Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Centuries came and went unchanged, the darkness being those old and tired walls' sole companion. But they were never lonely, for they were always being watched. Were it not for the water's intermittent dripping from the ceiling, time in that room would have been completely still, with nothing to separate future from past.

That was... until the day those old walls crumbled.

An excavation crew came forth into the unmapped chamber as dust from the blast settled. A powerful beam of light was cast to the centre of the room, disturbing the ever-present darkness and at last revealing the details those old walls had long forgotten. A vast domed structure, housing a colossal bronze statue of an ancient sorcerer holding a long piece of parchment in one hand and a miniature castle resting in the palm of the other. In its centre was a sarcophagus, surrounded by celestial floor markings and a lone lectern overlooking the statue.

The crew was satisfied. At last, they'd finally found it.

The Tomb of the Architect.

The day earlier

“... Good Afternoon Engel's Hollow, this is your radio station bringing you today's news. With the approaching conclusion of this EFL season, relegated teams are already looking to the 2009 championship. As of today, the 7th of April, most of them have resumed training routines, despite the rainy weather…”

I quietly gazed at the soft rain falling onto the back seat car window, disturbing my foggy reflection with finger-drawn castle towers on the way to my uncle's house. I could hear my brother, J, muttering something to the sound of his earbuds, likely listening to one of his many audiobooks or reviewing notes for a test. In the front seat, our parents occasionally made small talk over whatever they heard on the radio in between periods of silence. Eventually, they decided to notice me.

“Honey, you're so quiet back there."  Mum's eyes flicked back to look at me. “Is everything alright?”

“Hm?” I muttered, turning my head to her.

"Wasn't there anything special at school today?” she turned to stare at me through the rear-view mirror.

“Um… no, why would there be?” I questioned.

"Because of your birthday, of course! Don't they hold small celebrations for students?" I saw her eyes gleam in the reflection.

"Ah…" I sighed unintentionally, failing to not seem bothered by that assertion "I didn’t tell anybody. Didn't want that kind of attention."

"Don't be silly dear, you would've had such a great time! What is there not to like?" She asked.

"Mum, we've talked about this. I don't feel like getting a birthday party this year. Can't I just have a normal day?"

“Every other day is normal sweetheart, what’s wrong with having a day just for you?”

“Mum, please…”

“Alright, alright.” She winked at me through the mirror, and I knew exactly what was coming. Ugh, not again.

"Special day or not, I do hope you don't forget about your homework today," Said my dad, in his severe, brassy voice tone, "I better not have to sign another note from your teacher."

"Dad, that was only one time!"

"So let it be the last… and how many times do I need to tell you to take your finger off the car window?!" He scolded me from the driver's seat. I quickly retracted my hand.

"Don't be so hard on his birthday, honey." Mum called him out on his tone.

"I’m teaching him discipline, Mary."

"Everything's discipline for you, Winston. He’ll behave himself.” Mum argued back, though I'm not so sure it was in my favour. Given my track record, there was sufficient likelihood that I'd do something stupid and make a fool out of myself yet again.

And so we stayed in an awkward silence the rest of the way to my uncle's house, a small one story home in West End. It stood out from the others due to its many, many loud and shaky bird cages whose feathered inhabitants sang a near constant "hoot" chorus. A bunch of pigeons flew away as we approached the doorstep with our umbrellas, likely attracted by all the bird food lying around. It took but a doorbell ring for a large disorganised chant of "SURPRISE!" to confirm my worst expectations.

Great. Yet another birthday party.

“Hey there, Carlos! How’s everything?” Uncle William approached me for a side-hug with a big smile stamped across his face, still in his work clothes. He wore a simple green polo shirt tucked into his trousers and a very thick combed black hair, despite being the older brother to my balding father. Mum always said Dad’s hair loss was due to work stress. I'm not sure I believe her. 

“Oh, Hey Uncle William… Is this all for me?” I asked in a deceptively innocent tone.

“It is! Just don’t mind the preparations, we did put everything together in a bit of a hurry.” He chuckled.

"Oh… so this is in a hurry?" I asked, looking at the faces of relatives from all over the country obfuscating the familiar salmon wallpaper, knowing very well they must have been planning this for at least a month. They all stood behind a large table filled with all kinds of sweets, a few wrapped presents and what looked like a carrot and chocolate cake, likely baked by mum herself, with eleven candles on top.

“No need to thank me, though. Your mother took care of most of it, really!” he explained.

Of course she did.

"I told you you deserved a special day, sweetheart! Come on now, let’s go greet everyone!” Mum said as she pretty much shoved me through the door onto that sea of relatives.

Okay, Carlos. Take a deep breath. You can get through this.

And so it began. A lot of family were there, many whose faces and names often escaped me. I got promptly showered with cheek-pinching, tight hugging and hair tousling, as well as uncomfortable questions about what I've been up to, how my school life is going, what I wanna do when I’m older, etc. Mum's cake tasted great in the first few bites, but it was so heavy on the chocolate I worried it wouldn't sit well in my stomach. After the whole candle-blowing and the awkward 'happy birthday' chants it was time for gifts, which were mostly clothes I would wear every once in a blue moon and books I most certainly would never read. All well meaning, but strange to me. Uncle William was the one person whose gifts I appreciated the most, because he would always care to know and ask me if I wanted anything. Last year he gave me a drawing notebook that I’ve since filled with sketches of all sorts of castles I’ve daydreamed about.

This year, however, he didn’t ask.

Soon enough, everybody mingled and engaged in conversation. My parents sat around the TV with other relatives, each of them trying to talk over the noise of general chatter and music. I, for the most part, just sat in a corner pouffe and zoned out staring at one of the cats, resisting the urges to start pestering them and get clawed, something mum would sternly disapprove of.

“So Junior, how are your studies going? I hear you’re nearly finished with that prep school of yours.” I heard one of my many nameless relatives ask my brother over the loud music.

"Not quite, actually, I should be done by next year's summer." J said in return.

“I see. Any idea what career you’re going for?”

“Probably law,” He confidently responded. “I've been studying the examination processes and looking into what institutions I prefer. Most of the ones I like are in London, but there are some great ones around Cambridge and Manchester too…"

"Oh please honey, don't!" Mum chimed in. "London is already far enough, we don't want you to move too far home."

"Oh mum, you need to get over this," J said in response. "You know I plan on applying for foreign exchange once in uni. What are you gonna do then?"

"I'm not letting you go, that's what I'll do." She joked, knowing very well that she wouldn’t get to do such a thing no matter how much she wanted him to stay.

"And what of you, Carlos? Any plans for university?"

I quit breathing for a moment as their attention suddenly turned to me, the birthday boy sat in a lonely pouffe, occasionally poking a very annoyed tabby cat.

“Me? university??” I asked, hoping they’d remember the fact I had literally just turned eleven.

"We do believe he wants to be an architect." Mum interjected, now with more glee in her response. "He's always drawing all sorts of castles in his notebooks, it's what he's liked for years now."

“Though it’d be preferable if he actually did his school work instead of drawing all the time.” Dad scolded me again, judging me with his eyes. I shrunk in my pouffe.

"Don't be so dismissive hun, it's a skill he's practising." She responded.

"An architect, huh? Taking after your grandfather I see." My relative patted me on the shoulder proudly.

I perked up my head at that statement. "What do you mean by my grandfather?"

"I-it was probably nothing, dear!" Mum spoke up rather tensely as Dad held his breath. I felt confused.

"Hey, what's that about? Boy never met his grandfather, did he?" The relative asked my parents. "Henry C. Martin was his name. A brilliant architect he was, and very adventurous too…!"

"... And very absent from home." Said my father, bitterly. My relative cast him a perplexed look while Mum sighed in defeat.

"Oi, William!" The relative then called my uncle over to the conversation.

"Hey, Magnus!" Uncle William approached the conversation, finally reminding me of my relative's name, "Talking about our father, are we?"

"Not really, we aren't." Dad attempted to dodge the topic, visibly annoyed.

"I was just telling the boy a bit about his grandfather. He was quite the talented architect, right?" Magnus continued.

"Oh right, right, an architect…" Uncle William hesitated for a moment, glancing at my parents before responding. "Yes, yes, he… he designed many famous buildings around town, though you'd never tell by how much he travelled abroad." He let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh yeah, what's up with that?" Magnus then asked. "Winston here said he was almost never home, where did he travel to so much?"

Uncle William hesitated again before responding, glancing at my parents at every chance he got. Mum looked concerned at my dad while he stared daggers at my uncle. Something was off.

"Oh, all sorts of places. He was a… how do I put it… international historic preservationist, you see? Always travelling the world to all sorts of historical sites that needed architectural maintenance. He also brought home  all manner of souvenirs and artefacts in the process." He explained, finishing with a forced laugh.

"Wait, so my grandfather was an architect… but also a collector?" I asked, trying to make sense of what I was being told.

"You could say that, yes." Said my uncle. "He'd spend hours in his study going over his collection. It was his favourite pastime."

"What sort of stuff did he collect?" I questioned.

"Well… Mostly old jewels, pottery and the like. Never cared too much for it, but I was glad it made him happy."

"Oh I'm sure it made him very happy. So happy he practically forgot we existed," Dad retorted. "It's not like he ever cared to tell us where he was going or what he was doing on those trips of his. He could have been committing crimes for all we know!"

"Come now Winston, there's no need for that," Uncle William replied nervously. "I know he wasn't perfect, but he was still our father, and we should respect his memory."

"I don't see why we should," my father said, his voice rising. "He didn't respect us enough to stick around and be a father to us. He'd be gone for weeks on end to who knows where and just expect things to be fine when he returned, until…"

Dad paused for a moment, letting the background party noise fill in our ears for a moment.

"'Until' what?" I asked, trying to break the tension. My dad shot me a warning look, but it was too late. Uncle William had already started speaking.

"Until the day he didn't come back at all." Uncle William said, his voice low and even.

"What do you mean he didn't come back?" I repeated, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"He disappeared, alright?" my dad said, his voice tight. "Just like that. One day he was here, and the next he was gone. No explanation, no note, nothing."

This was clearly a touchy subject for both of them, but something in me kept nagging at the question.

"Didn't you ever try to find out what happened to him?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"We wouldn't know where to even begin," my uncle replied. "There was no trace of him. No clues, no leads, nothing. It was as if he had just vanished."

"If you ask me, I think he just got tired of being a father," My dad said bitterly. "He wanted to live his own life without any responsibilities."

"That's not fair, Winston," Uncle William rebuked. "We don't know for sure what happened or what he was going through. He may have had his reasons for—."

"I don't care what his reasons were," my father interrupted, his voice rising again, "He had a family, and he just abandoned us. He didn't care about anyone but himself."

"You know that's not true," Uncle William defended. "He loved us, in his own way. He just had a hard time showing it."

"He loved keeping secrets from us," my father shot back. "He was never around when we needed him. He was a terrible father."

There was a long pause, and I could feel the tension in the air. I wanted to say something, to make it stop, but I didn't know what to say. Eventually, Uncle William spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"Look, I know this hurts, Winston," he said. "But you can't keep holding on to the past like this. It's not healthy for you or for Carlos."

I looked up at my father, hoping he would listen to Uncle William. But he just glared at him and stood up from his chair.

"I need some air," he said gruffly, before storming out of the room.

We all sat there, stunned by the sudden outburst between my father and uncle. I knew there was tension between them, but I never realised it was this deep-seated. Uncle William's attempt at soothing my dad only seemed to make things worse. As my father left the room, I wished someone would say something, anything, to ease the stress.

"Well, that went about as well as it could have," Mum said tentatively, unsure of what to say next, "I'm so sorry, William."

"It's not your fault, Mary," he replied with a small smile. "Winston just has a lot of pent-up emotions that he hasn't dealt with yet."

"I don't understand," I said, feeling confused, "Why is he so angry at my grandfather?"

"It's… a long story," Uncle William said with a sigh. "Your grandfather wasn't the easiest man to understand, and he had his own demons to deal with."

"What kind of demons?" I pressed, my curiosity getting the better of me again.

"Let's… let's just say he faced some issues that he had a hard time dealing with," Uncle William replied, his voice soft. "And unfortunately, it caused a lot of pain for your dad and me."

"I wish I could have met him," I said, feeling a twinge of sadness. "Grandpa, I mean."

"I too wish you could have," Uncle William said, patting my shoulder gently. "He was a complicated man, but he knew how to be kind."

As we sat there in silence, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of person my grandfather was. It seemed like he was a mystery to everyone, even to his own family. And now, years after his disappearance, the wounds he left behind still lingered.

"Either way, enough about that. Today should be all about Carlos, right?" Uncle William cheerfully announced in an attempt to lighten the sombre mood, "So tell us Carlos, any idea what you wanna do when you grow up?"

Oh you cannot be serious.

“I'm sorry, I uh… I need to use the bathroom.” I said, quickly getting up and contorting myself through everyone to get to the restroom as fast as I could.

Upon getting there, however, I noticed the door was shut. I knocked and waited a bit, only to receive a muffled “occupied” for a response. Great, now where was I going to hide from everyone?

I then noticed Uncle William's spare room's door was ajar, deciding that would likely be a more comfortable place to escape the party for a bit. I gently pushed the door open, which thankfully didn’t creak, to let light into the dark room mostly filled with the silhouettes of old cloth-covered furniture and stacked boxes, possibly leftovers from moving. After carefully closing the door, I flipped the light switch and immediately recognised some of the dusty items.

One of them was Uncle William's old single bed from when he lived with grandma, now with several pieces of clutter on top of it. I recognised it by the thin, polished dark wood bed frame, the only thing missing being the woolly teal bed covers it used to have. A few boxes away was an old white office desk with curved black sidings and keyboard roller-tray, on top of it rested uncle's old computer. Yes, that kind of old, beige CRT monitor with matching casing and peripherals. I remember the many nights me and my brother would be eager to visit my uncle specifically so we could play on his computer and have access to the internet. That, of course, when we weren't busy bickering over whose turn it was. Back then he’d give us gaming magazines that came with CD-ROMS with many flash games, which we would waste hours on.

Upon surveying the piles of boxes, however, something different caught my eye. A dusty dark wood chest that I'd never seen before was hidden under a piece of white cloth and some old junk. Removing it sent a cloud of dust up my eyes and nostrils, leaving specks on my glasses. The chest proved to be unlocked upon some tactile inspection. Its lid was heavy to the point I was worried it could slip and crush my fingers. Inside of it I found… more dust. Under all that dust, however, there were several papers and…

"Wait a minute…!" I exclaimed upon seeing the many architectural schematics of what I could only guess to be… castles! There were battlements, halls, staircases, towers and the sort, all drawn in great detail. These were the kinds of drawings I'd always wanted to make for the castles in my imagination. All the texts, however, were written in a language I couldn't understand. None of the characters were recognisable, not even the numerals or measurements.

Just as I was about to lose interest and close the chest, my attention was drawn to something else: an old book, with a red leather cover, intricate gold engravings and a central embossed figure taking the shape of… the strangest clock I’d ever seen. Its dials were multiple and off-centred, marked with strange symbols and numbers I couldn't instantly recognise. It clearly measured time, but it did more than just that. Upon touching it, I noticed the inner dial was a mobile piece. I was able to rotate it along the clock border, seemingly moving it forward and backward in time. The other pieces weren't exactly static either, somehow moving and rotating relative to the inner dial. It's as if the book had an entire mechanism embedded into its cover, something which defied all logic of how books work.

"Ah, I see you found your grandfather's belongings!"

I winced as I heard uncle William's voice surge from behind me, nearly dropping the book in the process.

“Uncle William! I was just, er…” I stuttered, very poorly pretending to not be snooping, “What exactly is all this?”

"This, Carlos, is where I’ve kept your grandfather’s belongings, much of it being his personal research."

"Research?" I looked at the many papers written in what looked like an ancient rune language. "What kind of research was this?"

"Architectural research, from what I could gather. Like I said, his work involved studying and maintaining historical architectural sites. It seems one of his biggest fascinations were ancient and medieval constructions. There's not much I could tell you about it though, since it's all really old and written in a strange language. I've never managed to find someone who could translate it." Uncle William explained.

"He wrote all this in a weird language no one can understand?" I asked. Uncle William nodded. "But why would he do that?"

"Maybe this was something he really wanted to keep to himself. He never opened up to us over what it really was, but we could tell he was very diligent about it. It must have been very personal to him."

"Wow… Okay, um, Uncle William,'' I asked once again, doing a very poor job at excusing my nosiness, "Do you know what this clock is?" I nodded to the book I was holding.

"Ah, this is an astronomical clock. It displays astronomical information alongside the passage of time throughout a year, like tracking relative sun and moon positions as well as zodiac constellations."

I was fascinated by the embedded clock and couldn't help but continue to play with the dials, watching as the celestial bodies moved in relation to each other.

"This is amazing," I said, still turning the dials. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm glad you find it interesting," Uncle William said with a smile. "Did you open the book to see what's inside of it?"

"I, uh… No, I haven't yet." I admitted.

"Go on and open it then, I think you'll like it." He encouraged me, and so I complied.

Upon opening the book, I realised it was filled to the brim with… nothing. All pages were blank, devoid of any kind of marking or anything to indicate that the book had ever been opened.

"It's empty!" I exclaimed.

"It is. That's the only book in your grandfather's collection that had nothing written whatsoever, which is why I believe it would be a perfect gift for you."

I quickly perked up my head upon hearing that. "You're giving it to me?? I mean, it's really cool, but isn't it, like… a family heirloom or something?"

"You're right, it is a family heirloom. And since you like your castles just as much as your grandfather did, I feel it's only natural that it gets passed down to you."

"Wow, uncle William, I… I don't know what to say." I stammered.

"No need to say anything, just make him proud, will you?" He patted me on the shoulder. Make him proud? What was that supposed to mean?

"Thank you, Uncle William."

"Happy Birthday, Carlos."

I held the large book in my hands, finally noticing just how much of a weight it was. All that blank space, never used… but why? What's so special about this book that grandfather kept it untouched? What's the purpose of the clock mechanism? What would I even do with it?

Should I even dare to use it?

An ancient clock awoke from centuries of slumber, its rusty gears and dials creaking as they began turning once more. A missing link had been located.

Four hooded figures gathered around a mint-lit cauldron, observing the scene unfold. An important decision was to be made.

Bickering ensued.

“There is no time left. It must be him!” An old raspy male voice declared.

"It can't be, he's past the age!" A stronger, bolder male voice responded. "What about the boy?"

“It is barely known if there’s any magic to be found within the boy! The bloody squib he is!" The raspy-voiced, thin white-bearded figure complained.

"Excuse me, Godric, what about the other boy?" A short, soft spoken female figure chimed in.

The three figures looked at her for a moment.

"What makes you think it's him?" The bold voice named Godric asked.

"Well, he comes from a family of great potential, and he does have the Grimoire…" The soft spoken figure suggested.

"It’s been in the hands of muggles for centuries, it must be tainted!” The white-bearded figure retorted.

“No such thing is possible Salazar, and you know it.” Godric responded, “Furthermore, we should not forget who’s responsible for the current whereabouts of the-”

“Enough of you!” A determined, black-haired female figure erupted “I will not tolerate another instance of this argument. Right now, what matters is protecting what we’ve built!”

“As you say…” The figure named Salazar retracted.

“Do you think they are capable, Godric?” The soft-spoken woman asked.

“If there is magic within them, they will find a way, as the Great Architect himself has.” The bold man named Godric responded.

“'If' there is magic within them?" Questioned Salazar "So we aren't even sure if we're dealing with bloody mudb-”

"Watch it, Slytherin!” Godric called out Salazar, “We no longer tolerate this language. The world has moved past it.”

“That’s what you all say, but here we are having to protect our legacy against those filthy-”

“Salazar…!” Godric warned.

“-Knights. I was going to say knights.” Salazar spoke ambiguously.

“It's not just them, either. Our foes have grown in power since our time. Stopping them now will be no easy task.” The short woman spoke.

“Helga is right. Whatever we do must be done soon," Said Godric, “Only the heir can wield the power to protect our legacy and defeat them.”

“They’re not going to get very far without the Grimoire… will they, Rowena?” Helga asked.

“It will be an obstacle, but not an insurmountable one,” Said the black-haired figure named Rowena. “There are several layers of protection I myself built, but only the Grimoire will grant safe passage to the heir.”

“The false heir…” muttered Salazar.

“We don’t have a choice.” Rowena blurted back “He must participate. If we don't act now, all may be lost!”

All four figures stood silent for a moment, under a heavy aura.

