The chamber hummed with soft magical energy—stone glowing faintly beneath the floating scroll, runes shifting like dust in orbit. Hogwarts had stood for centuries, hidden within the folds of reality, tucked between ley lines and ancient veils. Its heartbeat was steady.
Merlin leaned forward as the golden seal cracked open. The scroll unraveled in mid-air, ink blooming across parchment like constellations taking shape. The names of the next first-years—picked by the system, delivered by the weave of magic.
He scanned the first few lazily—typical names, nothing remarkable.
Abbott, Clara.
Singh, Arjun.
Mendoza, Isla.
All normal. All expected.
Then his eyes hit a name, and he blinked.
Parker, Peter.
"…Wait. What?"
He leaned in, reading it again. "No way."
A slow grin spread across his face. "This kid doesn't even have powers yet and he's still going to find a way to climb something he shouldn't."
Next line.
Stacy, Gwen.
"Oh, come on," he laughed. "Smart. Restless. Way too curious for her own good. She's going to find every secret passage by accident."
Watson, Mary Jane.
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Oh, she's going to question everything. Definitely going to sneak into the Restricted Section on week one—probably to write an exposé."
He chuckled. "Smart, stubborn, and twice as brave as she lets on. Hogwarts is in for a ride."
Osborn, Harry.
Merlin paused, brow furrowing—not in fear, but in memory.
"Legacy," he said softly. "Let's see who you become here—without the pressure, without the masks."
Then—
Hardy, Felicia.
"Oh, this one's going to be trouble," he said, smirking. "Slytherin's about to get a wake-up call."
And finally:
Kallenback, Missy.
He smiled. "Quiet, sharp, observant. Bet she ends up knowing everyone's secrets before they even unpack."
Then came the final name on the scroll.
Merlin blinked. Paused.
And let out a low chuckle.
"Oh… poor Peter."
He leaned back slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"This one's going to ride him like a broomstick for seven straight years. Total rivalry potential. He'll be rolling his eyes before the Sorting Hat even touches his head.
He stepped back as the scroll pulsed, parchment glowing with quiet magic. Letters folded and sealed midair, flying off into golden portals like sparks caught in wind.
Merlin watched them vanish with a grin.
"Okay, this year's going to be fun."
The scroll pulsed as it finished, and the chamber responded. Letters sealed themselves midair—folding with practiced elegance, Hogwarts crests glowing gold on crimson wax. One by one, they zipped off into runic portals, the magic guiding them across the mundane world.
Merlin watched them vanish.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Parker, Stacy, Watson, Osborn, Hardy, Kallenback… and him?"
Merlin grinned. "Yep. Seven years of magical chaos, accidental heroics, questionable detentions—and one poor kid stuck with a full-time rival.
And honestly? He couldn't wait.
**
Peter Parker (Pov)
Peter Parker sprinted down the hallway—again—hoodie half-zipped, backpack swinging wildly like it was trying to escape. His sneakers squeaked across the floor as he dodged a flying rubber ball and nearly tripped over his own feet.
"Sorry! Science emergency!" he shouted, ducking past a lunch cart.
The custodian just grunted and kept mopping.
Peter slammed into his locker right as the bell rang. His bag thunked against the door, and something inside made a pitiful little click-pop. He sighed, unzipped the front pocket, and pulled out a half-squashed baking soda volcano with wires taped to the sides.
Another "experiment." Another disaster.
He wasn't exactly unpopular—just awkwardly placed. Too nerdy for the sporty kids, too science-obsessed for the popular crowd, too sarcastic for the teachers. And an easy target for Flash Thompson and Eddie Brock.
Flash liked to trip him in the lunch line.
Eddie was already at his locker, leaning back like he owned the hallway.
"Careful, Parker," Eddie said with a smirk. "Wouldn't want your science project to set the lockers on fire this time."
Peter didn't miss a beat. "Jealous you didn't think of it first?"
Eddie scoffed. "Please. If I wanted smoke and sparks, I'd let Flash help me with chemistry lab."
Peter smiled—tight, unbothered. "Sure. Just let me know when your ideas stop needing spellcheck."
They locked eyes for a second. Not enemies. Not friends.
Just two smart kids with something to prove.
Down the hall, Gwen Stacy was finishing a mini-lecture to the science teacher about why their circuits unit was outdated. Sharp, organized, and always three chapters ahead—she made it look easy.
