The pain came first.
A sharp shove, panicked footsteps behind her, the desperate scramble to escape the thieves—and then the cold bite of steel. There was no dramatic farewell, no final words. Just a brief flash of fear before everything slipped into silent darkness.
When she opened her eyes again, she wasn't lying in a blood-stained alley.
She was staring up at a white ceiling decorated with a dangling mobile of paper stars gently rotating in the morning light.
A child's room. Her breath hitched. She sat up abruptly only to discover that her limbs were small, her pajamas soft and child-sized, her hands tiny and unscarred. Panic surged through her as she lifted her palms to the light.
What happened to my body?
Before she could piece together a single coherent thought, a crisp, mechanical voice chimed in her ear.
"Ding! Fortune-Telling System successfully bound!"
She froze.
"Ding! Rebirth recognized.New identity: Hermione Jean Granger.Age: 10.Happy Birthday."
Hermione .... no, she felt the world tilt around her. Hermione Jean Granger. From Harry Potter.A fictional girl from a fictional universe.
Her heartbeat raced. "No… no, this is impossible. I must be hallucinating. Trauma-induced delusion? Coma dream? Something medically explainable there must be."
She was a woman who trusted logic. Books. Evidence. She didn't believe in mystical nonsense much less systems with cheerful voices declaring rebirth into a story world.
But her surroundings insisted otherwise.
The neatly stacked children's books she didn't recognize.The soft hum of a kettle downstairs.The faint scent of cinnamon—Hermione's mother's favorite.Everything was vividly real.
And then memories the original Hermione's memories fluttered through her mind. Not in overwhelming waves, but like fragments of old film reels:
A vase that somehow repaired itself when she sobbed as a child. A book flying into her hands when she stretched toward it. Lights flickering when she threw a temper tantrum. These memories weren't logical. Weren't scientific. Weren't normal.
And the system's voice… that certainly wasn't a symptom of head trauma.
Slowly, she lowered her trembling hands.
"…This isn't an illusion, is it?"
Silence answered her. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
She had always been practical even when her life had been stolen from her. Even now, waking up as a ten-year-old witch in a world she'd only ever read about, her mind sought order.
Observe. Analyze. Test.
Whether she liked it or not, she was Hermione Jean Granger now. And the mechanical voice clearly wasn't finished.
"Ding! Beginner's Mission Triggered.""Mission: Perform a fortune-reading for a family member.""Reward: Initial Magic Awakening + Beginner's Tarot Deck."
Hermione rubbed her forehead.
"So magic is real… and I'm expected to give my mum a fortune reading? On my birthday?" She sighed. "Lovely. Absolutely lovely."
Still this was a lead. A start. Something she could control.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The wooden floor was cool beneath her bare feet, grounding her. Whatever this world was, whatever the future held, she would face it carefully, logically, step by step. No overreaction. No reckless choices. First, understand this world her new world. Understand the family she now belonged to. And understand the abilities of this strange, intrusive Fortune-Telling System.
She wasn't just a lost woman reincarnated anymore. She was a ten-year-old witch with a system whispering new possibilities into her ear. And if this world truly followed the books she remembered…
Her journey had only just begun.