“It’s what the Great Architect would have wanted.” Said Rowena. 

With that, the four figures slowly nodded, Salazar being the last to agree.

And so, it was settled.

“A new heir will be chosen. The Codex shall be accessed once more!”

Chapter Text

"Carlos… Carlos, wake up!"

"Hmmmph"

"Come on dear, you'll be late for school." I heard mum say as she swung the curtains open to let the light in.

I groaned and turned to the other side of the bed, snuggling my bed covers tighter. Moments later, a dreaded set of heavy footsteps made its way to my room.

"CARLOS MARTIN EDWARD, YOU'LL BE LATE FOR CLASS!" A heavy chill was sent down my spine as my father's voice called me from the depths of the underworld, causing my heart to race a marathon.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I got up in a jolt, shaking off the cold sweat. "What time is it?"

"It's past 6:30 dear, you missed your alarm. Go on and get dressed, Breakfast is ready." Mum then rushed me.

What a strange dream I just had. Something about… old walls and a weird clock, as well as something called a… codex? Whatever that was. I couldn't shake the sense of unease I felt watching that last discussion unfold, like I was worried something bad would happen. My mind kept wandering about it as I got dressed for school, trying my best to make my hair presentable. I rushed downstairs, praying I didn't hear that dreaded call from my father again.

"Did you not comb your hair today?" Mum questioned, pressing her hand against my untidy hair, "Sausages are in the pan and cereal is on the table, honey. Be quick, your father is almost ready." She said as I walked past her on the way to the kitchen. If both mum and dad have already had breakfast, I must have been later than I thought.

"What about J?" I asked for my brother.

"He's gone to school early today. We're waiting on you!" She urged. I walked in a mild panic.

I got to the dimly lit kitchen as the sun was still rising out the window and walked up to the stove. I drew a soft smile as soon as I was able to smell mum's delicious breakfast sausages, as I loved the days when she made those.

"Sweet!" I uttered as I picked up the pan. Just as I was about to pour the sausages onto a plate, I heard the sound of a flame and a flash of light in my peripheral vision.

The skillet caught on bloody fire.

I audibly gasped as I watched a huge flame emanate from where there were just sausages. I waved it around for way longer than I should have, unaware of what to do in a panic, until I had the brilliant idea to throw it in the sink and pour water on it. A huge cloud of smoke rose up to my face and fogged my glasses as I waved desperately to avoid triggering the fire alarm. The end result was a bunch of crispy and soggy pieces of charcoal that were far beyond edible.

I stood there, staring at the charred remains of my breakfast unsure what to feel first, frustration at the sausages I just lost or bewilderment at what the hell just happened. I then debated myself on whether I should call my parents down and explain what happened, at the risk of getting in trouble. How would I even begin telling mum why her favourite pan now had a huge burn mark?

I eventually took a deep breath and decided to shake off the confusion, tossing the incinerated sausages in the bin. "I'll just have cereal instead," I thought to myself. I sat at the table, picked up a bowl and started pouring cereal. At that, I immediately got up and screamed.

A wave of black insects fell out of the box into the bowl, crawling around and out of it. As soon as I dropped the box, they dispersed on the table and started making their way to me.

"Honey, what is happening down there?" I heard mum ask from the upper floor as she likely heard me scream.

"It's the cereal, mum, it's…!" I quit talking as I glanced back at the table to see the bugs were just… gone. Instead, there was just regular old cereal scattered where the box was dropped.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. Did I imagine the bugs? Was I hallucinating?

"What is it, honey- Oh no, what is this mess?" I heard mum enter the kitchen and speak up from behind me, sounding upset.

"T-there was something in the cereal!" I quickly attempted to justify myself.

"Something in the cereal?"

"Bugs!"

"Bugs?"

"Yeah, I… I don't know where they went and I just-"

"Then why didn't you eat the sausages I made for you today?"

"I was going to, but the pan, it just burst into-"

Mum then picked up the skillet and made my jaw drop as she showed me perfectly preserved sausages. The same ones I'd seen burned to a crisp moments earlier and could have sworn I threw down the bin.

"I- I thought these were-"

"Right here, that's where they were. You would have known that had you listened to me earlier." Mum teased me. We could then hear Dad's heavy footsteps coming our way.

"Come on boy, time to go. We're late today." Dad hurried me. I looked at the clock and it was almost 6:45. No way I would get to class on time.

"Here sweetie, take this." Said mum as she handed me a small paper "It's a late to school note, your teachers should recognize my signature. Now go!"

She then smooched my still perplexed face as she hurried me. Okay, that was all really weird and I was still hungry, but tough luck, I guess. Wouldn't be the first time I missed breakfast before school due to being late.

As I followed Dad outside and towards the car, I happened to notice that a lovely tabby cat was sitting on top of our front garden wall.

"Aww, kitty cat!" I said.

"OI! SHOO! OUT OF THERE!" Mum stomped outside from behind me. "PSHHT, OUT!"

I looked at her in disbelief as the cat graciously got up and walked away from our homefront, seemingly unfazed by her display of gratuitous hostility.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked.

"Of course, who knows what diseases these stray cats carry? Our yard ain't no litter box!" She responded indignantly.

I rolled my eyes at her neuroticism and got into the car after my dad. We were about to leave when, for some reason, the car wouldn't turn on.

"Oh, what is your problem now?" Dad complained, taking me a second to realise he meant the car and not me as he exited the vehicle and opened the bonnet to see what's wrong.

"What in the- Where did it go?" I heard him exclaim.

I got out and, upon making it to the front of the car, noticed his disbelief stemmed from the fact the engine was no more, having somehow vanished completely during the night. Now I knew nothing of cars, but I was pretty sure engines didn't just go missing like that.

"How- when could we have possibly been robbed?" Dad wondered incredulously.

"What do you mean robbed?" Mum asked.

"The car engine, it's gone!" Dad announced, "Now how am I gonna get to work?!"

"Oh honey, don't worry, we'll just call a mechanic and figure something out!" Mum rushed outside to comfort dad.

"Figure what out, Mary? It's gone! Someone stole it." Dad complained.

"But how would someone just steal it overnight?"

"I don't know, but this car isn't going anywhere without it."

"Hum… Dad?" I sheepishly asked "How am I gonna get to school?"

I watched as my parents exchanged worried glances, unaware of what to do.

"Listen, dear," Mum spoke up, "Why don't you just walk to school? It's not that far, and it's a nice day outside."

I looked at her in disbelief. "Walk to school? Mum, it's like a two-mile walk. I'll be more than late!"

"You'll be fine, Carlos," Mum reassured me. "Just hand in the note and ask the school to call us. In any case, It'll be good exercise!"

Dad nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. It's not like we have any other options at the moment."

"But… but I-"

"Now, Carlos." They both said in unison.

I groaned, feeling like this was some kind of punishment. "Fine, I'll walk to school," I said, grabbing my backpack and shoving mum's note inside of it. Despite the proximity to school, I always dreaded having to make it there on foot. This morning it felt especially dreadful.

And off I went, venturing into yet the most boring journey known to man. My stomach and I growled simultaneously as I started mourning the sausages I lost this morning. My mind was still disgruntled at what had happened back at my house. How did that fire even start? And I can't have imagined all those cereal bugs, can I? Dad and I certainly didn't imagine the car engine out of existence.

Upon leaving Liddell way and walking down the sinuous main street of my neighbourhood, I noticed I wasn't exactly alone on my trek. I looked behind me and was delighted to see the lovely tabby cat from earlier was following me.

"Oh, hello you!" I greeted the feline. "You wanna go to school with me?"

The cat sat straight and looked at me, as if it could give an answer. I then noticed the little feline had strange markings on its face, making it look like it was wearing glasses.

"That's a funny face you got there!" I commented. The cat remained serene, almost as if I wasn't there. "Well, if you wanna come to school with me, we should hurry up because - WHOA!"

I'd just about started crossing the street when I looked to the side and saw a huge, triple decker bus speeding my way. It came so fast I barely had time to react, only covering my head as it looked like it was about to hit me. The impact, however, never came, for I opened my eyes again to no sign of the bus whatsoever.

"What?" I looked behind at the cat as if looking for a witness to what I just saw, and there it was: sat up straight and watching me, just as it were a few moments before. "You saw that too, right?" I asked.

I looked around for traces of anything that resembled a triple decker purple bus, but there was no such thing in the suburban vicinity. I'd never even seen a bus like that before, how did it manage to avoid hitting me? And where did it actually go? It couldn't just vanish, right?

This day keeps getting weirder.

I continued walking, my heart still racing from the near-bus-collision. The tabby cat still trailed behind me, its eerie glasses-like markings seeming to glint in the sunlight. I decided to take a detour through the wooded path behind some of the row houses to avoid unnecessary street crossings, which, come to think of it, was not the smartest decision on my part.

"So, what do I call you?" I asked the cat, trying to make conversation to distract myself from these bizarre incidents. "You seem like an okay kitten. I think I'll call you -OOF!"

My sentence was cut short by part of the pavement giving way under my feet, in what I could only assume was the beginning of a sinkhole. I don't know how, but I managed to not completely collapse alongside the pavement, landing on my feet in a pocket of dirty water.

"Are you serious now?!" I complained as the murky water reached up to my knees, completely drenching my shoes as I searched for a foothold out of that hole. I turned around to see the cat watching me from a safe distance, still seemingly unbothered by my streak of misfortune.

Finally, I found a way out of the sinkhole and climbed back up onto the pavement. I could only think of all the ways mum would want to kill me if she saw the current state of my trousers, as they were now drenched in muddy colours. If I had a phone I'd likely call my parents over this, but then remembered they had no means of picking me up. Given my house was already pretty far behind, my only choice was to suck it up and keep on going.

As I continued down the wooded path, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't exactly alone. I turned around, but saw no one.

"Is someone there?" I called out.

Silence was my only response.

I started to quicken my pace, eager to get out of the woods and back to the safety of the suburban streets. But then I heard something rustling in the bushes.

"Who's there?" I demanded, taking a step back.

Nothing.

Of course, it wouldn't be the first time that I imagined things. It was just me, a cat and my dirty trousers making a scene in a random wooded path.

With a bit of a jog I managed to reach Engel's Hollow's main street, which was uncharacteristically empty at this hour. I looked around, feeling slightly unnerved. The strange occurrences of the day had put me on edge. Was it just my imagination or was there really something odd going on?

"School is at the end of this street, now. I just need to make it there and this'll be all over, right?" I asked myself out loud, looking behind at the cat for some kind of validation.

The cat just stared at me with its big, green eyes, but then it suddenly darted off down a side street, much to my bemusement. I was about to shrug and continue on my way, feeling slightly relieved to be rid of the strange feline when I suddenly heard:

"HEY KID, LOOK OUT!" A city worker shouted at me from a distance.

I turned to see what the commotion was about, only to find a construction worker waving his arms at me. My stomach dropped as a large shadow slowly creeped my way, dragging my chin up to see a huge water tower beginning to tumble in my direction. By then, it was too late to run: the tower kept on bending until something held it back at an angle, causing a huge volume of water to shower upon me.

I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering as I shook off the drenching water. I couldn't believe my luck, or rather, my lack thereof. First, the bus, then the sinkhole and now this? What in the world was going on?

"Are you alright, kid?" The construction worker ran over to me, looking genuinely concerned.

I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. "Yeah, I think so. Just a little wet."

"You're lucky the crane held the tower back," he said, shaking his head, "That could've been really bad."

I looked up at the tower, which now stood at a precarious angle held by a crane. It was indeed a miracle it hadn't completely fallen on top of me.

"Thanks for the heads up, I guess…," I thanked him, still a little shaky.

"No problem, kid. Just be careful out here," he replied before running back to his work.

I looked down at my soggy clothes, feeling miserable. This was not how I wanted to start any day, let alone today. I sighed and continued on my journey, feeling disheartened and defeated, until I spotted the same tabby cat from earlier making its way to me.

"Oh, you again…" I said to the cat, now feeling annoyed, "Figures you wouldn't wanna stay for a bath."

I took off my backpack to check the state of my school material, trying to dry off my hands the best I could. Luckily, all my notebooks and textbooks looked intact, including mum's late to school note, not having been drenched in the shower I just took.

"Phew… at least I still have my note" I said out loud, something which I definitely, definitely should not have. For right after I uttered this sentence, an owl flew from behind me and snatched the paper from my hands, to my complete bewilderment.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" I yelled at the owl that was now standing on top of a light post, staring at me with its googly eyes and holding my note on its beak. Just as it was about to fly away, I jerked my backpack onto my shoulders and started chasing it.

"Oh no, you don't!" I hissed, gritting my teeth. I may have been nearly run over, dropped onto a ditch and soaked by a water tower, but I still had it in me to run after this god damned bird. It flew away from my school and onto a sidestreet to another neighbourhood, and I trailed along after it.

"When… will… you… stop… flying!" I panted as I was starting to lose my stamina, my soaked clothes weighing down on me. The bird flew away from the street and onto a field, with me right on its tail. Was I running that fast or was the bird flying this slow? Who knows. I didn't even know how I would retrieve my note from it, at this point it was a matter of pride.

The owl then directed itself towards the weirdest looking tree I'd ever seen. Its trunk was large and twisted, its branches were thin and stood upright, with very few leaves on them. As the bird landed amongst the upper branches, I finally stopped to catch my breath.

I looked up at the tree and could just about make out the silhouette of the owl amidst the sparse foliage, deciding on what my next step would be. Given its peculiar shape, I figured that my best option would be to try and climb it. As I circled around the tree in search of a foothold, I found a spot where the trunk seemed just wide enough for me to hoist myself up. Thankfully the bark was rough so that my drenched shoes wouldn't slip, and the tree's curvature made getting up to the upper branches a feasible task.

"Huh… who knew climbing a tree was this easy?" I muttered to myself, surprised at how little effort I was making. The upper branches, however, were a bigger challenge, as they were very pointy and would start hooking onto my clothes. The wind was causing the thin branches to start shaking, and me to start shivering in my wet clothing. The owl was still perched up there, staring at me as if mocking my feeble attempts to get my note back.

Finally, the owl was within my grasp. I made sure to support my feet between forked branches while holding onto a larger one so as to not lose balance. The tree was shaking a bit, and I worried that any blunt movement would scare the owl away. I gently moved my hand closer and closer, reaching for the note on the bird's beak.

"Don't worry… I'm not gonna hurt you… I just want the paper you're holding." I spoke softly, my hand mere centimetres from the note when the tree began to shake again beneath my feet, this time disturbing my balance. The owl let out a high pitched hoot as the tree shook under its claws, and I started to notice something was off.

At last, I managed to get a hold of the note, but the owl wouldn't let go of it. I tried pulling it gently so as to not rip it apart, causing the bird to flap its wings frantically as a response.

"Come on, help me here!" I pleaded, pulling on the paper a little harder. That's when the tree decided to shake one last time, making me lose grip of the note and grab onto the large branch to not fall. That's when I realised this movement had nothing to do with the wind.

The tree was moving on its own.

"What the-?!" I held onto the branch for dear life as it too began to twist and swing about. I looked around to see the smaller branches were thrashing wildly as well, as if the entire tree had sprung to life. I could feel my heart racing as the tree continued to shake and twist, making it hard to keep my grip on the branch. Small twigs then started hitting me like lashes as the movement got increasingly violent. Finally, the tree gained enough momentum to fling me out of the branch and into the air.

I was about to hit the ground face first when, all of a sudden, my entire body ceased falling mere centimetres above the grass, staying suspended in mid air for about two seconds before being released onto the ground. Still, it wasn't enough to stop me from falling on my face, which resulted in an audible "crack" noise coming from my glasses.

"Hey, You!" I heard someone yell in the distance, taking me a while to lift my head up. When I did, I saw two blurry silhouettes running in my direction, taking me a second to realize it was actually a single figure being doubled by my broken lens. Before I could react to that, I heard another yell, "Look out!"

I looked up and saw two - no, one massive tree branch suddenly come crashing down my way. I rolled to the side as fast as I could, only hearing a hard "thud" on the ground beside me. I barely managed to dodge the two subsequent attacks, my heart pounding in my chest, when the entire tree came to a halt and started bending backwards. Little did I know, it was gaining momentum. As soon as the force was released, the tree slingshot its weight in my direction, intent on crushing me.

"Immobulus!" I heard being shouted from behind me. Just as I covered my head and braced for impact, a high pitched hush noise shot past me and then all sound seemed to stop. Upon a glance, I saw the tree was now completely still, frozen at an angle just a few palms above me.

I looked around, completely bewildered, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My eyes eventually fell on a tall, thin man with a kindly face, who was hurrying towards me. He had short dark hair, a small neat beard, and was wearing a strange, long cloak with a pointed hood that seemed out of place in this park.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice frantic and concerned.

"I... I don't-" I stammered, still feeling dazed. He helped me to my feet, holding me as I inevitably stumbled. I was shaking, my hands were cold and sweaty, my clothes were soaked and dirty and there were leaves stuck in my hair. Truth be told, I was feeling god awful.

"Easy… that was quite the fall you took." The man helped me steady myself before taking a step back to inspect me.

"I… that tree, it… it just-"

"I know. I saw everything." He reassured me. "You're lucky to be alive, you know?"

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump that had formed in my throat. I was so stunned I didn't know what to even say at this point. Everything and nothing rushed through my mind at the same time in an attempt to figure out what to do next, when all my thoughts then landed on one thing: "My note."

"What?"

"My note… th- the owl… it- it had my note!" I stuttered, trying my best to make myself understood.

The man then looked up to the skies, putting two fingers on his mouth and whistling for something. Lo and behold, the owl came flying from a distance and landed on the man's arm, still holding my note on its beak.

"Hello there, Trevor… what have you got there?" He playfully asked the bird, taking the paper from it and finally handing it back to me. "There you go."

I didn't have it in me to thank him just yet, as I was still pretty confused about what on earth was happening. He then sent the owl flying away.

"Beautiful creatures, owls are. Very smart, too!" He commented frivolously. "Do you like owls?"

"I… what?" I looked at him flabbergasted.

"Just making small talk," He retracted. "I take it you must have a lot of questions…"

"Why did your bird steal from me?" I inquired in a huff, unaware of my abrasive tone. For a second, it all seemed to be the owl's fault.

The man went quiet for a second, slightly taken aback. "I, uh, apologise for Trevor's behaviour. He… wasn't exactly supposed to do what he did."

I looked at him suspiciously, unsure of what to believe. My attention then turned to my broken glasses as I took them off and examined them, feeling a pang of anxiety.

"Bloody hell…" I moaned. "What am I going to tell my parents?"

"Oh, that should be an easy fix," The cloaked man said. "Here, let me show you…"

He took the glasses from my hands and rubbed the broken lens with his thumb, muttering a few words under his breath. Before I knew it, the lenses looked as good as new. Better, even.

"What… how did you-"

"It's a little special trick I learned over the years," He explained, handing me back my glasses, the lenses looking cleaner than ever "In fact, while we're at it…"

He then reached into his cloak and took a wooden stick that looked like a wand. He waved it gently and pointed it at me, releasing a soft, high pitched whisper into the air. With that, I felt my clothes starting to dry up, saw the dirt from my jacket and trousers slowly fading and the leaves in my hair disappearing.

I was in awe. How was any of this possible?

"There you go!" He said, putting away the wand and straightening my jacket himself.

"I… Th- thank you, sir." I shyly responded, forgetting how to express proper gratitude.

"It's what I do!" He said in return before kneeling down to my level, "Now listen, I need you to promise me one thing, okay? Promise that you won't tell anybody about what happened to you today. I know it was a lot to take in but trust me, it'll be easier that way. Can you do that?"

"But… but what about-" I gestured towards the tree, its movement still frozen in time.

"Don't worry, I can take care of it!" He confidently responded. "Whatever questions you may have will be answered soon, I promise. I just need you to hold on a little while longer, okay?"

I hesitated for a moment before nodding. As much as I wanted to tell someone, I knew I'd have no means of proving any of it. Either way, why was he asking me that?

"Good. It'll be our little secret," He said with a smirk, patting me on the shoulder. "Now, you should probably get going. You got school to attend, don't you?"

"I… yeah, how-?" For a moment I wondered how he knew such a thing, only to subsequently realize it was a somewhat fair assumption given I was, well, a child with a backpack.

"A teacher always recognises a student!" He replied. "Now go!"

