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Chapter Text

Rumi Kobayashi tugged her coat tighter as the November wind swept through the quiet streets of Privet Drive. The sky was pitch black, the kind of cold, lonely darkness that made her miss the noise of Tokyo nights. She had just spent the evening with an old friend from university, catching up over tea, and now all she wanted was to get back to her warm flat.
She reached her car, keys in hand, when a faint sound stopped her.
Crying.
At first, she dismissed it. Maybe it was from a television inside one of the houses. But then the crying grew louder, thinner, raw with desperation. Her brows knit together as she turned slowly, scanning the neat row of identical houses. The sound was close—too close.
Her eyes landed on Number Four. There, on the doorstep, was a bundle of blankets.
Her heart lurched.
No… no way.
She hurried over, crouching down, and pulled back the top layer of cloth. A baby. A very small baby, his face red from crying, tiny fists flailing against the night air.
“Oh my god,” Rumi whispered, scooping him up instinctively. “Who would leave you out here like this?”
The baby quieted almost instantly against her chest, his cries turning to soft whimpers. She rocked him gently, murmuring soothing words in Japanese without realizing it. Her protective instincts were in full force now, anger burning in her chest at whoever had abandoned him.
Middle of November, freezing cold—what kind of monster…
Not wasting another second, she strode up to the door and jabbed the doorbell. The porch light flicked on, and a sharp-faced blonde woman in a dressing gown opened the door, frowning.
“Yes?”
Rumi dipped her head politely. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you this late, but I just found this baby on your doorstep. Do you know him? Or maybe he belongs to someone nearby?”
The woman blinked, eyes darting to the baby. For a split second, something flickered in her expression—shock, recognition, maybe even fear—but it was gone in an instant. Her mouth tightened.
“I don’t know that baby,” she said stiffly. “Never seen him before.”
Rumi frowned, hugging the infant closer. “Are you sure? He was right here, outside your door.”
Petunia’s lips thinned even more. “Positive. We don’t… associate with babies being left on doorsteps.”
It was such a strange, dismissive thing to say that Rumi could only stare for a moment. Then she shook her head. “Alright. Sorry to disturb you. I just thought… well, never mind. Thank you.”
She stepped back, bowing politely before turning away with the baby still cradled in her arms. As she walked back to her car, she muttered under her breath in Japanese, too upset to notice Petunia closing the door with unusual haste.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, she looked down at the baby, who was now gazing at her with impossibly bright green eyes.
Rumi’s chest tightened. “Don’t worry, little one,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you. I won’t leave you like this.”
And with that, she drove away from Privet Drive—unknowingly altering the fate of the wizarding world forever.

Chapter Text

The drive back to her flat was quiet, the baby nestled in the passenger seat in a cocoon of blankets. Every so often, Rumi glanced over, just to make sure he was still breathing, still safe. His little chest rose and fell rhythmically, soft sighs escaping his lips.

Still, her heart twisted. She couldn’t get the image out of her head: a baby—a baby!—left in the cold. Who did that? Why?

Her stomach knotted tighter. She wasn’t a parent, not by any stretch, but she knew one thing: she wasn’t leaving him to fate.

Halfway home, she pulled into the bright fluorescent glow of a convenience store.

Inside, she moved quickly, juggling the baby against her shoulder as she filled a basket: formula, bottles, diapers, baby wipes, a tiny set of pajamas with a little bear on the front, and a soft fleece blanket. The clerk gave her a strange look, probably wondering how someone her age could already have a baby, but Rumi ignored it. Right now, all that mattered was that the child would be safe and warm tonight.

---

By the time she reached her flat, exhaustion pressed down on her, but she forced herself to push through. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside and was instantly greeted by chaos.

A loud bark erupted as her Samoyed bounded up, tail wagging like mad. Her Golden Retriever was right behind, pawing at her leg, while the Great Dane leaned his massive head against her shoulder curiously.

“Down, down!” Rumi hissed, keeping the baby high against her chest. “Careful! We have a guest.”

From the corner, three cats appeared with far more dignity: her Ragdoll blinking sleepily, and the two Maine Coons sitting side by side like furry sentinels. Their wide eyes locked onto the small bundle in Rumi’s arms.

The baby stirred but didn’t cry, as if sensing no real danger. Instead, he let out a soft coo, reaching tiny fingers toward the Great Dane’s nose. The big dog sniffed, then gave a slow, deliberate lick, tail swishing.

Rumi chuckled in relief. “Looks like you’ve passed the test, little one.”

She laid him carefully in the center of her couch, surrounding him with the new supplies she had bought. After fumbling through the instructions on the formula tin, she managed to prepare a bottle. To her amazement, he drank eagerly, his little hands clutching at the bottle as though afraid it might vanish.

Once he was full and burped, she dressed him in the bear pajamas and wrapped him in the fleece blanket. She leaned back, cradling him against her chest, studying his tiny face for the first time in peace.

That was when she noticed it.

The scar.

A sharp little mark shaped almost like a bolt of lightning, standing stark against his smooth skin.

Her breath caught. “A thunder mark…” she murmured in Japanese. She thought for a long moment, then smiled softly. “Raiga. That’s what I’ll call you. My little Raiga.”

The baby—Raiga—blinked up at her with bright green eyes, and for the first time that night, she felt her fear melt away.

She didn’t know who he really was or why fate had dropped him into her arms, but one thing was certain.

She wasn’t going to let him go.

Chapter Text

Adjusting to life with a baby was supposed to be overwhelming. Sleepless nights, endless diapers, constant worry—that was what Rumi had expected.

But somehow, Raiga made it easy.

Her IT job was flexible, allowing her to work from home most days. Between coding, online meetings, and system checks, she could keep Raiga by her side in a bassinet, his soft breathing a steady rhythm in the background of her workday. When he fussed, she took short breaks, rocking him gently while sipping her coffee.

