He awoke as if pulled from drowning, breathless and wide-eyed. His heart hammered in his chest, and every nerve quaked from the shock of the nightmare. Chris sat up, the images of his children's deaths refusing to fade. A familiar grief twisted through him, bitter and unyielding. He forced his eyes open, blinking against the dimness of a room he didn't recognise. This was not his old life. He looked at his hands, they were those of a child. His whole body was small, strange, filled with a tingling he knew as magic.
He drew a shaky breath, trying to steady himself against the wave of panic. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, their edges softened by a faint morning light filtering through a grimy window. His heart raced, beating an erratic rhythm that matched his chaotic thoughts. He had been here before, waking from nightmares so intense they left him trembling, but this was different.
Chris focused on his hands again, turning them over, palms up. They were not his own. Small fingers, the skin smooth and unscarred. He touched his arms, feeling the wiry strength beneath. Eleven, maybe twelve years old. The tingling within him was warm, unfamiliar, yet he recognised it with a strange certainty. Magic. His chest heaved with another deep breath, and he tried to make sense of it all.
"The Leaky Cauldron?" he whispered to the empty room, the words sounding foreign to his own ears.
The sight of his children's faces flashed through his mind again, eyes wide in horror as they were ripped from him. His body shuddered, as if trying to reject the memory. Chris squeezed his eyes shut, willing the vision to vanish.
He stood, the room spinning slightly, and stumbled toward a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. The floor was cold underfoot, a rude awakening from his jumbled thoughts. He had to see for himself. Had to know. The reflection stopped him in his tracks.
A boy stood in the mirror, tall for his age, with wild, striking white hair streaked through with electric blue. His face was angular and handsome, but young, so very young. And his eyes. They were bright sapphire, almost unnaturally vivid, flickering with an inner magic that seemed alive. Chris's mouth fell open as he stared, hardly recognising the features.
He reached up, touching the glass, watching the boy do the same. This was him. This was his new form. His heart slowed its frantic pace, confusion giving way to a stunned realisation. The One Above All. It had worked. His wishes. They had been granted, all of them.
Chris dropped his hand from the mirror, running it through the vibrant strands of his hair. He could feel the magic coursing through him, like a pulse that throbbed beneath his skin. This body, this life, it was everything he'd asked for. A chance to start over. A new beginning in a world he thought was only a dream. But at what cost?
He turned away from the mirror, collapsing back onto the small bed. The mattress creaked beneath him, its protest barely noticed. He was alive. Eleven years old. He shivered, remembering the details, remembering what he thought impossible.
But the memories of his old life were vivid, too. His wife, the warmth of her smile. His children, their laughter, their screams. The grief clenched tight around his heart again, refusing to let go. Was this truly what he wanted? Or was it simply a way to escape the pain?
Chris pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, as if to push back the tears that threatened to fall. He had a second chance. He could do this. For them. For the family he'd lost.
His hands shook as he lowered them, looking at his new self again. This time, he didn't see the shock of white hair or the piercing blue of his eyes. He saw the resolve that had driven him to wish for this life. It was still there, fierce and burning. He could make them proud. He would live for them, for the memories that haunted him.
Setting his jaw, Chris steadied himself. He stood again, more confidently this time, feeling the power that surged through his young body. He wouldn't waste this chance. Not when he'd already lost so much.
A battered leather bag sat on the bedside table, sagging like it had secrets to spill. Chris grabbed it, his curiosity getting the better of him, and dumped its contents across the unmade bed. A letter, a pile of clothes, and a jingling pouch landed with a clatter. He sifted through the items, holding up jeans, a shirt, socks, and underwear, plain and undeniably Muggle. He traded the nightgown for the new clothes, marvelling at the perfect fit. Looking over to the letter, folded with a neatness that begged to be opened. Chris felt a thrill as he unfolded it.
His eyes scanned the first few lines, recognising the playful, resonant tone.
"Congrats on your reincarnation!" it began. "Enjoying your new look? I hope so. A lot of thought went into this second chance, and it looks like a smashing success so far. Best of all, you won't have to feel guilty about losing that fashion sense from your past life!"
Chris smirked, shaking his head at the unexpected attempt at humour. The letter continued:
"About those wishes… Consider them granted, with a few bonus surprises! You are the last descendant of Merlin Emrys Ambrosia, with magical potential to match! A safe haven and immense wealth await you. And don't worry, a certain something is bound to bring happiness into this new life, though we wouldn't want to spoil the surprise!"
He laughed, a sound full of disbelief and delight. It was the laugh of someone who had lost everything and suddenly found the universe dropping gifts in his lap. The words wrapped around him like a warm embrace, lifting the weight of uncertainty.
"Embrace the magic, young Christopher," the letter concluded. "I'm excited to see how this story unfolds. Remember, you have wishes within wishes, and each one brings you closer to what your heart desires."