Mary Jane Watson walked by with a spiral notebook under her arm, scribbling questions about the locked storage room behind the library. No one had asked her to investigate. She was doing it anyway.
Felicia Hardy leaned casually against the vending machine, flipping a coin like she owned the place—and maybe she did. The machine spat out an extra candy bar. She caught it without blinking.
Harry Osborn was by the stairs, waving Peter over with a grin—the kind only best friends bother to give.
And somewhere in the library, ten minutes early for everything, Missy Kallenback was probably organizing tomorrow's math notes. Quiet, thoughtful, and observant—she noticed everything. And said very little.
Peter gave a tired smile. Said nothing. Same as always.
At least Aunt May still made him breakfast. At least Uncle Ben still left sticky notes in his notebooks with things like "Try again. Fail better."
But school?
It just felt like something he was supposed to survive.
He pulled a crushed granola bar from his backpack and stared at it like it had betrayed him.
"There's gotta be more than this," he muttered.
Later that evening, the apartment was quiet. The kind of quiet that only came between dishes being done and bedtime arguments about brushing teeth.
Peter sat on the couch, flipping through a science magazine he'd already read twice. Aunt May hummed in the kitchen, drying plates. Uncle Ben was in his favorite chair, fixing a broken desk lamp with too much tape and too much optimism.
Then—
Tap. Tap.
Peter looked up.
The sound had come from the fire escape window.
He crossed the living room, pulled back the curtain—
And blinked.
An owl—large, brown, wide-eyed—was perched right outside the window, a wax-sealed envelope clutched in its beak.
Uncle Ben?" Peter said slowly. "There's an Owl. A really big Owl. With a letter."
Uncle Ben lowered the lamp and raised a brow. "You sure it's not one of your science club pranks again?"
Aunt May came over with a dish towel in hand. She saw the owl and froze.
"Okay... that's not normal," she said.
Peter cracked the window open. The owl stuck its head through, calm as anything, and dropped the envelope into his hands.
His name shimmered across the front in elegant gold script.
Peter Parker
Queens, New York
Peter looked at the letter. Then at the owl. Then back at the letter.
"…Okay," he muttered. "That's definitely not from Midtown High."
**
Gwen Stacy (Pov)
Gwen Stacy sat at the kitchen table, organizing her flashcards for fun.
Color-coded. Alphabetized. Laminated.
Her dad said she needed hobbies. Her mom said she needed friends. Gwen figured flashcards counted as both.
Captain Stacy was still in uniform, sipping coffee and reading three newspapers at once. Her mom was folding laundry and humming to the radio.
Outside, the sun dipped low behind the Queens skyline.
"I made flashcards for the human body systems," Gwen announced. "Again."
"You already did that last week," her dad said without looking up.
"I timed myself. Beat my last score."
Her mom smiled. "Maybe let your brain take a breath, honey."
She didn't mind. School was easy. Most of it, anyway.
Peter Parker got the best grades in science, but Gwen liked beating him in everything else.
Missy Kallenback sat next to her in class—quiet, sharp, and always a step ahead on every quiz. She didn't talk much, but when she did, it was clever, thoughtful, and usually left the teachers blinking. A lot of people didn't get Missy. Gwen did.
She reached for a snack, then froze.
Something tapped the window.
She turned.
An owl—an actual owl—was perched on the windowsill, feathers ruffling in the evening breeze.
It held an envelope in its beak.
Heavy. Cream-colored. Wax-sealed.
Gwen stared at it.
"…Dad?" she said, slowly.
Captain Stacy looked up. Blinked once.
The owl blinked back.
"Well," he said, setting down his coffee. "That's new."
**
Mary Jane Watson (Pov)
Mary Jane Watson sat cross-legged on the living room floor, back straight, notebook open, red pen tapping against her knee.
The TV was on, but she wasn't watching. Her mom was folding laundry behind her, humming a Beatles song. Her dad was in the kitchen, half-listening to a Mets game on the radio while making grilled cheese.
MJ was deep into her notes.
She'd overheard two teachers whispering about a "restricted section" in the school library. Naturally, she'd started a list titled:
"Mystery Stuff Nobody Talks About (Yet)"
She flipped a page.
Second list: "Things Peter Parker Might Accidentally Blow Up This Month."
She grinned to herself. Only two items so far, but it was still early in the semester.
She wasn't nosy, exactly. Just interested.
In locked doors. In quiet rumors. In people who didn't say what they meant.
Peter called it "poking the beehive."
