It was past midnight, and Regal's writing room was fully functioning.
Before completely diving into the post production of [Iron Man: 1], Regal had some real writing to tackle.
It took him a whole week to finish the task.
The manuscript for Volume 5th: [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix] sat neatly stacked to one side, its final chapters refined through multiple revision cycles with the characteristic precision that had become Regal's trademark.
Nearly complete, it awaited only minor polish before delivery to publishers.
But the work consuming his focus tonight existed in a different category entirely - something that wouldn't appear in any published text for years, perhaps decades, if ever.
What he was constructing tonight could reshape how readers understood the very foundations of the wizarding world, and in whole the history of [Harry Potter] franchise itself.
And that is to connect [Harry Potter] world to one of most beloved franchise in his past world:
[The Chronicles of Narnia].
"Before Hogwarts rose upon the Scottish highlands." he read aloud, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. "...there were four ancient dwellings - each built by those who had once passed through the Wardrobe."
"You thought of this before you penned [Harry Potter]?" Thomas questioned him.
"Well, not completely… but I did have a framework." Regal replied, remembering how he began writing [Harry Potter] first book, and having a small thought to connect these two worlds.
"...that is insane. It is a whole history in itself."
Thomas couldn't help but compliment.
Thomas Ashford - he is a man in his mid forties, possessing the kind of résumé that should have made him one of England's most celebrated authors.
Throughout his career, he published six novels across three decades, each receiving critical acclaim from respectable literary journals, each demonstrating genuine narrative sophistication and world-building prowess.
And yet, despite such credentials, he remained almost entirely unknown to mainstream audiences.
The helplessness of it had gnawed at him for years.
Not bitterness exactly, but a quiet recognition that timing, marketing, and the unpredictable nature of commercial success had conspired to keep his work confined to university literature courses and specialized book clubs while far less talented writers achieved celebrity status through luck and aggressive self-promotion.
That is when he heard from his editor that a famous author is seeking to hire an experienced author to assist him with a collaboration for his next book.
And he is none other than, the successful filmmaker and acclaimed author of [Harry Potter] franchise:
Ashford had been an avid admirer of his writing regardless of his age - and he had no ego to apply for the job - which he did.
But with his luck, he didn't expect to be well received.
What should he expect? He, a mid-career writer with a modest publishing history, didn't make a logical choice.
However, he was called for a meeting, and just after a thirty minute talk, the young author expressed his opinion and offered him the collaboration if he was ready.
But Regal's explanation had been refreshingly straightforward: he had read Ashford's novels while researching narrative techniques, recognized genuine literary talent, and wanted to collaborate on work that would finally give that talent the platform it deserved.
And, here he was now already finished the fifth volume within a week.
However, their collaboration didn't end there.
Regal revealed that he didn't ask for his collaboration to just assist him with [Harry Potter] books.
He wanted him to co-write a book together.
Right. A complete new series that established the history of the [Harry Potter] franchise.
For Thomas, who always felt like he couldn't leave any mark in the literary world - this opportunity is nothing short of golden boom.
And as for Regal this was something a dream come true.
He now had the unprecedented opportunity to make what had always been the most compelling fan theory actually real.
For generations of readers in his past world, the parallels between Narnia and Harry Potter had been obvious enough to inspire countless online discussions, forums, and speculative essays.
But those discussions remained purely theoretical, constrained by the fact that two different authors had created two different universes with no direct connection.
Here, in this reality where he possessed both the knowledge and the creative authority to reshape literary mythology, those theories could be transformed into coherent, integrated lore.
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First and foremost, Regal explained the basic settings to Thomas.
He had begun with the most fundamental parallels - the narrative threads that bound these universes together at their deepest levels.
Both worlds, fundamentally, were founded on the concept of chosen children:
- Lucy Pevensie stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia's snowy landscape.
- Harry Potter stepping onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters for the first time.
Both journeys began in disbelief and wonder, both ended in the remaking of entire worlds.
Both protagonists were ordinary children who discovered they possessed significance far beyond anything their mundane circumstances had suggested.
But more importantly, both worlds operated according to similar magical principles.
Narnia's Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time - the primordial force that predated even Aslan's creation and governed the fundamental rules of that realm.
The ancient spellcraft that the Hogwarts Founders had drawn upon when they established their school, the deep magic that made Phoenix tears heal wounds and protected Harry from Voldemort's killing curse through his mother's sacrificial love.
Regal even while explaining - had realized that these coincidental similarities are what exactly made him believe to connect both the worlds into something real and solid.