Her pets, once the center of her world, now had a new fascination. The Samoyed acted like a fluffy guardian, always hovering near Raiga’s crib. The Golden Retriever took it upon himself to fetch dropped toys. Even the Great Dane, usually aloof, would lie quietly on the floor during nap times, forming a silent shield around mother and son. The cats, in their dignified way, pretended indifference—but Rumi often caught them curling protectively at the foot of Raiga’s blanket.

Love bloomed quietly, naturally. At first, she told herself she was just keeping him safe until someone claimed him. But days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and no one came. Somewhere between his first smile and his first babbled syllables, Rumi realized the truth: he wasn’t just a baby she had found. He was her son.

She made it official.

The adoption process was tedious—endless forms, background checks, home evaluations—but Rumi was nothing if not determined. Her stable job, her savings, her spotless record, and her warm little household all worked in her favor. Eventually, after months of waiting, the papers came through.

Raiga Kobayashi.

Her son.

She celebrated by taking him to the hospital for a proper checkup. The doctors confirmed he was healthy, and about fifteen months old at the time of adoption. He grew steadily, hitting his milestones with the kind of boundless curiosity that both delighted and exhausted her.

Money was never a problem. Between her salary, investments, and the occasional freelance project, Rumi was comfortably wealthy. She bought Raiga everything he needed—crib, stroller, toys, clothes—while still keeping things simple and practical.

Before she knew it, two years had passed.

Raiga had grown into a bright, mischievous toddler, his emerald-green eyes sparkling with endless energy. He was talkative, stubborn, and quick to throw tantrums when he didn’t get his way—the so-called terrible twos. One day he wanted applesauce and nothing else, the next day he refused to eat anything unless Rumi fed him herself. He insisted on following her everywhere, clinging to her leg or raising his little arms until she picked him up.

“My little mama’s boy,” Rumi would sigh, though her heart swelled each time he buried his face in her neck.

Her dogs tolerated his antics—Raiga loved riding the Great Dane like a horse, hugging the Samoyed until he disappeared in fluff, and using the Retriever as a pillow during nap times. The cats were less forgiving, but even they eventually allowed Raiga to tug their tails without storming off.

Her flat, once quiet and orderly, was now filled with laughter, toys scattered everywhere, and the sound of little feet pattering across the floor.

And Rumi wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.

Chapter Text

The years slipped by, stitched together with laughter, scraped knees, bedtime stories, and countless celebrations.

Every birthday was a big deal in the Kobayashi household. For Raiga’s third birthday, Rumi decorated the flat with balloons and streamers while the dogs trotted around wearing party hats. Her parents came over with wrapped presents—far too many, in Rumi’s opinion, but her mother insisted that spoiling a grandchild was her right. Raiga, with frosting smeared across his cheeks, grinned for every photo, utterly delighted with the attention.

By his fourth birthday, the parties grew larger, including neighbors, Rumi’s coworkers, and even a few of Raiga’s little friends from the park. The Golden Retriever was tasked with carrying party favors in a pouch, while the Maine Coons perched regally on shelves, surveying the chaos.

Through it all, Rumi’s parents were an unshakable presence. They had been hesitant at first when Rumi called them late that November night years ago, explaining she had found and adopted a baby. But when they met Raiga—tiny, bright-eyed, and clinging to their daughter—they melted instantly.

Her father doted on Raiga quietly, teaching him how to fly a kite in the park or patiently helping him stack blocks into towering castles. Her mother, on the other hand, threw herself headfirst into the role of grandmother. She showered Raiga with toys, snacks, and handmade sweaters, often declaring that she’d waited her whole life to have someone to spoil like this.

Rumi never forgot the look in her mother’s eyes when she said, You’ve done a good thing, Rumi. I’m proud of you.

That pride mattered more than she realized.

Parenting wasn’t easy, but she had help at every turn. From advice on fevers and picky eating to babysitting during late-night projects, her parents became her strongest allies.

Meanwhile, Rumi’s career soared. Her natural talent in IT, coupled with her disciplined work ethic, earned her recognition from higher-ups. By the time Raiga turned five, she had climbed the corporate ladder so swiftly that whispers started: She’s on track to become CEO one day.

Financially, she had more than enough. She invested wisely, bought a larger home with a backyard for Raiga and the pets, and even set up a trust fund for her son. But despite the luxury she could afford, her home remained warm and grounded. Dinner was always shared at the table, birthdays were celebrated with laughter, and bedtime ended with stories—sometimes fairy tales, sometimes her own inventions.

Most importantly, Raiga grew up happy.

He was mischievous, curious, and clever beyond his years. His green eyes sparkled when he learned something new, and though he was adventurous, he always ran back to Rumi’s side for comfort, still her little mama’s boy at heart.

Sometimes strange things happened—candles flickering when he giggled too hard, toys floating slightly out of reach, or the Golden Retriever’s ball bouncing back on its own after Raiga pouted for it. Rumi dismissed them as childish coincidences, though her mother occasionally frowned thoughtfully.

But none of it mattered, not really.

What mattered was that Raiga Kobayashi was safe, loved, and thriving.

And for the first time in her life, Rumi felt not only successful—but complete.

Chapter Text

By the time Raiga was seven, strange things had become almost normal in the Kobayashi household.

It started small. One morning, Rumi nearly choked on her tea when Raiga walked into the kitchen with a head full of bright green hair. His wide grin suggested he thought it was the funniest thing ever.

“Look, Mama! I’m like a plant!” he announced proudly, tugging at his emerald locks.

Rumi set her mug down, blinked twice, and then laughed. “Well… it suits you. But maybe let’s figure out how to change it back before Grandma thinks I dyed your hair.”

Raiga puffed out his cheeks in concentration. By lunchtime, his hair had returned to its usual black waves. Rumi stroked his head gently. “See? You’re a very special boy, Raiga. Just… let’s keep this between us, okay?”

Raiga nodded solemnly.

