Archmage of All Worlds: Beginning from Harry Potter

The Wool's Orphanage is an old institution in London.

It's a square building surrounded by tall iron fences. The inside feels quite rundown, but it's impeccably clean, spotless even.

No one knows exactly when the orphanage was founded. Despite its long history, it holds no claim to fame—no renowned businessmen, politicians, or scholars have ever emerged from here. It struggles to attract donations or even those willing to adopt the children.

It's just an ordinary, dilapidated orphanage on the brink of bankruptcy. The caretaker, Mrs. Garry, is nothing more than an ordinary elderly woman.

Yet, despite its apparent insignificance, this orphanage holds an extraordinary reputation in a world hidden from ordinary eyes, a reputation that, from today, is destined to grow even louder.

On this day, June 11, 1991, the orphanage welcomes a rather special guest.

"Knock, knock, knock—"

The sound of knocking echoed in Mrs. Garry's ears.

She set down her needle and thread and hurriedly made her way to the door.

"Who could be visiting such an old orphanage on a rainy day like this?"

Puzzled, she grabbed an old black umbrella from the stand near the door and opened it as she approached the entrance.

Standing at the door was an elderly man, tall and thin, with long silver hair and a silver beard that reached down to his waist. Over his robe, he wore a purple cloak and held a worn, filthy black umbrella. His robes were soaked, and his half-moon glasses were fogged with rainwater.

Mrs. Garry was already 60 years old, but she thought this man must be far older. Yet, strangely enough, despite his apparent age, he seemed much more energetic than her. His bright blue eyes sparkled with life.

"Oh, do come in." Mrs. Garry fumbled with her large keyring, eventually finding the right one to open the orphanage's rusty old gate. "The weather's been dreadful lately; the children's clothes have been hanging for two days and still aren't dry."

"No kidding," the old man agreed, following her into the orphanage's entrance. His gaze wandered around the place, a trace of nostalgia flickering in his eyes.

"This place hasn't changed a bit. Still as tidy as ever," he remarked.

"Of course." Mrs. Garry, with a hint of pride, rummaged through a cabinet and handed him a clean towel. "We've always been like this. Though we can't provide luxurious conditions, we do our best to give the children a good environment to grow up in. That's been our way since Mrs. Cole's time. Sadly, not many people are willing to help us, or the poor children here," she said, her tone drifting into a bit of complaint, as elderly people often do.

"Have you been here before? I don't recall ever meeting you," she asked curiously.

"Oh, it was many years ago," the old man recalled. "Fifty-seven, maybe fifty-eight years ago? I don't quite remember. Back then, Mrs. Cole was the one who helped me."

"Then you must be over 80 years old!" Mrs. Garry commented offhandedly while preparing tea for her guest.

"Believe me, I'm older than you think," the old man replied, drying his long beard and hair with the towel. He then engaged in a pleasant conversation with the somewhat lonely Mrs. Garry.

After a good while, when her need for company had been satisfied, Mrs. Garry finally remembered her guest's purpose. "So, sir, you… oh, how rude of me, I haven't even asked your name."

"Albus, Albus Dumbledore," the old man responded. "I'm the headmaster of a private school. I'm here looking for a boy named Owen."

"Oh, Owen!" Mrs. Garry's cloudy eyes seemed to light up at the mention of that name. "Young Owen is the pride of our orphanage. There's no child here more clever or well-behaved than him. I've watched him grow up. I've seen all sorts of mischievous little rascals, you know, as part of my job, but I've never met a child as bright and sensible as Owen."

Mrs. Garry's face was full of pride and delight as she continued, "Owen was speaking at the age of one! And since then, he's never cried or fussed, even when he was hungry or bullied by the older kids. He always dealt with it on his own. He's such a strong child."

As she refilled Dumbledore's cup of tea, she went on, "That boy loves reading. Ever since he learned to read, he's been devouring books—newspapers, magazines, dictionaries, novels… you name it, he reads it. He's a smart one, learns quickly too. By the age of three, he was already reading newspapers fluently."

Just like a grandmother boasting about her favorite grandson, Mrs. Garry spent a long time describing the ten-year-old boy named Owen. Dumbledore listened patiently, gradually forming an impression of the child: intelligent, well-mannered, studious, hardworking, kind… Although he knew the old woman might be a bit biased, the picture she painted was, for the most part, a perfect one.

