Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, and lore from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and her respective publishers/licensees. This is a work of fan fiction intended for entertainment purposes only, and no copyright infringement is intended. The character of Patrik Rosier and any other original characters or plotlines are my own creation.
Author's Note & Introduction
Hi everyone! Currently, I'm stuck at home with a broken leg and way too much free time. I've decided to use this opportunity to fulfill a childhood dream of writing. Since I consider myself an amateur and I'm just starting out, I chose the world of Fanfiction as my training ground.
A note on the language: I write in my native language and translate the text into English using AI. I then manually review and edit it to ensure it flows correctly. You might still encounter some grammatical hiccups or "non-native" phrasing, but I believe the story remains clear. Plus, this project is a great way for me to improve my English—a win-win for everyone!
What to Expect (and what NOT to expect):
The Protagonist: Don't expect a hero who talks about flowers and feelings. This is a grown man in a child's body (SI). He possesses adult intelligence and life experience. I am writing him based on how I would personally react in these situations.
Romance: No "star-crossed lovers" and definitely no harem. In the real world, I've never met a woman who would be okay with me having another partner on the side, so I'm keeping it realistic.
Combat & Realism: I have a background in Muay Thai, BJJ, and MMA. I prefer gritty action and logical combat. The protagonist will be physically capable within the limits of biology. A 30kg child cannot knock out a 100kg man with a punch, regardless of technique (unless it's a perfectly timed elbow to the temple). Expect a slow, realistic progression in physical, magical, and intellectual abilities.
Hard Work: No "System," no handouts, and no instant "Dark Lord" status at age eleven. He won't fall in love with Hermione at first sight. Everything will be earned through hard work.
The World:
Expect a dangerous world where magic has consequences.
Dark Magic is terrifying: Imagine a powerful, dark wizard with no morals. Imperio here, Confundo there. There is no "easy button" to detect these charms.
Real-world consequences: How do you get rich? A simple Imperio/Confundo chain: "Sell your assets, bring me the cash, walk off a bridge." It's not quite that simple, but that's the level of realism and ruthlessness you can expect from this setting.
I hope you enjoy the ride! Feedback is always welcome.
***
I felt a massive headache, as if I'd spent the entire previous night in a bar drowning in liters of alcohol. Where was I yesterday and what was I doing? I couldn't remember, so I stayed there with my eyes shut. Am I at home? Am I at Bran's, my best friend's place? Or will my girlfriend jump out at me with a ladle the moment I open my eyes? Just kidding… I probably have the best girlfriend I could ever ask for.
Okay… I'm not going to be a coward.
I slowly open my eyes and—bam—total shock. I'm lying in a hospital. It's a bit old-school, but everyone who has spent at least a day in a hospital knows those unpleasant metal beds with plastic-wrapped mattresses and the lingering scent of disinfectant.
What the fuck happened last night? Why do I have an IV in my vein?
And why are my hands so brutally small? Where are the blisters on my palms and the scrapes on my knuckles? Something happened, and something is seriously, completely wrong. At this point, I was just confused, not understanding a thing.
"Okay Patrik, let's calm down. Inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4, exhale for 4… repeat," I said to myself. (Classic anti-stress breathing—I highly recommend it).
Wait… was it just me, or am I speaking English?
"One-two, one-two, one-two-three. What is your name? How are you?" I started speaking out loud, saying whatever came to mind as a test of my vocal cords… and I became certain that something was seriously fucking wrong.
I wasn't speaking my native language; I was speaking fluent English. How is that possible? English and German are my secondary languages. I speak them fluently, sure, but it's not the primary language I'd default to—and definitely not without realizing I was doing it.
"Okay Patrik, let's look at the facts. You're in a hospital, you don't know what happened, and you don't remember last night. This is definitely not my body; it looks like a child's body. The tattoos and scars are missing too, which confirms it reaaaaally isn't my body. And the primary, native language is English."
Inhaaaaale, hold, exhaaaaaaaale. Inhaaaaale, hold, exhaaaaaaaale. Inhaaaaale, hold, exhaaaaaaaale.
