It was a rainy night. St. Jude's Home for Foundlings sat in a quiet, forgotten corner near the border of Peckham and Camberwell in South East London. The Home was a large Victorian-style building made of dark, soot-stained red bricks. It looked old—probably built around the 1800s—and forgotten by time due to the lack of renovations.
A boy of about eleven stared at the building and then at his reflection in the window. He looked around, noticing the iron fence surrounding the property. The small front garden he stood in was mostly overgrown, with a single struggling plane tree and patches of thin grass worn down by years of children playing on it.
"Where the hell am I?"
The boy muttered to himself, unsure if this was a dream or not. He looked at his now small hands and flexed his fingers.
Cain Riven—or Cain of Limgrave, as he had been called at the Roundtable Hold—had been an ordinary teen before he was sucked into his Elden Ring game, right after arriving in Limgrave and defeating the Soldier of Godrick. Cain had never considered himself a die-hard gamer or a sweat; he simply liked to explore maps, roam around, and find new things even if he didn't fully understand them. But playing a game and being inside the game were two entirely different experiences. Even though he couldn't die permanently, he still felt the pain of every death.
Through countless deaths and hardships, Cain had finally managed to defeat the Elden Beast—when suddenly he found himself here. Standing in the rain, in the middle of the night, in front of an orphanage.
"Did I get transported to Bloodborne next?" The rainy night and the old Victorian-style building fueled his worry. After escaping one nightmare, Cain wasn't about to assume he was safe.
Lost in his thoughts, Cain failed to notice the small owl that had landed in front of him, carrying what looked like a letter. The owl hooted, catching Cain's attention.
"Huh? What's this… a letter for me?" Cain asked, unsure.
The owl hooted again and flew up to perch on his shoulder. Cain took the envelope and read the name written in green ink.
Mr. C. Riven
The Garden of St. Jude's Home for Foundlings
27 Dagnall Park Road
Peckham
Cain was stunned. He flipped the letter over, and his suspicion was confirmed.
"I'm in Harry Potter," he whispered.
Breaking the red wax seal engraved with the Hogwarts crest, Cain opened the letter and read.
---
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr Riven,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your confirmation owl no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
---
'Looks like I won't be able to return after all,' Cain thought to himself. He had made peace with it months ago. He'd always felt that returning home was an impossible dream. He had tried until the very end, and that was what mattered.
"So, uh… how do I send a confirmation?" Cain asked the owl sitting on his shoulder. Like him, the creature seemed unbothered by the rain. The owl tugged at the first page of the letter. Cain folded it and placed it back inside the envelope. The owl hooted, took the letter in its beak, and flew away, leaving Cain with the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters ticket and the books-and-equipment list.
"…What should I do now?"
---
The gloom of St. Jude's Home for Foundlings fell away as Cain slipped out of the front gate into the rainy night. The silence of the old building was instantly replaced by the low pulse of the city—a sound that, after a long and strange absence, was as familiar as his own heartbeat.
The air smelled of rain mixed with soil, and Cain inhaled deeply. It was London. He was back on Earth—though not his Earth. This one had not yet seen the relentless progress of the twenty-first century.
He walked slowly, taking in every sight. Soon the quiet residential streets gave way to a minor high street, where several overly lit shops lined the pavement. A large, bright sign for a Blockbuster Video stopped him in his tracks.
He stood across the street, mesmerized. The place was closed, but the interior lights were still blazing over endless rows of black plastic cases. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the sheer, overwhelming abundance of human stories.
It's all here… and one day I'll be able to witness it all over again, he thought, a wave of profound relief washing over him.
He continued on, the nostalgia now a bittersweet ache. Everything looked the same, yet somehow sharper, louder, and more aggressively marketed.
The vehicles fascinated him most. He remembered the smell of his father's old Honda and how they used to clean the car on the first day of every summer break.
At a corner, he passed a newspaper stand still displaying the late editions. The headline covered a political scandal involving someone named John Major. Cain felt a wave of amusement.
"Politicians never change."
He allowed himself a brief diversion into a nearby park, where he sat beside a statue of a forgotten general. Even the grass smelled right—the damp, slightly metallic scent of London turf.
Around 4:30 a.m., the city lights began to thin out, and Cain decided it was time to head back.
He turned toward Camberwell again, retracing his steps. He found Dagnall Park Road just as the sky was turning a pale grey, and the looming structure of St. Jude's Home for Foundlings met his gaze once more.
---
Time flew by as Cain waited in front of the orphanage. Just a few hours after receiving his Hogwarts letter and sending his confirmation, a special guest arrived.