I timidly stepped away, steering clear of the bent tree in case it still had some punches left to roll. Once I was sufficiently far away, I looked back in apprehension to make sure I wasn't being followed, and saw the cloaked man now talking to two other strange, cloaked people, wearing fedora hats. They appeared to be arguing. At that point I decided this whole encounter was way too freaky, so I ran.

My mind was in a haze as I made my way to school, the events of the past few minutes playing over and over in my head. What had just happened? Who was that man in the cloak? And most importantly, how did he stop that tree and fix my glasses and clothes?

Did he just… save my life?

I think I'm going insane.

I tried my best to act normal in school, despite feeling completely out of sorts. Thankfully, my mum's note was enough for them to let me into the classroom. Once I was there, however, things still seemed off. At one point throughout the morning, I couldn't help but notice a bunch of owls sitting outside the window, about four or five of them, staring my way. I'd never seen that many owls grouped together like this, let alone in broad daylight. They stood as a reminder of the freaky events from earlier that day, almost like mockery.

I kept thinking of the promise I made to the strange man. What if I didn't keep it? I mean, what could possibly happen? He wasn't gonna come after me for that, right? As tempting as it was, however, there was far too much left unexplained for it to make any sense. He said it'd be easier if I kept quiet, but it felt like torture.

The day dragged on for much longer than I anticipated, my mind clogged with questions about what happened earlier. At least I managed to finish my homework before it was time to turn it in, given I neglected it the night before. Dad would have killed me for this.

Finally, the last bell rang and the school day ended. I was surprised to see dad coming to pick me up in the car, considering it was engineless when I last saw it.

"Hey dad… How'd you fix the car?" I asked as I got inside.

"What do you mean 'fix the car'?" He replied.

"Um, wasn't the engine missing earlier this morning?"

"What are you talking about?" He looked at me in disbelief, "The car is fine. I gave you a ride to school before going to work this morning, remember?"

My eyes widened as a cold chill ran down my spine.

"Dad… I walked to school this morning."

"No you didn't? stop making things up," He ordered. "I remember this morning very well, and I took you to school."

Okay, now I was starting to panic. Not only did he not remember what happened that morning, he had a whole other recollection of events… How does that even happen?

I am definitely going insane.

I knew better than to press him further, so I remained quiet all the way home. My imagination kept my hand close to the door handle, just in case I had to jump out of the car. At that point, I no longer felt safe. We arrived home to mum sweeping the front garden's stone path.

"Hello sweetie, how was school today?" She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey mum, it was, um… fine," I uncomfortably responded. "So, uh… Do you happen to remember who took me to school today?"

"Your father did, of course, like he does every morning. Why do you ask?" She replied naturally.

"N-nothing, I just-" Another chill went down my spine, all the while blood drained from my face.

"Sweetie, you look so pale, what happened? Are you falling ill?" She asked

"What? No, I-" I got cut off by mum feeling my skin for signs of a fever.

"Your temperature seems normal. Did something happen at school?" She asked.

"I… prefer not to talk about it." I muttered as I walked past her and into the house, "I'll be in my room."

I went upstairs, straight to my room and closed the door behind me. I needed some time to think, to process what was happening. I sat down on my bed and stared at the wall, trying to make sense of everything that took place today.

Was any of it real? It had to be, right? I very much felt all those things, from the huge bus to the tree attack… yet I had not a single bruise or scar to prove it. I couldn't have hallucinated any of it, for I'm pretty sure that's not how hallucinations work. If this was some kind of crazy dream, I had yet to wake up.

I then remembered the dream I had the previous night. I recalled the large chamber, the clock and the four hooded figures, the details having already faded away from my mind. It wasn't the first time I had strange, ominous dreams, but it felt peculiar to remember at that moment.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. This was all too much for me to handle. I needed answers, but I didn't know where to turn. Who could possibly help me make sense of what was going on? The strange man from earlier seemed to know more than he was letting on, but I had no idea how to - or whether I should - find him again.

I tried distracting myself however I could, but my mind kept drifting. I couldn't focus on anything for more than a few seconds at a time. I'd try reading random books, only to remember why I hated them in the first place. I rummaged through my shelf again and again until I spotted the book Uncle William gave me. I examined it once more, my fingers twirling around the cover's embedded clock dials. I laid it on my desk and flipped it open, thinking I'd sketch some castles for a bit. I stared at the blank pages for a while, unsure how to begin.

"How about… um…" I muttered, knocking the pencil tip against my temple as if that'd make an idea come out, "No, not that… maybe I could-? No, I don't want that either."

I groaned in frustration and leaned back in my chair. This wasn't working. I couldn't focus on anything, not even my art. My mind was too preoccupied with the events of the day. I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand. It was already 5 PM. I had spent more than an hour trying to distract myself, but it was no use. I needed to figure out what was happening to me.

Before I could think any further, a sharp tap on my window startled me. At first, I thought it was nothing. Seconds later, however, the noise repeated itself rather insistently. I got up and opened the curtains to find a very surprising figure on the other side.

"Trevor?" I somehow recognised the strange man's owl as it hammered its beak against my window pane like a woodpecker. How did it bloody find my house? If that weren't strange enough, it also seemed to be carrying a letter, causing me to wonder if it had stolen it from anybody.

The owl stared at me for a moment before resuming the knocking, clearly trying to get my attention.

"What do you want?" I hushed, afraid the noise would attract my parents' attention. "Go away!"

I knocked back against the window hoping that would scare the bird away, to no avail. It only made the bird peck the glass harder, this time flapping its wings impatiently. I think it wanted to enter my room.

"Oh no, no way. I'm not letting you in here!" I warned the bird, like it could understand me "Not after the stunt you pulled on me today. You better leave."

Trevor tilted its head to the side, staring at me curiously. I folded my arms and looked away, not wanting to harness the owl's attention any further. It took a few moments of this awkward un-staring contest before I decided to close the curtains on the owl and sit back at my desk, intent on tuning out the noise. It seemed to work in the first few moments, the knocking kept on going for a short while until it finally stopped, followed by the sound of wings flapping away.

"Finally…" I sighed, relieved for not having to deal with that owl again. This relief, however, was short lived, given that a hard "thud" sound struck my window and made me jump out of my seat. I swung the curtains open to find Trevor lying down on my window sill, as well as a huge crack on the window pane.

"Are you mental?" I uttered as I pieced together that Trevor likely attempted flying head first into my window, whatever the logic behind that was. In any case, it managed to leave a huge crack in the glass pane, to my utter and absolute dismay.

"Carlos, what is happening up there?" My blood froze as I heard my father's muffled yell from downstairs.

"S-sorry, I… I hit my knee on the bed frame!" I yelled back, hoping that sounded plausible enough. I waited a few moments to make sure no footsteps were headed my way before switching my attention back to the bird that was now sitting upright again.

"What is wrong with you?" I hissed at the owl, which had now returned to pecking my window, "Ugh… okay, fine! I'll open the window for you, but you'll have to stay quiet, okay?"

The owl let out a high pitched hoot in response. I reluctantly disengaged the lock and pushed the windows open slowly, avoiding sudden movement to the best of my ability. We stared at each other for a moment once the windows were fully opened, and I wondered which of us would make the next move.

"Okay… now I'm gonna have you stand on my arm, very nice and gentle- AH!" I let out a high pitched yelp when the owl jumped and flapped across my room, landing on my desk. I was curled into a ball next to my window as the bird stood menacingly on top of my book, my room being its newest domain. I was indeed more scared of this bird than I felt comfortable admitting. After all, only one of us had claws.

Trevor released the letter it was carrying on top of my desk, and I let out another yelp as it flapped past me again and out my window, this time appearing to fly away for good.

Okay, that was odd…ly terrifying.

I quickly locked my window and closed the curtains, freaked out by yet another weird event. What the hell was happening? Why were these things happening to me? Was I not safe at my own house? Upon approaching my desk, I took the dropped letter into my hands and examined it closely. The envelope was sealed with red wax and displayed a coat of arms with a letter "H" imprinted on it, along with a banner on top with the name… "Hogwarts", however you pronounce that. On the other side there were writings in green ink. It read as follows:

Mr. C. M. Edward

The Room above the Front Entrance

42 Liddell Way

Engel's Hollow

Hampshire

My heart could have stopped at that moment, it was the very first time I saw a letter address me specifically. Even worse, it mentioned my precise location inside the house. That felt like the cherry on top of my neurosis, making me think I was being watched inside my own home. My anxious imagination went wild before it got cut short by the sound of footsteps making its way to my room.

I shoved the letter inside my book in a panic, not wanting my parents to see it. For all I knew, they were already compromised. My bedroom door then swung open to my very annoyed dad.

"What is all this noise?" He inquired in a huff.

"Uh, sorry, Dad," I stammered, trying to regain my composure. "I... I knocked over a few things on my desk. It was an accident."

"Was it now?" He asked distrustfully, scanning over my room for signs of anything out of the ordinary. I tried my best to appear calm and innocent, despite the chaos that had unfolded. "It sounded like it came from the window…"

"T- The window's fine!" I blurted mindlessly. "I mean... I accidentally closed it too forcefully, and it made a loud noise. But everything's okay now, Dad, really!"

He eyed me suspiciously for a moment before finally letting out a sigh. "Alright, just try to keep it down. Your mother and I are trying to watch a movie downstairs."

"Got it. I'll stay quiet!" I reassured him with a forced smile, which probably raised his suspicions even further.

"And go do your homework!"

"Yes, sir…" I replied unenthusiastically.

As dad turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a wave of both guilt and relief. I didn't like lying to my parents, but god knows how many times I did it to save my own skin. How would I even begin explaining everything that had been happening? If they had no recollection of the car incident, they certainly wouldn't believe anything else. Once he left the room, I hurriedly locked the door behind him and made my way back to my desk.

I carefully retrieved the letter from between the pages of my book and stared at it, a stark reminder of the strange occurrences that had been plaguing my day. I stared at the coat of arms and tried to distinguish the animal figures inside of it. A lion, a serpent, an eagle and… is that a skunk? Below it, there was another banner with what seemed to be writings in Latin.

"Draco… Dormiens… Nunquam...Titillandus…" I muttered to myself.

Then, I heard a click.

"Huh?" I looked at my book and saw a faint golden glow emanate from the clock figure. The inner dial began to rotate on its own before seemingly locking in place, after which the glow faded. I thought my eyes were playing a trick on me, how could a book glow?

I opened it out of curiosity, placing the letter inside my jacket's inner pocket and staring at the blank pages as if something could have changed. I wasn't, however, expecting it to have. Right before my eyes, letters began writing themselves in the book in what looked like thick, black ink. It only displayed a single word:

Welcome.

My heart skipped a beat as the word materialised before me. "Welcome?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. Below it, more words began to form.

Who wields me?

"Uh…" I hesitated, unsure how to or whether I should respond to that. My hands froze in cold sweat as I muttered "Carlos…?"

The text then faded, giving way to another message:

Welcome, Carlos.

I blinked in astonishment as the text appeared before my eyes. The book was responding to me, acknowledging my voice and presence. It was as if it had come to life, recognising me as its wielder. Before I could freak out over this, however, the doorbell rang downstairs.

My attention turned to my bedroom door as I heard muffled conversation downstairs. I walked to my window to see if I could make out who was on our doorstep, partially hiding behind the curtains to make sure I wasn't caught snooping. Looking below, I could only see two figures in cloaks and fedoras… like the ones I'd seen earlier that day.

I promptly closed the curtains, my anxiety shooting through the roof. I didn't know who those people were or why they were at my house, but something in me sensed I was in big, big trouble. I paced back and forth in my room, wondering what I should do. Should I run away? But how would I climb down through the window? The backyard door, perhaps?

I looked at my book momentarily and noticed there was a new message imprinted on it. It read:

Establishing connection to the Codex.

Awaiting response…

Connection to… what? Codex? What was it talking abo-…? No. No, there's no way it was…

I gasped upon hearing knocking on my door, violently closing the book in response. I don't know why, but I felt an urge to hide it somewhere, anywhere. I scanned my room frantically in search of a hiding spot, my eyes then landing on my wardrobe. I swung its doors open as the door knocking became more insistent.

"Carlos, open the door!" My father ordered from the other side.

"Just a second!" I yelled back, digging through my sheets and bed covers for a place to shove my book. After that, I shut the wardrobe and tried to regain my composure before finally unlocking the door. Dad pushed it open in a huff, looking annoyed at me.

"There's some people downstairs that want to talk to you." He spoke rigidly, making chills run down my spine.

"I kno- I mean, I'll be there in a moment!" I responded awkwardly, which earned me a suspicious side glance from my dad.

He then left the room and I took a moment to release a breath I didn't know I was holding. Panicking now wasn't going to do me any good. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and composed myself before making my way downstairs. As I descended, I could hear the faint murmur of voices growing louder. One voice in particular sounded familiar.

"Sorry I took so long, I was-" I lost my voice upon seeing who was at my front door. It was the cloaked man from the tree incident earlier that day, next to an older lady in emerald green robes and a pointy witch hat. Behind them were the two figures wearing fedoras.

"Hello there, young man!" The strange man greeted me. "I am Professor Longbottom, this is Headmistress McGonagall. We are here to deliver a very important message to you."

Chapter Text

Tick, tock, tick, tock

You'd think that's a clock, but rather it was the golden cat of luck statue that sat above our living room fireplace, swinging its paw back and forth like an upright pendulum. It was the only thing we heard as we all sat there, in silence, staring at one another.

On one couch sat the strange cloaked man I'd met earlier and the older lady who was new to me. They both wore a coat of arms badge I couldn't quite read from afar. On the opposite side sat my very concerned parents, mum with her hands over her converged knees while dad had his arms folded and a distrustful frown on his face. I sat uncomfortably on an armchair between the two parties, with two strange fedora men wearing deep blue robes standing guard behind us, putting us all on edge.

None of this made sense. Who are these people? What is their business with me?

"That… is a very fine piece of decoration you have there," Said the cloaked man, his lips pursed in a grin. "Is it a clock of some sort?"

"N-no, it's…" my mother stuttered.

"Maneki-Neko" I answered, shyly.

"What was that?" The man asked for me to speak up.

"Maneki-Neko" I reiterated, this time a little louder. "It's… a Japanese lucky cat statue, also called the beckoning cat. They believe it brings good luck to those who have it."

"Really? How Interesting…" The man slowly nodded, "And do you believe that to be true?"

I hesitated upon hearing that question. Why was he asking? It's not like I ever really thought about it.

"Excuse me, what is this about?" Dad interjected, already impatient.

"Of course, my apologies!" The man quickly cleared his throat to a more professional tone "As I've said, I am Professor Neville Longbottom, and this is Headmistress Minerva McGonagall…"

"What about them?" My father inquired about the two fedora men standing behind us.

"Oh, these are Auror Roland and Commissioner Larkin. They're just here to make sure we're… how do I put it? doing our job properly." Explained Longbottom, though it only served to raise further suspicion.

"We've come to represent a very prestigious school named Hogwarts. A school for… gifted children" Continued Headmistress McGonagall, as Longbottom pointed to his badge.

Hogwarts? As in the letter I just got? A… school?

"Gifted children?" My mother repeated, concerned. "What kind of gifted children?"

"We were hoping you could tell us, Mrs. Edward. Have you ever noticed anything different about your son? Perhaps some special ability he has or something he does that makes him… stand out amongst other children?" Professor Longbottom asked.

"Well, he… he really likes to draw," Mum said, making me slightly embarrassed. "He also does quite well in school, if that's what you're looking for…"

McGonagall and Longbottom exchanged looks.

"Not exactly, I'm afraid," She said. "Have you ever observed some strange event or phenomenon take place around him, something that perhaps you wouldn't know how to explain?

Wait a minute…

"Around him? No, not at all," Mum replied. "He's very well behaved, never does anything out of the ordinary."

They really had no clue of what happened this morning.

"What about you, Carlos, have you yourself ever witnessed something you couldn't quite explain?" Professor Longbottom inched forward towards me, and I knew exactly what he meant. He certainly knew far more than he was letting on, but did he know everything about what happened to me today? As much as I couldn't explain any of it, what did it have to do with me?

My parents looked at me expectantly, and I knew my answer couldn't contradict theirs.

"N-no, I haven't." I lied. Even if the opposite was true, I wasn't about to test the waters. Rather than seeming disappointed by my response, Professor Longbottom simply snorted quietly and sat back straight. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat and said:

"Mr. Martin, Mrs. Edward, I understand that all of this might seem rather bewildering and unexpected. But we assure you, we have good reason to believe that your son possesses a unique and extraordinary ability."

"What kind of ability?" My father asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

Headmistress McGonagall leaned forward, her eyes fixed on my parents. "Mr. Martin and Mrs. Edward, what we are about to share with you may seem unbelievable, but I guarantee it is true. We believe that your son possesses the ability to perform… magic."

Wait, what?

Did she just say… Magic?

"Perform what, now?" My father inquired in disbelief.

"Magic, Mr. Martin." Longbottom reiterated, "It is a powerful ability that some children are born with. One that can be harnessed and improved upon… with a proper education."

There was a moment of tense silence before dad sputtered a laugh. "Alright now, is this a joke?"

Longbottom and McGonagall exchanged a glance before the professor spoke again, his voice steady and earnest. "I understand that this may be difficult to believe, Mr. Martin, but magic is indeed real. It's not like the tricks you see on television or illusions. It's a profound and ancient power that exists within certain individuals, including your son."

Mum let out a scoff, now acting just as skeptical as my father. "You'll have to forgive us, but such things simply do not exist. I mean, Magic, of all things?" She uttered in amusement.

McGonagall nodded, her expression compassionate. "It's a rare and wondrous gift, Mrs. Edward. Throughout history, there have been individuals born with an innate ability to manipulate the forces of magic. And Hogwarts is a school dedicated to nurturing and guiding young witches and wizards in harnessing their magical potential."

"Witches and wizards… pfft," My father leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Longbottom. "So, what? You're saying our son can wave a wand and make things disappear?"

Longbottom chuckled softly. "Well, wand-waving is a part of it, but it's much more intricate and complex than that. Magic encompasses a wide range of abilities, from casting spells and brewing potions to charms, transfiguration, and even summoning mythical creatures. It's a vast world waiting to be explored."

I watched my parents' expressions, trying to gauge their reactions. Mum rolled her eyes at the explanation while dad shook his head with a smirk.

"Look," he said, his voice tinged with skepticism, "I'm a man of science. I believe in what I can see, touch, and measure. What you're telling me… that's just fantasy."

Longbottom leaned forward, his tone gentle yet persuasive. "Mr. Martin, science and magic are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they can complement each other. The laws that govern magic may be different, but they are laws nonetheless. At Hogwarts, we teach our students to understand and respect those laws, to harness magic responsibly."

My mother spoke up, her voice hesitant. "Why should we trust what you're saying? For all we know, this could very well be some elaborate prank or scam."

"Of course," Professor Longbottom reached into his cloak and pulled out a wooden wand. "Allow me to demonstrate."

He graciously waved the wand towards some of the logs stored next to our fireplace, releasing a high pitched whisper into the air. The logs then proceeded to levitate and hover into the firebox, igniting on their own. Dad's smirk slowly turned upside down while mum covered her mouth with both hands in shock. McGonagall and Longbottom remained unfazed.

"Whoa…" I let slip. As surprising as this was, it was definitely not the strangest thing I'd witnessed that day.

"As we were saying…" continued McGonagall, "Hogwarts is the place where young witches and wizards go to learn and control their magical abilities, once they are of age. I understand you must not have had the proper time to read the letter that was sent to you..."

"Letter, what letter?" Dad blurted out.

"Uh…" I hesitated, unsure how to tell them. They all stared at me expectantly, "There's this one letter that came to me a few minutes ago… it came from an owl."

"From an owl??" My dad sputtered incredulously.

"Well, that's perfect! We could open it together," Suggested Longbottom. "Where is it, if I may ask?"

"Oh, it's right… um…" I fumbled my jacket's inner pocket only to realize it was empty, "I thought it was here!"

"What?" Dad inquired.

"The letter… I could have sworn I put it in my jacket!"

"Excuse me, do you happen to mean that one over there?" Professor Longbottom pointed over to the fireplace.

And there it was. The letter I'd received moments prior somehow ended up right on top of the fireplace mantel, in front of the lucky cat statue.

"Y-yes, that one… how did it get there?" I asked.

"I don't know, but maybe we should bring it down, shouldn't we? Minerva?" Requested Professor Longbottom.

