Alan soon realized that simply increasing the weight of the objects he lifted didn't induce the mental fatigue he was looking for. As someone intimately familiar with physical conditioning, he recognized this as a frustrating plateau. It was akin to lifting weights without feeling that deep muscle burn or subsequent soreness; it simply meant the training wasn't intense enough to promote real growth.
Consequently, he swiftly adjusted his regimen. Rather than solely chasing heavier loads, he pivoted toward endurance training. The new goal was to use his mysterious "Superpower" to maintain an object's suspension in mid-air for the maximum possible duration.
This approach yielded immediate results. Initially, holding a sustained levitation for anything past the five-minute mark left him dizzy and uncomfortably lightheaded. Not daring to push himself into a state of severe sensory overload before fully comprehending the nature of this strange ability, he always made sure to cut his sessions short just before hitting his absolute limit.
However, after taking a full day to recover and noting no lingering mental side effects, a wave of relief washed over him. From then on, he carved out dedicated time every single evening for his unique exercises. Through years of relentless accumulation and unwavering discipline, the duration of Alan's telekinetic grip stretched longer and longer.
Now, after more than a year of this grueling mental conditioning, he could effortlessly keep substantial objects suspended in the air for nearly forty uninterrupted minutes.
In the quiet solitude of his room, Alan mentally manipulated the heavy iron dumbbell floating nearby. He made it spin and orbit his body in smooth, calculated arcs, much like planets tracing their paths around a central sun. Once comfortable with the rhythm, he continuously altered its flight trajectory, sending it sweeping in sharp figure-eights or plunging and rising in rapid vertical movements.
Eventually, a familiar, dull ache began to creep into his temples. Recognizing the onset of mental fatigue, he knew his daily training window was closing. He smoothly maneuvered the heavy iron weight back to its resting place on the floor, stretched his stiff limbs, and mused, "It's getting easier and easier to control this. I wonder if I'll ever be able to levitate my own body and fly around freely like those superheroes in the comic books."
Little did Alan know that while he was lost in his private musings, deep in the Scottish Highlands of northern Britain, an ancient school of magic named Hogwarts was busily dispatching a vast fleet of owls carrying parchment admission letters. One of those very birds was already beating its wings through the night sky, making a direct, unwavering line toward the Elms Church Welfare Home in London.
At six o'clock the following morning, the orphanage was still cloaked in complete silence. Alan pushed open his bedroom window to let in the crisp morning air, took a deep, centering breath, and threw on his worn exercise clothes. He quietly navigated the creaking stairs down to the sprawling orphanage yard. After a brief, methodical stretching routine to warm up his muscles, he moved through a series of sharp, disciplined martial arts forms, his strikes cutting cleanly through the damp morning mist.
"Phew..." Alan exhaled a long, satisfying breath, his muscles thrumming with residual energy. Sporting a light sheen of sweat, he rolled his shoulders and made his customary trek toward the communal dining hall.
"Good morning, Sister Therese. I could smell the porridge from all the way across the yard," Alan remarked with a polite smile, warmly greeting the elderly caretaker who was already bustling about the kitchen preparing the morning meal.
"Good morning, Alan. Back from your morning exercises already?" Sister Therese replied, her eyes crinkling warmly as she ladled a generous portion of steaming porridge into his bowl. "You wake up so early every single day without fail. Honestly, if the other children were even half as sensible and disciplined as you are, my life would be infinitely easier."
Alan accepted his breakfast with an innocent grin, wisely choosing not to reply. He wouldn't dare voice the truth out loud. If the consciousness residing in his young body wasn't actually that of a hardened, fully grown adult, he would probably be far more rebellious and unmanageable than any of the other rowdy orphans under her care.
After quickly polishing off his breakfast and offering a sincere word of thanks to Sister Therese, Alan pushed his chair back and returned upstairs to the quiet sanctuary of his room.
The exact moment he stepped across the threshold, Alan sensed something was distinctly amiss. A large, brown owl was currently "unloading" right on top of his wooden desk. Thankfully, this didn't mean it was making a mess. Rather, the highly intelligent bird was skillfully detaching a thick parchment envelope from its leg. After dropping the letter onto the desk with a soft thud, the bird fluttered over to the open window ledge, perching there to observe Alan with an unsettling, unblinking intensity.
