A/N: Welp, once again a Self Insert story. Self Inserts just make sense to me, you know. What shitty world we live in, and so we try to escape in the imaginary one.

This is a rewrite of my first Harry Potter fic, "Mason Aves: The Wizard" that I had posted on WebNovel.

Be sure, that I will be keeping this story going along with "The Celestial God" and will try not to neglect either.

This is just the Book 1, which will start in his Hogwarts years, and hopefully end with WW2 before Ch 40, where this will end. After that, I'll either continue the rest of the story in the same fic, or write a second book for the next. Could go either way, but that's still too far away.

One thing for those who have already read the original Mason Aves fanfic. I made him a mutant, and too OP. I'm still debating on the mutant part, but he won't be OP.

For those who want to read the original, just google "Mason Aves: The Wizard HelloDarkness07" and you'll get the WebNovel link for my fic. Probably, depending on the legality of WebNovel in your country.

My Pat-reon: HelloDarkness07 already has 5 chapters for this fic, if anyone wants to read.

In no way, am I asking for money for you to read my fic, this or the others.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter franchise and all its characters belong to JK Rowling, and not to me, as much as I wish it would have. Marvel, MCU and all their characters belong to Marvel, which belongs to Disney, again, it isn't me.

Mason Aves is a Character that is completely mine, however.

Now, onwards!


1924: London.

Rebirth. Such an amazing concept.

It has been mentioned in almost every religion, and language alive. Punarjanm in Hindi, Marathi, Sanskrit, and a few other Indian Languages, Reincarnation in English, and Isekai in weeb.

But until recently, it was just that. A concept. With no proof, only speculations, and a lot of fantasies. Humans are.. weird. And it just brings forth a big question.

How bad must reality be, that so many people love to imagine living in the fictional worlds of their choice? Sometimes, some people would even prefer the fictional, but special, worlds that they hate, over this current reality.

But, back to my monologue, I said 'until recently.' Why? Well, because, recently, just a few days ago in fact, I slept as a 25 year old Indian Man, hopelessly failing in the game of Life, and woke up as an orphan 5 year old boy. In an orphanage. In 1924, London.

No heroic deaths, no sudden appearances by Truck-Sama, and no getting hit by lightning. Heck, I don't even remember seeing anyone or anything I'd categorise as an ROB. But it was my 25th birthday, so there's that.

I just slept as one person, an adult, and woke up as another, a child. Thankfully, both sets of memories, of the adult me, and the child me, merged together, instead of one taking over the other.

It was like, the child slept, dreamt a whole lifetime for himself, and then woke up, keeping those memories. Which allowed me to instantly understand what both of my personalities went through in their lives.

And boy, did 'I' have a bad life before.. I came. Confusing, I know. But sometimes it be like that.

An Orphan living in the Stockwell's Orphanage for Boys and Girls, Mason Aves(i.e me), was a really quiet kid. Just 5 years old, Mason didn't have much in the way of intelligence, nor was he especially strong. What he did have, was curiosity.

Despite being quiet, he was observant, and curious about almost everything. If he heard, or saw something he did not understand, he would mostly keep it to himself, but pay attention to it happening again. But sometimes, he would ask one of the friendlier Sisters about those things.

Why do we sleep? Why do we not have these parents that the kids from stories have? Why does Timmy not like me talking to Sister Claire? Why does Tony not like me talking to anyone?

Once, he heard Sister Laura, an older caretaker, mention how he was very similar to his mother. And so, for once, he took initiative, and asked questions about her.

Turns out, Marigold Aves, his mother, was once a resident of this very Orphanage. Brought as a one year old child, by her own Father, in 1891, she was practically thrown in Sister Agnes's arms for being Useless.

Sister Agnes did not know how a one year old baby could be categorised as useful anyway, and neither did the other Sisters of the time.

The father just left her with her name, Marigold Aves. Marigold was a nice girl, according to the older Sisters, Agnes, Laura, and Emelia. These three were the only ones remaining from the time Marigold was a baby.