Another time, Rumi heard the sound of shattering glass from the living room. Rushing in, she found Raiga standing guiltily over a toppled vase. His eyes welled with tears—until, before either of them could react, the shards lifted off the floor and reformed into a perfect vase, sliding back onto the table as though nothing had happened.

“...Cool,” Raiga breathed, awe in his voice.

Rumi exhaled slowly, crouching down. “Yes, cool. But also a secret, remember? Some things are just for us to know.”

He nodded again, but this time with a sparkle of pride in his eyes.

The biggest surprise, however, came in the garden.

Rumi was weeding when Raiga came running toward her, his hands cupped carefully around something. “Mama! Mama, look!”

Before she could stop him, he opened his palms. A small green garden snake slithered across his fingers, flicking its tongue lazily.

“Raiga—!” Rumi gasped, half-rising to grab him.

“It’s okay, Mama! He’s my friend. He says his name is Kawa.”

Rumi froze. “…He says?”

Raiga nodded seriously. “We were talking. He was lonely, so I asked him to come live with us. He likes the backyard.”

The snake hissed softly, and Raiga beamed. “See? He said thank you.”

Rumi stared at her son, then at the little snake coiling comfortably around his wrist. Every instinct screamed she should panic—but she didn’t. Instead, she sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Well,” she murmured, “I suppose three dogs, three cats, and now a snake isn’t that much harder.” She gave Raiga a soft smile. “But you are something else, my little boy.”

Raiga’s chest puffed with pride as he cradled Kawa.

From then on, the snake became part of the family. The dogs sniffed curiously, the cats eyed him with suspicion, but eventually, they all adjusted. Rumi even bought a proper terrarium, though more often than not, Kawa preferred basking on a sunny windowsill near Raiga’s toys.

Through it all, Rumi never once scolded Raiga for his strange abilities. She told him again and again that he was special, that there was nothing wrong with him, and that one day, maybe they’d understand it better.

But for now, it was their little secret.

And because of that, Raiga never doubted himself, never feared what he could do. He grew up not with shame—but with wonder.

Chapter Text

Time passed swiftly in the Kobayashi household, each year bringing new surprises—and new incidents.

By eight, Raiga’s strange abilities had become part of the family rhythm. Sometimes the television flickered when he laughed too hard. Once, his cereal bowl refilled itself mid-breakfast, much to his delight and Rumi’s exasperated amusement. And then there was the time he sneezed so loudly that every lightbulb in the house popped at once.

Rumi handled it all with her usual calm. “You’re just special, Raiga,” she always told him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Other kids might not understand, so this is just our family’s secret.”

But Raiga wasn’t only special because of his magic.

One summer afternoon, while watching a martial arts film with his grandfather, Raiga suddenly announced: “Mama, I wanna learn karate!”

Rumi blinked. “Karate, huh?”

Her father chuckled. “It would do him good. Discipline, focus, strength—it’s more than fighting.”

So Rumi signed him up for classes at a nearby dojo. To her surprise (and pride), Raiga took to karate like a fish to water. His small frame was quick, his focus sharp, and though he occasionally got distracted by silly antics, his instructors praised his natural talent. By the time he was nine, he was already winning small local competitions, his green eyes gleaming with determination whenever he tied his belt around his waist.

Watching him sparked something in Rumi. One evening, after another successful tournament, she mused aloud, “You know, maybe Mama should learn something too.”

Raiga’s eyes widened. “Really?! You’d be awesome, Mama!”

So she did. Rumi enrolled in both boxing and taekwondo, determined to push herself. Balancing work, parenting, pets, and training wasn’t easy, but Rumi thrived on challenges. She discovered a fierce joy in sparring, the rush of strength and precision, the satisfaction of discipline.

Her instructors were impressed by her dedication; she advanced quickly, earning belts and respect in taekwondo while proving herself a formidable boxer. Her coworkers, once only impressed by her sharp mind in IT, now gawked when they realized their soft-spoken colleague could probably knock out half the office.

At home, martial arts became something of a family activity. Raiga often tried to mimic his mother’s punches, and sometimes they sparred lightly in the backyard. Their dogs watched excitedly, tails wagging, while the cats observed with bored superiority. Even Kawa the snake slithered onto the porch railing to “watch.”

There were nights when Rumi tucked Raiga into bed after a long day of training, brushing his hair back as he clutched his favorite plush toy. He would yawn and mumble, “Mama, when I grow up, I wanna be strong like you.”

Rumi would smile softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re already strong, Raiga. Stronger than you know.”

And so, while strange magical incidents continued to dot their days—sometimes hilarious, sometimes inconvenient—life was full, happy, and steady.

Rumi was thriving in her career, climbing ever closer to the top. Raiga was growing into a confident, mischievous, and talented boy.

Neither of them knew it, but the world beyond their quiet lives was stirring—waiting for the day when fate would come knocking at their door.

Chapter Text

The summer sun poured through the wide windows of the Kobayashi home, warming the polished floorboards. Rumi sat at the dining table, laptop open, papers spread around her. CEO now—unbelievable, even to herself. She had fought her way to the top of her company, balancing board meetings with martial arts training, and still coming home every night to cook dinner with Raiga.

He had just graduated elementary school, diploma tucked proudly into the frame on the wall. His karate instructors raved about his potential—focused, agile, disciplined. At only eleven, he already had a string of medals that glittered in the family’s living room.

Rumi sighed, scrolling through school websites. “International Academy, maybe? Or… no, that one’s too far. What do you think, Raiga?” she asked absentmindedly.

Before Raiga could answer, there was a tap-tap-tap against the glass.

Both froze.

Rumi turned her head slowly, and her jaw went slack. An owl—an actual owl—was perched outside the window, amber eyes sharp and unblinking.

“Is… that normal here?” Raiga whispered, half excited, half wary.

Rumi shook her head. “No. Definitely not.”

She rose cautiously, slid open the window, and the owl hopped inside as though it owned the place. With a dignified hoot, it extended its leg.

Tied to it was a thick envelope.