Fine. I'm in an unfamiliar environment; I need to be careful and gather as much information as possible.
The IV is irritating me and I'm thirsty. With a slow movement, I pulled the IV out. I pressed down gently on the puncture site so I wouldn't bleed everywhere. I slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed…
The problem is, they didn't reach the floor. Fuck… I really am in a child's body. Whatever… I jumped down; luckily it wasn't that high. I probably hadn't been in bed for too long; my legs felt fine, muscles weren't weak or stiff—so maybe 24 to 48 hours of lying down… hmmm.
By the door, there was a small sink, a glass, and a mirror. The first thing I did when I shuffled over was fill the glass with water. My throat was a bit dry, so I slowly rinsed my mouth… I still didn't dare look in the mirror.
Did I steal someone's body? A boy who had his whole life ahead of him? What happened to me and what happened to him? Oh well, no one ever solved anything by stalling and procrastinating… I'd only be hurting myself.
I slowly lifted my head to look in the mirror, but hah, shit. I'm a hobbit and I simply can't see myself :D. Whatever, I hurried back to the bed. Next to the nightstand was a chair, the typical one for visitors. With quite an effort, I dragged it to the mirror. It was relatively heavy—not only am I in a strange body, but I'm also weak.
I slowly climbed onto it in front of the mirror, and then came the next shock. Oval face, dark brown hair, dark brown-green eyes, still some childhood chubbiness. A bandage on the back of my head (looking a bit like a mummy). I looked just like that photo from primary school holding a first-grade textbook that I shared on Instagram for a laugh.
"It is my body… but when I was about 7–10 years old." I stared blankly into the mirror, unable to believe it. Am I in the past? But then why the English? I guess the brain instinctively uses the knowledge it has. So this isn't my body, but at the same time, it is…
Is this some parallel universe? English Patrik? Am I in some super-universe? DC? Marvel? Harry Potter?
I didn't understand it, but I knew I wouldn't get anywhere without more information. I have to prepare for whatever comes next. The main thing is to get fit… my head still hurts as if an angry Thor hit it with his hammer.
I need to sleep; maybe it's just a bad dream…
I slowly closed my eyes and drifted off.
***
Knock, knock, knockKnock, knock, knockKnock, knock, knock
I woke up to an annoying tapping on the door. Who is it? What do they want? Isn't it the weekend?
I opened my eyes grumpily, had to close them again, and then open them in disbelief.
"It wasn't a dream. I'm in a hospital as a kid. I've gone back in time," a short internal monologue reviewing the facts flashed through my mind at lightning speed.
"Come in!" I shouted. (It sounded like a puppy's yelp. It's going to be hard to gain respect, I thought.)
A short, fat man with an unkempt beard and cheap, ill-fitting clothes entered the room. He was smiling… but it was a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes. If I were a regular kid, I would have believed it, but unfortunately for him, I was instantly on guard. I looked at him a bit closer… yellow, rotten teeth, bad clothes, fake smile… he only lacked candies in his pockets.
My blood ran cold; I immediately felt the adrenaline kicking in. There was absolutely nothing in the room I could use as a weapon (surprisingly, for a hospital :D). My only option was Muay Thai, with a single chance—a sharp elbow to the temple if he tried anything.
He slowly walked into the room and sat on the chair by the bed.
"How are you feeling, Patrik? I heard you fell down the stairs," he said, trying to sound kind.
"Who are you and how do you know my name?" I replied, trying for a normal tone without any tension.
"You don't remember me? I'm the maintenance man at the home," he replied "kindly," but I saw that fake smile… eyes don't lie, and I caught a flash of triumph.
Right then, it was clear that something stank… and it wasn't just his disgusting smell of sweat, onions, and old clothes.
"From the home? What home?" I blurted out in surprise.
"Wool's Orphanage in London, of course," he replied, and I could still see the triumph in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, I don't remember anything at all. Could you tell me more? What's your name, by the way?"
"My name is Adam Bates. What specifically are you interested in? I just came to check on you quickly; I don't have much time." He stopped pretending entirely; he was talking normally now. I was certain he had something to do with why I was in the hospital.
