Chapter 3: Hello

Allen soon found it hard to focus on the “Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration”; after sending away a round-faced boy searching for a toad, he felt suddenly thirsty.

He pulled a flask from his suitcase, carefully and swiftly removed his mask, and gulped down water in loud swallows—when the carriage door opened again...

A slightly haughty female voice came:

“Hello...”

At that moment, the girl clearly saw the boy’s face, and her tone grew stuttering with shock:

“Pig... nose... sir?”

Unprepared, Allen jerked the flask away too quickly, startled—two streams of water shot straight from his pig nose, some droplets splashing onto the girl’s robe; the atmosphere turned painfully awkward...

First to recover was Allen, seasoned in social embarrassment; adhering to the principle that if he wasn’t embarrassed, then it was someone else’s problem, he calmly pulled his mask back on and extended a friendly hand to the girl:

“Allen Finis, first-year student this year. Pleased to meet you.”

The girl stared blankly as she shook Allen’s hand, murmuring:

“Hermione Granger. I’m a first-year too.”

Only then did Allen notice the girl’s thick brown hair and large front teeth; he turned to extend his hand to the round-faced boy who had lost the toad, who finally snapped out of his daze and hurriedly shook Allen’s hand:

“I’m Neville Longbottom, also a first-year this year. I know you—I saw the reports about you. You’re amazing!”

Finally recovering, Hermione exclaimed excitedly:

“Wow, sir, what spell is that? How did you do it? Just now, a red-haired boy with a dirty spot on his nose tried to turn his rat yellow with a spell—and nothing happened. How did you make such a realistic pig nose?”

Allen patiently explained his condition, but noticed Hermione’s eyes brightening further.

“So cool! No wonder the extra reference book I bought—‘Modern Magical History’—doesn’t mention you. That edition was revised in ‘88; next revision will definitely include your story. If it were me, I’d collect every book that mentions me!”

She rattled off in one breath, then hesitated:

“Could I see your nose again? I’ve never seen anything so magical.”

Seeing Hermione’s excited gaze, Allen found he couldn’t refuse; he removed his mask once more.

Allen’s nose today was a pink, tender pig’s snout—so pink it almost looked translucent (like a miniature pig’s snout), clean, with none of the usual white stiff hairs found on other pig noses. The pink snout rose high on his pale face, strangely beautiful.

Hermione stared wide-eyed, mesmerized by Allen’s nose:

“Magic is truly amazing. What does it feel like to grow a nose like this?”

“Once you get used to it, there’s nothing special,” Allen replied casually, offering her a lesson. “A dog’s sense of smell is thirty to forty times sharper than a human’s; a pig’s is two or three times sharper than a dog’s. So this nose is extremely sensitive to odors—and that’s caused me a lot of trouble. My nose is already uncomfortable right now.”

Behind her, Neville exclaimed happily:

“Can you use your nose to help me find my lost toad? I’ve been searching for ages!”

Hermione and Allen were stunned by Neville’s idea, speechless.

Neville realized his blunder and burst into tears: “I lost it again! It always tries to run away from me!”

Allen was overwhelmed; after a moment’s hesitation,

he mumbled: “The train’s full of mixed smells—I’m not sure I can find it. Besides, I don’t know what your toad smells like. There are plenty of toads on this train.”

Neville stopped crying and held out the same hand he’d shaken with Allen: “Before it ran off, I always held it with this hand...”

Allen: ...

Hermione: ...

Allen cautiously sniffed Neville’s hand, then put his mask back on, leading Hermione and Neville out of the carriage.

The scent was enough for Allen; he sniffed through his mask down the train corridor and quickly pinpointed the toad’s direction, leading Neville and Hermione to it soon after.

The three parted ways.

Allen returned to his carriage, packed his stationery and books into his suitcase, and stared at his reflection in the window, sinking into thought again...

If he had a choice, Allen wouldn’t have entered the magical world. He’d preferred traveling back to the 1990s, using his memories to make a fortune on Wall Street, then returning home to rebuild his country.

The magical world was about to descend into chaos. His knowledge of Harry Potter came mostly from recent short videos; thanks to them, Allen—who’d never read the books or seen the films—had some basic understanding. But recalling specific plot details? Impossible. Watching shorts was just entertainment; no one expected to be transported into the Harry Potter world, so no one bothered to memorize it.

So this world was unknown to Allen. If he lost his life again in this unpredictable, growingly dangerous place, it would be a cruel waste—he’d already died once. He didn’t want that.

But he had no choice now. Appearing directly in the Muggle world would mean immediate capture and dissection.

And this ability was too much of a curse: his hyper-sensitive hearing, vision, and smell brought only constant discomfort. Most animals are colorblind, so the eyes he randomly acquired mostly couldn’t distinguish colors. Every day was torture.

All he could do now was take one step at a time in the magical world, hoping to find a cure at Hogwarts.

Then he thought of Hermione, whom he’d just met. Though he didn’t know the plot, he knew she was the female lead in Harry Potter’s story. How should he handle relationships with the main characters? What if his actions altered their paths, disrupted the plot, and let the Dark Lord return?

Allen felt a headache coming. This had been his constant worry for months—but he still had no plan. He’d resolved only to study hard at school, minimize his presence, avoid close contact with the main characters, and do everything possible to avoid influencing the plot, lest he harm the world’s trajectory.

Allen silently thought, pessimistic: this unfamiliar world was far more dangerous than his former safe country—people could actually die here!

So he could only take it one step at a time. He hoped the Dark Lord would be defeated by graduation, that he’d find a cure for himself, and that trouble wouldn’t come knocking. Hmm... hopefully...

The train began to slow.

“Five minutes until arrival at Hogwarts! Leave your luggage on the train—we’ll deliver it to the school.” A voice echoed overhead.

The train finally stopped at a small, dark platform. Passengers poured out in a bustle—then a lantern bobbed above the students, followed by a booming voice: “First-years! First-years, come this way!”

Allen tightened his robe and followed the first-years along a steep, narrow path.

After a sharp turn, the view suddenly opened up: a vast lake stretched before them, and on the opposite hill stood a majestic castle, its towers rising high, windows glittering under the starry sky.

Allen was awestruck by the magnificent sight. Breathing in the fresh air drifting from the lake, his heart stirred with unexpected excitement.

Hogwarts, I’ve arrived!