Puzzled and amazed, Rumi untied it. The owl immediately flew to perch atop the bookshelf, preening itself as if waiting.

Rumi turned the envelope over. Heavy parchment, sealed with deep red wax pressed into the shape of a crest she didn’t recognize.

Her heart thumped strangely as she cracked the seal and unfolded the letter. The elegant script danced across the page:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

By the time she finished reading, Raiga was at her side, peering curiously over her shoulder.

They read it together in silence. The words seemed impossible, ridiculous—and yet, memories of green hair, self-mending vases, and talking snakes pressed heavily in the back of Rumi’s mind.

Raiga looked up at her, eyes wide. “Mama… does this mean… I’m like… magic?”

Rumi exhaled slowly, folding the letter against her chest. “I don’t know. Maybe. It would explain… a lot.” She searched her son’s face, her heart aching with both pride and worry. “But this Hogwarts… I’ve never heard of it. It could be dangerous.”

Raiga hesitated only a moment before squaring his shoulders. “I want to go. If this is real… then I can learn how to control it. I don’t want to keep hiding it forever.”

Rumi studied him. Her little boy was growing into someone brave—someone strong. She smiled faintly, brushing his cheek. “Alright. Then we’ll find out. But on our terms.”

She fetched paper and pen, writing neatly:

To whom it may concern,
We have received your letter. While we are not sure how much of it is true, we would like someone to visit us in person to answer questions and explain further before we decide anything.
—Rumi Kobayashi

She tied the reply to the owl’s leg. With a soft hoot, it took off into the evening sky.

Mother and son sat in silence for a long moment. Raiga’s hand slipped into hers.

“Do you think it’s real?” he whispered.

“I think…” Rumi murmured, squeezing his hand, “that even if it’s strange or frightening… we’ll face it together.”

---

Meanwhile… in the Wizarding World

Panic.

Pure, unfiltered panic.

When the Hogwarts letters were sent out that summer, one never returned. The one addressed to Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

Minerva McGonagall stormed into Albus Dumbledore’s office, her tartan robes swishing furiously. “Albus, where is he? You left him with those Muggles eleven years ago, and now—now there’s no trace! The letters are bouncing back—no response, no owl return—nothing!”

Albus sat grimly behind his desk, fingers steepled. “I had hoped… no, I believed he would be safe with his family.”

“Safe?” Minerva snapped. “Safe? He’s vanished!”

Whispers were already spreading in the Ministry. Rumors. Fear. If the Boy Who Lived was missing, what did that mean for the future?

And somewhere in Japan, an owl cut across the skies, carrying the only clue to Harry Potter’s fate—a neatly folded letter written in a firm, graceful hand.

Chapter Text

The neighborhood was quiet, the hum of cicadas filling the heavy summer air. Severus Snape stood stiffly at the gate, his black cloak billowing faintly despite the stillness. The house before him was… impressive. Sleek lines, polished wood, large windows that glinted in the evening light. Not at all the cramped, cluttered homes of Muggle Britain he was used to.

He sneered faintly. “Trust Potter to disappear into luxury.”

With a rap of his knuckles, he knocked on the polished front door.

It opened a moment later, revealing a boy. Thin, bright-eyed, hair dark as midnight. He peered up at him, cautious but polite.

“Can I help you, sir?” the boy asked, voice steady for someone his age.

Snape inclined his head, his tone clipped. “I am Severus Snape, a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was sent as a representative in response to your letter.”

The boy blinked, then gave a little bow. “Oh! You must be here about that. I’m Raiga Kobayashi.”

Kobayashi. The name rang odd in Snape’s ears, but before he could dwell, the boy gestured politely. “Please come inside. I’ll take you to the living room. My mother will be with us shortly.”

Snape followed, his boots clicking softly against the gleaming floors. The interior of the house was spacious, tastefully decorated—warm in a way that unsettled him. The scent of sandalwood hung faintly in the air. He sat stiffly on the sofa, long fingers curled around the armrest.

Minutes stretched. He was beginning to scowl when he heard the soft pad of footsteps approaching.

And then—

She entered.

Snape’s breath hitched before he could stop himself.

The woman who stepped into the room was breathtaking—not in the flashy, shallow way of many he had encountered, but in a quiet, commanding way that rooted him to the spot. Her long dark hair framed a face of delicate beauty, but her eyes—sharp, intelligent, unwavering—spoke of strength. She carried herself with the confidence of someone used to being obeyed.

“This must be the representative,” she said smoothly, her voice warm but cautious. She bowed politely, the gesture precise. “I am Rumi Kobayashi. Raiga’s mother.”

For a moment, Severus could only stare. He had faced Death Eaters, Dark Lords, and horrors unspeakable… yet here, in the presence of this woman, he found himself uncharacteristically… unsettled.

He cleared his throat sharply, composing himself. “Madam Kobayashi. It is… a pleasure.” The words felt foreign on his tongue.

She gestured gracefully toward a chair across from her. “Please, sit comfortably. Raiga and I have many questions.”

Snape inclined his head stiffly. His eyes flicked once toward the boy—bright, eager, curious—and then back to the woman who now commanded the room with nothing more than her presence.

For the first time in years, he felt something unusual stir inside him.

Not irritation.
Not disdain.

Something far more dangerous.

Chapter Text

Rumi sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, emerald eyes sharp and steady as she regarded the professor. Raiga sat close beside her, practically buzzing with curiosity.

“First,” Rumi began, her voice calm but firm, “this letter. It claims that my son is… a wizard?”

Snape inclined his head stiffly. “Correct. Raiga possesses magical ability, as do all students accepted into Hogwarts.”

Raiga’s eyes lit up. “So I really do have powers? I thought I was just… weird.”

Snape arched a brow. “Strange incidents have occurred around you?”

“Yes,” Rumi interjected smoothly. She described the vase that had repaired itself, Raiga’s green hair incident, and then, with a measured glance at her son, added: “He can also… talk to snakes.”

