Hathaway raised a hand to shield her forehead as she stared up at the owl circling above the dining room chandelier. Its amber eyes seemed strangely intelligent, following every movement in the room with eerie precision.
"Where did this owl even come from?" she asked curiously. "It's been flying around ever since it entered the house. Honestly, it feels like it understands people."
Logan Anderson looked up at the round-faced bird and slowly grinned. The expression crept onto his face unconsciously, carrying the dangerous amusement of someone entertaining terrible ideas.
"Maybe God saw our family celebrating today and decided to send us an extra dish," he said brightly. "A nice fat round-faced chicken."
Hathaway blinked in surprise before licking her lips thoughtfully. "Round-faced chicken? I've never eaten that before. It actually sounds delicious."
The owl froze mid-flight.
For a brief moment, it looked genuinely horrified.
Then, as though struck by overwhelming malice, the poor creature let out a panicked screech and slammed directly into the chandelier overhead. Glass rattled violently before the owl dropped to the carpet with a miserable thud.
It lay there twitching weakly, its lifeless eyes filled with despair like an abandoned child.
Logan slowly crouched beside it with a devilish smile.
"Don't be scared," he whispered gently. "We're good people. We won't hurt you. We just want to play a little game."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Still… I bet you taste pretty good."
"Brother, what's this?"
Hathaway bent down near the doorway and picked up a thick envelope from the floor. "I think it fell when the owl flew inside."
Logan stopped psychologically torturing the dying bird and took the letter from her hands. The instant he saw the wax seal stamped across the front, his body stiffened.
A chill ran down his spine.
In that moment, countless scattered clues suddenly connected together.
Everything finally made sense.
.....
A large shield-shaped crest sat proudly on the envelope. At its centre was the letter H, surrounded by four animals—a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a serpent.
Hogwarts.
The name echoed endlessly through Logan's mind.
Suddenly, everything became clear.
The magical disaster that occurred when he was eight years old was no ordinary accident. It had been a magical outburst.
No.
More specifically, he was probably what the Harry Potter films from his previous life called an Obscurial.
Logan's expression gradually darkened as memories resurfaced.
An Obscurial was a young wizard who repressed their own magic due to fear, trauma, or emotional suffering. Without proper guidance, the suppressed magic eventually formed a parasitic dark force known as an Obscurus.
A terrifying mass of unstable black magic.
It could separate from the host, destroy entire streets, and slaughter people uncontrollably. Historically, almost no Obscurial survived beyond the age of ten.
Yet Logan had survived.
Not only survived, but lived comfortably for years without completely losing control.
The reason was obvious now.
The spellbook.
Back then, the misunderstanding involving his family had caused his emotions to spiral out of control, triggering another violent magical eruption. Fortunately, the mysterious grimoire absorbed the unstable darkness and transformed it into something manageable.
Without it, he probably would have died years ago.
That also explained why the system interface listed his occupation as Wizard. It explained the existence of magic levels and skill categories as well.
Everything finally connected.
Suppressing his excitement, Logan quickly tore open the envelope.
The contents looked exactly like the Hogwarts acceptance letters from the films he remembered from his previous life. The parchment, the wording, even the school supply list were nearly identical.
Only the name differed.
Mr Logan Anderson.
Logan handed the letter to Huggins and Anne with a strange expression. Several minutes later, both parents looked equally bewildered.
Their faces practically screamed:
Are you serious?
Huggins slowly lowered the letter and rubbed his forehead.
"This has to be some kind of prank," he muttered. "A magic school? Hogwarts? Whoever wrote this clearly has too much free time."
Then he suddenly burst into laughter.
"If the goal was making me laugh, congratulations. This is the funniest thing I've seen in years."
He slapped his thigh repeatedly while bending over laughing, looking almost identical to Tom from Tom and Jerry whenever something ridiculous happened.
Anne shared the same disbelief.
After all, magic only existed in novels, films, and television shows. Nobody in their right mind would think it actually existed in reality.
The entire thing sounded absurd.
"Oh? So anything beyond your understanding automatically becomes ridiculous?"
A sharp female voice suddenly echoed through the room.
Huggins nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Who said that?" he demanded.
He immediately looked toward the front door, but nobody stood there.
The room was completely empty.
Then his eyes slowly lowered.
A tabby cat sat calmly near the entrance, staring directly at him.
"A cat?"
Huggins felt like his sanity was collapsing.
First an owl delivered a letter claiming magic existed. Now apparently cats had started arguing with him too.
What next?
Dancing furniture?
Just as he prepared to shoo the animal away, the tabby cat suddenly transformed.
Fur twisted into black robes. Tiny paws stretched into human hands. In the blink of an eye, a stern-looking elderly witch stood where the cat had been moments earlier.
She wore emerald robes beneath a dark travelling cloak and a pointed hat. Her sharp features carried natural authority, and her posture radiated dignity and discipline.
Professor Minerva McGonagall.
Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.
Huggins' mouth fell open so wide an entire egg could probably fit inside.
Professor McGonagall stepped gracefully into the room as though transforming from a cat into a human was perfectly ordinary behaviour. She withdrew her wand calmly and tapped a button resting on the table.
The plastic button shimmered briefly before transforming into a silver coin.
Huggins stared blankly at it.
Then he began shaking his head frantically.
"No… no, this doesn't make sense…"
Everything happening today completely violated his understanding of science and reality.
After proving the existence of magic, Professor McGonagall finally turned toward Logan Anderson. Normally, she already had prepared explanations ready for Muggle families. Convincing them to allow their children to attend Hogwarts was a routine responsibility.
However, the moment she truly looked at Logan, her carefully maintained composure shattered instantly.
Her mouth slowly opened in disbelief.
"Oh my goodness…"
Her grip tightened around her wand.
"What am I looking at? Why is there so much magic surrounding you?"
Shock flooded her usually stern face.
The magical power radiating from the young boy before her was astonishing. This was not the level of a normal first-year student.
Not even close.
The magical reserves within Logan Anderson rivalled those of sixth and seventh-year Hogwarts students preparing to graduate.
That was impossible.
The child was only eleven years old. He had not even reached the peak developmental stage of magical growth yet. If he already possessed this much power now, what would he become in another ten years?
McGonagall genuinely could not imagine it.
A child like this absolutely had to attend Hogwarts. Only Hogwarts possessed the knowledge and structure necessary to guide someone with such frightening potential.
Logan quietly observed her stunned expression.
Of course his magical power was abnormal.
An Obscurus itself was a terrifying concentration of dark magic. Obscurials naturally possessed monstrous magical reserves far beyond ordinary wizards.
Fortunately, Logan possessed the spellbook.
The grimoire continuously purified the unstable darkness inside him while feeding refined power back into his body. One day, he would fully control this strength.
Perhaps he would even transcend it.
Professor McGonagall looked at Logan again, though this time her expression carried far more warmth.
"Mr Anderson," she said gently, "would you be willing to come with me to Hogwarts? It is one of the oldest and greatest magical schools in the world."
Her voice softened further.
"Believe me when I say this—you belong there. Hogwarts is your true home. The wizarding world is your family."
The instant those words left her mouth, Anne rushed forward and tightly embraced her son.
"Get out of this house!" she shouted furiously. "You fraud! I'm not letting my son go to some insane magic school with you!"
Her arms tightened protectively around Logan.
"I will never allow it!"