When Marigold was a teenager, she went to the local Finishing School, and then studied Nursing under Sister Agnes, who herself was a member of the National Council of Nurses.

Once the Great War began, Marigold, like thousands of other women around the United Kingdom, volunteered as Nurses, to help out in the war, in their own way. She was even a proud member of the Queen Alexandia's Imperial Military Nursing Service in the later parts of the War.

Once the Great War ended, Marigold returned to the Orphanage, to take care of the young.

Unfortunately, the good part of her life ended there.

One day, in the last days of November 1918, a 28 year old Marigold came home, crying a lot, and mostly isolated herself. And then, almost 9 months later, on August 28th, 1919, Mason Lucas Aves was born. Alas, Marigold died while giving birth to him, due to some complications, having already decided on the name.

While the Sisters did not inform Mason of why Marigold had returned crying, once I and Mason had merged, I knew. She was raped, and I was the product. It was.. sad, knowing that you're a product of rape.

And here begins the story of Mason Lucas Aves. Me.

Mason took a lot from his mother's stories, and most of it was that she liked to take care of others. And he liked that, liked her. Therefore, he decided to try and emulate her.

So, he helped the Sisters out in taking care of the children younger than him, sometimes older too. He would help them clean up, take care of the chores, etc. He would also read the picture books to the babies, which helped improve his reading, as a fortunate side effect.

He also tried to protect the weaker kids from the bullies. Alas, he was one of those weaker kids, and got beat up most of the time.

"I hit the door." He would tell anyone that asked. But by the face Sister Laura made the last time he gave that excuse, she did not believe it. He did give as much as he got, or tried to, but he was still young, and hence, weak.

He wasn't bullied too much, thankfully. His loneliness helped him there too. But one side effect, was that despite the fact that he helped the kids whenever they needed it, and whenever he could, Mason was quick to be discarded by those same kids. Because of their fear of the bullies.

Oh they would play with him, sure. Cricket, Football, and even Catch. He was allowed to participate. But it was known, that he was not a favourite amongst the kids. But he never gave up trying to become like his mother.

It was after one such beating, where he fell on some sharp rocks and got a cut, that he decided. As Sister Agnes, the Head Caretaker of the Orphanage, was bandaging him up, he decided to become a Doctor.

And he almost never lived to see that day.

A few days ago, as he was sitting under a tree, reading a simple book, some of the older kids were playing Football in the only ground within the Orphanage grounds.

Unfortunately, it was not his lucky day.

The football, kicked by a 13 year old boy, hit by its full force, right on Mason's face. While the football hurt by itself, a lot for a 5 year old, Mason's head snapping back and hitting a knot on the tree behind him, undoubtedly hurt more.

He had a headache, for 2 straight days. And then, when he woke up on the third day, he woke up with additional memories. Mine.

I was both the British child Mason Aves, and I was the Indian man, Chinmay. And I had to believe it, with all my heart.

The alternative is that either I am Mason, with 24 years of additional selective memories, meaning that I'm crazy, or I'm a 24 year old Man in the body of a child, again, crazy. Both of them are not something I can even start believing.

So, yeah. I'm both. I'm me.

My old story wasn't interesting in the least. I was entirely mediocre, having succumbed to the societal pressure for excellence, added on to by my family. Despite having a Masters in Physics, I was jobless, and helped my dad out at his shop.

That's not counting the fact that our shop was practically useless in the trying times of Covid. Who the hell needs sweets during a Pandemic?

Anyway, I've been 'me' for 3 days now, and I have to say, I'm enjoying my life so far. Haven't been bullied these 3 days at least, so there's that. Sure, the times were hard, because of the Great War having ended literally 6 years ago, but our Orphanage wasn't suffering. Much.

Mr Stockwell, the owner of the Orphanage, was a small time noble, but big time rich. He, along with the very generous people of the British Royal Family, kept the Orphanage stable with enough funds. And there were the various Donations too.