For the first time that evening, Snape’s carefully constructed mask faltered. His eyes flicked to the boy, sharp and calculating. “Parseltongue,” he murmured under his breath, then schooled his features again. “Rare. Very rare.”

Raiga tilted his head. “Is that bad?”

“Not inherently,” Snape replied in his precise, clipped way. “But it is… unusual.”

Rumi placed a protective hand on her son’s shoulder. “You said it is normal for magical children to cause accidents?”

“Yes. What you described—broken objects repairing themselves, sudden physical changes—that is Accidental Magic. Common, expected even. It is the raw outpouring of power in children who have not yet learned control. Hogwarts teaches them to master it.”

Rumi nodded slowly, her sharp mind ticking through the information. “I see. Then this school may be exactly what he needs.” She shifted slightly, folding one leg over the other with elegant composure. “The letter also mentioned equipment—robes, cauldrons, wands… Where are we supposed to buy these things?”

“Diagon Alley,” Snape replied immediately. “A concealed magical marketplace in London. I will escort you.”

Rumi inclined her head. “Thank you. One last question—my son is accustomed to using pens, pencils, and notebooks. Must he switch to parchment and quills?”

Snape paused. It was such a Muggle question. He had been ready to scoff—until he found himself locked in those steady emerald eyes. Against his own instincts, he softened his tone. “There is no rule against it. Your son may use whichever method allows him to learn most effectively.”

Raiga grinned. “Yes! Pens are way easier.”

Snape rose smoothly, his cloak trailing like spilled ink. “Then it is settled. Gather what you need. I will take you both to Diagon Alley.”

Rumi stood as well, her presence commanding without effort. “We appreciate your guidance, Professor Snape.”

He inclined his head curtly, but his dark eyes lingered on her for a fraction too long before turning away.

Chapter Text

The first step through the brick wall of the Leaky Cauldron was like stepping into a dream.

Rumi gasped softly despite herself. Diagon Alley stretched out before them, a cobbled street alive with color and movement. Shop signs bobbed magically in the air, cauldrons stirred themselves in windows, and children darted about clutching ice cream cones that never seemed to melt.

Raiga’s emerald eyes went wide, his head swiveling in every direction. “Mom! Look—flying brooms! And those hats are moving!”

Rumi chuckled, though she too felt the flutter of awe deep in her chest. “Yes, I see, sweetheart.” Her voice was calm, but Snape, walking beside them, noticed the way her fingers curled faintly tighter around her son’s hand.

Their first stop was Gringotts Bank. The towering marble structure loomed over the street, guarded by goblins whose sharp eyes glittered with intelligence. Inside, the Kobayashis were guided to a private office where Snape informed them—ever so casually—that Raiga’s birth parents had left him a sizeable fortune.

Rumi blinked, surprise flickering across her otherwise composed face. She had fully prepared to fund her son’s education herself, her CEO-level salary more than capable. Still, she bowed politely. “I see. Then I am grateful. But please understand—my son will never lack for anything, regardless of what was left for him.”

Snape inclined his head slightly, impressed despite himself at her quiet authority.

From there, the shopping began in earnest. Flourish and Blotts for textbooks. Madam Malkin’s for robes, where Raiga insisted on trying every robe style twice. The apothecary, where Rumi wrinkled her nose at the sharp tang of ingredients but dutifully helped Raiga choose. Ollivander’s, where Raiga’s eyes lit up as his wand chose him with a soft hum of power.

Snape guided them through every shop, occasionally suggesting useful extras: a charmed compass for navigating the castle, self-inking quills “just in case,” and a simple beginner’s guide to wizard etiquette. Rumi purchased them all without hesitation.

Their final stop was the Magical Menagerie.

“Raiga, the list says you may bring a pet,” Rumi reminded him. “An owl, a cat, or a toad.”

Raiga’s gaze darted to the owls, his face glowing with longing. Rumi followed his line of sight, then smiled softly. “Very well. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

The snowy owl that Raiga chose was breathtaking—feathers white as snow, amber eyes sharp yet kind. The bond was instant. Raiga cradled the cage carefully, grinning ear to ear. “Thank you, Mom! She’s perfect.”

“Hedwig,” Raiga said thoughtfully. “That will be her name.”

By the time Snape escorted them back to their home, arms laden with packages, Rumi felt both exhausted and exhilarated. She thanked him with a bow and a rare, genuine smile that made the professor’s chest tighten unexpectedly.

When he left in a swirl of black cloak, Rumi exhaled, then turned to her son.

“Well, Raiga. You’re about to start a new life. But before then—” her lips curved into a mischievous smile, “—we’re going to Tokyo.”

Raiga blinked. “Tokyo? Why?”

“Because Hogwarts may give you wands and cauldrons, but your mother will make sure you’re truly prepared.”

A day later, they strolled through a Tokyo bookstore, filling baskets with pens, pencils, sharpeners, highlighters, sticky notes, and every type of notebook imaginable. Rumi added several sturdy backpacks, a laptop-sized planner, and even Japanese study guides.

Raiga groaned good-naturedly. “Mom, it’s like you want me to overstudy.”

Rumi just laughed, brushing his dark hair aside with motherly affection. “No, Raiga. I just want you to shine.”