MJ called it "Tuesday."
Somewhere outside, a dog barked. A gust of wind pushed at the curtains.
MJ didn't notice it at first. But then—
A shadow slipped across the window.
MJ looked up, blinking.
There—just above the rooftops—an owl glided silently through the air.
Large. Brown. Wings spread like it owned the sky.
It didn't flap. It drifted. Like it knew exactly where it was going.
She sat up straighter, notebook forgotten.
The owl circled once, then dipped low behind their building—toward the back alley near the fire escape.
"…Okay," she muttered. "That's not normal."
Across the room, Mr. Watson sipped his coffee and glanced over his newspaper. "What isn't?"
Mrs. Watson, halfway through folding a towel, raised an eyebrow but didn't pause.
MJ didn't answer.
She just stared at the glass, heart thudding a little faster. Her pen hovered, ready—already writing questions she didn't know how to ask yet.
Something weird had just passed through her quiet little corner of Queens.
And it was heading straight for her.
**
Harry Osborn (Pov)
Harry Osborn sat at the end of a long, gleaming dining table, one hand curled around a glass of untouched orange juice.
His toast had gone cold.
Across from him, Norman Osborn scrolled through news headlines, barely blinking, his coffee sitting forgotten beside him.
"She slept through the night," he said, voice low but steady.
Harry glanced up.
"Your mother," Norman clarified, finally looking at him. "The nurses say it's the best she's been in weeks."
Harry nodded, but his chest ached anyway. "Can I see her before school?"
Norman hesitated, then said, "If she's still resting, let her rest."
Harry didn't argue. But inside, he was already slipping—back into the quiet worry, the loneliness.
Back into the ache of pretending everything was fine.
He looked out across the skyline, the morning sun bleeding orange between high-rise shadows. Somewhere out there, Peter was probably running late again, tripping over his own shoelaces on the way to school. He'd texted Harry at midnight about some broken circuit board he was trying to fix.
Peter was… the only person who really saw him. Not the Osborn name. Not the future CEO. Just Harry.
He smiled a little at that. A small, real thing.
Bernard appeared at his side with his usual quiet grace, adjusting the silverware. "Will you be having breakfast, Master Harry?"
Harry shook his head. "Not hungry."
Norman barely looked up. "You need to eat. We have a meeting with your fencing coach this afternoon."
Harry didn't reply. He turned back toward the window.
And blinked.
A shadow moved—slow and silent—across the sky. Wings. Broad and brown. Gliding between skyscrapers like a thread through fabric.
Not a hawk. Not a pigeon.
An owl.
It banked near the upper floors of the tower, then dipped low, circling once, as if searching.
Harry stood slowly, one hand resting on the cool windowpane.
"What in the world…" Norman murmured, finally looking up.
Bernard stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he followed the owl's flight path. "That's no city bird, sir."
The owl disappeared behind a nearby building then dipped low and fly toward their building towards Harry.
For a moment, all three of them were silent—Harry, Norman, and Bernard—staring at the owl like it had just spoken.
Something strange was coming.
And it was coming for Harry.
**
Felicia Hardy (Pov)
Felicia Hardy balanced on the railing of her fire escape, flipping a silver coin across her knuckles like she'd been doing it since birth.
Below, Queens moved like it always did—cars honking, dogs barking, radios blasting too early in the afternoon.
She wasn't at school.
She'd bailed after second period. Mrs. Reeves had started lecturing about fractions like they were life-or-death. Felicia didn't have the patience. Besides, half the class treated her like a ghost. The other half acted like she'd set fire to their homework just by walking past.
Whatever.
She liked being underestimated. It made it easier to surprise people.
Inside the apartment, she could hear her mom vacuuming aggressively—probably to cope with the fact that Felicia had disappeared again.
Her mom was always trying. Trying to keep things clean. Quiet. Normal.
Felicia hated normal.
She listened as the vacuum cut off and her mom shouted through the window, "Felicia Anne Hardy! If you fall off that railing, don't expect me to rush you to the hospital!"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Felicia called back, grinning.
Her mom, Lydia, was a force—heels in the house, lipstick during laundry, and a look that could stop Felicia mid-sentence. Especially when Walter was in the room.She never said anything out loud in front of him, but the way she pursed her lips when he made one of his "midnight errand" jokes? Loud enough.Felicia had learned to read those silences.To her mom, Walter was still a thief. A risk. A shadow in daylight.
Felicia? She disagreed.