Books, grains, food, money. People would find a few good parts in their heart a lot.

Other than that, the kids in the Orphanage, those older than 7, were allowed to seek jobs outside, and half of the wages went to the Orphanage's funds. Was it right? No, but these were trying times, you know. "What do kids even need the money for anyway?" is what the adults said when I asked once.

Back to me, other than helping out during the chores and gardening, I've been just lazing around, reading books. I know that the Great War, meaning the World War 1 has ended 6 years ago, in 1918. And if this world is anything similar to my old world, then World War 2 will begin right as I turn an adult. Giving me an opportunity to fight for the country that's currently enslaving my own. Joy.

Like, come on, what are the chances that I will actually be born in one of the fictional worlds and not the past of my actual world? Pretty close to zero, I'd say.

But that wasn't my actual problem. I barely know anything about this era. Heck, I didn't know when WW1 ended, or who participated, before I was actually reborn here. I literally don't know anything other than Nazi Germany bad, US-UK-France good, about WW2.

I know Italy, Russia, and Japan were somehow involved, but fuck if I know which side they were on! Well, Japan I can guess. Hiroshima and Nagasaki being two giant clues.

I just didn't care about it before. I wasn't a history buff. India wasn't actually independent until after WW2 ended. And I'm a Maharashtrian! If it isn't about the Maratha empire, we literally don't care about history. That's a flaw about myself I intend to correct as soon as possible.

Which is why I've been reading history. Correction, trying to read history. It's.. boring, as fuck. Thankfully, it's just been 3 days. Maybe I'll get over my repulsion of History. Some day.

Thankfully, the Orphanage library wasn't lacking in history books. Heck, there was a Sanskrit book about Ancient India somehow. If only I could read Sanskrit, then I could ignore the book like I did the English History books.

But, I was still an MSc Physics Graduate! The world is mine for the taking! I don't bloody care about the Butterfly Effects and all that crap! I'm shitting Scientific Innovations as I go.

Oh? What's this? You still use gramaphone? See here a tape recorder! Your trains use coal?! Savages! I use Electricity only! Well, as you can tell, my plans need a lot of working on. It's still a rough draft.

Give me a break, I've been here for literally 3 days!

But don't worry, I'll still take this entirely normal world by storm!

Or so I thought.

~~Foood! That rat looks very tasty! It will keep me full for days! Stay there, rat! Don't move.~~

Hearing a smooth voice, while working in the garden, alone, I turn to the right. And see nothing.

Once again, I hear a voice whisper, ~~Right there.. don't move.~~

This time, following the sound, I turn my head downwards. There, in front of me, was a pitch black snake barely a foot long, poised to attack a rat a few paces away, while turned away from me.

The first thing is, I definitely heard the voice coming from the snake's direction, and I still hear it whispering clearly, while coiling itself, ready to strike at the rat, and with a fast snap, it sinks its fangs in the poor rat's neck. Gross.

The second thing is, this rat is literally a young rat, at most as big as my palm. Meanwhile, the snake is barely as thick as my finger. The finger of a 5 year old. If the snake swallows it, then it'll probably be able to carry the snake for a few days.

And the main point is, I CAN HEAR THE SNAKE TALKING! SNAKES! TALKING! IN ENGLISH! Queen's English, now that I'm a British person. Wait, not Queen. King's English. But still!

~~Oh, shit.~~ I mumble, slowly understanding the situation I'm in right now.

Hearing my voice, the snake freezes, and in a snapping motion, turns around. It tilts it's head, almost cutely, starts slithering towards me, and asks, ~~A SPEAKER?! I wished for so long to meet one of your kind. Ever since the fiery one told me about you! Nice to meet you, Speaker!~~

"Oh, shit." I whisper, again, this time in English, looking at the honest to God, excited snake, which was talking to me, from the ground a foot away from me.