"Well," Dumbledore finally asked, carefully choosing his words, "Has anything strange or unusual ever happened around the boy?"

"Strange?" At the mention of that word, the warm smile on Mrs. Garry's face vanished instantly, and she sharply retorted, "Nothing strange has ever happened around Owen! He's a perfectly good child! Only a heartless person would ever doubt such a wonderful boy."

"Yes, yes, I didn't mean to question him," Dumbledore quickly reassured her. "I just want to know everything I can about him." Even a great wizard like Dumbledore struggled to handle the sudden anger of the old lady. It took him some time to calm her down and convince her that he meant no harm.

"How is this possible?" Dumbledore wondered to himself. "The 'Quill of Acceptance' clearly wrote his name in the 'Book of Admittance,' proving he has magical talent. Such talent usually manifests in strange incidents before young wizards learn to control their powers. Yet, Mrs. Garry noticed nothing. Is his talent too weak, or…" His thoughts drifted back to a certain someone, and he tucked his doubts away for now.

"Well," Dumbledore said, wrapping up their conversation, "As headmaster of Hogwarts School, I would like to invite Owen to attend our school. I've come to deliver his acceptance letter and meet him in person."

"Oh, another school offering him admission! I knew our Owen would be recognized sooner or later," Mrs. Garry replied with a beaming smile. "But you're the first headmaster to come in person. Still, the decision is his to make, you know. Even Eton College has offered him a place."

With that, Mrs. Garry got up from her chair. "I'll take you to his room now. Owen should be reading at this time."

Saying this, she led Dumbledore up the stairs.

At the Wool's Orphanage, Owen was a legend.

As a baby, he was found at the orphanage's doorstep by Mrs. Garry when she went out to fetch the morning paper.

He had been wrapped in an adult's clothes, and the only clue to his identity was a plastic card with the name "Owen" written on it. Given his Asian appearance, they named him Owen.

From a young age, Owen showed remarkable talent. He learned to speak, walk, and read much faster than other children his age. He was also incredibly well-behaved, never causing any trouble for the adults.

Although his skin color made him stand out at the orphanage, Owen's maturity and intelligence made him the natural leader among the children. No matter whether they were older or younger, everyone admired and respected him.

After Owen turned five, the staff at the orphanage noticed their workload significantly reduced. Under Owen's influence, the children became more obedient and even helped with household chores.

At the nearby primary school, Owen was recognized as a genius. No problem was too difficult for him in class, and both teachers and the headmaster spoke highly of him. By the time he graduated from primary school, he had even received an admission letter from the prestigious Eton College.

But no one knew the truth: Owen was a traveler from another world.

In his past life, Owen had been a college student in the city of Dalian, from a middle-class family. He had attended one of the top ten universities in the country, majoring in software engineering, a highly sought-after field. While he wasn't exactly a "winner" in life, he was doing quite well compared to his peers.

Besides his academic pursuits, Owen had been a bit of a nerd, deeply involved in ACG (anime, comics, and games).

Just before his journey to this new world, Owen had gone to see Avengers: Endgame during the May Day holiday. As a lifelong bachelor, he always went to movies alone. But on his way back to school, disaster struck. A bolt of lightning came out of nowhere, swallowing him up in a flash of light, leaving no trace behind. His disappearance became a local urban legend.

But in truth, he hadn't died.

At that moment, all Owen had seen was a flash of lightning, followed by a strange black crack opening before him. The lightning had torn open a rift in space—air, rocks, and even Owen himself were sucked into the void. It was only later that he understood: this was a spatial rift.

He had fallen into a vast and endless space of chaos. The space was filled with dangerous currents, and occasionally, similar rifts would open and close in an instant. Objects, both living and non-living, from planets to specks of dust, would sometimes be ejected from these rifts, only to be swallowed up by the chaotic currents moments later.

Owen realized this space was likely a hyperspace corridor connecting different universes, with the rifts serving as doorways to other worlds. The rifts appeared randomly and repaired themselves just as quickly, rarely pulling matter from the universe into this hyperspace. The chaotic currents were none other than the infamous time-space distortions, where anything sucked in would be obliterated.