Half an hour later, Mr. Eric Hart was on the road to London.
Jon sat quietly in the back seat.
The drive from Southampton to London would take about two hours—plenty of time for Jon to regroup and recalibrate.
Right now, his thoughts could be summed up with a line worthy of Shakespeare:
"Magic or science, that is the question."
But really, it wasn't much of a question at all.
The world of Harry Potter might not be bursting with high fantasy magic, but many of its spells and magical artifacts were, frankly, outrageous.
Take the Philosopher's Stone—an object that could transmute anything into gold and grant eternal life. Then there was the Time-Turner, handed out to third-years like it was no big deal. And let's not forget Felix Felicis, a potion that literally made you invincible through sheer dumb luck.
And that's just scratching the surface. Apparition, Memory Charms, Mind Control—all standard tools in the adult wizard's arsenal.
A competent wizard in this world wasn't just dangerous in a fight. He was an all-around threat, capable of bending reality in ways science wouldn't match for another three to five centuries.
Sure, some Muggles liked to mock wizards for their supposedly weak combat skills—"a bullet beats a wand," and so on—but that only held up because the Ministry of Magic kept destructive spells on a tight leash.
Let's be real. Pettigrew blew up half a street with one curse. Crabbe conjured Fiendfyre, a spell so lethal it could burn a Horcrux to ash. And those two were absolute bottom-of-the-barrel students at Hogwarts. Clearly, the magical world's firepower was seriously underrated.
At this point, Jon would have to be a fool to pretend otherwise.
...
His old life plan—everything he'd mapped out over the past decade—was officially obsolete.
Time to draft a new one.
Step one: Master magic. That had to come first.
Let's face it—Hogwarts students weren't exactly the cream of the crop. If Harry and Ron—barely competent at the best of times—were considered above average (one a Quidditch captain, the other a prefect), that said a lot about the competition.
Jon wasn't worried. With a mature mindset and near-perfect memory, he'd leave his peers in the dust.
Step two: Stay far, far away from the Golden Trio.
From the moment they stepped foot in Hogwarts, it was one brush with death after another: a three-headed dog in year one, a basilisk in year two, a werewolf and a horde of Dementors in year three, dragons and Voldemort by year four...
Unless you had plot armor thick enough to deflect Fiendfyre, you'd need a dozen extra lives just to get through the semester.
Jon didn't have a protagonist halo, and last he checked, St. Mungo's hadn't developed a resurrection spell. The smart move? Keep your head down and stay alive. Can't change the world if you're dead.
According to the timeline, he'd be starting at Hogwarts just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered their second year. Which meant avoiding Ginny Weasley was critical too. She'd be under Voldemort's influence from the get-go and open the Chamber of Secrets before Halloween.
As for stopping her? Yeah—no. Jon wasn't delusional enough to take on a Horcrux in first year. But if an anonymous tip to the staff saved a few lives? Well, civic duty and all that.
Besides the trio and Ginny, there was one more person he absolutely needed to steer clear of: Albus Dumbledore.
Not because of anything scandalous—no, the problem was that Dumbledore was a world-class Legilimens. One wrong look and he might peel back Jon's mind like an orange.
And if the headmaster found out Jon was a transmigrator? Who knew what would happen. He might end up enrolled in some bizarre "Potter Grooming Program."
Fortunately, as long as he kept his head down, he'd just be another Muggle-born kid. Stay low, learn Occlumency quietly, and he'd be fine.
Step three: Be careful around full moons in second year. Snape's Wolfsbane Potion had never gone through proper clinical trials. Lupin had a habit of forgetting his doses or getting the timing wrong. Jon had no intention of becoming a chew toy.
Dementors weren't an immediate issue. Dumbledore despised them and wouldn't allow them on school grounds yet. Still, it wouldn't hurt to learn the Patronus Charm early. Even a wisp of silver light could be enough to drive them off.
Third year brought a golden opportunity: the Triwizard Tournament.
If Jon could befriend Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons, maybe—just maybe—he could transfer.
A move to Paris with his parents would put a safe ocean between him and whatever nightmare Voldemort had planned for England post-resurrection.
Ilvermorny was a backup. Durmstrang was off the table. If Voldemort decided to blow up the headmaster, he might just take the whole school with him.
After transferring, Jon could lie low until sixth year. Then, maybe, just maybe, he could return to London for the final battle with a squad of Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny volunteers, score some XP, and get out alive.
But only—only—after downing a full bottle of Felix Felicis.
...
"117 Charing Cross Road, Westminster, London... I think this is it," Eric said, checking his notebook as he pulled to a stop.
They parked in front of a narrow, grubby-looking pub wedged between a large bookstore and a record shop.
"You sure this is the place?" Eric asked, eyeing the sign overhead: The Leaky Cauldron.
"Pretty sure," Jon said with a nod.
"Good day, gentlemen!" A nearly bald man with a face like a wrinkled walnut appeared out of nowhere. "Name's Tom—owner of the Leaky Cauldron."
"Muggles?" He gave Eric a glance, then turned to Jon. "New Hogwarts student?"
"Yes, sir!" Jon replied politely. "I'm Jon Hart, starting at Hogwarts this year. This is my father—he's a Muggle."
"Off to Diagon Alley, then?" Tom asked with a crooked smile. "Right this way."
They followed him through the pub and out into a small, enclosed courtyard. Aside from a trash can and a few tufts of grass, it was empty.
"Three bricks up from the bin, then two across—tap three times," Tom instructed, pointing at the wall. Then he turned back toward the bar. "Best of luck, Mr. Hart... and Mr. Muggle."