To Felicia... he was still her favourite person in the world.
Her dad wasn't perfect—but he was interesting. He saw things no one else did. He could pick locks, crack safes, vanish like smoke… and still find time to braid her hair before school when she was little. Most nights, he came home late, smelling like wind and metal, with a new story about "chess games in alleys" or "midnight errands."
She knew those were code for jobs.
She didn't care.
He never treated her like a kid—he treated her like a partner. And that meant more to her than any stupid math lesson.
She slipped the coin into her hoodie pocket and looked up.
The air felt different.
She spotted it fast—gliding between buildings like it owned the skyline.
An owl. Big. Brown. With something rolled and sealed in its claws.
Felicia straightened.
"You seeing that?" she called.
Behind her, her dad stepped onto the fire escape, coffee mug in one hand, eyebrow raised. "Pretty bold for a bird around here."
"Not a pigeon," she muttered.
He grinned. "Definitely not. Think it's after the neighbours' cat?"
Felicia didn't answer.
The owl circled once, slow and deliberate… then dipped down behind their apartment.
Felicia's pulse kicked up, just a little.
She didn't know how she knew—but she was sure.
That owl was coming for her.
And for the first time all day, she wasn't bored.
**
Missy Kallenback sat at her desk, surrounded by highlighters, notebooks, and sticky notes with bullet points far neater than any adult's. Her room was perfectly organized, her pencil sharpener had its own drawer, and her science fair trophies lined the top shelf like guards.
In the kitchen, her dad was fixing the toaster—again. Her mom sat nearby with a laptop, muttering about work deadlines and heating up the same cup of coffee twice. It was a typical evening in the Kallenback house. Quiet. Predictable.
Missy liked predictable.
She wasn't into makeup or gossip or school dances. She liked charts. Lists. Rules that made sense. Teachers loved her. Most kids ignored her—except Gwen.
Gwen Stacy actually talked to her like a person. They weren't just lab partners; they were real friends. Gwen was confident, fast-thinking, always moving like she had five ideas at once. Missy admired that, even if she didn't always know how to keep up.
Peter Parker? A little too jumpy, always late, and always carrying half-finished science projects. Missy respected the brainpower, even if the execution needed work.
She was finishing her notes for tomorrow's quiz when something tapped the living room window.
Tap.
Tap.
Missy frowned. "Mom? Did you hear that?"
Her dad looked up from the toaster. "Is someone at the window?"
They walked over together—and stopped cold.
An owl sat calmly on the fire escape, feathers ruffling in the wind, a letter clutched in its beak. Brown, wide-eyed, and way too big to be local wildlife.
Her mom stared. "That's... that's not a pigeon."
Her dad leaned closer. "Are we being pranked?"
The owl tapped the glass again. Patient. Intentional.
Missy slowly opened the window. The owl stuck out the letter—a wax-sealed envelope, her name written in elegant ink.
MISSY KALLENBACK
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
Missy took the letter carefully, eyes wide but quiet.
Her dad raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Missy stared at the envelope.
"It's... for me."
Her mom leaned in. "Is this some kind of school promotion?"
Missy turned the envelope over in her hands, running her fingers across the wax seal. She shook her head slowly.
"I don't think so."
**
The last owl cut across the sky, wings slicing the wind with sharp precision.
It didn't hesitate. It knew exactly where to go.
Not to a home full of laughter. Not to silence either.
Somewhere in between.
"The letter it carried wasn't just an invitation. It was a possibility. A rival. A friend. Maybe both.
And the name on this final envelope?
Let's just say... Peter Parker's about to roll his eyes for seven years straight.
Across the skies, letters flew—folded in magic, stitched with fate.
Each one heading toward a door, a window, a heart.
And inside them: a name.
A beginning.
Merlin stood at the tower window, watching the wind shift.
The scroll lay open behind him.
The letters had been sent.
Now… they only had to arrive.
End of Chapter 3
Character Reference Guide (for Readers)
To avoid confusion — here's where each character version is inspired from in this story:
Peter Parker – Combination of classic comics and Movies
Gwen Stacy – From The Amazing Spider-Man movies (Emma Stone version)
Mary Jane Watson (MJ) – From the Spider-Man PS4/Game Universe
Harry Osborn – From the Sony Raimi Spider-Man Trilogy (James Franco version)
Felicia Hardy – Based on Black Cat from comics and games
Missy Kallenback – From The Amazing Spider-Man movie (minor character)