The note was signed with a flourish, One Above All, as if by a cosmic pen held by the stars themselves. Chris reread it, the excitement bubbling up inside him. Merlin's descendant. Magical potential. A mysterious something? It was as if all his dreams were rushing to meet him at once.
The letter felt alive in his hands, tingling with an energy that matched the pulse of magic within him. Chris set it down, taking a moment to let everything sink in. He felt lighter, unburdened, as if the playful tone had stripped away the fears and doubts. The world was new, fresh, and his for the taking.
He picked up the pouch next, curiosity rekindled. The coins inside jingled as he opened it, spilling them into his palm. Gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts gleamed in the dim light, their edges catching the sun like miniature treasures.
Chris examined each one, turning them over, feeling the weight of possibility. This was wizard money, the first tangible sign of the world he was stepping into. He counted quickly, fifty Galleons total. Enough to get started, and then some. Enough to find his way in this new life.
The magic he felt now was different. Not just a tingling in his veins, but a sense of freedom and adventure. It was real. All of it. He put the coins back in the pouch, careful to secure it tightly. The jingling sound was a promise of everything to come.
Chris tucked the letter and pouch into his pockets, standing in the centre of the room that had seemed so alien just moments before. He was ready to see what lay beyond these walls. Ready to step into the magic that awaited him.
He gave the mirror a final glance, the determination clear in his vibrant eyes. With a deep breath, he opened the door, eager to explore this strange, wonderful world. The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, everything he had dreamed of and more.
"Here we go," he murmured, his heart racing with a new kind of anticipation.
The stairs complained loudly as Chris descended, each creak announcing his arrival to the sleepy morning crowd. The Leaky Cauldron's main room was a world unto itself, dim and full of secrets. Pipe smoke coiled above him, forming magical creatures that leapt and vanished with ghostly grace. The smells of ale and burnt toast lingered in the air, mingling with laughter and low conversations. Chris paused, entranced by the flickering shadows and worn wooden tables. This was real magic. He approached the bar, where a bald man with a toothless grin hummed as he polished a tankard.
Chris cleared his throat, feeling the nerves and excitement in equal measure. "Excuse me," he began, his voice a bit steadier than he felt. "Could you tell me where I am?"
The barkeep looked up, eyes twinkling with warmth and curiosity. "Well, bless my soul! A new face!" He set the tankard down with a clatter, leaning in as if sharing a delightful secret. "You're in the Leaky Cauldron, lad. What brings a young wizard like you here all by himself?"
Chris blinked, the thrill of being called a wizard lighting up his expression. "So, it's really the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked, unable to keep the wonder from his voice.
"Aye, that it is!" the man replied, chuckling. "Oldest pub in London. Bridges the Muggle and magical worlds, it does. Are you just starting out, then?"
Chris nodded, glancing around the room that felt like the gateway to all his dreams. "I guess you could say that."
The barkeep seemed to sense Chris's awe and fed off it, his grin growing wider. "I'm Tom, the owner here," he introduced himself. "Looks like you've got a bit of magic about you. New to our world?"
Chris hesitated, then laughed. "You could say that too," he admitted.
Tom slapped the bar, delighted. "Nothing like seeing it all for the first time," he said. "This here's the meeting place for all sorts. Wizards, witches, you name it. You're in the thick of it now, lad!"
Chris felt a surge of gratitude for The One Above All. Everything was falling into place perfectly. "Is it true there's a way to get to the wizarding world from here?" he asked, leaning closer, unable to contain his excitement.
"Oh, there's more than a way!" Tom exclaimed. "There's Diagon Alley, right out the back. It's a magical marketplace, hidden away from Muggle eyes. Perfect for a young wizard needing supplies."
Chris's mind raced with possibilities. Diagon Alley. The heart of it all. "I can't believe I'm this close," he said, more to himself than to Tom. His heart felt like it might burst from the excitement.
"Many a young wizard has come through these doors," Tom continued, clearly enjoying himself. "Never seen one quite like you, though. You're something special, I can tell."
Chris flushed at the compliment, his thoughts still on the treasures and wonders waiting for him in Diagon Alley. "I'll have to see it for myself," he said, grinning widely.
Tom leaned in again, his voice lowered. "Want a guide, do you? I'd be more than happy to show you the way. It's not every day I get to see the look on someone's face when they walk in for the first time."
Chris met Tom's gaze, feeling the sincerity and excitement there. He didn't have to think twice. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."
Tom clapped his hands together, his enthusiasm infectious. "Come on then, young wizard. Let's get you started."
Chris followed him toward the back, each step bringing him closer to the magic he'd wished for. His heart raced with anticipation. The One Above All had given him this chance, and he was going to take it with everything he had.
The world was waiting.