They had to be expressions of the same fundamental force - the magic of creation itself, the raw essence of reality before it was divided between different realms and different forms of existence.
And the key to unifying both mythologies lay in establishing a single transformative historical moment - what Regal termed the:
Thomas read out loud.
In his framework, Aslan - the Great Lion, the Creator of Narnia, the embodiment of good and cosmic authority - had made an ancient pact with Death itself, the mysterious cloaked figure who served as the keeper of the Hallows and represented the necessary counterbalance to creation's overwhelming power.
This pact established that the age of direct magical wonder - where mythological beings walked openly, where magic operated according to the pure principles of creation itself - would gradually withdraw from the world of ordinary humanity.
Narnia would fade into myth and legend, its portals closing one by one, its magical beings retreating from human access.
The Pevensie children would eventually return to England, carrying with them the memory of a world that would become increasingly inaccessible to ordinary humans.
But the knowledge they brought - the understanding of magic's true nature, the principles that governed creation itself - would be preserved and transformed into the systematic magical education that would eventually become Hogwarts.
"It wasn't the end of magic." Regal had written in his notes. "It was the beginning of magic's transformation. From direct, ambient reality to hidden, studied practice. From mythological wonders to academic discipline."
This explanation accounted for one of the most persistent mysteries in Harry Potter lore: why the wizarding world had developed such a formalized, rigid approach to magical education.
It wasn't because humans were naturally inclined toward academic structures.
It was because the last generation of wizards who had direct access to the original magical principles understood that systematic knowledge had to be preserved and transmitted carefully, or it would be lost entirely.
For Thomas, the most ingenious connections emerged when Regal laid out his foundation to Hogwarts' most sacred and powerful artifacts:
The Four Founders' objects that had become the seeds of the Horcruxes, the sources of unimaginable power precisely because they contained echoes of creation magic itself.
Godric Gryffindor's Sword, he determined, was fundamentally a reforged version of Peter Pevensie's own blade - the great weapon given by Aslan himself in that first battle against the White Witch.
Peter had wielded that sword as High King of Narnia, and it carried within it not just the power of Aslan's blessing but the weight of all those who had fought against tyranny and darkness in that ancient world.
"Long before Godric Gryffindor wielded his sword." Regal had written. "It was forged in the fires of the Lion's breath."
When Narnia's age ended and the magical realm withdrew from direct access, that sword was melted down, its essence preserved and re-enchanted by the greatest magical artificers of the early wizarding age.
It was bound with goblin silver and human ingenuity, but at its core - if one could somehow perceive the deepest layers of its magical construction - remained that original Narnian steel.
This explained why the sword of Gryffindor possessed such unusual properties: it absorbed what made it stronger, its blade grew sharper with each enemy it defeated, and it answered the call of a true Gryffindor in genuine moments of need.
Helga Hufflepuff's Cup presented a different connection entirely.
Regal had positioned it as a gift from the Dryads - the tree-spirits of Narnia who had preserved the ancient forests and whispered counsel to those wise enough to listen.
These same Dryad descendants, he theorized, had become the source of Hogwarts' most distinctive ecological features.
The sentient trees of the Forbidden Forest weren't naturally occurring magical creatures; they were the last remnants of Dryadic magic, slowly adapting to survive in a world where the old ways were fading.
Helga, known for her particular affinity for the Muggleborns and those without magical heritage, had received the Cup as a gift precisely because it represented the Dryads' recognition that magical traditions must be preserved and nurtured even in a world where access to the original sources of power was increasingly restricted.
The Cup's power to produce sustenance wasn't arbitrary magic - it was an echo of the Dryads' ancient role as nourishers and preservers of magical life.
Perhaps most provocatively, Regal had positioned the Room of Requirement - that most mysterious and flexible space within Hogwarts - as not a construction of human magic at all, but a lingering echo of the Wood Between the Worlds itself.
In his knowledge from the previous reality, the Wood Between the Worlds served as a neutral space, a location that existed outside time and normal spatial rules, a place that provided what was needed to navigate between different realities.
The Room of Requirement, in his framework, operated according to the same principles because it was fundamentally the same type of space.
When the Separation Event occurred and direct access between realms closed, certain anchor points remained - places where the boundaries between worlds were thinner, where the basic principle of "providing what is needed" still operated according to old magical laws rather than newly formalized wizarding rules.
"The Room." he wrote. "Is not Hogwarts' creation. It is Hogwarts' inheritance."
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