With that, the Headmistress took a wand from her robes, and with a slow, majestic swing, she pointed it at the cat statue, causing something other-worldly to happen. The statue jumped from the top of the fireplace to our coffee table, taking the shape of an actual, living miniature cat, its golden fur glistening in the fireplace light. Mum whimpered in terror with the sudden jump, my eyes wide as I acknowledged what had just happened. Dad seemed reactionless.

The cat strutted on the coffee table, its tail swishing back and forth, dropping the letter and meowing softly as if to confirm its newfound existence. Mum let out a gasp, covering her mouth again in astonishment.

"Is… is it…?"

"Alive? No, not quite." Explained McGonagall, "It is merely transfigurated, a process in which bodies can assume the shape and properties of others, both living and inanimate. In this case, the initial shape made for a very straightforward transformation."

"Carlos, would you do the honors and read us the letter?" Professor Longbottom requested.

I held my breath for a moment as all attention in the room turned to me. I picked up the letter, trying to steady my trembling hands. Its texture felt strangely smooth, and the Hogwarts seal emblazoned on the front seemed to shimmer in the flickering light of the fireplace. I glanced at my parents, who wore expressions of both curiosity and apprehension. Unfolding the letter, I began to read aloud:

Dear Mr. Edward,

I paused there. I absolutely hated being referred to by my last name, no matter the circumstance. It always prompted questions about my parents's odd naming convention, Martin from my father's side of the family and Edward from my Mother's, as she insisted in keeping her surname going. They all stared at me awkwardly, so I continued:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1st of September. We await your owl by no later than the 31st of July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress.

I looked up to gauge everyone's reactions. Dad sighed, his skepticism still evident. "Fine, let's say this is all real. What happens next? How do we know this 'Hogwarts' is a reputable institution? What about safety?"

Longbottom leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Mr. Martin, Hogwarts has been a pillar of magical education for centuries. It's a respected institution, with a strong commitment to the safety and well-being of its students. As for your concerns, we can address them in detail, ensuring that Carlos has a safe and supportive environment."

"Here is a pamphlet that addresses the most common questions regarding the school," Said McGonagall, handing over a folded parchment scroll to my father. His frown deepened, but a flicker of doubt passed through his eyes. I could tell that he was slowly considering the possibility, even if he wasn't ready to fully embrace it. He reluctantly unfolded the parchment scroll, his eyes scanning the contents. Meanwhile, my mother continued to watch the miniature cat with a mix of wonder and fear. I could sense her struggle to reconcile the surreal events unfolding in our living room.

“A sport on flying broomsticks, huh?” Dad commented “Can’t see what could go wrong in that…”

“It is one of the oldest sports in existence, mr. Martin. I myself have partaken in it, back in my time.” McGonagall proudly said.

“Right. This, magical creatures, potion making… what’s next, unicorns?” He provoked.

"Mr. Martin, I understand this is difficult to grasp," said Professor Longbottom “The magical world has been kept hidden from non-magical folks for centuries, precisely to avoid unnecessary skepticism. However, it's crucial to recognize that magic is as real as the ground beneath our feet. Hogwarts has successfully educated generations of witches and wizards, providing a safe and nurturing environment."

Dad, still wrestling with doubt, questioned, "So, what's the catch? What's the price we pay for this... education?"

Longbottom leaned back, folding his hands. "The price is simply Carlos's commitment to learning and respecting the magical world. There are no monetary costs, and Hogwarts provides all necessary materials. Your son's magical education will be fully covered by the school. What we seek is his willingness to embrace this new reality."

The air in the room grew heavier as Dad continued reading, his skepticism lingering. Finally, he looked up, his eyes fixed on me.

"Right, say we are to believe in all these… things that just so happen to exist," He questioned "You have yet to prove to us that our son is actually capable of doing any of it."

My blood went cold at this assertion. I didn't know what was coming, but I feared it wasn't going to be good.

"Yes, of course. Luckily, we do have one way to settle this…"

"Mr. Longbottom…" Professor McGonagall interjected, seemingly concerned.

"It's okay, Minerva… I got this." He whispered to her.

He took out of his robe what looked like a small glass ball with a metal ribbon going around it, then showed it to us.

"This right here is something we wizards call a remembrall." He introduced "Originally, it was made as a simple reminder orb that would alert us whenever something was being forgotten… which wasn't really that useful considering you'd hardly remember what it was you forgot. More recent iterations, however, have upgraded it into a tool that allows for exploration of memories in order to retrieve things you've forgotten… or suppressed."

"Suppressed?" I asked.

"Yes… sometimes magical ability can lie dormant within a wizard, and it takes some specific events - or emotions - to trigger the first magical spark. Remembralls can also help manifest this type of magic. Mind if we try something?" Suggested Longbottom, handing me the remembrall orb.

The strange object felt slightly cold to the touch, the faint gray smoke swirling inside of it being rather mesmerizing to look at. All eyes in the room befell me expectantly.

"I now want you to close your eyes and focus on a memory you have, one that has a strong emotion attached to it. Think you can do that?" He requested.

"Any memory?" I asked.

Professor Longbottom looked towards McGonagall, her lips pursed as she held back her breath before nodding ever so slightly to him.

"Yes, any memory whatsoever. Think of how it made you feel, whether it was joy, sadness, anger, fear…" he suggested.

Following his instructions, I closed my eyes and attempted to do what was asked. Given his explanation, I'd expected the glass ball to help me search my thoughts for a significant memory. I didn't, however, notice anything different, my mind still as chaotically vacant of a place as it's always been.

"It's okay, no need to stress your body." Reassured Longbottom, as he likely noticed one of my legs started shaking while I concentrated.

"Sorry…" I muttered.

"No need to apologize," he said, "just keep going."

Let's see… a memory. I kept coming back to the events of earlier this morning, of my breakfast catching fire, cereal turning into bugs, the car engine disappearing. I'd expect these things to start making sense now that magic was revealed to me, but they only raised further questions. Why did they happen to begin with? What - or who - caused them?

"Feeling curious, I see…" I heard Professor Longbottom say.

"Huh?" I quickly opened my eyes, taken aback by the assertion. How did he…?

"The remembrall," he said, "it says you're asking questions."

Upon looking at the orb, I saw the faint smoke was now a strong shade of orange, slowly fading away now that my focus was gone.

"Is… is it supposed to…?" I stuttered.

"Oh, yes yes, that's how it typically works." Answered Longbottom. "It's not what we're looking for, however."

"What are you looking for, exactly?" Dad inquired.

"You see, when a remembrall detects traces of magic within a memory, it starts… doing more than just displaying colors, let's put it that way." he answered vaguely. "You'll see for yourself, soon enough."

"Uh-huh…" Dad skeptically replied.

I went back into concentration and tried fishing out a memory of… well, anything, really. It felt like wading through a foggy stream of thoughts, but no vivid memory emerged. My frustration kept growing, and as seconds turned into minutes, my concentration dispersed, so I opened my eyes to see that the remembrall's smoke had now turned into a strong shade of purple.

"Is this…?" I began.

"No, not quite. Purple indicates frustration." He answered. I sighed in disappointment.

"Is that all there is to it?" Dad challenged "Doesn't look that magical now, does it?"

"Winston!" Mum called out.

The transfigurated cat conveniently started purring right after, reminding us all of the very real magic we had just witnessed.

"What he means to say is, are you  sure that our son is actually able to do any of… well, this?" She gestured towards the golden cat.

"Perhaps we should try a different approach." Suggested Longbottom. "Instead of focusing on one particular memory, let your mind wander for a bit. See what it comes up with."

"What do you mean by 'wander'?" I asked.

"I mean it like you were doing just now. You see your emotions show through the remembrall colors, right?" He stated. I nodded "Well then, explore your mind for these sorts of emotions, look for any unresolved feelings you might have. Those will be rooted in a memory you can revisit."

"Right…" I consented. Unresolved feelings? What does that even mean? I don't have any… okay that's a lie, I definitely have unresolved feelings, but they hardly show anytime it is less than inconvenient to remember. Let's see, how am I even feeling today? Hmph…

"Carlos, let your mind guide you. Don't force it." He guided me as I realised my leg had begun shaking once again. I was indeed feeling impatient by then, the glass ball not helping me think one bit.

I closed my eyes once more, focusing on the vague emotional landscape within me. As I went over what happened to me that morning, a flicker of unease caught my attention. The unease I felt when I thought I was being followed, but that wasn't just it. I recalled feeling this same sense of unease the night before, in the dream I had. The details were foggy and scattered, but I do remember the chamber, the statue and… the clock. Was it the same as…? No, it couldn't be.

"It seems we've hit something," Longbottom remarked. "Now, I want you to let that memory fade, but this time, try to summon it back intentionally."

With a half-opened eye I could see there was now a faint glow coming from the orb. I decided to focus on the dream itself, trying to remember what it was I heard the four figures say. Something about an heir, and a… Codex?

"There you go…keep going, you're nearly there!" Urged the professor.

As I focused on the dream, I began to hear a high pitched drone inside my ear. The professor's voice seemed to echo as it became more distant, getting increasingly muffled by the drone. Suddenly, all sounds in my surroundings were muted. I felt an odd warmth in my hand as I held the remembrall, and even through my closed eyelids I could tell it was emitting light.

Then, I saw it again.

An excavation crew came forth into the unmapped chamber as dust from the blast settled. A powerful beam of light was cast to the centre of the room, disturbing the ever-present darkness and at last revealing the details those old walls had long forgotten. A vast domed structure, housing a colossal bronze statue of an ancient sorcerer holding a long piece of parchment on one hand and a miniature castle resting in the palm of the other. In its centre was a sarcophagus, surrounded by celestial floor markings and a lone lectern overlooking the statue.

The crew was satisfied. At last, they'd finally found it.

The Tomb of the Architect.

"Sir!" One crew member called, "We're gonna need more light over here!"

"Can it, Frank!" The crew leader ordered, "A single charm shall do."

The crew carefully descended through a pile of rubble to get to the centre of the chamber. From the ground level, it was far greater in scale than previously thought. The bronze statue towered over the crew as they reached the sarcophagus. Along the walls of the chamber, there were four more statues sculpted out of the cave walls. They depicted a lion, a badger, an eagle and a serpent respectively.

"Incredible…" spoke another crew member, "To think this was here, hidden for a millenium."

"Or maybe it wasn't hidden, we just weren't supposed to be here." The one named Frank said. "Boss did say we could use as many charges as we wanted."

"Maybe. The lack of protective enchantments is odd though…" The other member commented.

"Ah, less work for us. You know the boss ain't gonna get his hands dirty when he's got us to break curses for him." Frank complained.

"Don't let him hear that, that's for sure." Said the member.

"Alright everybody, let's get to work. I want every inch of this place examined," the leader commanded, his voice echoing in the cavernous chamber. The crew dispersed, examining the floor markings and inspecting the intricate details of the statues.

"Boss is gonna be pleased with this," one crew member exclaimed, holding a worn piece of parchment covered in ancient runes.

Frank, always the sceptic, chimed in again, "Pleased or not, I can't shake the feeling that we're meddling with things we shouldn't be."

The crew leader shot him a stern look. "We're here to break curses, not debate ethics. Keep your focus."

The crew leader, a sturdy man with a weathered face, approached the sarcophagus and examined the parchment and the castle held by the ancient sorcerer statue.

"Sir," Frank called again, "we've got strange markings around the lectern. It looks like a clockwork pattern."

The crew gathered around the lectern, and the markings seemed to react to their presence, glowing faintly.

"Captain Thorne, take a look at this," called out one crew member, holding a worn piece of parchment to the crew leader. "It seems to be some sort of ancient blueprint, but the runes are unlike anything I've seen before."

"Take notes, everyone. We need to document every detail for the boss." Said the leader.

As the crew delved deeper into the chamber, their wand lights flickering against the ancient stone walls, the atmosphere grew tense with the weight of discovery. The crew leader, known as Captain Thorne, closely examined the cog markings around the lectern, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Strange, isn't it?" Frank mumbled, eyeing the glowing patterns.

Captain Thorne nodded, "Indeed. It seems the Architect was quite fond of mechanical displays…"

"The mana detectors are through the roof. I'm surprised there's even breathable air in here." Said Frank, holding a strange device displaying a vibrant blue glow.

"Aren't they like this throughout the whole castle?" Questioned another crew member.

"Not to such extremes, no." Explained Frank."This place is saturated with magical energy."

"Is it, now?" Mused Captain Thorne, "We might just have stumbled upon a remnant of the…"

Suddenly, the ground shook. Dust and pebbles started dropping down from the tall ceiling, and a low hum reverberated through the air. The crew members exchanged bewildered glances.

"Captain, what's happening?" one crew member asked, eyes wide with awe.

Captain Thorne, his gaze fixed on the lectern, spoke with a mix of reverence and uncertainty. "We must have awakened something ancient and powerful. Stay vigilant, everyone. We may be witnesses to magic long forgotten."

As the ground continued to tremble, the crew exchanged nervous glances. Captain Thorne stepped back from the lectern, his eyes scanning the glowing clockwork patterns.

"What did we do, Captain?" Frank's voice quivered with a mix of excitement and fear.

"I don't know, Frank, but whatever it is, it's responding to our presence." Captain Thorne gestured to the glowing runes, now pulsating with a mysterious energy.

The hum in the air intensified, and the celestial floor markings began to glow, forming intricate patterns that seemed to resonate with the magical aura permeating the chamber.

"Look!" exclaimed one crew member, pointing to the bronze statue, whose eyes now glowed with an ethereal golden light, and the parchment and castle in its hands started to shimmer.

"By Merlin's beard," whispered another crew member, "is the Architect waking?"

The crew watched in awe and trepidation as the bronze statue's eyes flickered with life. The parchment in its hand unfolded, revealing ancient runes that shimmered in sync with the floor markings.

"We need to document everything!" Captain Thorne commanded, his authoritative voice cutting through the tension. "Record the changes, take notes on the symbols, and be cautious."

As the crew hurriedly jotted down observations, the low hum evolved into a melodic resonance, echoing through the chamber. The statues on the cave walls seemed to come to life, their eyes gleaming with magical energy.

Frank, still sceptical, muttered, "This is beyond anything we've encountered, Captain."

Captain Thorne nodded, his eyes fixed on the unfolding spectacle. "We may have stumbled upon the heart of the castle's magic — the essence of the Architect's design."

Suddenly, a projection of shimmering light emerged from the lectern, depicting the layout of Hogwarts Castle. The crew members exchanged astonished glances as the magical blueprint unfolded before them.

"We're witnessing the creation of Hogwarts," Captain Thorne declared, his voice filled with awe.

As the magical resonance reached its peak, the crew felt a surge of energy. The air crackled with magic, and the symbols on the floor glowed with an intensity that matched the mana detectors that now flickered wildly.

"Get ready for anything!" Captain Thorne shouted, as the atmosphere in the Tomb of the Architect became charged with ancient power, echoing the birth of Hogwarts itself.

Suddenly, a powerful surge of energy emanated from the sarcophagus, and the bronze statue's eyes blazed with a brilliant light. The parchment and castle in its hands resonated with the magical aura, and the hum in the air intensified.

"Captain, something's happening!" shouted Frank, his scepticism replaced with a wide-eyed astonishment.

Captain Thorne, sensing the impending magical climax, barked orders, "Hold your ground, everyone! Document every detail."

The statues on the walls began to radiate with magical energy, their eyes gleaming in response to the awakening power. The crew members exchanged nervous glances, uncertain of what lay ahead.

"Brace yourselves!" Captain Thorne warned, raising his voice over the magical symphony filling the chamber.

The crew members tightened their grips on their wands, ready for whatever might transpire. The atmosphere became charged with anticipation, the air becoming increasingly harder to breathe.

And then, silence.

The crew stood still, their eyes perked at anything and everything around them. All lights slowly faded out, including the charm that had been hovering above the chamber throughout this whole ordeal. Darkness befell the chamber, the only light source being the crew's wands.

"Something's not right…" whispered Frank.

And so, water started pouring out of the mouths of the four statues, forming a cascading curtain that gradually filled the chamber. Captain Thorne, his eyes wide with surprise, barked urgent commands to his crew.

"Back to higher ground! Move, move!" he ordered, his authoritative voice cutting through the ever growing sound of water flow.

"Carlos…?"

The crew members hastily retreated, their footsteps now dampened by the cascading sound as they climbed the rubble caused by their reckless destruction.

"Carlos…!"

They began slipping on the debris as water reached their ankles. The passage they had opened was gradually sealing shut as the weakened walls began collapsing around it.

"CARLOS MARTIN EDWARD, YOU STOP THIS NONSENSE RIGHT NOW!"

My father's dreadful brassy voice made me open my eyes once more as I fell out of what seemed like a trance, my hand now burning hot due to the remembrall heating up, causing me to immediately drop it. Confusion lingered in the air as I tried to reconcile what I had just witnessed with the reality of my parents, Professor Longbottom, and Headmistress McGonagall staring at me.

Mum was weeping.

"Carlos, are you alright?" Professor Longbottom's concerned voice cut through the remnants of the experience I just had.

I didn't immediately respond as I was still taking in my surroundings. The room looked like it'd been turned upside down; paintings were misplaced, things were broken on the floor, the lights were flickering and there seemed to be a lingering black smoke. Both Commissioner Larkin and Auror Roland had their wands firmly pointed at me.

"What happened here? Why is everyone looking at me like this?" I asked.

"We thought we had lost you there for a second." Said Longbottom.

"Lost me??" I repeated, unaware that it was even a possibility.

I glanced at the Remembrall on the floor, pitch black smoke now swirling within it. The once gentle tool for exploring memories now felt ominous and tainted.

"Did I... did I do something wrong?" I asked, my voice uncertain.

"N-no, Mr. Edward," reassured McGonagall, though her expression still indicated a disturbance. "What you experienced was… a powerful magical connection to a memory. Yes, it seems the intensity overwhelmed you for a moment."

My father's brassy voice returned, his concern veiled by frustration. "Magic or not, we can't have you losing yourself like that. It's not natural!"

"I… I didn't mean for any of this to happen," I stuttered, trying to make sense of the situation.

Professor Longbottom crouched down, picking up the Remembrall with caution. The black smoke within it seemed to resist his touch, swirling more fiercely. "This is… quite unusual. The Remembrall isn't meant to react this way. It's like the… connection… to your memory triggered a magical energy surge."

The commissioner and the auror exchanged a glance, clearly on edge. "We warned you about the risks, Longbottom!" one of them uttered with a stern look.

"Risks? What risks?" I demanded, my frustration mounting.

"That's enough!" My father ordered. "I don't know what the hell just happened here, but I want nothing to do with it. You must leave now."

"Sir, with all due respect-" began the Professor.

"No, no respect taken. You came into my house and showed us all these fancy tricks so you could take my son out to some place I've never even heard of before. We are not interested!" Dad cut him off.

I could feel the tension escalating, my father's frustration mixing with my own confusion. The Remembrall in Professor Longbottom's hands continued to resist, its dark smoke forming eerie patterns.

"Dad, please, just… just let them explain," I pleaded, my voice tinged with desperation.

"I've had enough of these explanations," he snapped. "I won't let some magic nonsense endanger my family. You need to leave, all of you."

The two men in fedoras exchanged glances, and one of them sighed, as if expecting this outcome. Professor Longbottom took a deep breath, his expression a mix of disappointment and understanding.

"Mr. Martin, I understand your concern, but we cannot neglect Carlos' magical potential. It could come at a very high cost should it be left untapped!" Headmistress McGonagall explained, her tone calm yet determined.

"We don't want your help, and we certainly don't want our son involved in whatever voodoo rituals you're talking about," Dad retorted.

My mother, still teary-eyed, attempted to mediate. "Winston, maybe we should hear what they have to say, our son might be in danger…"

"No, Mary!" Dad snapped. "I won't have our lives turned upside down because of some... some fantasy!"

The tension in the room thickened, and I felt caught in the middle, torn between my family and this magical revelation. The Remembrall in Professor Longbottom's hands seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy, reacting to the emotional turmoil in the room.

"Perhaps it's best if we leave for now," suggested McGonagall, her gaze sympathetic. "Mr. Martin, Ms. Edward, we can continue this conversation at a later date."

As she got up she took out her wand and, with a slow horizontal arc, things in the room started falling back into place. Broken glasses reassembled themselves, the torn wallpapers were mended, paintings returned to place and the golden cat of luck returned to its inanimate state on top of the fireplace.

I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of conflicting emotions. "Dad, please, just hear them out. Don't you want to understand what you just saw?"

"They've explained enough, and I've seen more than I ever wanted to. This magic stuff, it's not for us," Dad insisted, his voice resolute.

