A flash of light filled the space, and Ryan found himself not in his bedroom but in a completely different room. The space was about 20 square meters, with three walls lined with empty shelves. The only exception was the shelf facing the entrance, which held three small potted plants, each about the size of a palm—likely the goods he had just acquired. Aside from the shelves, the room contained only a lamp overhead and a counter with a chair in the center.
Curious, Ryan walked to the door and opened it, only to be met with a dense, gray fog. He tried stepping outside, but an invisible barrier blocked his way. It was clear he couldn't leave.
At that moment, a surge of information flooded his mind. This place was the Tim Hortans Grocery Store. The goods he acquired would automatically be placed on the shelves. Items produced by the store itself, such as the plants that regenerated weekly, could be used freely. However, if he wanted to use items traded by customers, he would need to pay an equivalent price.
From now on, every time he traveled to another world, he would arrive or return through this store. If a customer or mission appeared, he would receive a notification allowing him to grant entry. Additionally, unless engaged in combat, Ryan could enter the store at will. Currently, the only accessible world was Plants vs. Zombies, and the energy required for travel would recharge every ten days. For now, he could return to the real world whenever he wished.
After digesting this information, Ryan decided to leave. With another flash of light, he found himself back in his bedroom. Glancing at the alarm clock on the table, he noticed that although he had spent five or six hours in Plants vs. Zombies, only an hour had passed in his world. This meant that time flowed differently between the mission world and his home world—a fortunate detail that would prevent any awkward disappearances.
Since it was still hours before dawn, Ryan tidied up and went back to sleep. That night, he dreamt of accumulating vast wealth and power through the grocery store, forging a connection between this world and his homeland, and ultimately living a carefree, luxurious life on the black pool sand.
Just as he was basking in the warmth of the dream, his alarm clock rang. With a sigh, Ryan sat up, recalling the events of the previous day. He washed up and got dressed, preparing for the day ahead.
A Mysterious Letter
Stepping out of his room, Ryan noticed three or four gift boxes neatly placed in the hallway near his door—birthday presents. Picking up the card on top, he read:
"Happy Birthday to our son."
Grinning, he carried the gifts into his room before heading downstairs.
By the time he reached the first floor, Mrs. Sally had already prepared breakfast, while Mr. Lambert was slowly making his way down the stairs. Just then, the sound of the postman's car bell rang from outside.
"Ryan, can you get the mail? The supermarket discount flyer should have arrived," Sally called from the kitchen.
Ryan slipped on his shoes and went to the mailbox on the front lawn. Inside were four letters: one was indeed a discount flyer from a nearby supermarket, another was a letter from a publishing editor addressed to his father, the third was a postcard from his mother's colleague on vacation in Thailand, and the last—
Ryan's pupils widened. The final envelope was unlike the others. It was made of fine parchment paper, sealed without a stamp, and addressed in elegant emerald-green ink:
"Ryan Liang, Small Bedroom on the Second Floor, 12 Quebec Street, Greenwich, London."
His hands trembled as he flipped the envelope over. A wax seal adorned the back, embossed with a coat of arms featuring a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake encircling a large letter H.
Hogwarts.
Despite the passage of time, Ryan had never forgotten his childhood love for Harry Potter. But this couldn't be a joke—this was 1991, and Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone hadn't even been written yet. No one could possibly be pranking him.
The reason he had never discovered his magical abilities before likely had to do with his mature soul. Unlike most magical children, whose emotions often triggered accidental magic, Ryan had always maintained self-control, preventing any outbursts.
Just yesterday, he had gained access to the Tim Hortans Grocery Store and had been focused on using it to amass wealth and power, eventually searching for a way home. But now, with an invitation from Hogwarts, yet another mysterious door had opened before him.
It was undeniable—the world he had lived in for the past ten years was not as ordinary as he had thought. It was a world of magic.
Hogwarts Awaits
Returning inside, Ryan handed the other letters to his parents before absentmindedly finishing his breakfast. Then, retreating to his room, he carefully unsealed the wax and unfolded the letter.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Order of Merlin, First Class)
Dear Mr. Ryan
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of required books and equipment.
The semester begins on September 1st. Please send your confirmation by owl no later than July 31st.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Attached was a list of books and supplies.
Holding the letter, Ryan walked back into the living room, where his father was watching television, and his mother was skimming through the supermarket flyer.
Seeing Ryan with the opened letter, Mr. Lambert glanced at him and asked jokingly, "What's this? A love letter?"
"No, nothing like that," Ryan replied, handing the letter over. "I just received a… strange admission letter."
Lambert and Sally read the letter together.
After five minutes, Lambert finally spoke. "This isn't some elaborate prank, is it?"
Sally shook her head. "Magic doesn't sound real… does it?"
Before Ryan could respond, the doorbell rang.
Mr. Lambert got up and opened the door to reveal a red-haired, slightly balding middle-aged man dressed in an outdated suit.
"Hello," the man greeted warmly. "Are you Ryan Oden Smith's guardian?"
"Yes, I'm his father," Lambert replied. "What's this about?"
"Arthur Weasley, from the Ministry of Magic. I'm here regarding your son's education."
"Please, come in," Lambert invited. "So… which school is this about?"
"Hogwarts," Arthur replied. "I'm an alumnus myself."
Sally's eyes widened. "You mean… a real magic school?"
"Absolutely," Arthur affirmed. "Hogwarts is the finest wizarding school in Europe. Nearly every magical child in the UK attends."
Lambert turned to Ryan and asked in English, "Do you want to go to this school?"
Ryan nodded. "If I have magic, I need to learn how to control it. It would be dangerous otherwise."
After a brief discussion, Lambert turned back to Arthur. "We've decided. Ryan will attend Hogwarts. But where is this Diagon Alley mentioned in the letter?"
"Diagon Alley can be accessed through the back of the Leaky Cauldron." Arthur pulled out a slip of parchment and waved his wand. The address appeared in ink:
26 Charing Cross Road, London
"Take your son there—he'll be able to see it," Arthur continued. Then, remembering something, he pulled out a train ticket. "This is for the Hogwarts Express. The platform is at King's Cross Station, between platforms nine and ten. If you arrive early, you'll see other students and figure it out."
With a warm farewell, Arthur stepped outside, waved once, and with a loud crack, vanished.
Not everyone has The Boy Who Lived to guide them on their first trip to Diagon Alley, Ryan thought wryly.
A whole new world had just opened up before him.