The abyss stretched downwards, devoid of light or sound. I plummeted through the emptiness, my descent cold and quiet, punctuated only by the unnerving sensation of weightlessness.

My life hadn't been particularly remarkable. No heroic deeds, no earth-shattering discoveries, just a mundane and replaceable existence that no one would miss. Yet, none of that would matter. Death, it seemed, was neither warm nor cold, simply indifferent.

Suddenly, a voice materialised from the void, its tone oddly cheerful considering this setting.

"Sorry to break your train of thought, Mr. Jansen," it chirped, "but your reincarnation is imminent."

Startled, I jerked into a semblance of consciousness. Reincarnation? That was definitely the start of this story, was it? Before I could voice my wall-breaking joy, however, the voice continued, "Please recall any superpowers, cheats or otherwise for your next life, as well as the fictional universe you wish to be born into. Specific time, location and difficulty as that would be ideal."

Superpowers? Fictional universes? This had to be some bizarre wish-fulfilment fantasy, conjured from a certain sleep-deprived mind. There's no way cheats are so easy to get. Yet, the feeling of my fall to whatever afterlife felt all too real.

"In death, one merely exists as a thought, sir," the voice coaxed, its patience unsettling. "Do take your time."

Infinite time? That sure is convenient. Memories of fantastical worlds and legendary adventures flitted through my mind. Batman gliding through the skies, countless Yasuos dying their tenth time, even that bizarrely inappropriate live-action Mario that gave me nightmares.
But then, a different character came to mind. A boy with startling green eyes and messy black hair, a lightning bolt scar etched upon his forehead. A world of magic, flying broomsticks and Fantastic Beasts…

"Harry Potter," I breathed, the name sending a tingle down my nonexistent spine. Meeting Luna, casting spells with a flick of my wrist, facing off against the Dark Lord himself... the dream of my childhood, within the palms of my hands.

"Indeed sir, a great choice," the voice affirmed, its tone indifferent, somehow mocking. "Do you have a specific year or family background in mind?"

"Eleven years old, Harry Potter himself," I declared without hesitation. No need to suffer through the Dursleys' abuse. I wanted to step in as Harry at that perfect, magical moment, when he received his Hogwarts letter and stepped into the Wizarding World.

"King's Cross station, platform 9¾, then?" the voice confirmed.

"Precisely," I said, relishing in anticipation. "And one more thing… Can I keep Harry's plot armour intact? I just want to enjoy the world, not be bullied by it."

A brief silence followed, then the voice conceded, "As you wish, sir. Potter's Protagonist Invincibility would remain unchanged. The world and its inhabitants are unable to fatally wound, maim or control you. However, do keep in mind your friends would suffer greater harm for as long as they stay by your side."

So, practically invincible? I do need to learn defensive magic for anyone I bring along, though.

"Eidetic memory, talent for wandless magic, and the ability to summon an object from another fictional world," I listed. "Oh, and instant access to the Harry Potter Wiki wouldn't hurt either."

"Added, sir," the voice acknowledged. "The difficulty is now adjusted to: 'intro'. It is super easy, barely an inconvenience to attempt anything. Your reincarnation settings are confirmed, transporting in progress…"

A blue screen filled my vision, a single bar slowly filling up. 20%... 60%... 99%... complete.

I felt my body solidifying, my senses slowly returning. The clatter of wheels and the rumble of engines filled my ears, the aroma of coal smoke assaulting my nose.

The rumble of the departing Dursleys' car faded, leaving me alone between platforms 9 and 10. As expected, the bustling chaos of a London train station greeted me. Commuters of all shapes and sizes hurried past, dragging trolleys and lugging suitcases. Even with my experience at the Tokyo station rush hour, navigating this dense crowd seemed daunting.

Just then, a voice piped up. "Alright, Percy, you first." I followed the sound to a family, clearly wizards by their uncanny clothing and bright, red hair. A pair of squabbling twins and a nervous younger boy stood bundled with luggage.

"Fred, you next," the mother instructed, causing the twins to erupt in renewed prank attempts. This scene seemed strangely familiar, reminiscent of JK Rowling's descriptions in "Philosopher's Stone." Was the universe subtly nudging me towards the Weasley?

Not wanting to draw attention, I discreetly approached the barrier separating platforms. As I neared, a bushy-haired girl with prominent front teeth caught my eye. Her gaze held a mix of curiosity and nervous excitement, and she seemed to be intently studying the barrier.

"Are you trying to get to Platform 9 3/4?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and eager. "It's for Hogwarts, you know. You need to walk straight through the wall, between platforms 9 and 10. Be careful not to slow down or hesitate, otherwise you'll bounce right back. It says so in Hogwarts: A History."

I smiled at her enthusiasm. "Thanks," I said, appreciating the tip. This girl, brimming with nervous energy and genuine excitement, was a stark contrast to my own calm demeanour. I knew what was coming, what awaited on the other side, and probably the girl's future more than she did herself.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the barrier with quick steps. The solid wall loomed before me, seemingly impenetrable. With a silent word of affirmation, I closed my eyes and ran my trolley straight through.

A cool curtain enveloped me, followed by the unmistakable sounds of puffing steam and excited chatter. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the unmistakable crimson Hogwarts Express steaming its way through the platform, a sight much more magnificent than the movies. The sheer chaos of hundreds of young witches and wizards, lugging trunks and owls, brought a grin to my face.

A wave of exhilaration washed over me, momentarily banishing the certainty of the future. This was it, the beginning of my study of magic, where anything is possible.

As I walked onto the train, the girl from earlier bumped into me, her eyes wide with wonder. "Did you see it?" she exclaimed, her voice breathless. "It's incredible, isn't it? I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and I've already practised a few charms before school myself. Not all successfully, mind you, but still..."

Her rapid-fire monologue reminded me of our destined encounter on the train. I could've sworn I heard echoes of Ron's exasperation in my amusement.

"And I'm Harry, just Harry," I replied with a slight grin. It felt good to keep some things normal, enjoying when my true identity remains hidden.

Hermione, oblivious to my intentions, continued chattering with infectious enthusiasm. The train jolted, signalling its departure, and I settled into my compartment, watching the London landscape recede into the distance.