Commissioner Larkin and Auror Roland remained silent observers, their wands still at the ready.

"Carlos, I understand your curiosity, but your safety and the safety of your family must come first," Professor Longbottom spoke with a sincerity that resonated with my confusion.

Dad scoffed, "Safety? This whole magical nonsense just put our safety at risk. I won't allow it!"

My mother's voice wavered as she spoke, "Winston, we can't dismiss something this serious. If what they're saying is true..."

"You know what's true? It's true that our lives were perfectly fine before this magical circus showed up at our doorstep," Dad argued, frustration etched across his face.

I struggled to find the right words, torn between this newfound awareness of… magic and what not and my desire to make the tension in the room go away.

"I just… don't wanna hurt anyone," I insisted.

The two men in fedoras exchanged glances again, and one of them stepped towards Professor Longbottom. "We warned you this could happen, kid. This ain't some toy to be played around with." He said, taking the remembrall off his hands. The other man came close to them and whispered something only they could hear.

"No! No, don't!" Pleaded Professor Longbottom. "Let them sit on it for a few days. They need to think this through."

They both cast me a stern glance before one of them said "If something happens, you'll be held responsible."

"We apologise for whatever discomfort we caused. This shall not repeat itself." Spoke McGonagall as she walked towards the front door.

"Oh it sure won't!" Dad retorted as they walked out.

Larkin and Roland were the first to walk out the door. Dad stood beside it menacingly, as if to make sure none of them would attempt anything as they left. Professor Longbottom winked at me as he left, which thankfully my father did not notice. After they were all gone, Dad locked the front door then turned towards me. He marched my way and held a firm grip on my upper arm.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND??!" He shouted, mere inches from my face “What made you even THINK it was a good idea to play around with that thing?? Do you have any IDEA of what was happening while you were out of it??”

“Dad, I-”

“Your mother and I thought you were gone for good! Just because a stranger comes into our home and gives you a tricky glass ball, it doesn’t mean you should bloody take it!”

"I didn't know, Dad! I… I didn't know it would do that," I stammered, my heart pounding with guilt and fear under his intense gaze.

"You didn't know? You didn't know?? That's not good enough, Carlos!" His grip tightened on my arm, and I winced in pain. “You knew damn well to not mess around with something you don’t understand, you could have been possessed!”

"Dad, please, I didn't mean for any of this to happen. They said it was just a way to explore memories, not—"

"Explore memories? Is that what they told you?!" His voice was a dangerous growl. "Carlos, magic or no magic, you need to use your head. You've put our entire family at risk with this reckless curiosity!"

My mother, still tearful, attempted to intervene. "Winston, let's not make things worse. We need to talk about this calmly."

"Calmly?" He shot her a frustrated look. "Mary, our son just unleashed god knows what in our living room, and you want to talk calmly?"

He turned his attention back to me, his eyes drilling into mine. "You need to understand the consequences of your actions, Carlos. This isn't some game!"

"I thought it was harmless! I thought it would help me understand what's been happening to me," I tried to explain, my words shaky.

"Harmless? Look around you, Carlos! Look at what just happened! We have strange people barging into our house, magical smoke, our living room's a mess and who knows what else. This is not harmless!" His frustration boiled over, and he released his grip on my arm, stepping back but still seething with anger.

"Dad, please, I can explain. They said that-" I pleaded, looking for some understanding in his eyes.

"Forget what they said, Carlos! This is not our world. We're not wizards, and we don't want to be a part of this," he cut me off, his face hardened with resolve.

“But what if it’s true?? What if this is who I am?” I spoke amidst tears.

"Enough backtalk!" His eyes bore into mine, and he pointed sternly to my room. "You're grounded now, young man. Go to your room, and don't come out until you understand the consequences of your actions!"

"Dad, no, please, I- OOF!"

His hand swung across my face like a whip, knocking me off balance for a moment. My cheek burned with both pain and shame.

"Do NOT make me repeat myself!" He hissed through his teeth. "Go to your bloody room and stay there!"

He drilled deep into my eyes as he said this. Not an ounce of remorse or uncertainty in his tone.

I was finished.

I covered my face and retreated to my room, the weight of my father's disappointment heavy on my shoulders. The door slammed shut behind me, amplifying the isolation. I sank onto my bed, the events of the evening replaying in my mind like a chaotic loop. I tried really hard not to ugly cry, so hard my head felt like it would explode in a migraine. I couldn't grasp how things turned so foul so quickly, let alone why Dad was so angry at me for what happened. Was I really responsible?

Over the next few minutes I kept hearing the two of them argue downstairs. Even when I wasn't present, I seemed to still be making things worse for them. I huddled on my bed, the sting on my cheek a painful reminder of the reality that unfolded in my living room. The muffled arguments downstairs echoed through my closed door, a discordant symphony of frustration, fear, and anger. I felt like an intruder in my own home, an unwelcome element that had disrupted the normalcy my family once knew.

Eventually the argument died down, and so did my spirit. Night befell, and I heard my brother arrive from his school. It was rather late for him, but I didn't bother to know why. I kept thinking of how lucky he was to have missed the whole ordeal. I just hid in the darkness, feeling like the worst was somehow yet to come. What even are going to be the next few days after this, let alone months? I can't unsee everything I saw downstairs, and neither can my parents. Even if we were to act like it never happened, they'd still know something about me that not even I was aware of. Things just wouldn't be the same, regardless of intent.

I couldn't tell the passage of time as I lay in bed. The minutes felt like hours that wouldn't pass. All I wanted was for time to pass for the sake of it, or until I fell asleep. I hoped that sleeping would not put me in any more trouble than I already was. I was nearly dozing off when a tapping sound coming from my window disturbed me. A rather familiar tapping sound.

I got up and opened the blinds to see none other than Trevor tapping its beak on my window. Mind you, my very much still cracked window from earlier that day.

"Ugh, you again. What do you want??" I groaned as if I didn't know the obvious answer. The bird carried what I thought was yet another letter for me, probably one saying I got rejected by that school of theirs. I decided to cut my misery short and open the window to get the letter, something the owl did not protest to. The letter, however, happened to be a simple folded paper piece with no identification details. Upon unfolding it, there was a simple message written inside:

Meet me at the place where we first met.

Professor L.

I sighed deeply, wondering what it was that Longbottom still wanted from me. Getting me into trouble wasn't enough, apparently. What did he even mean by the place where we met? The field where that tree swung me to the ground? When did he want to see me, now or later??"

I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the closed bedroom door, still wary of any repercussions from my earlier actions. The night outside was shrouded in darkness, the quiet hum of the suburban neighbourhood a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded in my home.

I had every reason to doubt him. Every ounce of logic told me not to.

He did, however… save my life.

With a resigned sigh, I decided to heed professor Longbottom's summons. Maybe he held answers, or perhaps this was just another layer to the magical mess I found myself entangled in.

I waited until about 10 pm to slip out of my room, when I knew my parents would be asleep. Trevor waited patiently perched on my window sill, its feathers ruffled by the night breeze. The neighbourhood slept soundly, oblivious to the magical undercurrents that had disrupted the tranquillity of my home. I carefully unlocked the front door and stepped outside to an evening chill, the only thing lighting my way being the street lights. As soon as I left, Trevor took flight in the direction I was meant to go.

And so I followed.

For a summer night, today was rather chilly outside. Good thing I was still in my school clothes, the same ones Professor Longbottom had magically tidied up after the whole tree rodeo. I wasn't sure if I should retrace my steps or focus on the flying owl for directions to the meeting spot. Thankfully the bird stopped every few meters so I was able to catch up at walking speed. Going down the wooded path from earlier that morning, there were no signs of the sinkhole that had opened beneath my feet. At that point, I was no longer fazed. The existence of magic made this incongruence now quite believable.

The bird then took a detour from the path to a curved road that went opposite to my school. I was confused for a second, but realized that was a shortcut to that field. Upon arrival, I noticed the odd swinging tree was gone as well. No sign that it was ever there to begin with. I walked roughly to the spot where I thought the tree previously was, and stood still for a few moments, unaware of what to do next.

“A little late for you to be out and about, don’t you think?” I heard a familiar voice come from behind me. I turned around to see Professor Longbottom’s dimly lit silhouette slowly walking my way, the only source of light being the tip of his wand.

“You called me here, didn't you?” I pointed out.

“Didn’t think you’d come at this hour, though.” He said.

"You didn't specify." I said.

"Touché." He replied. "So, how are things after we left?"

“I got grounded…” I muttered.

“Ah. Yeah, I figured this would happen.” He commented. I shot him an indignant look.

"What do you want now?" I mumbled.

"To tell you the truth." He uttered. "The whole truth, that is."

"You mean there's more you haven't told us?" I asked.

"Far more, indeed," He nodded. "But I first believe you might have some questions of your own you'd like to ask. I'm opening this space for you to do so."

"Hum… okay?" I muttered, unaware of what to ask first. I did have a lot of questions, but few were coming to me at that moment. In order to start somewhere, I chose to ask what was last in my mind. "Why did you call me all the way here at this hour? Couldn't we have met back at my house?"

"By all means, no." He said. "I called you here because I wanted a place where we could talk freely without any unwanted eyes or ears dropping in."

"Well, we're alone, in the middle of nowhere at night time… you could kidnap me if you wanted to." I pointed out the obvious danger.

Professor Longbottom chuckled, "Kidnap you? Not exactly the best way to gain a student's trust, now is it?"

"I don't even know if you're actually the teacher you claim to be." I accused.

"Should you come to Hogwarts, you'll have the pleasure of being one of my students." He spoke with a proud smirk.

"Right…" I muttered. "About the things that happened to me earlier today… what were those about? Did I cause them?"

"Oh no, it wasn't you," he responded. "Those were obstacles that were deliberately put in your way as a test. It is common knowledge amongst wizards that magic often manifests in situations of danger or distress. The test was meant to induce you into such states."

"Danger? So I could've been killed by all those things??"

"Not under my watch, no." He shook his head. "I did save you from that Whomping Willow, didn't I?"

"Whomping Willow? Is that what that tree's called?" I commented "So you did know of everything that happened to me this morning, huh. Why did my parents not remember any of it?"

"Their memories were altered as to avoid unnecessary questioning before it was time for our visit. We take the secrecy of our world very seriously." He answered.

"Altered? What else did they forget??" I asked in a mild panic.

"Just this morning's events, don't worry about it!" He reassured me. I looked at him suspiciously. "We are very careful when it comes to memory manipulation. No damage was caused, I promise you that."

"When you say 'we'... to whom exactly are you referring?" I pressed further.

"I mean 'we' as in The Ministry of Magic, our governing body. It takes care of all matters related to magic use in Great Britain and the United Kingdom." He answered.

"A Ministry of Magic? Like, part of the government?" I asked.

"...Not exactly." He corrected me. "The wizarding world has its own set of institutions separate from those of the non-magical world."

"When you say wizarding world… do you mean to say there's an entire dimension separate to that of the rest of us?" I mused.

"Oh no, by all means, not at all!" He chuckled. "It's very much in the physical world, just hidden in plain sight. We do our best to maintain illusions but you'll always find us if you know where to look."

"Right…" I muttered, trying to wrap my head around the information. "So, let me get this straight, there's a whole world of magic, with wizards and witches, right under the noses of regular people?"

"Exactly. And it's not the only one. Magical communities exist worldwide, each with its own set of rules and institutions," Professor Longbottom explained.

I took a moment to absorb this revelation. The idea of a hidden magical world sounded so daunting. "So, all those stories about witches and wizards, are they real?"

He nodded. "More real than you could imagine. And you, Carlos, seem to have a connection to that world."

"But I'm not a wizard," I protested. "I can't be. My parents aren't, and I don't know anything about magic."

"That's what Hogwarts is for!" He proudly announced. "Every time a young wizard reaches the age of eleven, they receive a letter inviting them to study at Hogwarts. Or, in cases of non-magical families, a personal visit also takes place."

"But why me?" I finally voiced the question that had been nagging at me. "Why would I have any connection to this magical world?"

The professor's expression shifted to one of understanding. "Magic is a mysterious force, Carlos. It often chooses those with potential, regardless of their family background. Some individuals are born with an innate connection to magic, and it manifests itself in unique ways."

"I see…" I looked at him worryingly, still unsure of what any of it meant. "What happened back at my house today? Why did I destroy my living room?"

"See, that's the complicated part… it might not have been you, exactly." He began, pacing back and forth. "It seems your magical ability has been caged for so long, it began… taking a shape of its own, let's put it that way."

"Caged? But why?" I asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me. Has there been any moment in your life you felt so scared of what others thought of you, that you saw no other solution but to retract?" He questioned.

"I don't know, I…" I thought about it for a bit, unsure if any life experience of mine checked that criteria. I definitely was scared of what others thought of me, but was it to such an extent all magic within me would be caged?

"It's important to understand the reasoning behind that so you can liberate the magic flow within you. The sooner you figure it out, the better." He assured me. I began thinking of how many therapy sessions that would entail.

"What if I fail to 'liberate' it? What would happen to me?" I asked.

Professor Longbottom pursed his lips at that question, hesitant. "Look, I really don't want to scare you, but-"

"You're already scaring me." I pointed out. He let out a sigh.

"Magic is a very powerful force. If left unbalanced within an individual, it could start manifesting itself in the shape of something called an Obscurus." He explained, pacing once more.

"What's an Obscurus?" I pressed.

"An Obscurus is a parasitic entity that grows upon those who suppress their magical capabilities from a young age, usually due to trauma or abuse." He clarified. "Now I don't mean to make any assumptions, but I- or rather, we- believe that you could be in the early stages of developing one."

"What does it mean to be in an early stage of an Obscurus?"

"It means that, if your magic doesn't find a release within the next few years, the entity will start growing within you and… taking control."

I stared at Professor Longbottom, a knot tightening in my stomach. "Taking control? Like possession?"

"Yes… and no. You see, it's complicated," he admitted. "Obscuruses are chaotic entities. The outcome of one isn't always predictable. Often times it… kills its host, dying subsequently."

I looked at him in astonishment.

"... Other times, however, it can become… more powerful than its host. From there, little is known of what it's truly capable of."

"So… I could die…" I muttered, failing to grasp the severity of what I was being told. "What happened in my living room today - was that an Obscurus?"

"We're not sure." Said Longbottom, shaking his head. "Those men that stood behind us were there to contain it should it manifest itself. It's crucial, however, to understand that it's not your fault. An Obscurus forms as a defence mechanism when magical ability is forcibly suppressed."

I stood there, absorbing the weight of Professor Longbottom's words. The revelation about potential dangers, the mysterious Obscurus, and the uncertainty about my magical abilities left me with a myriad of emotions. "So, you're telling me I'm a ticking time bomb now?" I asked, my voice wavering between disbelief and fear.

Professor Longbottom nodded solemnly. "I know it sounds daunting, Carlos, but understanding your magical nature is essential. What we're offering is to guide and help you through this."

"But why?" I inquired. "Why are you interested in helping me to begin with?"

"Because…" he sighed, seemingly unsure of what to say "Because… an Obscurus is a destructive force that's extremely hard to contain. Should it be released out there, it would not only put other people in danger but also… compromise the secrecy of the magical world."

I frowned, still grappling with the enormity of the situation. "And what about my family? Are they in danger because of me?"

Professor Longbottom looked earnest, "We're here to protect both the magical and non-magical worlds. The steps we take will ensure their safety, but you must cooperate."

It was a lot to take in, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a web of magical complications beyond my understanding. "How do I even know you're not just manipulating me for some magical agenda?"

He met my gaze with a serious expression, "Trust needs to be earned, Carlos. I understand your scepticism, but I assure you, we're not your enemies."

I sighed, unsure of how to proceed. "So, what's the plan now? Am I supposed to go to this Hogwarts place?"

Professor Longbottom nodded, "Yes, attending Hogwarts is the first step. There, you'll receive guidance, and we can monitor and help you control your magical abilities."

"But what about this Obscurus thing? How do I stop it from taking over?" I asked, the fear of the unknown still lingering.

The professor hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Understanding the root of your suppression is crucial. It often involves confronting past experiences. We have experts at Hogwarts who can assist you."

I sighed.

"You saw how my father reacted today. How am I supposed to tell him all this?"

"Leave that to us. We can relay all this information for them, given proper timing." He assured me. "What we need you to do now, is to convince your father that it is essential for you to come to Hogwarts."

A mild look of desperation formed in my face. Convincing my father of anything was never an easy task. I took a deep breath, grappling with the weight of the situation. "How am I gonna make him understand all of this?" I questioned Professor Longbottom, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

The professor offered a reassuring nod. "It won't be easy, Carlos, but it's crucial. Your safety, as well as the safety of those around you, depends on it. We'll provide all the necessary information for your family, but your genuine conviction is what matters most."

"But why me? Why do I have to carry this burden?" I couldn't help but express my frustration. "I never asked for any of this, and now I'm supposed to convince my family that magic is real, Hogwarts exists, and I'm in danger of turning into some magical parasite?"

"Sometimes, fate thrusts responsibilities upon us, and we must face them," Professor Longbottom explained, his gaze unwavering. "You're not alone on this journey. We'll guide you every step of the way. It's about unlocking your potential, understanding your magic, and ensuring the safety of both worlds."

I sighed, resigned to the fact that my life had taken a turn I couldn't have anticipated. "Fine. I'll try. But what happens if I fail?"

"You won't fail, trust me." He held my shoulder earnestly. "In any case, we'll be there should you need any help. Is that alright?"

I nodded.

"Right. Let's get you home, shall we?" He offered.

We left the field quietly as the crickets chirped away through the night. Upon reaching the wooded path back to my house, the silence of our walk became unbearably awkward, so I decided to ask one final question.

"How did you guys find me, anyway?" I inquired.

"Through the Trace, of course!" He exclaimed.

"The Trace? What's that?"

"The Trace is the system that allows the ministry to keep tabs on underage wizards and witches and catalogue magical occurrences around them." He promptly explained.

"Wait, you guys spy on underage wizards??" I questioned rather indignantly.

"Oh no, not like that." He addressed. "It simply detects magical phenomena around a young wizard and tries to pinpoint who's responsible for it. That's as far as it goes."

"I see… but wait a minute," I stopped in my tracks. "I thought I had never displayed magic before today… how did your system find me then?"

"According to it, you did display magic yesterday." He uttered.

"Yesterday?" I asked as I resumed walking "But nothing unusual happened yesterday!"

"Are you sure of that? The system indicated a pretty significant magical manifestation." He explained.

"But… how?? Yesterday was my birthday, and that's about as different as it got…!"

"Was it now?" The Professor stopped walking for a moment. "Should have gotten you a present then."

"I'm serious. Nothing happened yesterday. Your system must be wrong." I implied.

"That's hardly the case." Longbottom disagreed. "The Trace has gone through numerous upgrades over the years, it's more reliable now than it's ever been."

"If you say so…"

We continued walking in silence for some more time, the night breeze blowing through his robes and my jacket, giving me a slight chill. Professor Longbottom then added:

"I was kinda like you, you know?" He said. "As in, nobody knew whether I was magical or not."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"As with most wizard families, mine always expected the offspring to inherit magic." He explained, "Often times it was a given, but in my case it took many years - and frankly, a lot of trauma - for them to finally realise I was magical."

I got curious at his assertion, "What did they do?"

"Well, they did try drowning me once…" he began. I looked at him dumbfounded, "but confirmation came when my Great-Uncle was holding me outside a window and 'accidentally' dropped me. Instead of hitting the ground, I bounced like a ball. A miracle in every sense of the word."

"They dropped you out of a window??" I repeated, flabbergasted.

"Like I said, magic tends to manifest in moments of danger or distress… my family simply chose to take that to its limit." He said as we arrived in Liddell Way, "Think you can take it from here?"

"Um, yeah, I can make it home…. Thanks for accompanying me, I suppose." I awkwardly thanked him, still horrified at his personal story.

"No need to thank me, take care of yourself!" He waved me goodbye. "And remember our agreement regarding the school."

"Right… have to figure that one out. Good night, I guess." I proceeded to part ways.

"Oh, Carlos, one more thing!" He asked me to stop, so I turned around to see him. "While you were holding the remembrall… what is it exactly that you saw?"

"Ah, it's… uh…" I hesitated. "... Not important, really."

Longbottom looked at me expectantly for a moment before saying. "Alright then. Good night to you."

