Chapter Text
What if we cross worlds and timelines without knowing it? Maybe we have lived in countless variables of our universe, feeling we belong right in, being unique, irreplaceable, unreproducible. Maybe the Creator, walking as one among us, isn’t aware of the possibility to start everything from scratch at the spur of their will.
Be it as may, in a late afternoon, in this universe we take for granted to be the only one in existence…
The indicator in Kyon's family's clock that had the word DAD written over it turned to point from TRAVELING to HOME. Flames lit up in the fireplace, and Kyon's father danced out of it into the living room. His eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Oh hi, Kyon!” he said. “Hello darling!” he said to his wife, who came from the kitchen to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I have great news. I got the job!”
Kyon squinted, showing apparent distaste. “Dad, we didn't have to–”
Dad didn't seem to hear a thing; he went to ascend the stairs to his bedroom. “Prepare for a field trip to the muggle world! Everyone dig up a pair of pants!”
In this world, magic certainly was real. Kyon's father worked at the wizarding ministry in relations with muggles and halfbloods. He had been fishing himself the job of introducing a muggle-born to the wizarding world, and now he had his eyes on a certain Haruhi Suzumiya Potter. Kyon had been trying to talk him out of it, but his father seemed to have his ears full of Floo Powder. Nice. So much about settling in peacefully with his old school friends in Hogwarts.
Kyon had his invitation letter, of course. Everyone in their old and respectable, albeit not very wealthy family had gone to Hogwarts, as good as from the beginning. Kyon had known his admittance wouldn't provide surprises. He didn't specifically like surprises.
Well, there was hope that this new girl wouldn't provide too many either.
“Sweetheart, it could be an elaborate prank.”
Mr. Suzumiya Potter nodded to his wife.
“It could. I would rather wish magic existed, because we have been prepared to this punchline for our daughter's entire life.”
They talked in hushed tones, even if Haruhi was playing outside. Maybe they were as much in shock as avoiding being overheard. The subject of their discussion was a letter, official-looking but playfully ancient in layout. It lay open on the kitchen counter and read as follows:
Dear Ms. Suzumiya Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Mrs. Suzumiya Potter had to admit that her husband had a point. They lived ordinary lives on an ordinary street, in a perfectly everydayish suburban neighborhood. Their professions were in the engineering field, so both of them had a firm belief in natural laws – in other words, in this world, magic didn't exist. But their daughter was just odd. She had cut her hair several times just to grow it back overnight. She had lost a balloon, they had seen it fly to freedom, and they had watched it descend back down and let her take a firm grip of its string again. She wasn't disobedient, but a very stubborn child, and it was as if her nature had manipulated the world around her.
“What kind of way is this to introduce people to a whole new education system? Just a letter, nothing more?”
“It is a very faulty system”, Mr. Potter said. “What if we were to think it is a prank and throw the letter away? The mailman definitely should have, because there's no stamp.”
Kyon liked this neighborhood. It was clean and symmetrical; houses and little yards were lined up not unlike the tiles in their facades. Every house had at least a little trimmed lawn, with a path leading to the house, often flowerbeds and perhaps a little tree.
“Ah! Right here!” Kyon's father exclaimed. He was holding a little compass. Its needle rose up from inside the glass and pointed towards the house next to them, dancing back and forth as if excited.
“Won't that compass draw attention?” Kyon asked.
“Muggles these days have very similar objects,” Dad told him, “They are called the geepeys.”
“Called what?” Kyon was going to ask, when the compass needle spurted into the fence in front of 4 Privet Drive. They looked when it jammed in the branches a few times, until it managed to flicker above it. It rose exactly in unison with also golden colored ribbon, tying back chestnut hair. The girl, Kyon's age, stared at the little object.
“Is this a trick?” she asked. “Is this a flying clock hand? Who are you people?”
She seemed intent, but not put back at all, by this uncommon occurrence.
Dad introduced himself. “I am Arthur Weasley from the Ministry of Magic, and I assume you are Miss Haruhi Potter,” he said, offering a hand the girl didn't accept, “this is my son, Charles, but please call him Kyon.” Kyon sighed inaudibly. “We are here to talk about your admittance letter.”
Haruhi ran inside. “Mom! Dad! Have we invited wizards over?"