"What's my last name, Mr. Bates? How old am I and where are we now?"
"Your name is Patrik Rosier. I don't know how old you are; you'll have to ask the matron. You're currently in central London, only a kilometer away from Wool's Orphanage."
As soon as he finished speaking, a nurse burst into the room and immediately started shouting:
"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS BEING IN HERE!!!!" she yelled angrily. Luckily, she wasn't yelling at me, but at Bates next to me, who immediately jumped off the chair and away from me.
"I… I… I'm Adam Bates, I work at the orphanage. I just came to see if Patrik was alright," he replied, terrified.
Why is he scared? Was he not here officially? It only confirmed my belief that Bates was dangerous and that he wasn't here just because. I have to be careful… Life isn't fair, especially for an orphan.
"OUT AT ONCE, OR I'LL CALL THE POLICE! NO ONE IS ALLOWED IN THIS ROOM WITHOUT STAFF PERMISSION!!!!" she continued to scream.
Bates flew out of the room as if the devils themselves were chasing him. I felt a wave of relief. Bates was dangerous, and as a kid, I wouldn't be able to defend myself properly if he wanted to hurt me.
As soon as he was gone, a doctor arrived. He reminded me a bit of Dr. House, though he didn't limp. He had a friendly face and light stubble. I immediately started to trust him.
"What happened, Helena? How did that man get in here and what was he doing?" the doctor asked, out of breath. He must have run when he heard the shouting.
"I saw him sitting on the chair talking, but I don't know about what. I don't understand how he got in."
The doctor noticed I was tensely listening to what was going on. He gave me a reassuring smile.
"Everything alright, young man? How are you?"
"Great. What's going on here?" I replied sarcastically and asked straight out. No point beating around the bush.
The doctor smiled with amusement and turned back to the nurse.
"Helena, please go call the police and bring me this young man's medical file," he requested and ordered at the same time. The nurse just nodded and immediately left the room…
Hmm, probably a good doctor if he commands that much respect.
"What is your name? So I don't have to call you 'young man'," he asked me. I had a strong urge to snap back and tell him to introduce himself first… but this was important and I can't act like a brat.
"My name is Patrik. I don't remember much," I replied.
"Nice to meet you, Patrik. I'm Doctor Barlow. I can't tell you much because I wasn't working when you were admitted. I need your file to give you more information. Someone should bring it shortly. Could you answer my questions in the meantime?"
I simply nodded…
"Thank you. Who was that man and what did he want?" Barlow went straight to the point. Great doctor.
"He said his name is Adam Bates, he works as maintenance at the orphanage where I live. He told me he just came to see me because I fell down the stairs. But he was acting weird…" I said honestly that Bates was really strange and creepy, and I didn't trust him.
"How weird?"
"He was acting fake—visibly and overly kind. I also felt like he was happy I didn't remember anything." Hah, threw him right under the bus :D.
"Hmm, thank you. The police will be interested in that as well."
"Why? What happened?"
"You're in a private room, a relatively secret one that the nurses can access easily. Rooms like this are reserved for victims of a crime. Judging by the bandages and your memory loss, I'd say it was an attempted murder," Barlow explained patiently and factually.
"Thank you for being honest, I appreciate it. Won't you get in trouble for telling me?"
I was surprised by his honesty. Who tells a kid someone tried to murder them? I felt grateful he was being direct.
"Orphanage kids grow up faster. You strike me as a strong personality who values reality over lies. No, I won't have problems. If you had a hysterical breakdown and a nervous collapse, someone would surely blame me… but given you're from the orphanage and on that gray edge… it's fine."
Knock, knock, knock
"Enter!" Barlow called out.
A young nurse walked in, probably an intern since she looked like a student, maybe 15–16. She looked at the room and me with interest.
"Doctor, Mrs. Helena sent me with the medical file for patient Patrik Evan Rosier." She handed him the file and winked at me with a smile.
"Thank you, Eliza, you may go," Barlow thanked her politely with a smile.