And so I left him to walk towards my house, hoping my little escapade went unnoticed. Part of me still couldn't believe I left the house late at night to talk to a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Dad would kill me twice if he ever found out about this.

Upon reaching my bed, I kept thinking of ways to approach the Hogwarts conversation with him. I obviously couldn't do it while he was mad, so I'd have to wait a few days… or at least until I wasn't grounded anymore. Part of me regretted not telling Professor Longbottom about the strange dream I had and my vision on the remembrall, but I wouldn't know how to make sense of it.

Speaking of the dream, though…

I got up from bed and turned my table light on. Upon digging through my wardrobe, I retrieved my grandfather's book I had hidden in a panic hours earlier. The book was magical, I could tell that much, but what was it, really? How did my grandfather end up with it?

Was he also… a wizard?

I placed it upon my desk and flipped it open. As soon as I did, a message was displayed in one of the pages.

Welcome, Carlos.

I should not have been as surprised as I was to see it remembered me. Right underneath that, another message appeared.

Establishing connection to the Codex.

Awaiting response…

Codex? I remember hearing that world not long before I woke up. But why was it in my dream? And what did it have to do with the creation of Hogwarts? What was the Tomb of the Architect?"

A new message then appeared.

Connection to Codex failed.

What? What did it mean by that??

"Um… try again?" I muttered, hoping it was loud enough for the book to capture.

A previous message appeared.

Establishing connection to the Codex.

Awaiting response…

…

Connection to Codex failed.

I sighed. Whatever it was trying to do, it wasn't working. I closed the book in defeat. Unsure of what to do next. Even knowing everything I did now, I still felt more confused than ever. Why was all this happening to me? How am I gonna deal with it?

And what on earth is this Codex thing?

Chapter Text

The days dragged on in an agonising semblance of normalcy. No more breakfast mishaps, no bizarre incidents with car engines, and certainly no hostile trees. J, preoccupied with his German finals, remained blissfully unaware of the magical chaos that had engulfed our lives. I couldn't help but envy his ignorance.

In the midst of the uneasy calm, my parents were on edge, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension. As for me, confined to the confines of my room and grounded, I grappled with the looming conversation that needed to happen. Each creak of the floorboards and every distant argument in the house intensified my anxiety, a constant reminder of the storm brewing within my family.

I kept thinking about everything Professor Longbottom said - about me being on the early stages of developing an Obscurus - was it as serious as he made it out to be? For better or worse, I had to agree with my father: I was doing just fine before all of this began. If I really was suffering from a condition that could kill me, I'd be seeing signs of it, wouldn't I?

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I found myself drawn to my grandfather's book. I still didn't know what it truly was, or what's its purpose. The repeating message about the Codex persisted, a cryptic name that kept eluding me.

Establishing connection to the Codex.

Awaiting response…

…

Connection to Codex failed.

I groaned after about the fifth time this message appeared. What even is this Codex thing? Why is the book trying to connect to it?

“Hey!” I called, “What is this Codex?”

A message was displayed on the book:

Establishing connection to the Codex.

Awaiting response…

…

Connection to Codex failed.

“Why are you trying to connect to it?” I inquired further.

The following message was displayed on the page:

Establishing connection to the Codex.

Awaiting response…

…

Connection to Codex failed.

Frustration bubbled within me as the repeated attempts to connect to the mysterious Codex proved futile. I stared at the book, half-expecting it to offer some clarity, but it remained silent on the matter.

Does it even do anything else?

…

Does it do anything else?

I flipped through the book as if that would help me find something new, stopping around the first pages. As I scrutinized the initial pages, frustration gnawing at my nerves, I thought of what my next approach would be.

"What even are you?" I decided to ask.

I was expecting the same thing to happen yet again… but this time, only a single word was displayed on the book:

Grimoire.

“Grimoire?” I mumbled. "What's a Grimoire?"

Instead of answering my question, a new message was displayed on top of the page.

Table of Contents

Searching…

Table of Contents? Like, some sort of list? I expectantly awaited for something else to appear on the page when I heard a knock on my door. I quickly shut the book, not feeling an urge to hide it this time around.

"Come in!" I announced.

The door then opened to reveal the figure of my brother, J.

"Uncle William is here. He wants to see you." He relayed.

"See me…?" I responded, slightly taken aback. "Okay, um… tell him I'll go see him in a minute."

"Will do." He said, closing my bedroom door.

I sighed, unsure of what to feel or think. I really wasn't in the mood to see anybody, especially during punishment. I wasn't about to have a jolly conversation with my uncle after the whole magic fiasco.

… but I could ask him about the book.

I put on my blue cotton jacket and left my room, heading downstairs. Uncle William and my father seemed to have been finishing some conversation about politics, as I could hear a tinge of animosity while I headed down the stairs. I made it to the living room and saw everybody there. The place looked pristine, no signs that a magical tornado had ever passed.

"Hey Carlos, how's everything?" My uncle got up to greet me with his typical side-hug.

"Hi Uncle William, um… things are… going… somewhere." I replied with an excitement similar to that of a boulder.

"Are they now?" He chuckled. "Hopefully they're going somewhere good. How are you enjoying your birthday gift?"

"Yeah, about that…" I began, "Can we talk a bit about the book? I wanted to ask some questions."

"Sure thing Carlos, ask away!" He offered.

I looked around at the living room. My father was staring daggers at the two of us, mum was pretending to be busy by sipping her afternoon tea, and J was reading a book of his.

"... in private… would be best, I think." I awkwardly proposed.

"I mean sure, we could do that!" He promptly agreed.

And so we walked to the back garden, with me looking over my shoulder to make sure nobody was spying or listening in on us.

"Drawing any castles as of late?" He asked rather enthusiastically.

"Uh… no, unfortunately this hasn't really crossed my mind these last few days." I admitted.

"Oh, and why is that?" He asked in a tone of mild worry.

"It's… a little hard to explain." I dodged the question, unsure where to even begin. "I was… mostly curious as to what's the history behind the book that you gave me."

"I see. What exactly did you wanna know?" He questioned.

"First, I want to know how my grandfather got it." I began, "You said it was a family heirloom. Why is that?"

"Ah…. I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you on that front." He admitted. "I know very little of how your grandfather got most of his collection, the book included. He would mostly just return from voyages with some new trinkets, and wouldn't tell us much about them."

"Why would grandfather not tell you anything? If it's an heirloom, it should have some significance to the family, right?" I asked, wondering just how much my uncle was letting me in on.

"Well… it was certainly significant to him." He explained. "And to me that was enough justification to consider it an heirloom, which is why I passed it down to you. I hoped you would value it somewhat like your grandfather did."

I hesitated for a moment. What did he mean by valuing it like my grandfather? "You seem to have very fond memories of grandpa, but dad doesn't. What exactly happened between them?"

"Oh… it has more to do with what didn't happen between them." He began, slowly pacing back and forth. "Winston was rather attatched to your grandfather, but when it came to his work, he always kept everyone at an arm's length. He barely ever told us stories of his travels or what he did in them, always saying he 'didn't want to think about work at home'."

"But he'd be gone for a long time, wouldn't he? That's why dad is so bitter about him. He thinks he abandoned the two of you." I inferred.

"Exactly. And like I said, one day he never returned home." Uncle William reiterated. "As we didn't even know who it was he worked for, we had no way of reaching out to know what had happened. We were at a loss."

"Do you think he might have… died?" I wondered, concerned for how this question would be taken.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Even if we knew what happened, I think your father wouldn't have forgiven him. In a way, he resents our father's job for stealing him from us, but given he never knew who his employers were, that resentment was transferred over to your grandfather."

"I see. So the book you gave me, it was one of the… trinkets… he got in his travels?" I inquired. He nodded. "Have you ever noticed anything… different about it?"

"Different? In what sense?" Uncle William asked me to clarify.

"Well…" I held my breath, unsure how to explain it without sounding crazy. "You know, like... does it do anything strange?"

Uncle William chuckled, "Well, it's an old book. It doesn't do much to begin with."

"But what if it did do something?" I pressed.

"I'm not sure I follow…" He said, giving me a side glance.

"It has… things written on it." I exposed.

"Written on it? But I was sure it was blank when I gave it to you."

"Yeah, I thought so too, but…" I began, wiggling my way around the topic. "It said something about a… Codex, I believe?"

"What was that?"

"A Codex. Do you happen to know anything about it?" I asked.

"Hmm… I'm afraid I don't." He said, "Never came across that name. Are you sure you saw it in the book?"

"I'm positive. It… seemed like a fine print?" I lied, "I was hoping you would know something about it."

"Sorry to disappoint you." He apologized. "Is this all you wanted to know?"

"I mean…" I sighed in frustration. If not even Uncle William knew anything about that book and this Codex, then who did? "I just was wondering if it had anything to do with grandpa, is all."

"If it does, I have yet to learn about it." He explained, kneeling to my level. "But I commend you for taking an interest in your family history. He was a remarkable man in his own right…"

"How was he remarkable?" I pressed.

Uncle William hesitated for a bit. I could tell I touched on a delicate spot.

"Well… He certainly did have his accomplishments." He dodged the question. "So much so he considered his collection to be his trophies."

"Trophies? Trophies of what?" I asked.

"Of his many… adventures, let's put it that way."

"What kind of adventures?" I pressed further.

Uncle William pursed his lips with a look of worry. I was backing him into a corner.

"Like I said, he visited many historical sites… all those were adventures of his!" He omitted.

"But what about-"

"Oh, would you look at the time!" He pretended to look at his watch "I need to get going. See you later, Carlos!"

"Wait, Uncle William-"

"Good to know that you're enjoying your present. Be sure to tell me of anything new you draw, alright?" He spoke in a rush, turning around to leave.

"But I still-"

"I'll make sure to answer whatever questions you have another day, is that alright?" He hurried as he scurried off.

"BUT I KNOW ABOUT MAGIC!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the neighbourhood as birds flew away from nearby trees, scared by the sudden noise.

Uncle William froze as he reached the back door.

"And about Hogwarts too…" I completed.

He turned around to look at me, a peculiar mix of surprise and bewilderment written across his face.

"Carlos, where did you hear about this?" He asked in a serious tone.

Before I could answer, I saw my parents walk outside to the garden, likely attracted by me screaming.

"What's happening here?" Dad inquired, already impatient.

"Nothing, nothing!" Uncle William quickly deflected. "Carlos just saw a really big insect, didn't you Carlos?"

"Um… yeah?" I agreed, not wanting to get into any more trouble.

"Carlos, what did you tell him?" My father marched my way. "Answer me!"

"He said nothing I didn't already know about, Winston!" My Uncle defended me… wait, he already knew it?!

Dad shot him a bewildered look, "Are you telling me you already knew about all this… nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense, Winston. It's something deeply powerful that can't be ignored." Uncle argued.

I was flabbergasted. Uncle William knew about magic this whole time… and he never told us? What else was he not telling?

"Whatever this is, I've seen enough of it. Don't like it, don't want it in my household!" Dad dismissed.

"Winston, you can't deny Carlos the truth about our family-"

"The truth is that this nonsense has destroyed our family, and I won't let it happen again!" Dad shot back.

Wait a minute, again??

"So that means the two of you knew about magic? and everything else?" I questioned.

Dad shot my uncle one more angry glance before turning his eyes to me.

"To your room, boy. Now!" My father ordered.

"Yes, sir…!" I scurried off while looking down at the ground, avoiding contact with everyone.

I heard bickering coming from outside as I closed my bedroom door, afraid of what might come next. My parents definitely heard me scream the word "magic", along with the rest of the neighbourhood. The raised voices downstairs grew louder before eventually fading into an unsettling silence.

The night came along as I lay on my bed, mulling over the chaos I had unleashed in this household. A soft knock interrupted my thoughts, and the door creaked open. It was J.

"Hey, lil' bro. What happened down there?" he asked, stepping into the dimly lit room.

I sighed, struggling to find words. "I... I messed up, J. Big time."

"Why do you say that?" He said, coming over to my bed.

"I've… done and said things I shouldn't have." I omitted.

"No, you didn't?" He countered. "Really, you didn't. Mum and dad are just worried about you."

I turned my head to face him, "Did they tell you anything?"

"About the Hogwarts thing? I heard dad and Uncle William arguing about it." He told me.

"And about magic?" I tested the waters.

"Mmhmm. Though it wasn't exactly easy to believe." He admitted. "Do you want to go to this place?"

"It's not whether I want to go or not…" I sat up in bed. "I've been told that, if I don't go… bad things could happen."

"What sorts of bad things?" J asked inquisitively.

"They said that, if I don't learn to control magic, it could… control me instead," I rephrased, not wanting to reveal the Obscurus part, "and if that happened, I could hurt you, mum, dad, or myself."

"Then by all means, go!" He encouraged. "If you tell this to dad, I'm sure he'll understand."

"You saw how he reacted with Uncle William." I disagreed, "He's already on edge, and I don't want to push his buttons…"

"But if it's important to you, you have to fight for it!" J said, "Do you think opportunities like these come off easy? I'm having to juggle all sorts of things just to stay afloat in my current school. It's not ideal, but it's what I have to do."

I looked at him in defeat, "You know it's not the same…"

J sat down on the edge of the bed, contemplating my words. "Maybe not the same, but it sounds like you're dealing with something big. If this Hogwarts can help you, then you should go. Mum and dad will come around eventually."

"But what if they don't?" I asked, a knot tightening in my stomach.

J leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "You have to be persistent, Carlos. Explain it to them, make them see it's not just about what you want, but what you need. Sometimes people need a bit of time to understand things they're not familiar with."

"But they were familiar with it. Both of them. They knew about this magic thing and never told us…"

"They were just scared, Carlos. Scared of losing us too."

"Losing us too? What do you mean?" I asked.

"Did Uncle William not tell you about our grandfather?" He reminded me.

"Oh, right. He's scared I'm going to walk away like our grandfather did."

"He knows grandpa didn't just 'walk away'. Did you hear what they said downstairs?" My brother asked.

"No, I tried not to listen." I admitted.

"Our grandfather was also from this magical world, Carlos." J explained, confirming what I already suspected. "And he was much more than just an architect." 

"So grandpa was magical. Big deal. What does this have to do with him leaving?" I retorted.

"Dad thinks that magic took our grandfather away from him, and from us." J said. "He doesn't want the same to happen to you, or to any of us for that matter."

I sighed. I knew what he said made sense, but I was bitter about being thrust into this whole situation. I never asked for this.

"Listen, let's wait for him to calm down, then we'll come up with a plan, alright?" He proposed, getting up from my bed.

"Why do you want to help me?" I questioned.

"Well, because you're my brother… and I care about you." He replied with a soft smile.

I snorted, "Okay, now what's the real reason?"

J flashed a mischievous grin, "The real reason? Well, if you go to Hogwarts, you might bring me back a magical creature. A pet dragon, perhaps?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, "Come on now, dragons aren't a thing…"

"That Hogwarts pamphlet says otherwise…" He teased me. I glanced at him dumbfounded. "But seriously, Carlos, I just want you to be happy. If this Hogwarts thing is what you need, I'm here to support you. And who knows, maybe I'll learn a trick or two from my wizard brother."

I sighed, "I don't even know if I'm an actual wizard yet…"

"You'll figure it out, Carlos. Just give it time," J reassured me, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and determination.

And with that, we heard tapping coming from my window.

"What's that?" J asked.

"It's Trevor…" I said.

"Trevor?"

I got up from bed and pulled the curtains open to reveal Trevor, the owl, perched outside my window. It carried another letter.

"Is that an owl?" J asked as I opened the window to retrieve the envelope. Upon unfolding it, it read the following:

Carlos,

I hope this message finds you well. Due to Ministry demands, we'll need to pay another visit to your home tomorrow afternoon. I can't go into much detail, but suffice to say that the Ministry is worried your parents won't accept the Hogwarts offer.

I hope you were able to have a heart-to-heart conversation with your father. It is essential that you convince him that Hogwarts is a matter of necessity, not luxury. Now I don't mean to alarm you, but should he refuse the offer, the Ministry will take matters into their own hands, which could involve some dire consequences.

Best of luck to you,

Professor L.

I sighed as I felt the pressure fall on my shoulders once more. What did he mean by the Ministry taking matters into their own hands? Are we going to be criminals now?

"Who was it?" My brother asked.

"It's from Hogwarts. They said that I need to talk to dad ASAP because they're coming here tomorrow." I condensed the message to him.

"Then let's figure out a way to do that. Tonight. I got time!" He proposed rather enthusiastically.

I sighed, "Right, and it better be good."

And so, J and I spent the early evening concocting a plan to convince dad that I had to go to Hogwarts. It now seemed not only my life depended on it, but theirs too.

The tension at the dinner table was palpable that night. I avoided eye contact like the plague and kept my head down while I noticed dad was scanning us for… I don't know, misbehaviour? The clinking of cutlery against plates echoed through the room, each bite accompanied by an awkward silence. I glanced at J, exchanging a look that conveyed our shared discomfort.

Dad was focused on his food, occasionally stealing glances in our direction. Mum looked down the whole time, her posture reserved. After what felt like an eternity, I mustered the courage to break the silence. "Dad... can we talk after dinner? It's important."

He looked up from his plate, his gaze locking onto mine. "We're talking right now, aren't we?"

"No, I mean... alone. It's something I need to explain," I clarified, aware of the unease in my voice.

"No need to be alone. If you have something to say, say it right now." He challenged me.

Alright then, challenge accepted. I took a deep breath and spoke:

"Dad, we need to talk about grandpa." I dropped the bombshell.

He dropped his cutlery and gave me a stern gaze, "What is there to talk about?"

"I want to know what happened to him." I said. Dad let out a sceptical laugh.

"And what makes you think I know what happened to him, boy?" He retorted.

"You and Uncle William seem to know far more than what you're letting on. Don't you think it's time we learned the truth?" I appealed to him. He looked at me impatiently.

"You want to know the truth? Fine, here's the truth: your grandfather was a selfish man who cared more about travelling than taking care of his own family, and one day, he decided he had enough of us and walked away." He ranted, "And that's as far as I'm willing to go. Now, if you dare to ask-"

"Winston!" Mum interrupted him sternly, "Talk to your son properly!"

She gazed into my father's eyes with a firm gaze, holding her ground. He took a deep breath and leaned back on his seat, his arms folded. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"What do you know about our grandfather's trips abroad?" I asked.

"Very little. He only ever told us where he was going upon return, and even then would keep the details to himself. Would mention something about 'archaeological site' this, 'historical preservation' that, etc." He explained in a huff.

"But he did more than just that, didn't he?" I tested the waters for the big topic. "More than just historical preservation."

"If he did, he never told us about it. His secrecy is what tipped us off that there was something more to it." He explained.

"Then how did you figure out that he was… you know…?" I tried easing into the conversation.

Dad looked at me with an expression of frustration, taking a deep breath before responding. "He always tried hinting at it, hoping we'd piece it together eventually. One day, however, he sat us down and decided to let us in on this… magic… stuff because he expected 'something big' to happen."

"Something big?" I repeated. "like what?"

Dad gave me a side glance. "I knew about this school, kid, way back then. He was hoping that we'd turn out… like him." He spoke.

"You mean, like… magical?" I asked.

"Something like that, yes." He confirmed.

"And what happened after that?" I continued.

"Absolutely nothing." Dad said bitterly. "We never got called to this school thing, and as the years passed, our father became more and more distant from us."

"Distant? How so?" I pressed, thinking I might be reaching a point of no return.

Dad let out a sigh of defeat, "When I say he stopped caring about us, it's because he… did so, to some extent. He grew colder, harsher, sometimes even hostile towards us."

"Because you weren't like him?"

"From what I understand, it seems he never got over the fact we didn't inherit this magic stuff. He might as well have died of distaste." Dad said, now with a look of distaste himself.

"That's… awful." I gave him a sympathetic look. "He shouldn't have done that."

Dad kept staring down with his arms folded. He might as well have lost his appetite. "It seemed we had already lost our father by the time he was gone for good. With no way of tracing him, we were left to swallow his disappointment in us."

I stared at him for a moment. I wasn't expecting dad to get this vulnerable with me.

"And you're afraid I'm going to end up like him?" I asked.

"It's not that, it's just…" He sighed, taking his accounting glasses off. "I don't want to have you taken from me like he already was. It would be like losing him all over again."

"I'm not being taken away from you, Dad." I comforted him. "I'm just as scared as you are. But I'm going to need help navigating this."

"You don't have to navigate this!" He appealed. "You can have a normal life here, with us!"