Alan stared at the surreal scene, a distinct feeling of wrongness prickling at the back of his neck. Moving deliberately, he turned around and securely locked the door behind him. He approached the desk and picked up the heavy parchment envelope. Curiously, it lacked any sort of modern postal stamp. Instead, a precise line of text was scrawled across the front in striking, emerald-green ink.
Mr. Alan Wilson, The Second-Floor Bedroom, Elms Church Welfare Home, Shaftesbury Avenue
Alan flipped the thick envelope over, his thumb brushing against a large, purple wax seal bearing a complex coat of arms. In the center of the ornate crest was a prominent capital 'H', surrounded by four distinct animals in each quadrant: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.
"Who in the world would suddenly send me something this archaic?" Alan muttered under his breath. He cracked the wax seal, pulled out the folded parchment, and began to read.
[Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Wilson:
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress.]
Below the main letter was the attached supply list:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
First-year students will require:
*1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
*2. One plain pointed hat (black) for daytime wear
*3. One pair of protective gloves (dragonhide or similar material)...
"Wait... what? Is this... is this the world of Harry Potter?" Alan stared at the parchment, his eyes wide with absolute disbelief. Even though he had literally awakened to supernatural abilities, he had staunchly believed it was merely some kind of genetic mutation or a classic comic-book-style superpower. He never in his wildest dreams imagined he had crossed over into a hidden world of literal magic.
A deep, troubled frown etched itself across Alan's face as this astonishing reality sank in. The primary source of his immediate concern? He had never actually read the Harry Potter books in his previous life!
"Hold on, the timeline doesn't make any sense," he muttered. Thanks to the hazy, fractured nature of his memories post-transmigration, coupled with the fact that he had barely glanced at the movies during his past life, his overall knowledge of the franchise was frustratingly minimal. He only knew bits and pieces from pop culture osmosis. However, he vividly recalled a friend geeking out over it once, specifically mentioning that the main events of the story took place solidly in the nineties.
But a quick glance at the calendar on his wall confirmed a jarring fact: the current year was 1980!
Alan closed his eyes and meticulously sifted through his mental archives, trying to dredge up anything useful. He could only fish out a handful of iconic names: Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and the villainous Lord Voldemort. He knew it was a hidden society of wizards who fought by shooting colorful beams of energy out of little wooden wands, but beyond that surface-level trivia, he was completely blind to the actual plot. Still, his lack of narrative foresight hardly mattered now. Given the current year, he was seemingly existing in an entirely different era than the story he barely remembered anyway!
"Well, isn't that just fantastic. Here I was, thinking I had developed an exclusive, one-of-a-kind superpower, and it turns out there's an entire secret society of people waving wands around," Alan said, genuinely speechless at the sheer absurdity of his situation. The telekinetic force he had spent years painstakingly mastering was just standard, run-of-the-mill magic. Fortunately, the resilient mindset of a former soldier prevailed. He took several slow, measured breaths, forcing his racing heart to calm down.
Alan reviewed the parchment one more time to ensure he hadn't missed any vital details, then thoughtfully rubbed his chin. He glanced over at the avian messenger still patiently perched on his windowsill. "You're waiting for my formal reply, aren't you?" he asked the bird conversationally. "Unfortunately, I've never owned a pet before, so I don't exactly have any premium birdseed or treats to reward you with."
The brown owl offered no reaction, continuing to stare at Alan with large, unblinking, glassy eyes that seemed almost judgmental.
"Alright, alright, keep your feathers on. I'll draft the reply right now," Alan sighed with a helpless shrug. He grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and a cheap ballpoint pen from his desk drawer. He swiftly penned his response, adopting a highly sincere and respectful tone to express his overwhelming eagerness to attend their esteemed institution. However, he made sure to clearly state that, as an impoverished orphan completely isolated from the magical community, he had absolutely no means to procure the required supplies or navigate this new world. He politely requested that the school send someone to provide him with some much-needed assistance.