Eliza waved at me, turned on her heel, and left. Meanwhile, Doctor Barlow was reading my file. The room was quite silent, giving me time to think… Someone tried to kill me, probably that slimeball Bates. The question is why… and at the same time, would he really be stupid enough to check on his victim to see if they're alive or remember anything? How did he get in here if I'm not in a public ward?
My name is strange too… Evan Rosier was probably my father… Rosier sounds familiar, but I can't for the life of me remember what it is. I simply need more information.
"It's a miracle you're alive and talking at all. They found you under the stairs in a pool of blood; you should be in a coma right now. According to the X-rays, you suffered a skull fracture in multiple places," Barlow suddenly spoke up. I jolted a bit, lost in thought.
"Well, I'm glad to be alive, obviously," I laughed. So this body probably died, and I somehow ended up in it from the future or another universe. Interesting.
"We're glad too. The police are investigating the case right now; they'll definitely talk to you soon. I'll inform them about Mr. Bates. In the meantime, I'll check how you're doing." Barlow said with a smile. "Aside from the memory loss, does anything hurt? Do you feel anything unusual?" he added.
"My head hurts a bit, like I drank liters of alcohol and have a terrible hangover. And my stomach is still a bit unsettled," I answered honestly.
"Liters of alcohol? A hangover?" Barlow asked in surprise, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, that's just how people say it, right? :D" I quickly played it off.
"I see, I see. We'll prescribe some Paracetamol and beef broth," Barlow replied with an amused smile. "Turn your back to me; I'll check the wound on the back of your head to see how it's healing," he ordered.
I turned around and felt him taking off the bandage. It didn't come off easily, even though he was trying to be careful… blood sticks to bandages and then you have to peel it away gently. I hissed like a snake when he pulled a bit harder. The bandage was completely off, and I just heard a surprised gasp.
"Is something wrong, Doctor? Is everything okay?" I asked curiously and cautiously.
"Every… everything is fine. There is no wound."
"How is that possible? You said I had multiple skull fractures," I asked in shock.
"It's true. Even the bandage was soaked with blood after the surgery. I never thought I'd encounter a case like this in my career."
"What do you mean, 'a case like this'?" I asked, bewildered.
"A case where a child is at huge risk of death one day, and the next, there isn't a single trace of the injury. As if the injury vanished by miracle. No one knows why it happens; it's a very rare phenomenon, maybe 1 in a million. A miracle, magic, prayer, or God's second chance. It's only known in medical circles, and even there, only a small percentage believe it. Those it happens to… until recently, I considered them over-dramatic fools who must be making it up…"
I was completely speechless, just like Barlow.
"Well, I'm glad I'm alive and got a second chance. Can I ask what year it is, Doctor?"
"Well, I'm glad you're alive too. I might start believing in God myself. The year is 1988, February 20th. I'll send a nurse with the Paracetamol and that broth for your stomach. I'll come by for rounds tomorrow morning. Do you need anything else for now?"
"No, nothing else. I need to sleep, thank you." I thanked Barlow with a smile. I like it when people are competent.
"I'll leave you for now then. Get some rest, and if anything happens, there's a button on the side of the bed that sends a signal. Please, press it immediately if anyone other than the nurses or me comes in," Barlow ordered as he left.
"You got it, boss!" I saluted for fun before Barlow closed the door.
At least I can think now…
It's 1988. I'm not in the past; I didn't live in this year.
I look exactly as I did when I was a kid.
Someone tried to murder me. They succeeded. I'm a different Patrik.
I'm miraculously alive. Was it a miracle or something else? (Superpowers? Magic? Something else?)
Why am I in an orphanage? Where is my family?
My last name and my father's name sound familiar. Evan Rosier… who is that and where have I heard that last name before? Rosier—Rose, something with flowers?
More questions than answers. I'll just have to wait and see.
***
So, what do you guys think? Is the grammar readable? I've gone through it several times and it seems fine to me, but I'm always open to advice and corrections from native speakers. As for the story itself—what are your first impressions? I'm looking for objective feedback. I decided to upload the first part here because this community is known for being active and providing great critiques. I look forward to your comments!