In the spacious study of an old mansion, a boy, despite his young age, sat with effortless elegance. His features were delicate and aristocratic, and the deep gaze of his grey eyes seemed insightful beyond his years. Ten-year-old Stephen Vincent Strange, whose innate perceptiveness and keen intellect had already earned him unofficial renown in certain London circles, was bent over an open volume on human anatomy.
Stephen didn't know his biological parents; he'd been found as an infant on the doorstep of one of London's oldest orphanages. At the age of five, he was adopted by an eccentric but kind elderly gentleman, entirely absorbed in his scientific research. This gentleman, unburdened by conventional upbringing, granted Stephen unrestricted access to his vast library and, most importantly, complete freedom.
But beyond this, Stephen held a secret he couldn't explain with any logical deduction. From his earliest childhood, even before he truly became self-aware, fragments of memories that didn't belong to this life would surface in his mind. Incredible sleight of hand, the smell of sterility and anesthesia, the sight of an operating room, a feeling of infallible confidence in his own judgments, alternating with annoyance at the mundane nature of human problems. He didn't know how it was possible, but he was absolutely certain: he had lived before. Lived another life where he was a brilliant, though overconfident, surgeon, saving lives and collecting exotic watches. These memories, like an encrypted file in his brain, constantly influenced his thinking, explaining his unusual abilities and an inexplicable attraction to medicine and complex mechanisms.
Two years prior, his adoptive father had passed away peacefully in his sleep, leaving Stephen not only an extensive collection of rare books and scientific instruments but also his considerable fortune. Thanks to these funds and generous "gratitude" from wealthy clients whose problems he effortlessly solved, Stephen, by the age of ten, already owned his own mansion. This house was his fortress, his laboratory, and a place where he could freely indulge in his research, much to the horror of the few servants who regularly found traces of strange chemical reactions, unusual artifacts, and medical atlases strewn across the living room floor.
It was on one such rainy day, as Stephen was just finishing the analysis of a rare organic substance, that a sudden gust of wind flung open his study window. In that same second, a large, majestic owl flew through the opening. It landed silently on the desk directly in front of Stephen, carefully placed a thick parchment envelope, and, after a piercing gaze at the boy, immediately ruffled its wings and flew back out into the rainy night.
Stephen, squinting, slowly picked up the letter. It had no stamps, which was quite unusual. "Evidently, the sender is either unfamiliar with conventional postal service or uses alternative delivery methods," he murmured, examining the parchment. "And the address... is very specific. Likely some eccentric trying to get my attention, or... this is a very expensive courier service. Though, considering current Royal Mail tariffs, this owl option might even be more economical."
He leaned back in his chair, held the envelope up to the light, studying the watermarks, then methodically unsealed it. Unfolding the parchment, he began to read:
Hogwarts Letter
Dear Mr. Stephen Strange,
We are pleased to officially inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We eagerly await your arrival and believe that your outstanding potential will find its full realization within the walls of our institution.
As you are likely unfamiliar with the customs and accoutrements of our world, a school representative will be dispatched to you shortly. Their task is to provide you with comprehensive assistance in acquiring the necessary school supplies and uniform, a list of which is enclosed with this letter.
Please confirm receipt of this letter and your intention to enroll no later than July 31st.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Stephen looked up from the letter and thoughtfully narrowed his eyes. "Magic?" he drawled skeptically, as if the word itself were something indecent. "An extremely unusual hypothesis to explain the inexplicable. Though, if these 'spells' work like formulas, not just empty phrases, then it might be even more interesting than ordinary anatomy, where everything has long been neatly categorized. Although, hand on heart, my anatomy has never been so neatly categorized as to leave no room for brilliant discoveries." He scanned the list of supplies. "A wand? A cauldron? Spellbooks? This sounds like a recipe for disaster, unless they have adequate accident insurance. And as for owl post... who would have thought they could read addresses? This clearly goes beyond ordinary ornithology. Though, come to think of it, this explains why my dog never brought me the morning paper, despite all my attempts at training. Apparently, I just chose the wrong tactic. I hope this 'school representative' is competent. I don't tolerate inefficiency, especially when it comes to my education."
He reread the letter, then skimmed the list of necessary supplies: a magic wand, a cauldron, spell books. His brain, accustomed to systematization and finding connections, instantly began constructing a new logical chain that now seemed to make sense in light of his vague memories. "Owl post, Hogwarts, magical items... this aligns with certain myths and... literary works."
And then his eyes widened. He remembered. The books, which he had thought were mere fiction, suddenly began to take on the characteristics of reality. A boy named Harry Potter, living in a cupboard under the stairs, a wizarding world hidden from Muggles. And with this realization, his brain, as if unarchiving long-stored files, released another astonishing memory.
Not just a surgeon. In his past life, after that brilliant but equally arrogant career, he had delved into another world – a world of mysticism and esotericism. He remembered ancient scrolls, portals that opened out of nowhere, incredible entities, and battles where space and time themselves became weapons. He wasn't just a doctor; he was a Sorcerer. The Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. The irony of fate was striking.
"So that's it!" Stephen exclaimed, involuntarily leaning forward. A flash of what looked like genuine delight crossed his face, quickly replaced by his usual pensiveness. "So, magic exists! And not just exists, but functions according to what are, evidently, perfectly logical, though currently unknown to me, laws! Imagine how many new, my own spells one could invent if these principles were understood! Or, for example, how to optimize spatio-temporal manipulations so as to never be late for social engagements? It will be a revolution! Although, who am I kidding, that's unlikely."
Then, his brows furrowed as the plot points of the books became clearer. "The Harry Potter universe exists. And I'm in it. Well, that certainly increases the difficulty coefficient of my current incarnation. I hope there's something there that can genuinely entertain me and perhaps even challenge me. These Muggle problems are becoming indecently predictable. And maybe I'll even meet someone who can truly appreciate my brilliant intellect and be willing to learn from the best. Although, who am I kidding, that's unlikely."
But then his gaze darkened. "However... in this universe, there's also... Voldemort. The one who constantly returns. Relentless, ominous. And, judging by the description, quite ineffective in his attempts to conquer the world. I remember encountering far more sophisticated threats in my past life. His methods seem... crude. That concerns me. Incompetence on such a scale can be dangerous in itself. It seems I'll have to personally handle his strategic planning, otherwise this world is doomed to constant, utterly unnecessary conflicts. And, I suppose, he likely causes some magical tumors or, even worse, permanent headaches for everyone around him. This will need to be diagnosed and, if possible, eliminated before it becomes my problem."
The thought that there were phenomena that could not be explained by ordinary logic was a challenge to him, an intriguing puzzle. Though, perhaps now it was more of a familiar puzzle, awaiting his brilliant solution.