This cannot be happening. This CANNOT be happening. Am I happy? Of course I am! But the consequences of this reveal are also a lot more unbearable in the long run. I was content with it being the normal past, heck I was looking forward to it! But this?! I never expected this.

~~...er! SPEAKER! Can you understand me? Maybe he's not a speaker after all. Well, better get out of here before he kills me~~ the snake says, and turns it's back to me, moving to go towards the suffering rat.

~~WAIT!~~ I whisper-shout, pointing my hand towards the snake, who immediately stops. And how do I not know that it's a different language?! I can't even feel myself speaking another language!

~~AH-HAH! So you are a speaker?~~The snake says, straightening up, and slithering back towards me. It raises it's head, and continues, ~~Did you not want to talk with me, Speaker? Is it because I'm too young? No wait. It's because I'm black, isn't it? I knew it. The fiery one did say lighter humans don't like darker skins. I should have expected it applies to snakes too.~~

~~By God, do you ever shut up?~~ I finally shout, stopping it's racism rant. I didn't even know snakes can be activists!

This time, when I spoke, I actively tried to see if I was speaking anything other than English, but nope. Still looked, felt, and heard all English.

I quickly snap my neck around to see if anyone was watching me work. Seeing no one, I keep my head focused on the ground, continuing with my gardening, and say, ~~Quickly finish your food, we'll talk after!~~

~~As you wish, Speaker. I'll be right here!~~ the snake says, excitedly, and moves towards the suffering rat. I turn away from it, as it swallows the rat, not wanting to see, and continue with the garden work.

Talking snake. Speaker. Parseltongue. Harry Potter. 1924! Holy shit, I was related to Voldemort! He could talk to snakes too!

Damnit, my memories! They're not as good as they used to be! It's been ages since I actually read the original books!

What was that thing, they used to do with their minds? Occlude-mency? Occlumency! That's it! I need to learn that! ASAP!

Maybe that'll help me write some of the books I'd read as Chinmay, and even "discover" some new knowledge.

The snake finished its eating, more like swallowing, within the minute I was overthinking, and trying not to be overwhelmed, and came and flicked it's tongue, licking the back of my hand.

I snap out of it, and pull my hand away. ~~Can you not, do that?~~ I ask, snapping at the snake.

The snake tilts it's head, and says, ~~You were day-dreaming. The others wake me up when I'm day-dreaming. I did too! Now, are we talking, or what?~~

I look at it in suspicion, and ask, ~~You're a weird snake, aren't you?~~

~~I'm a smart snake!~~ it corrects me. It says, ~~No other snake, other than the fiery one that visits us sometimes, can talk as much as I can! I'm Magical, he said!~~

Again with that fiery snake. I shake my head, and look around. No one was there in the ground, and it was still too early for the kids to come out to play.

I lay my hand down, and say, ~~Climb up, and hide near my stomach. We'll talk once we're inside.~~

It looks at me hand weirdly, and says, ~~You're one of those Perverts, aren't you?~~

~~FOR FUCK'S SAKE! JUST GET IN! I'M 5 YEARS OLD YOU DUMB SNAKE, AND PERVERTS ARE USUALLY OLDER~~ I shout, slapping my hand down, hard enough to make it hurt me.

~~Usually! You just said, Usually! And that's not the kind of language I expect from a baby human.~~ the snake says, but still goes up my arm, and inside my shirt.

I stay silent, ignoring the talkative snake, and get up, walking towards my room. I do not want to be accused of Witchcraft before I even begin my education. I want to live on my personal island as a rich man! Not in a jungle as a poor sod.

Thank God for orphanage hand me down clothes. Or hiding the snake wouldn't have been possible.

Let's interrogate the snake now, and see what he knows. Maybe I'm just going crazy, and there's no wizards here. Hope so that they are, though.


A/N: Not many changes in the story from the original, at least in the beginning. Some important changes later will be that he won't be as big of a telepath and telekinetic as he was in the original.

There's more, but don't worry. I'll be sure to add some things to balance it out. A little.

Wish me luck!