Chapter Text

King’s Cross Station was a blur of noise and motion. Steam billowed from the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express, curling like a living thing through the air. Owls hooted, cats meowed, and students darted between trolleys, clutching trunks and waving wands.
Rumi stood on the platform, dressed elegantly but casually, her long black hair tied back as always. Beside her, Raiga adjusted his robes for the tenth time, Hedwig’s cage perched on top of his neatly packed trolley.
He looked both thrilled and nervous, eyes wide as he took in the chaos around him. “It’s really happening, huh?”
Rumi smiled softly. “It is.” She reached out, straightening his collar like she had when he’d started kindergarten years ago. “You’re going to do amazing things, Raiga.”
Raiga fidgeted, glancing up at her. “Mom…?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
He hesitated, chewing his lip. “Would you still be proud of me if I got sorted into… Slytherin or something?”
Rumi blinked in surprise, then laughed quietly, cupping his face in her hands. “Raiga Kobayashi, you could be sorted into any house. You could even turn into a purple treefrog and I’d still love you and be proud of you all the same.”
Raiga giggled, but his eyes shone. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
The train’s whistle shrieked through the station, signaling its imminent departure. Rumi knelt to give him one last tight hug. “Write to me often. Hedwig knows the way. And remember—be kind, be brave, and don’t forget who you are.”
“I won’t, Mom.”
With one last squeeze, Raiga grabbed his trunk handle and climbed aboard the train. He leaned out the window, waving until she disappeared into the blur of steam. Rumi stayed until the red train became a dot on the horizon, her heart both aching and full.
At Hogwarts, the Great Hall buzzed with excitement. Raiga followed the other first-years, awed by the floating candles and the enchanted ceiling that mirrored the night sky.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front, a scroll in hand and the ancient Sorting Hat on a stool beside her.
When it was Raiga’s turn, whispers rippled through the hall at his unfamiliar surname. He sat, the hat dropping over his eyes.
Hmm… interesting, a voice murmured in his head. Bravery, cleverness, loyalty, ambition—you have a bit of everything, don’t you? And something else… old magic in your blood.
Raiga gulped silently. Where do I belong?
The hat chuckled. You’d do well anywhere, young one. But there’s a spark here—a heart that values friendship, courage, and doing what’s right, even when it’s hard. Better be…
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Cheers erupted from the red-and-gold table. Raiga grinned as he pulled the hat off, heart pounding, and made his way to his new housemates.
From somewhere deep inside, he could almost hear his mother’s voice: “You could be a purple treefrog and I’d still be proud of you.”
And for the first time in his life, he felt truly home.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts was nothing like anything Raiga had ever imagined.
The castle was alive — staircases that moved, portraits that whispered gossip, and ghosts who floated through walls as if gravity was optional. The first few days were a blur of wonder, confusion, and laughter.

In Transfiguration, he accidentally turned his matchstick into a wiggling lizard instead of a needle.
In Charms, he made his feather hover a full minute before anyone else.
In Potions, Professor Snape’s sharp gaze lingered on him longer than on the others — as though the man couldn’t decide whether to scowl or smile.

But Raiga was adjusting fast. He made friends with Neville Longbottom, who appreciated Raiga’s calm patience when his potions went wrong. He also got along surprisingly well with Hermione, who admired his neat handwriting and his tendency to take notes with pens instead of quills. Even Ron, after seeing Raiga’s owl Hedwig, decided the “Kobayashi kid” was alright.

Every night, Raiga wrote letters to his mother.
He told her about floating candles, giant feasts, flying lessons, and the castle’s endless secrets. He even included doodles of his classmates in the margins.

---

Meanwhile, back in Japan, Rumi sat in the living room, the house feeling a little too quiet. Her dogs and cats lounged around her feet, clearly sensing her melancholy.

Her phone buzzed — a message from her assistant at work — but she ignored it. Instead, her gaze wandered to Raiga’s empty chair. For eleven years, she had balanced motherhood and career effortlessly. Yet now, with her little boy away at school, the silence tugged at her heart.

Just then, there was a sharp tap-tap at the window.

Hedwig.

Rumi nearly tripped over her Great Dane in her haste to open the window. The snowy owl swooped in gracefully, dropping a neatly folded letter into her hands.

Her heart leapt.

She opened it and began to read.

> Dear Mom,
Hogwarts is incredible! Everyone’s so nice (even if they think my name sounds cool and strange). I made friends already, and my teachers say I’m a natural at spells! Don’t worry, I’m eating lots (the food here is huge) and Hedwig’s the best owl ever. I miss you, but I’m happy.
Love,
Raiga

By the time she reached the end, Rumi was grinning ear to ear. “My little boy’s thriving,” she whispered proudly.

She stood abruptly. “That calls for a celebration.”

And just like that, the Kobayashi kitchen turned into a storm of flour and sugar.

She baked everything:
Matcha cookies, chocolate chip biscuits, honey cakes, melon bread, even butter biscuits shaped like owls. Her pets gathered around the counter, tails wagging and ears perked, as she carefully packed each treat into a massive enchanted box she had bought in Diagon Alley — charmed to keep the contents fresh.

When Hedwig returned that evening, Rumi attached the enormous parcel to the owl’s harness with a fond pat. “Make sure he shares with his friends, alright?”

Hedwig hooted as if in agreement and soared into the night.

---

The next morning at breakfast, the Great Hall buzzed with chatter. A large snowy owl swooped down onto the Gryffindor table, dropping a huge box right in front of Raiga.

Curious students leaned over as Raiga lifted the lid — and the scent of warm cookies and cakes filled the hall.

Neville’s eyes went wide. “Blimey, did your mum send a bakery?”

Raiga laughed, cheeks pink. “Maybe she did.”

A small note sat on top of the pile:

> Share these with your friends. Proud of you always. ❤️ — Mom

By the time breakfast ended, nearly every student in Gryffindor (and a few from Hufflepuff) had a cookie in hand. Laughter filled the hall, and Raiga couldn’t stop smiling.

That night, under the canopy of his four-poster bed, he whispered softly to Hedwig, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll make you proud.”

Chapter Text

The morning of Raiga’s first flying lesson dawned clear and bright, sunlight spilling across the Quidditch pitch. The students buzzed with excitement as Madam Hooch strode onto the field. Raiga, standing beside a broom that looked far too old to be trustworthy, couldn’t help but grin.

When Madam Hooch blew her whistle, Raiga’s broom shot up immediately into his hand — smooth, confident, almost like it wanted to fly with him. A few students gawked, even more so when Raiga soared up on his first try, balancing with natural grace. He laughed, hair flying back in the wind, and for a moment felt completely free.

