.
He took the letter. It was made of parchment, sealed with wax bearing the crest of the Weasley family.
"You only had to fly over two hills to get here, and yet you still needed to deliver it personally," Matthew said with a faint smile, gently stroking the owl's head and feeding it a small dried fish.
In truth, Matthew's home wasn't far from the Burrow—they were both located near Ottery St Catchpole.
At that moment, a black cat crept low across the ground. Just as it got close to the owl, it suddenly leapt, pouncing toward it!
The owl flapped its wings in alarm, trying to escape—but the cat in midair was abruptly pulled backward, as if by an unseen force, toward Matthew. He caught it effortlessly in one hand and tucked it into his arms.
If this had been a Charms lesson, Professor Flitwick would have awarded Matthew ten points for his silent casting.
"Don't be so stingy. This is a guest, Pidan," Matthew said, smoothing the cat's fur.
Pidan was a black cat with the bloodline of a magical feline. It had inherited the ability to split itself as well as intelligence comparable to that of a young human child.
"Meow~"
Pidan rubbed against Matthew reluctantly, flicking its tail in dissatisfaction. Its blue eyes, however, remained fixed on the owl.
While Matthew read the letter, Pidan lay across his lap, staring intently at their feathered visitor.
Matthew Black, fourteen years old, was a Slytherin student at Hogwarts. He was currently spending his summer holidays at home and would soon be entering his third year.
To be frank, he was a reincarnator. In his previous life, he had died in an accident and woke up in this world with his memories intact. Unfortunately though, he had never read the original Harry Potter books—he had only seen two of the films.
His past life had been unremarkable, but after getting isekai'd, he discovered that his magical talent was exceptional. His spellcasting ability had already surpassed that of some adult wizards.
"See you, Hermes."
After writing a reply, Matthew handed it to the owl, which immediately took off in a hurry.
Hermes was Percy Weasley's owl—a reward Percy had received upon becoming a prefect.
Ever since Percy got Hermes, George and Fred had constantly found excuses during the holidays to borrow the owl—much to Percy's annoyance.
After seeing Hermes off, Matthew checked the time and returned to tidying up the storage room. Since he frequently brewed potions, he needed to clear out a room to serve as a proper potions lab.
Most of the work had already been done; only a few finishing touches remained.
"Pidan, you've turned into a dustball," Matthew said helplessly, looking at the cat now covered in grime.
Cats were naturally curious creatures, always squeezing into every nook and cranny.
He pointed his wand at Pidan, and the dust clinging to its fur vanished instantly.
"What did you find? Let me see."
He noticed something clenched in Pidan's mouth.
Taking it out, he found a ring-shaped metal disc. Its surface was scarred with the marks of time, and embedded along its edge was a flawless, multi-faceted red crystal.
When Matthew extended his magical perception into the disc, he sensed faint fluctuations of magic.
If not for his unusually keen magical sensitivity, it might have gone unnoticed.
"What is this?"
He had never seen the disc before. The storage room had been locked for a long time and rarely entered; the items inside all belonged to his grandfather and parents.
Suddenly, the crystal on the disc began to glow faintly red.
Matthew's expression changed—the disc was rapidly absorbing his magic!
He immediately channeled his power to forcibly cut off the flow. However, even after the supply stopped, the crystal's glow did not fade—instead, it intensified.
He tried to throw the disc out the window, but it clung stubbornly to his hand, as if glued in place.
In the next instant, everything before his eyes was swallowed by red light.
Matthew realized he could no longer move. It felt as though his body had been forced into a narrow tunnel, slowly descending.
A sensation of weightlessness surged through him, like an elevator plummeting at full speed. All sound faded into the distance.
The world around him stretched and blurred, leaving trailing afterimages. Then, a wave of intense dizziness overwhelmed him.
...
He didn't know how much time had passed.
Gradually, the dizziness faded. When Matthew regained his senses, he found himself surrounded by a world of white. Snow blanketed the trees like layers of cotton, and a biting wind carrying fine flakes lashed against his face.
The bone-chilling cold made him shiver uncontrollably. The frigid air burned his lungs with every breath, as though freezing them solid.
Matthew's expression darkened.
The disc had transported him to an unfamiliar environment.
"A Portkey? No… the disc is gone! A one-way transfer?" he muttered, frowning deeply.
His left hand was empty—the metal disc had vanished without a trace.
Fortunately, he had been holding his wand while cleaning the storage room, so it had come with him.
He waved his wand, casting a Transfiguration spell on his clothes. His neat shirt and vest transformed into a thick cloak, while the garments underneath became warm woolen layers.
Just then—
The surrounding trees, with their inverted umbrella-shaped canopies, suddenly came to life. Branches as thick as arms lashed toward him.
Matthew reacted instantly, raising his wand. A sharp slicing sound cut through the air as a transparent, crescent-shaped wind blade swept forward, severing several branches. The severed limbs fell to the ground, writhing violently.
Before he could catch his breath, more branches coiled toward him. Countless tendrils intertwined, making it feel as though he had fallen into a pit of serpents.
"Incendio!"
Matthew raised his wand high. Flames burst from its tip, driving the branches back. He spun his wand, controlling the fire as it devoured more of the attacking limbs.
Flames encircled him, forming a barrier that kept the branches at bay. Burning tendrils collided and twisted together, resembling countless fiery serpents writhing in the air.
With a forward thrust of his wand, a surge of fire rushed ahead, scattering the writhing branches and clearing a path.
The scene of Albus Dumbledore conjuring a ring of fire was one of the most iconic moments in the films Matthew had seen in his previous life. It had left a deep impression on him.
However, what Matthew cast was only an imitation—combining Incendio with basic fire-control magic. Its power was far weaker. If it had truly been Dumbledore, the surrounding magical plants would likely have been reduced to ashes.
Moreover, Matthew could only control ordinary flames; he was far from mastering Fiendfyre or wielding fire with such precision.
Once the path was cleared, he didn't hesitate. Before the creatures could recover, he dashed out of the encirclement, turning onto a nearby mountain trail and running downhill.
The icy wind, mixed with fine snow, reduced visibility to almost nothing. The path was narrow—one misstep could send him tumbling into the valley below.
After putting distance between himself and the forest, Matthew gasped for breath. The freezing air stabbed his throat like needles.
He glanced back toward the mountain peak.
There stood a massive ancient tree. Its branches curved upward, forming a dense, inverted umbrella-shaped canopy—immense and unnervingly symmetrical.
But on closer inspection, the branches were covered in grotesque growths. From afar, it looked like countless giant serpents writhing in the air.
"Magical plants…? A species I've never seen before."
A trace of unease flickered in Matthew's eyes. This place was not safe.
He searched his pockets and found only two chocolate bars. The sudden teleportation had left his Extension Charm pouch behind. He needed to leave this mountain forest as soon as possible and find signs of human habitation—finding food in this environment would be difficult.
Suddenly, Matthew froze.
He felt a disturbance in his mind.
A surge of information surged into his very soul.