Got Hisoka template in Harry Potter World - Chapter 1
Chapter 1: A World Not His Own
The first thing Jack felt was the cold.
A sharp, biting chill seeped through the thin blanket wrapped around him. His eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he thought he was back in his apartment—the familiar glow of his laptop screen, the half-finished bag of chips on his desk, the latest chapter of Hunter x Hunter still open in his browser.
But then the smell hit him.
Stale bread. Cheap soap. The faint, ever-present scent of mildew.
His vision adjusted to the dim light, revealing a small, barren room with peeling wallpaper and a cracked wooden floor. A single dusty window let in the pale morning light.
Where the hell am I?
He sat up too fast, his head spinning. His hands—small, thin, child’s hands—gripped the edge of the cot beneath him.
What—
A knock at the door.
“Jack? You awake yet?” A woman’s voice, stern but not unkind.
He didn’t answer. His throat felt dry.
The door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman in a faded dress stepped in. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her expression weary.
“Good, you’re up. Breakfast in ten. Don’t dawdle.”
She left before he could respond.
Jack stared at the door, his mind racing.
This isn’t right.
He looked down at himself again. Small frame. Pale skin. A faded nightshirt that wasn’t his.
Reincarnation?
The thought was absurd. But the evidence was hard to ignore.
—
Okay. Breathe.
He closed his eyes, trying to recall his last memory.
Right. I was reading HxH. Then… nothing.
Had he died? Was this some kind of afterlife? A coma dream?
He pinched his arm.
Ow.
Definitely real.
He took stock of his surroundings again. The room was sparse—just the cot, a rickety nightstand, and a small wardrobe. A few children’s drawings were taped to the wall, faded with age.
An orphanage.
The realization settled in his gut like a stone.
If this is real… if I’ve really been reborn…
A slow, calculating smirk tugged at his lips.
Then I have future knowledge.
He’d been a finance major in his past life. He knew which stocks would boom, which companies would dominate. If this was the 1990s—and the decor sure as hell looked like it—then he could make a fortune by the time he was twenty.
First step: confirm the year.
—
The dining hall was noisy, filled with the chatter of two dozen kids of varying ages. Jack sat at the end of a long wooden table, picking at a bowl of watery porridge.
A boy across from him—maybe nine or ten, with messy brown hair—leaned forward.
“You’re quiet today.”
Jack glanced up. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Stuff.”
The boy snorted. “You’re weird, Jack.”
A girl beside him, slightly older, rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He’s always like this.”
Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to the woman who had woken him up—Matron Grace, as the others called her.
“Matron, what’s the date today?”
She raised an eyebrow. “July 1st. Why?”
His pulse quickened.
“And the year?”
Now the other kids were staring at him.
Matron Grace frowned. “1991, Jack. Are you feeling alright?”
Bingo.
He forced a smile. “Just wanted to be sure.”
She gave him a long look before turning away.
The boy across from him smirked. “Told you. Weird.”
Jack ignored him, his mind already racing.
1991. That means—
A loud thud against the window made everyone jump.
A tawny owl perched on the sill, a letter clutched in its beak.
Jack’s breath caught.
No way.
—
The owl dropped the letter onto the table in front of him before taking off again.
The dining hall fell silent.
All eyes were on the envelope—thick parchment, emerald-green ink, a wax seal bearing a crest.
Jack’s hands trembled as he picked it up.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDY
Jack Fletcher
The Second Bedroom, East Wing
St. Agnes’ Orphanage
London
His heart pounded.
Harry Potter.
He was in the Harry Potter universe.
Matron Grace snatched the letter from him. “What is this?”
Jack stood so fast his chair scraped back. “That’s mine.”
She ignored him, turning the envelope over. “No return address. How did that bird even—?”
“Give it back.” His voice was low, firm.
She blinked, startled by his tone. Then, with a huff, she handed it over. “Fine. But no more strange birds in my dining hall.”
Jack didn’t wait. He tore open the seal.
The letter inside was exactly as he remembered from the books—a formal invitation to Hogwarts, signed by Minerva McGonagall.
I’m a wizard.
The realization should have been shocking. But after waking up in a child’s body, it almost felt… expected.
Then—
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]
A voice, cold and mechanical, echoed in his mind.
[TEMPLATE UNLOCKED: HISOKA MOROW.]
[MERGE RATE: 0.1% PER DAY.]
[CURRENT MERGE: 0.1%.]
Jack’s vision swam.
Hisoka?
The sadistic, battle-crazed magician from Hunter x Hunter?
That’s my “golden finger”?
A slow, involuntary grin spread across his face.
This just got interesting.
—
The orphanage doorbell rang.
Matron Grace sighed. “Who could that be at this hour?”
Jack barely heard her. His entire focus was on the tingling sensation in his veins—like static, like power.
Then the door opened.
A man stood in the doorway—tall, pale, draped in black robes. His dark eyes swept the room before landing on Jack.
Cold. Calculating.
Severus Snape’s lip curled slightly.
“Jack Fletcher, I presume?”