Of course, a few comedic accidents followed — a Slytherin zoomed backward into a bush, a Ravenclaw flew upside down, and someone managed to drop their shoe midair — but Raiga’s laughter rang the loudest. Madam Hooch, impressed, remarked that he had “Quidditch potential,” which made him beam with pride.

That night, Raiga wrote a long letter to his mother, excitedly recounting every moment, doodling little broomsticks in the margins.

---

Meanwhile in the Muggle world, Rumi Kobayashi was in London for a major corporate meeting. Dressed sharply in her signature power suit, she walked through the busy streets when a familiar voice, low and dry, called from behind:

> “Miss Kobayashi, fancy seeing you outside your realm of influence.”

Turning, Rumi found herself face-to-face with Severus Snape, black cloak swirling, expression unreadable — though there was a faint glimmer of surprise.

They decided to share a cup of coffee at a quiet café nearby. To both their surprise, the conversation flowed easily. Snape spoke — carefully, almost softly — about Raiga’s intelligence and curiosity, his promise in Potions, and how he had a good heart.

Rumi, in turn, spoke about motherhood, the struggles of raising a son alone, and how proud she was of him. For once, Snape listened — really listened — and even allowed a faint smile when Rumi admitted that Raiga had asked if she’d still love him if he ended up in Slytherin.

> “And what did you tell him?” Snape asked, arching a brow.

“That he could be a purple treefrog, and I’d still love him,” Rumi replied warmly.

Snape chuckled quietly — a sound so rare that even he seemed surprised by it. They spent the rest of the afternoon sharing stories and tea, and when they finally parted, Snape offered a small, almost gentlemanly bow.

> “You are… an extraordinary woman, Miss Kobayashi.”

And for the first time in a long while, Rumi blushed.

Chapter Text

Life at Hogwarts had settled into a rhythm for Raiga Kobayashi — classes, homework, meals in the Great Hall, and the occasional adventure with his new friends. But nothing could have prepared him (or anyone else) for the chaos that erupted one sunny morning during breakfast.

A strange whirring of wings echoed through the Great Hall, drawing everyone’s attention upward. Students craned their necks as three enormous owls struggled through the enchanted ceiling, flapping hard under the weight of something massive tied between them. Gasps rippled through the hall.

> “What on earth—?”
“Is that… a package?”
“It’s bigger than Hagrid’s tea table!”

The owls wobbled dangerously as they descended, their feathers scattering everywhere. Raiga’s eyes widened as he realized, in mounting horror and delight, that the enormous box had his name on it — written neatly in his mother’s handwriting.

> “Oh no…” Raiga muttered under his breath, though a smile tugged at his lips.

The owls let out one last hoot of exhaustion and dropped the package right in front of him with a thunderous THUD!
The impact sent a shockwave of air through the Great Hall — napkins flew, plates rattled, pumpkin juice sloshed, and one unfortunate student’s toast landed butter-first on their face.

For a few seconds, silence.
Then laughter erupted everywhere.

> “Kobayashi, what did your mum send, a refrigerator?”
“Is she trying to feed the entire House for a week?”

Even the professors at the staff table were struggling not to laugh — Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose while Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled merrily.

Raiga, red-faced but grinning, pried the box open. Inside was a mountain of baked goods and snacks, neatly packed with notes written in Rumi’s elegant handwriting:

“Don’t forget to share with your friends!”

“Eat your vegetables before dessert, young man.”

“Be polite to your professors.”

“And remember, I love you — no matter how far away you are.”

The scent of cookies, mochi, cupcakes, and sweet buns filled the air. Before long, half the hall had gathered around Raiga’s table, sampling Rumi’s homemade treats. Even the Slytherins snuck by for seconds.

Later that night, Raiga wrote back to his mother with a wide smile:

> Dear Mom,
The package arrived. I think the whole school knows you’re the best baker in the world now. Everyone loved your food — even Professor Snape took a cookie.
I miss you, but I’m really happy here. Thank you for everything.
Love, Raiga.

As the letter winged its way home that evening, Rumi Kobayashi smiled at her kitchen counter — flour on her cheek, a half-finished batch of cookies still cooling. Her little boy was happy. And that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

It had been a few weeks since the infamous care package incident, and Raiga Kobayashi had officially become something of a celebrity at Hogwarts. Not only for his mother’s baked goods — which had gained mythical status among the students — but also for his kindness, curiosity, and strangely familiar lightning-shaped scar.

At Hogwarts — Raiga’s Side

In Potions, Raiga had quickly caught the attention of Professor Snape.
Not because of trouble, as many expected, but because Raiga had an unusually calm, focused presence for an eleven-year-old. He didn’t flinch when Snape glared, didn’t talk back — he listened. And more impressively, his potions worked.

One day after class, Snape stopped Raiga as the others left.

> “Kobayashi,” Snape said, his voice low but not unkind. “Stay behind for a moment.”

Raiga turned, puzzled.

> “Yes, Professor?”

Snape regarded him for a long second — the tilt of his head, the brightness in his green eyes. He reminded him of someone… and yet, someone entirely new.

> “Your potion work shows precision,” Snape said finally. “You pay attention. That is rare in first years.”

Raiga’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, sir!”

Snape gave the faintest twitch of a smirk. “Don’t thank me yet. Consistency is what matters. Keep your focus, and you might actually learn something useful in this school.”

It was the closest thing to praise Raiga could have gotten — and he treasured it.

---

At Home — Rumi’s Side

Meanwhile, Rumi Kobayashi was in London for her company’s European expansion. Her success was the talk of business circles — the CEO who rose from developer to empire-builder.

Between meetings, she decided to take a walk through the quieter parts of the city. She ended up near a small, tucked-away cafe — one she wouldn’t have noticed if not for the faint rustle of a black cloak brushing past.

When she looked up, she blinked in surprise.

> “Professor Snape?”

He turned, just as surprised. “Mrs. Kobayashi.”

