James Walker's life was a symphony of routine, a series of meticulously orchestrated events that repeated day after day. His alarm clock, a relic from his university days, buzzed insistently at 6:30 AM, jerking him out of a deep slumber. He groaned, smacking the snooze button with a practiced hand before reluctantly dragging himself out of bed.
The London sky was a perpetual gray, a ceiling of clouds that seemed to press down on the city. James shuffled to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and examined his reflection. Mid-thirties, sandy brown hair beginning to thin, blue eyes framed by glasses that had slid down his nose. He was the epitome of average, a man who blended seamlessly into the backdrop of city life.
By 7:00 AM, he was dressed in a crisp suit and tie, a coffee cup in one hand and a newspaper in the other. The commute to his office in Canary Wharf was a blur of subway stations and bustling crowds. The Tube was packed, as always, with weary commuters jostling for space. James found a spot by the door and lost himself in the pages of the financial section, the headlines a mix of market predictions and economic woes.
His office was a sterile environment of cubicles and fluorescent lights, the hum of computers and the click-clack of keyboards the soundtrack to his day. James worked as an analyst for a mid-sized investment firm, crunching numbers and drafting reports. It was a good job, stable and well-paying, but it lacked the spark of excitement he'd once dreamed of.
Lunch was a brief escape, a sandwich eaten on a bench overlooking the Thames. He watched the boats drift by, his mind wandering to far-off places and adventures he'd never have. The afternoon dragged on, meetings and emails blending into a monotonous haze. By 5:00 PM, he was back on the Tube, heading home to his small, tidy flat.
Evenings were quiet. He cooked a simple dinner, watched a bit of television, and read before bed. It was a life of comfort and predictability, but also one of profound isolation. Friends had drifted away over the years, busy with their own lives, and James hadn't made much effort to replace them. His parents lived in the countryside, their calls infrequent but warm. He was alone, but he had grown used to it.
It was a cold, drizzly Thursday when everything changed. The day started like any other, with James navigating the crowded streets and the labyrinthine corridors of the Tube. He reached his office, settled into his routine, and began the day's work. But as the hours ticked by, a sense of unease crept over him. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow. He dismissed it as stress, a side effect of the never-ending demands of his job.
By lunchtime, the discomfort had worsened. His vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He staggered to his feet, clutching his desk for support. The office around him seemed to tilt and sway, the sounds of phones ringing and conversations fading into a distant hum. Panic surged through him as he stumbled towards the door, gasping for air.
He made it to the street outside, the cold air a shock to his system. But relief was fleeting. His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the pavement, the world around him spinning into darkness. He heard distant shouts, felt hands grasping at him, but he was beyond their reach. His vision dimmed, and with a final, shuddering breath, James Walker slipped into unconsciousness.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer on the cold, wet pavement of London. He was standing in a vast, white realm, the surroundings a blinding expanse of light. He blinked, disoriented, trying to make sense of the impossible. Before him stood a figure, ethereal and beautiful, radiating a serene, otherworldly glow.
"Welcome, James," she said, her voice like a melody. "You have been chosen for a unique opportunity. You will be granted three wishes and the chance to reshape your destiny. But first, you must decide how you wish to appear in your new life. Your objective is to aid a powerful figure in a distant world. Your task is to help Voldemort win."
James stared at her, his mind racing. He had read the Harry Potter books years ago, a tale of magic and heroism. But this—this was beyond comprehension. As the reality of his situation sank in, a slow smile spread across his face. His ordinary life was over. Something extraordinary was about to begin.