Harry Potter: Days Mixed in Hogwarts

"For decades, what kept me going was the belief that I had to take care of my fallen comrades' families. I have a farm in Scotland, and every year, I split the rent among them."

"I always felt it was my duty—the purpose of my life. I was the only one who made it back alive, so I had to bear the responsibility. Year after year, those people I had never even met gradually passed away. And yet, I was still here."

"When the last widow of my comrades died, I had no attachments left in this world."

"Then one day, the mayor came to tell me that I had a distant grandnephew who needed care. That was you. They said you had suffered misfortune and needed a home."

"I agreed, and within days, they brought you to me. That afternoon, I saw a little boy—clothes in tatters, barefoot, covered in dirt."

"And the rest, you already know."

As Loren listened to Bates recount his past, he felt warmth spread through his chest. Yet, looking at the elderly man's pale beard and deeply etched wrinkles, a wave of pity welled up in him.

Because of one fateful accident, this man had carried guilt for his entire life, isolating himself from the world. He should have been honored, but instead, he lived in solitude.

Loren didn't know how to console him. He simply patted Bates on the shoulder. "Thank you."

Bates said nothing more. The two of them sat in silence, gazing into the vast wilderness until deep into the night.

…

In the days that followed, Loren never brought up the subject of werewolves again. He was still curious—did silver bullets actually harm them? Were they immune to weapons? Did they eat raw meat?

But every time he saw Bates' weary face and aged features, he chose to keep his questions to himself.

Life carried on. Occasionally, Bates taught Loren some combat techniques and reconnaissance skills he had learned in the army, but for the most part, their days were simple and peaceful.

Loren repeatedly studied the two strange books he had acquired, trying to decipher what kind of world he was really in. Was the bookseller who sold them to him actually Nicolas Flamel? Or was it someone else?

The more he thought about it, the more familiar the name Nicolas Flamel felt. Had he heard it in his past life? But no matter how much he pondered, he found no answers.

1991: The Year Everything Changed

At eleven years old, Loren's life remained quiet.

Summers in the mountains were much cooler than elsewhere. The pastures were lush and fragrant, and the goats roamed the slopes. Loren sat against a rock, flipping through a book.

He had read the travel notes in A Comprehensive Guide to Hieroglyphic Symbols many times before, but up here in the mountains, there wasn't much else for entertainment.

Peter, his old friend, no longer worked as a shepherd. He had moved to the city, first for school and later to apprentice under his uncle as a mechanic.

Now, Loren was the one tending the sheep. Bates had told him that in a few years, he would be sent to a boarding school in the city for public education.

Loren had no objections to this plan.

Suddenly, a commotion stirred among the sheep.

Loren looked up and saw a grayish-brown owl wobbling through the air toward him.

Are there owls in these mountains?

He frowned in confusion—he had never seen one before.

As the bird drew closer, he noticed it had something clutched in its talons—a letter.

A powerful sense of déjà vu struck him. His eyes widened as he stared at the owl approaching him.

The owl landed shakily in front of him, dropped the letter into his hands, and then fixed him with its round, beady eyes.

Loren fumbled through his bag and pulled out a piece of cheese, offering it to the bird.

The owl flapped its wings and nuzzled his hand with its small beak before grabbing the cheese. It was a rich, creamy goat cheese that Loren had made himself.

Loren Morgan swore he saw a glimmer of delight in the owl's eyes.

Ignoring the bird, he turned his attention to the envelope.

The large "H" in the middle, the crest, and the surrounding animals made his heart race.

He couldn't wait any longer—he tore open the letter.

The First Page Read:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and WizardryHeadmaster: Albus Dumbledore(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Morgan,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

The term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,Minerva McGonagallDeputy Headmistress

The Second Page Listed the Required Items:[Uniform]

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black).One plain pointed hat (black) for daytime wear.One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar).One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings).Please note that all student clothing should carry name tags.[Course Books]

All students should have the following:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 – by Miranda GoshawkA History of Magic – by Bathilda BagshotMagical Theory – by Adalbert WafflingA Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration – by Emeric SwitchOne Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi – by Phyllida SporeMagical Drafts and Potions – by Arsenius JiggerFantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them – by Newt ScamanderThe Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection – by Quentin Trimble[Other Equipment]1 wand1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)1 set of glass or crystal phials1 telescope1 set of brass scales

Students may bring an owl, a cat, or a toad.

First-year students are NOT allowed their own broomsticks.

Loren's hands trembled as he held the letter.

This wasn't 1980s Britain—this was the magical world of Harry Potter!

He had always planned to venture to Wall Street or Silicon Valley to make a fortune when he got older.

But Bates' situation had always reminded him that this world was far from normal.

Loren had faced the future with uncertainty, fearing the unknown. He might have lived an ordinary life or encountered supernatural forces—but he could never truly be at ease.

But now, the world had never been so clear before him!

For the rest of the afternoon, he examined every inch of the letter—the seal, the ink, the handwriting—turning it over again and again, unable to get enough of it.

Finally, as the sky darkened, he herded the sheep back to the village, then sprinted toward the wooden cabin.

"Grandpa Bates! I have amazing news!" Loren thrust the letter toward Bates, who was carving a new chair.

Bates glanced at Loren's uncontainable grin, then at the elegant letter. He wiped his hands hastily on his clothes before taking it.

Moments later, he finished reading.

"This Hogwarts magic school… You sure it's not a scam?" Bates didn't doubt magic itself—after all, he was a werewolf—but he worried it was some sort of fraud.

"It shouldn't be… right?"

Loren knew the truth but struggled to explain it convincingly.

Just as they debated, a woman in black robes and square glasses approached, her expression stern and her steps precise.

Professor Minerva McGonagall had arrived.