"I… don't have a choice, dad." I spoke regretfully, "What you saw in the living room that day, it… could get worse. And if I don't learn to control it, I could hurt you, or mum, or even myself…"

"But aren't you controlling it right now?" He tried to reason with me.

"No, dad, suppression isn't control." I said. "I've kept this caged my whole life, and it's… starting to take a toll on me. I can't afford to do it for much longer… please." I pleaded.

Dad looked at me worryingly. I think he was finally starting to see what was at play here.

"You'd be giving up your life as you know it… going into a strange world where nobody knows you." He warned.

"I won't have to be alone if you guide me through it." I said. "Whatever I do, I need you and mum to be there for me. Is that not what grandpa would have wanted?"

He looked at me, a mix of defeat and compassion painted across his face. He was genuinely considering it.

"What would I have to do?" He asked.

"Professor Longbottom said they'll be here again tomorrow, with people from their Ministry." I told him. "They're expecting a final answer."

"Tomorrow's… too soon, Carlos." He shook his head in exhaustion.

"But it'll have to do." I said. "At least consider it until then."

He sighed one more time, staring at the void in front of him. Conflicted wouldn't probably describe how he's feeling right now.

"Winston…" Mum looked at him with pleading eyes. "... Do it for him."

Dad took a deep breath and unfolded his arms, as he was about to make a concession.

"We'll talk to them, alright?" He spoke. I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.

"That's… great!" I awkwardly responded. "Thank you, dad."

"Just promise me one thing…" he said.

"What is it?"

With a slight smirk in the corner of his mouth, he said, "Don't forget about your homework, will ya?"

I drew a soft smile, "Can't make promises."

And so we ended dinner on a much lighter note than what I was expecting. This wasn't a 'yes' but it was close enough for me to consider it a victory. Now, all I had to do was wait until tomorrow and hope for the best…

…Or at least that I'm not making a mistake.

I turned on my table light and stared at the closed Grimoire above my desk.

Let's see if I remember how to activate it…

"Draco… Dormiens… Nunquam… Titillandus…" I whispered to the book. A faint glow was projected from the clock mechanism in its cover, indicating the book had been activated.

I opened it and saw a familiar message displayed on the center of a page:

Welcome, Carlos.

Now it was time for me to delve deeper into its secrets.

"Table of contents." I spoke. Soon after, the book displayed this as a message on top of one page followed by 'Searching…' right underneath.

Instead of providing me with a list of content, the Grimoire simply displayed the message:

No records found. Create new section?

"Yes." I responded. The message faded with yet another prompt:

Name new section:

I thought for a bit in what I could call this new section, whatever it was. I landed on a name that had been very pertinent to me the last few days:

"Hogwarts." I said.

With that, the prompt faded and the word 'Hogwarts' preceded by a right-pointing arrow was displayed on top of the page.

It was waiting for input.

"Let's see…" I mused for a bit, "What is Hogwarts?"

And so, information was displayed below the school name:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a school of sorcery located in Scotland, hidden from the non-magical world by ancient, powerful enchantments. It was founded around 990 a.d. by four powerful witches and wizards: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. The school is known for its four houses, each bearing the name of its founder. Students are sorted into houses upon their arrival, and throughout seven years, they learn all manner of magical knowledge.

"Ah, so you do have content." I said defiantly. "It just takes some digging…"

A new message was displayed under the text:

Expand?

"Yes, expand." I confirmed.

A list of topics materialised below the first text:

• History;
• Founders;
• Houses;
• Subjects;
• Academic Records;
• Castle and Grounds;

So there's even more to be found?

"Uhh… History?" I said, unsure of which topic to choose from.

And so, the list of topics disappeared and new text formed below the introduction:

A millennium ago, hidden atop the Scottish highlands, four great sorcerers settled and built a place to ensure the safety and education of all magic wielders of Great Britain for centuries to come: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The founders, famously known as Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin, were amongst some of the most powerful wizards of their time. Having spent their lifetimes in pursuit of a thorough understanding of magic and all of its properties, they coalesced with a skilled Wizard Architect to design a great fortress that would serve not only the purpose of training generations of highly skilled sorcerers for centuries to come, but also of preserving all the knowledge they've acquired as part of their legacy.

It is rumoured that this knowledge went far beyond the scope of magic commonly experienced by contemporary wizard folk, with some claims that go as far as to say they were capable of fundamentally altering the reality surrounding them, sometimes in ways that seemed incomprehensible. Said rumours have led to centuries of speculation over just what kind of power these figures wielded, many having attempted to trace this information back to all the places known to have been visited or lived in by these sorcerers. No place, however, is as elusive as Hogwarts Castle itself. Despite its age, the school is famous for its ever changing nature both in and out of itself, a feat that very few magical structures have achieved. Indeed, the complex behavioural patterns displayed by the castle, at times mirroring the likes of a living entity, suggests this mysterious architect was not only exceptionally methodical in his craft, but also considerably well versed in a kind of transfiguratory structural magic which, as of today, very little is known of.

The architecture of Hogwarts Castle stands as a testament to the collaborative efforts of the four founders and the enigmatic Wizard Architect. Built on the highest peaks of the Scottish highlands, the castle's location was carefully chosen to conceal it from the non-magical world, shrouded in ancient enchantments that continue to safeguard its secrets.

Godric Gryffindor, known for his valour and prowess in magical duels, contributed to the defensive structures of the castle. The towering Gryffindor Tower, with its vigilant stone gargoyles and secret passages, reflects his dedication to ensuring the safety of Hogwarts and its inhabitants. The enchanted entrance to Gryffindor Tower, guarded by the legendary Fat Lady, exemplifies the intricate and magical nature of the fortress.

Helga Hufflepuff, celebrated for her nurturing and inclusive spirit, played a vital role in designing the expansive kitchens and Hufflepuff common room. The underground passages that connect Hogwarts to Hogsmeade village bear her mark, providing discreet pathways for students and staff alike. The Hufflepuff common room, adorned with earthy tones and located near the Hogwarts kitchens, epitomises the warmth and hospitality associated with Helga Hufflepuff.

Rowena Ravenclaw, revered for her intellectual prowess, shaped the castle's libraries and classrooms. The grandeur of the Hogwarts Library, with its towering shelves filled with countless magical tomes, pays homage to Ravenclaw's commitment to knowledge. The ever-changing staircases, a hallmark of Hogwarts, reflect the cleverness and adaptability that characterise the legacy of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Salazar Slytherin, known for his cunning and resourcefulness, left an indelible mark on the dungeons and the Chamber of Secrets. The hidden and serpentine layout of the Slytherin common room beneath the Black Lake embodies Slytherin's affinity for secrecy and the art of subtlety. The Chamber of Secrets, an ancient and mysterious chamber linked to the heart of Hogwarts, serves as a reminder of Slytherin's belief in the purity of wizarding blood.

The collaboration with the mysterious Wizard Architect is veiled in secrecy, leaving scholars and historians intrigued by the elusive nature of this figure. The castle's dynamic behaviour and ability to adapt to the needs of its occupants suggest an unparalleled mastery of structural magic. Theories abound regarding the potential influence of this Wizard Architect on the castle's sentient and ever-changing characteristics, raising questions that continue to elude definitive answers.

The legacy of Hogwarts Castle extends beyond its physical structures, encompassing the extensive curriculum and magical knowledge imparted within its walls. The dedication of the founders and the enigmatic architect to magical education and preservation have left an enduring impact on the wizarding world, solidifying Hogwarts as an institution that stands at the forefront of magical excellence for generations to come.

Source: BAGSHOT, Bathilda. Hogwarts, a History, pages 3-4. Latest edition and revision by MURTLOCK, Rudolph.

So that’s… interesting.

I couldn’t say I was exactly fascinated because it was late in the evening and my nerves were through the roof thinking of tomorrow’s visit by Hogwarts and Ministry staff. So this book either contained information about what Hogwarts is or was able to directly reference other texts. Almost like an… encyclopaedia?

Is that what a Grimoire is?

I thought the text was done by then, but a new message materialised under the text.

A latest appendix to this chapter has been found. Append?

I was confused by that question. An appendix was added to a chapter of a book that’s already written?

“Uh… Yes, append?” I confirmed.

New text followed:

That is to say, it wouldn't take a highly educated guess to infer that such a castle, in all its intricacies and uncanny features, could potentially hold many of the secrets left by the founders, including those pertaining to knowledge of ancient magic. Many attempts were made throughout history to uncover some trace of the castle's hidden history, with varying degrees of success. That is, however, until a rather recent breakthrough was made by the renowned Curse-Breaker Rudolph Murtlock. Upon reviewing prior research on the history of Hogwarts, Mr. Murtlock focused his efforts on a figure largely ignored throughout all literature: The castle's architect. To him, such an oversight regarding the very wizard responsible for planning and building the fortress was not only a severe blind spot for previous researchers, but likely not a coincidence either. Indeed, very few references are made regarding the existence of this unnamed individual in the related literature, yet an extensive overview of records related to famous wizard architects of the middle ages led Mr. Murtlock to a very promising find: The discovery of the Architect’s tomb.

Rudolph Murtlock's meticulous research into the history of Hogwarts led him to a breakthrough in the form of an overlooked tomb belonging to the elusive Architect. Located in a hidden crypt deep within the Castle, the tomb bore intricate engravings and symbols that hinted at the Architect's proficiency in both conventional magic and an esoteric understanding of structural enchantments. The tomb's inscriptions suggested that the Architect played a crucial role not only in the physical construction of Hogwarts but also in imbuing the castle with magical properties that surpassed the knowledge of their time. The arcane nature of these enchantments hinted at the involvement of ancient and potent magical practices, sparking the author's curiosity about the extent of the Architect's abilities.

Through a careful examination of archival manuscripts and tomes, Murtlock has managed to unearth a series of coded correspondences between the founders and this elusive architect. These correspondences, written in a cryptic language that combined runic symbols with an arcane script, suggested a profound collaboration that extended beyond conventional magical architecture. One recurring motif in these coded messages hinted at a deeper understanding of magic, one that surpassed the ordinary bounds of wizardry. The architect, though unnamed, was revealed to be a master of structural enchantments, capable of imbuing the very stones of Hogwarts with a dynamic, living essence. It became evident that the castle itself was a manifestation of the architect's profound grasp of magical theory and his commitment to preserving the founders' accumulated wisdom.

The author's research also pointed to the architect's intentional concealment within the historical records. It appeared that the founders, recognising the potency of the knowledge embedded within the castle's structure, took deliberate measures to safeguard the identity and contributions of this wizardly craftsman. The rationale behind such secrecy remained speculative, yet it was plausible that the architect's methods and insights into ancient magic were considered too potent for casual scrutiny.

As Curse-Breaker Murtlock unravelled the intricacies of the architect's work, he proposed a bold theory suggesting that the castle's dynamic nature, its ability to adapt and evolve, pointed towards there being a remnant of the Founders’ - or perhaps the Architect’s - essences imbued within the castle itself, a form of structural magic seldom comprehended in contemporary wizardry. This groundbreaking hypothesis fuelled renewed interest in Hogwarts' hidden history and the potential reservoir of magical knowledge that lay dormant within its walls.

The pursuit of understanding this elusive architect and the secrets woven into the very fabric of Hogwarts had opened a new chapter in magical scholarship. The legacy of Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, and their unnamed collaborator seemed destined to captivate the imagination of generations to come, inviting both admiration and scholarly curiosity as the enchanting mysteries of Hogwarts Castle continued to unfold.

Source: BAGSHOT, Bathilda. Hogwarts, a History, pages 4-5. Latest edition and revision by MURTLOCK, Rudolph.

The Architect’s Tomb…

This can’t be a coincidence. Both the dream and the remembrall vision focused a lot on the discovery of this tomb. But why was I getting glimpses of it? What did it have to do with me?

“Um… return?” I asked, hoping the book would understand my command. Thankfully, it did.

The list of topics from earlier appeared once again below the introduction:

• History;
• Founders;
• Houses;
• Subjects;
• Academic Records;
• Castle and Grounds;

“Let’s see now… how about houses?” I suggested.

The book complied. New text was displayed on the page:

The Gryffindor House, founded by the esteemed Godric Gryffindor, epitomizes the virtues of courage, chivalry, and daring. Its emblematic animal, the lion, symbolizes strength and bravery, reflecting the house's ethos. Students sorted into Gryffindor are known for their boldness, willingness to confront challenges head-on, and their commitment to justice. The house encourages a sense of camaraderie and instills a fervent desire to stand up for what is right. Gryffindor's common room, situated in Gryffindor Tower, boasts a warm and inviting atmosphere, fostering an environment conducive to forging lasting friendships among its members.

Helga Hufflepuff's eponymous house, Hufflepuff, stands as a bastion of inclusivity, hard work, and fair play within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The badger, a resilient and industrious creature, serves as the house's emblem, embodying the values of tenacity and loyalty. Hufflepuff prides itself on embracing students with diverse talents and backgrounds, fostering a strong sense of community. The house's common room, located near the Hogwarts kitchens, exudes an earthy warmth and promotes a culture of collaboration. Hufflepuff encourages its members to cultivate their unique strengths and contribute positively to the wizarding world through dedication and diligence.

Founded by the insightful Rowena Ravenclaw, the Ravenclaw house celebrates wisdom, intellect, and a pursuit of knowledge. The house emblem, the eagle, signifies sharpness of mind and a soaring intellect. Ravenclaw House is home to students known for their thirst for learning, creativity, and critical thinking. The Ravenclaw common room, perched high within Ravenclaw Tower, offers breathtaking views of the Hogwarts grounds, creating an inspirational ambiance. Academic excellence is highly prized in Ravenclaw, and its members are encouraged to explore the depths of magical lore and broaden their intellectual horizons.

Salazar Slytherin's house is synonymous with ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. The serpent, emblematic of Slytherin, embodies traits of shrewdness and adaptability. Slytherin House attracts students with a penchant for leadership, a strategic mindset, and an innate drive for success. The common room, concealed beneath the Black Lake, exudes an aura of mystery and exclusivity. Slytherin encourages its members to cultivate their unique talents, fostering a strong sense of ambition and a dedication to achieving their goals, even if it involves navigating the complex intricacies of the wizarding world.

Each of these houses contributes to the rich tapestry of Hogwarts, embodying a unique set of values and principles that guide its members on their magical journey. The Sorting Hat, a venerable artefact imbued with the wisdom of the founders, plays a pivotal role in sorting students into the houses that align with their core characteristics and aspirations.

I slowly began realising that the Grimoire contained information that, from this point forward, would likely be vital for me. Given I knew nothing of the magical world, I could at least step into it knowing something.

Speaking of magical world,

“Return to… main menu?” I commanded, hoping the book would pick up the language. Upon understanding my command I followed it with: “Create new section. Name it ‘Wizarding World’”.

The book complied and a new section appeared right below that of Hogwarts.

Following that, I requested: “Tell me everything there is to know about the magical world.”

Unlike what I expected, instead of simply displaying a few texts on the pages, the book flipped through itself rapidly as walls of text materialised upon its old yellow pages.

“Whoa!” I muttered, “Okay now, book, let’s take it easy. One thing at a time.”

And so, I found myself with a lot of reading to do. What compelled me to get through it was my drive to not make a fool of myself in front of anybody tomorrow, as I didn’t know what the meeting with the ministry people would encompass. I did, however, know that, with this book, I could perhaps be on par with a student from the magical world…

… if not better.

The four of us sat expectantly in the living room, awaiting that dreaded doorknock that would likely change our lives forever… or at least my life. Dad was waiting quietly with his arms folded. Mum had just brought some hot tea to serve the guests, and J, the chillest of all of us, was reading a book of his while listening to its audiobook on his earbuds. I, on the other hand, was the sleepiest of us, given I'd barely gotten any sleep the night before due to anxiety and curiosity at what information the book had to offer me.

Despite my modest success in conversing with my father the night before, I still felt dreadful about things. The minutes dragged on like heavy chains, the suspense hanging thick in the air. I glanced at the beckoning cat statue, its ticking amplifying the tension. Finally, the anticipated knock echoed through the house, a harbinger of the impending conversation with the representatives from the magical world. My heart raced as Mum rushed to open the door.

This time it was the two fedora-wearing gentlemen, robed in deep blue with official emblems, that greeted us at the door with solemn expressions, Professor Longbottom and Headmistress McGonagall standing behind. The lead wizard, an older man with grizzled hair and a stern demeanour, took off his hat and stepped forward.

"Good evening, Ms. Edward. I am Auror Roland, and this is Commissioner Larkin. We’ve met on a previous occasion, though we skipped introductions." He spoke, gesturing towards the younger robed man by his side. "May we come in?"

Mum nodded, and the four of them were ushered into the living room. This time, the Auror and Commissioner sat down instead of Longbottom and McGonagall, who stood behind them. Auror Roland surveyed the room, his eyes settling on me with a calculating gaze. "So… Carlos, is it?" he asked.

I nodded nervously, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. Mum handed them cups of tea, a small attempt to ease the tension that lingered in the room.

"Let's get straight to the point," Auror Roland began. "The two of us are hereby representing the Magical Family Registry, an official organ of the Ministry of Magic responsible for tracking magical lineages. We're here to discuss your acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Dad's gaze hardened, but he remained silent. Commissioner Larkin leaned forward, a more empathetic expression on his face. "Carlos, we understand this is a lot to take in. Your father has some concerns, and we are here to address them."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, glancing at Dad, who hadn't taken his eyes off the wizards. "I know this is unconventional, but magic is indeed real, and Hogwarts can provide Carlos with the education and guidance he needs to navigate it safely," Commissioner Larkin explained.

Dad finally spoke, his voice a mix of frustration and apprehension. "I understand that, I'm just not convinced that sending my son off to some magical school is the right solution."

My stomach dropped for a moment, thinking all the effort I made the night prior had gone down the drain.

Auror Roland leaned forward, his eyes locked with my father's, "Mr. Martin, the magical community has its own set of rules and dangers. Without proper training, Carlos might unintentionally put himself and others at risk."

"What sort of risk?" Dad inquired.

Auror Roland took a measured breath before responding, "Uncontrolled magical outbursts, accidental spells, and the risk of exposure to magical creatures are just a few examples. Without guidance, Carlos might struggle to manage his abilities, which could lead to unpredictable consequences."

Dad's expression remained stern, but I could sense a flicker of concern beneath the surface. "And what if he doesn't want to go to this Hogwarts place? Can't we find another way to deal with this magic issue without uprooting his life?"

Commissioner Larkin spoke up, "We understand this is a significant decision, Mr. Martin. However, Hogwarts isn't just a school; it's a place where young witches and wizards learn to control their magic safely. The magical world is integrated into our society, and without proper training, Carlos might inadvertently find himself in situations that pose a risk to him and others."

Dad's jaw tensed, his frustration evident. "I just want my son to have a normal life. How do I know this won't change him or take him away from us?"

Professor Longbottom, who had been observing silently until now, stepped forward. "Mr. Martin, we recognise your concerns, and we're not here to force anything upon Carlos. However, suppressing his magical abilities could lead to more significant issues. What you've experienced that day was only a fraction of what could happen should his magic remain uncontrolled. Hogwarts is not only a school but a community where he can learn to embrace and understand who he is."

I sat there, absorbing the weight of their words, caught between the desire for a normal life and the looming uncertainty of my magical abilities. Dad's gaze softened momentarily, a struggle evident in his eyes. "Carlos, what do you think?" he asked, shifting the weight of the decision onto my shoulders.

"What do I think…?” I asked impulsively, both as a confirmation of the question being asked and as a question to myself. Taking a deep breath, I began, "Dad, I don't want this any more than you do. But after what happened, I can't ignore the fact that there's something… different… about me, something I can't control. I'm scared, not just for me, but for all of you. If Hogwarts can help me understand and control this... magic, then maybe it's worth considering."

Auror Roland nodded approvingly, sensing a potential breakthrough. Commissioner Larkin added, "Mr. Martin, it's crucial that Carlos makes this decision for himself. Hogwarts offers a unique environment for magical education, and it's not about changing who he is but helping him navigate a part of himself that he can't ignore."

Dad sighed, his gaze shifting from me to the wizards. "I just want what's best for him."

Professor Longbottom spoke again, "Mr. Martin, we respect your concerns, and the decision ultimately lies with Carlos. If he chooses to attend Hogwarts, we assure you that he will receive the support and education needed to keep both him and those around him safe."

A heavy silence settled in the room as my family awaited my decision. The cat statue's ticking seemed louder than ever, a rhythmic reminder of the choices before me.

"Okay. I'll go," I finally said, feeling a mix of determination and uncertainty.