They exchanged a polite nod before she gestured to the cafe behind her.

> “Would you… like to join me for a cup of tea? It seems we’ve both stumbled into the same corner of London.”

Snape hesitated only a second before replying. “I suppose I could spare a moment.”

They sat by the window, steam curling up from their cups. Conversation started formal — Hogwarts matters, Raiga’s progress, how he’d adjusted. But soon, it drifted into other things — philosophy, technology, the parallels between coding and potion-brewing, even stray comments about how alike Raiga was to both of them in different ways.

Snape found himself listening — really listening — something he rarely did. Rumi spoke with quiet strength, with warmth that felt foreign and grounding all at once.

> “Raiga speaks highly of you,” Rumi said with a gentle smile. “He says you’re strict but fair. And that you don’t yell as much as people say you do.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, faintly amused. “I will have to correct that rumor immediately.”

They both laughed — a soft, shared sound that drew curious glances from the barista.

As they finished their tea, Snape found himself saying quietly,

> “He’s… a remarkable child. You’ve done well with him.”

Rumi met his gaze with a warm smile.

> “Thank you. He’s my world.”

For a fleeting moment, the normally stoic Potions Master felt something stir — admiration, perhaps… or something gentler, something unfamiliar.

As they parted ways, Snape caught himself glancing back once — just once — to see her smile again before she disappeared into the London crowd.

---

Back at Hogwarts, Raiga wrote his next letter home that night:

> “Professor Snape says I’m good at Potions, Mom! He doesn’t smile much, but I think he’s nice in his own way. I hope you’re doing okay on your business trip!”

And somewhere in London, Rumi smiled as she read those words, feeling that faint flutter of warmth — unaware that she and the man who had once lived in shadows were slowly, quietly, stepping into each other’s light.

Chapter Text

Spring arrived at Hogwarts, and Raiga had become one of the most well-liked first-years in the castle.

His classes were going smoothly:

He excelled in Charms.

He understood Potions better than almost anyone.

His karate training came in handy during Transfiguration when a classroom snake panicked and tried to escape—Raiga calmed it instantly by speaking Parseltongue.

Word spread fast.
“Did you hear? Kobayashi talks to snakes!”
“Coolest kid ever.”
“Do you think he can talk to dragons too?”

Raiga simply laughed.

Meanwhile, Snape found himself paying closer attention than usual. He often gave Raiga extra pointers after class — claiming it was “so you don't blow anything up,” but everybody knew it was praise in disguise.

Back home, Rumi followed Raiga's letters closely. She regularly mailed him bento boxes, snacks, bakery goods, and study tips. She missed him terribly but was proud beyond measure.

Raiga’s first year felt… good. No chaos. No Dark Lord. No danger.

Just childhood.

Chapter Text

As end-of-year exams approached, stress swept through the school. Raiga studied hard, balanced karate exercises in the common room, and even started tutoring a few nervous classmates.

His owl, Hedwig, became well known for carrying letters stuffed with adorable handwritten notes from Rumi and occasional small treats.

One night, Raiga found Snape sitting alone in an empty classroom marking essays.
“Come in, Kobayashi.”

Raiga stepped inside.
“Professor? I wanted to ask—do you have any advice for the practical Potions exam?”

Snape paused, then pushed aside his papers.
“You have talent. But talent without discipline is useless. Follow the steps carefully. Trust your instincts. And… do not let Longbottom anywhere near your cauldron.”

Raiga giggled.

Snape’s voice softened.
“You will do well.”

It was rare praise. Raiga went to bed smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

Chapter Text

The feast was spectacular — glittering hall lights, enchanted banners, mountains of food.

Raiga sat proudly with his housemates as the House Cup was announced.

In your version: no Voldemort return, no danger, no chaos.

Instead, the teachers decided to award extra points for kindness, academic growth, and contributions to the school.

Students cheered as their names were called:

“Raiga Kobayashi — for exceptional kindness, assistance to peers, and exemplary conduct. 30 points.”

The room burst into applause.

Even Snape clapped.
One single, elegant clap.
(But it counted.)

Rumi, reading the announced points in Raiga's letter the next day, cried happy tears into her morning coffee.

Chapter Text

The final week was filled with magic:

Last-minute pranks.

Hugs and exchanged addresses.

“See you next year, Raiga!” echoing down the corridors.

Hedwig perched on Raiga’s shoulder proudly.
Snape caught him just as he left the dungeon hallway.

“Kobayashi.”

Raiga turned.

“I expect you to continue practicing Potions during the summer,” Snape said softly. “I will send you a reading list.”

Raiga brightened.
“Really? Thank you, Professor!”

Snape nodded and added, almost begrudgingly:

“…You’ve done your mother proud.”

Raiga swore he saw the tiniest smile tug at the corner of Snape’s mouth.

Chapter Text

On the platform, Raiga stepped off the Hogwarts Express and immediately spotted her:

Rumi.
Wearing a stylish coat, holding a welcome-home sign with his name, and crying instantly the moment she saw him.

“RAIGA!”

Raiga ran to her, hugging her so hard she nearly fell backwards.

“You’ve grown!” she said. “You look so confident! Oh my gosh, I missed you so much — how was school? Did you eat enough? Did you sleep? Did you—”

“Mom,” Raiga laughed. “I had the best year ever.”

Rumi smoothed his hair back lovingly.
“I am so, so proud of you, my little wizard.”
As they walked out of the station, Raiga chatted nonstop about lessons, friends, teachers, Hedwig, magic, and even Professor Snape’s not-so-secret kindness.

Rumi squeezed his hand.
“Well, then. We have a whole summer to celebrate. How about we stop by your favorite restaurant? I want to spoil you rotten.”

Raiga beamed.
“YES!”

They headed home — mother and son, stronger than ever.

And far away in Hogwarts, Snape gently touched the feather Hedwig had dropped on his desk earlier that day… and allowed himself a rare, quiet smile.