Dad's eyes betrayed a blend of relief and concern. "Are you sure about this, Carlos?"

"No, I'm not… but I can't wait until I am." I justified myself, hoping it would be enough for them.

The wizards exchanged glances, seemingly satisfied with my decision. Commissioner Larkin smiled reassuringly, "Mr. Edward, this is a significant step, and we appreciate your willingness to embrace this opportunity. We'll work closely with you and your family to ensure a smooth transition into the magical world."

I nodded, still uncertain about the path ahead. Auror Roland leaned back in his chair, a stern expression lingering. "We'll make the proper arrangement for your departure to Hogwarts, when September rolls around. There are essential supplies you'll need to acquire before the school term begins."

Mum spoke up, her tone a mix of worry and acceptance, "What about his current school? How will this affect his education here?"

Professor Longbottom addressed her concerns, "Rest assured, Mrs. Edward, we will make arrangements to integrate Carlos's magical education seamlessly with his non-magical studies. Hogwarts accommodates a comprehensive curriculum to ensure a well-rounded education."

Dad remained silent, his gaze fixed on me. J, who had been quietly observing, took out his earbuds and looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and support. "You're going to be a wizard, Carlos," he remarked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied, a small smile breaking through the tension.

Auror Roland stood up, putting on his hat. "We'll be in touch with the details. Expect another visit soon for the necessary arrangements."

As the wizards made their way to the door, Headmistress McGonagall spoke for the first time, her stern demeanour softening, "Hogwarts welcomes you, Mr. Edward. You have a place among us."

With a final nod, they exited the living room, leaving my family and me in a state of contemplation. Mum took a deep breath, "This is a lot to take in, but we'll support you, Carlos."

Dad sighed, "Just promise me you'll stay connected with us, no matter what."

"I promise, Dad," I assured him, realising the weight of the journey that lay ahead.

As the door closed behind the wizards, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity lingered in the air. Before we could notice the cat's ticking was gone, however, a soft, high pitched meow was heard coming from the living room.

"What?" I mumbled, confused by the noise.

Upon returning to the living room, the three of us saw the cat statue had now returned to its animated form, sitting on the coffee table and staring at us with a curious gaze.

"Oh yeah, the cat just did that…" J said from his armchair without taking his eyes off his book, seemingly unfazed by the extraordinary, "I assume things like these are going to be the norm from now on."

So yeah… that just happened.

Now what?

Chapter Text

The days stretched out like endless corridors, each step carrying the weight of my decision. Things at home just weren’t the same, they couldn’t be. An unspoken tension hung in the air, altering the dynamics that once felt familiar. The atmosphere was different, and so were the looks my family exchanged. But the real struggle was trying to balance my normal school responsibilities with the impending shift to the magical world. Coming back from Easter Break, homework and exams became a relentless challenge as my mind frequently drifted to the unknown path that lay ahead.

The now bewitched golden cat statue from the living room strutted around the house, like a toddler first exploring the world around them. Mum absolutely hated it, and would recurrently curse McGonagall for giving it life, or whatever this was. I kinda liked it though.

I named it Auric.

One evening, as I tried to focus on my maths homework, J walked into my room, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Hey, little wizard-to-be, struggling with non-magical equations?"

I snorted, grateful for the break from the monotony of numbers. "It's just hard to concentrate when there's so much up ahead waiting for me."

J sat on the edge of my bed, looking at me with a mix of understanding and curiosity. "I get it. But you can't let your regular studies slide. Hogwarts might teach you magical stuff, but you'll still need the basics."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, glancing at the stack of textbooks that seemed to mock me.

"Look, I'm not the study guru, but maybe I can help with something. What's the most challenging part?" J offered, genuinely trying to assist.

I considered his offer, realising that the real challenge wasn't the subject matter but the constant distraction. "It's not the maths or the history; it's the fact that I'll be leaving this life behind a couple months from now. It's hard to focus."

J nodded, acknowledging the emotional turmoil. "It's okay, Carlos. Hogwarts will be there, but so will this world. You're not leaving everything behind; you're just expanding your horizons."

"There's only so much horizon one can see at once…" I responded, unsure of what I truly meant by that.

J leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "True, but sometimes you need to step into the unknown to discover new horizons. Hogwarts could be that uncharted territory for you, a place where you find out more about yourself."

I sighed, closing my maths book and leaning back on my chair. "I just wish everything could stay the same. No magic, no Hogwarts, just a normal life."

He chuckled, "Normal is overrated, little brother. Besides, who defines what's normal anyway? Life throws curveballs, and Hogwarts might just be the curveball you didn't know you needed."

I shrunk in my seat after a damning thought, "What if I fail at it? Magic, I mean…"

J leaned forward, his expression now more serious. "Failure is a part of learning, Carlos. You might not get everything right at first, but that doesn't mean you're a failure. Hogwarts is there to teach and guide you. You'll have professors, friends, and a whole community to support you."

I sighed, the weight of uncertainty settling on my shoulders. "What if my magical abilities are too much to handle? What if I end up hurting someone?"

J placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You've got to trust yourself, Carlos. And trust that the people at Hogwarts know what they're doing. They wouldn't accept you if they didn't believe you could learn and control your magic. It's a journey, and you won't be alone."

His words resonated with a mix of comfort and challenge. "I just wish Dad could see it that way. He's worried about losing me, about things changing too much."

"Change is scary, especially the unknown kind," J acknowledged. "But sometimes, change is what helps us grow. Your life might take a different path, but it doesn't mean you're leaving everything behind. You'll always be a part of this family, Hogwarts or no Hogwarts."

I appreciated J's attempt to ease my concerns. "What about Mum and Dad? They've been acting differently since the wizards visited."

"It's a big adjustment for them too, Carlos. Imagine finding out that magic is real and your son is a wizard. They'll come around; they just need time to process everything. You should talk to them, share your feelings. It might help."

"I guess so…" I looked down, dreading having to start yet another conversation with them about this matter.

Auric, the cat statue, chose that moment to stroll into my room, its magical movements resembling a feline dance. J grinned, pointing at it, "At least you've got a magical companion to keep you company in the meantime."

I chuckled, appreciating the distraction. "Yeah, Auric seems to enjoy causing chaos. Maybe he's practising some magical mischief from McGonagall."

J laughed, and for a moment, the weight of my upcoming journey seemed lighter. As he left my room though, I couldn't shake the unease about the impending changes. The magical world awaited, and my family stood at the crossroads of acceptance and uncertainty. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to find the courage to face the challenges that lay ahead.

The days then turned into weeks, with periodic check-ins by the ministry folk and the occasional letter from Professor Longbottom asking how I'm doing. Although I didn't need to respond, I started making it a habit of returning the letters Trevor brought me, even though I never felt entirely honest in how I expressed myself within them. It always seemed like I was neglecting something, something vital.

In my downtime, however, I'd explore the Grimoire. As soon as I felt tired of exploring the history of Hogwarts, I decided to delve a bit into that of the Wizarding World itself. As I expected, it was… complicated. Not only because it was deeply intertwined with non-magical historical events, but also because it featured many dubious figures whose legacies resulted in widespread devastation, such as that of Salazar Slytherin himself. The Grimoire, thankfully, did not shy away from laying his views on blood purity bare for me to judge.

Witch hunts and magical creature rebellions aside, my main interest circled around recent historical events, as I was interested to see how it connected to our world. Frankly, I was rather disappointed to see just how little overlap between muggle and wizard technology there was. Inventions such as electricity, electronics and digital media were seemingly incompatible with magic as a whole. It seemed the wizarding world had forged its own path, detached from the rapid advancements of the non-magical realm.

I delved deeper into the recent magical past, tracing the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War and Voldemort's rise to power. The narratives were both enlightening and unsettling. The sacrifices made by wizards and witches in the fight against darkness echoed through the pages, yet the scars of war lingered, etched into the collective memory of the magical community. Names such as that of Harry Potter were mentioned frequently throughout the pages, as he was apparently the "Chosen one", whatever that means.

All this exploration led me to discover even more functionalities within the book. Apparently, by pressing on terms or concepts that confused me, such as that of a "muggle", the book would then redirect me to a text that explained that concept in detail, followed by its origins and referenced content. It was almost like a hyperlink. Furthermore, pictures started appearing in the book… moving pictures! Whether they were paintings, engravings or photographs, almost all of them had some sort of animation within.

Days and Nights would pass and I would find myself returning to the same paragraphs, over and over again, as if I expected something to change. At times, I would get so caught up in my own inspiration that I'd stop reading, walk around my room and repeat some excerpts to myself, as if to let them sink in. It almost seemed like I was avoiding or even running away from the book, but it was a rather usual occurrence for me. Sometimes I just need to zone out and process what I read.

J was the only one with whom I'd talk to about these things, as he seemed to be the only one who had a tad bit of interest in them. Mum and Dad, on the other hand, were always so caught up in work or daily life that they'd never absorb even basic information. In truth, I think they were avoiding the topic of magic as much as possible. Eventually, I decided not to bother them with it.

As my finals approached, I struggled to divert my attention from the captivating tales within the Grimoire. The mundane subjects felt like distant echoes compared to the magical symphony beckoning me. The consequence of my divided focus manifested in my academic performance – the marks that once reflected diligence now bore the imprint of magical distraction. Thankfully though, it wasn't enough to alert my parents that something was going on, so my distraction went under the radar.

The regular check-ins from the Ministry and Professor Longbottom continued, providing a recurring reminder of the magical world awaiting me. Eventually, amidst summer holidays, a new letter was sent to me with an invitation to a place called…

"Diagon Alley, is it?" Dad questioned, scanning the letter with his eyes while Mum and J listened. "And did they care to tell where it is?"

"According to them, it's in London… and that's as specific as it gets." I replied shyly, slightly embarrassed at my lack of information.

"Right, and they expect us to find this place how, exactly?" Dad inquired further, turning his eyes to me. "It's not really something I can find on Google now, is it?"

"The letter says they'll guide us there." I answered.

"I don't see how. If as many people as I think are going, I won't be able to take you all in one car." Dad argued.

"Yeah, they didn't specify how we'd get there. They just ended the message with 'keep an eye on the fireplace'..." I recalled, scratching my head. "You don't think they…?"

And as if on cue, our living room fireplace suddenly lit up with tall, emerald green flames. One by one, Auror Roland, Commissioner Larkin, Professor Longbottom and Headmistress McGonagall crouched out of it, the flames subsiding right after. We just stared at them dumbfounded as they wiped their robes clean.

"Ah, yes, sorry about that." Professor Longbottom announced, straightening his robes with a confident air. Auror Roland and Commissioner Larkin mirrored the sentiment, seemingly unperturbed by their unconventional entrance. McGonagall, however, maintained a serene yet stern pose.

Dad's jaw hung slightly agape as he processed the sudden appearance of magical officials in our living room. Mum exchanged an uneasy glance with J, who sported an expression oscillating between curiosity and amusement. I, too, was caught off guard, despite my growing familiarity with magical occurrences.

Auror Roland, unfazed by our bewilderment, extended a parchment toward Dad. "Good morning, Mr. Martin. This is your family's Floo Network pass for the journey. Diagon Alley awaits, and we're here to assist you in getting there."

"You… really couldn't use the door, could you?" Dad commented, exasperated.

"And where's the fun in that?" Professor Longbottom countered with a smirk. "Either way, we really should get going, stores tend to get packed at this time of the morning."

"Wait, you mean for us to go right now??" Dad inquired, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, why not? It's a quick trip anyway." Said Longbottom. "Though I would prepare a few bags if I were you, we'll have things to carry."

"Things to carry? What, are we going shopping now?" Dad questioned.

"Precisely, Mr. Martin. Knowing the first experience in Diagon Alley can be quite daunting to those new to our world, we are here to assist you in purchasing the required materials for Carlos' school year." McGonagall explained.

Dad, with a shake of his head to pay attention once more, eyed the parchment cautiously, taking a moment before accepting it. "Floo Network, huh? Is that even safe?"

Professor Longbottom stepped forward, offering an assuring smile. "Perfectly safe, Mr. Martin. The Floo Network is a magical transportation system. Once you step into the fireplace and state your destination clearly, the enchanted flames will transport you to Diagon Alley. It's a well-established means of travel in the wizarding world."

Dad raised an eyebrow, still sceptical. "So, we just step into the fire and say 'Diagon Alley'? Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

Commissioner Larkin chuckled, "Rest assured, Mr. Martin, thousands of wizards use the Floo Network daily without mishap. It's one of the safest ways to travel magically. But to address your concern, Professor Longbottom and I will accompany you to ensure a smooth journey."

Mum, regaining some composure, interjected, "But what about Junior and Carlos? Are they coming too?"

Commissioner Larkin nodded, "Indeed, the whole family is invited. Diagon Alley is not only an essential part of the preparation for the school year, but also where most non-magical family members have their first contact with the wizarding world."

J, who had been observing the exchange with a mix of bemusement and curiosity, finally spoke up. "So, we're stepping into the fire, and poof, we're in this Diagon Alley place?"

Professor Longbottom chuckled, "Well, 'poof' might not be the most accurate description, but essentially, yes."

And so we gathered some backpacks in order to carry the books and trinkets we were about to buy. I decided to take the grimoire with me in case I saw something I wanted to document or learn more about. After all, that was the first time I was stepping into this magical world, and I wanted to make sure to familiarise myself with it as much as I could.

We all regrouped at the living room once we were ready. Dad sighed, glancing between us and the wizards. "I never thought I'd be taking magical transportation in my life, but here we are. Carlos, Junior, are you ready for this?"

I shared a nod with J, acknowledging the surreal nature of the moment. "Ready as I'll ever be."

That usually meant not ready at all.

Professor Longbottom then gestured towards the fireplace. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Martin."

With a handful of a grey powder one of them had on their pockets, they tossed it into the fireplace and reignited the emerald green fire. The green flames danced, flickering with an otherworldly energy that both fascinated and unnerved me.

Dad, still holding the Floo Network pass with a mix of scepticism and curiosity, took a deep breath. "Alright, here goes nothing."

He approached the fireplace, glancing at us one last time. "Diagon Alley," he declared with a hint of uncertainty. And with that, he stepped into the flames. We watched in astonishment as Dad was engulfed by the green flames and disappeared, leaving us momentarily in suspense.

Moments later, his voice echoed from within the fireplace, "I… I think it worked!"

J and I exchanged glances, the reality of our magical journey sinking in. The wizards and Mum followed suit, and it was our turn. I took a steadying breath and walked towards the fireplace. "Diagon Alley," I said, hoping I'd pronounced it correctly.

The moment I entered the flames, it felt like being caught in a whirlwind of colours and sensations. The world twisted around me, and a rush of warm air swept through. In the blink of an eye, the emerald flames subsided, and I found myself standing in a completely different setting. I was in what seemed like a pub, with dark wood flooring and crude masonry walls bearing some early-1900s paintings, though it was hard to tell due to the sheer amount of people with long robes and funny hats there was. The air was filled with a smell I couldn't quite describe, I figured it was a mix of food with some kind of brew. Overall, the place was quite rustic, no fancy details to point out.

J emerged beside me, looking around with wide-eyed wonder. "This is… wow."

"Is this what this Diagon Alley place is?" Dad asked, now standing beside me and mum. Both of them seemed lost in a place like this.

"Almost, it's right this way." Professor Longbottom, McGonagall and the ministry folk walked towards what seemed like a wooden backdoor of the pub, with us trailing behind. I got momentarily distracted by the chairs suddenly putting themselves upside down on top of the tables as what looked like the cleaning staff approached the main hall. Likely some variation of a levitation charm. Okay, that was a complete assumption on my part but hey, I know what a levitation charm is!

"Where were we, exactly?" Asked mum as we stepped outside of the pub.

"That was the Leaky Cauldron, one of the finest wizarding pubs in all of London." Explained Longbottom. "Now this is the part when things start getting interesting…"

We were at what looked to be some enclosed alley space outside of the pub, the sky a misty grey above us. Professor Longbottom then took out his wand and started tapping on a wall of bricks, following a specific pattern.

"3 down, 2 to the side, aaaand… there we go!" He muttered as the red bricks began to move and reposition themselves, opening up a passageway. Once it was done, Diagon Alley had unfolded itself before our eyes, a bustling street filled with magical shops, each displaying peculiar wares and enchanting displays. The air buzzed with a mix of excitement and the distinctive scent of magical concoctions.

And there were so, so many people.

"This, everybody, is Diagon Alley!" Announced Longbottom, though it was now harder to hear due to all the crowd noose that made its way to us. "Now try to stick together because today is quite packed, let's not risk anybody getting lost, okay?"

We all nodded as Longbottom, McGonagall, Roland and Larkin paved the way through the crowd for us to follow. The street was severely irregular, with jagged curves and bumps on the pavement as well as crooked buildings that tilted in and outward, as if they were built on improvisation.

"Our first stop is right at the end of this street, at Gringotts Bank. Follow me!" Directed the Professor as the crowd in Diagon Alley swirled around us like a lively river of robes and magical paraphernalia. Gringotts Bank loomed at the end of the winding street, a grand and imposing three-story jagged structure made of white marble. The cacophony of magical chatter, the vibrant displays in shop windows, and the eclectic mix of people in varying robes and hats overwhelmed my senses. I felt like a fish swimming in a sea of wondrous unknowns… and I wasn't exactly comfortable in it.

J, beside me, was way more captivated, his eyes darting in every direction. "Dad, did you see that guy with the floating top hat? That's amazing!"

Dad, still trying to process the Leaky Cauldron pub experience, muttered, "Who would've thought a pub could be a gateway to a whole other world..."

The Professor, Headmistress and ministry officials led us through the lively crowd, weaving expertly between all those wizards and witches. Mum, a mix of bewilderment and fascination on her face, kept close, occasionally glancing at the shops we passed. Dad, just like myself, seemed to be rather uncomfortable having to dodge that multitude of people.

We reached Gringotts Bank, its grand white marble facade towering above us. The clamour of the crowd, the eclectic sights, and the overall magical ambiance of Diagon Alley were already making me dizzy. J was still wide-eyed with excitement, Dad appeared somewhat overwhelmed, and Mum seemed torn between fascination and the need to stick close to the family. The Professor gestured towards the bank's entrance, "Right through this door." He said.

As we entered the bank, the atmosphere shifted. The bright and crowded sights of the outside contrasted with the gloom and silence of the inside, the only noise that could be heard being that of paper scribblings and stamping. The entrance hall was long, guided by two parallel marble counters in between two-story columns that directed us to a central podium, lit by 2 tall chandeliers made of clear jewels.

I looked at the tall counters to the sides and my eyes inadvertently went wide. The people working there were… different looking. They were very short and had pointy ears… I think those were goblins? I recalled reading something on the Grimoire about the creatures that worked the bank. Mum and Dad exchanged glances, clearly not expecting the wizarding banking experience to be quite so different.

J, however, was in his element, peering into the marble counters with wide-eyed curiosity. "Did you see the size of those coins? And the way they handle them-"

"Junior, quiet." Mum whispered as their voices echoed through the chamber, attracting glances from the bank workers. 

Upon reaching the main counter, professor Longbottom cleared his throat to draw the attention of the Goblin standing behind it, who looked at us with a slow head movement.

"Yes?" He asked in a serious monotone.

"We would like to open an account under the names of Winston Martin and Mary Louise Edward, please." Spoke Longbottom.

"Are they wizards?" The Goblin slowly asked.

"No, but their son-"

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to deny your request, Mr. Longbottom." The Goblin spoke severely, "Only wizards are allowed to have a vault at Gringotts Bank."

"Then open an account under the name of Carlos Martin Edward, please." Longbottom suggested, a bit impatient. The Goblin then looked over the counter to stare down at me.

"I'm afraid he is not yet of the required age to open a vault in Gringotts, Mr. Longbottom." The Goblin denied us once more. "Now, unless you can provide me with a legitimate wizarding ascendant to the boy…"

A shadow of doubt was cast over me at that moment. Legitimate wizarding ascendant? What did that even mean? Why was I being denied an account like this?

Professor Longbottom then stepped forward and said, in a quieter voice, "Listen, will we have to go through this every single year? this policy is over a decade old, why is it still being upheld?"

"Policy takes time to change, Mr. Longbottom…" The Goblin responded. "In the meantime, I must follow my orders."

"As Headmistress of Hogwarts, I demand there to be an exception." McGonagall ordered, her posture authoritative.

"Exception denied." The Goblin spoke, "I'm afraid your authority can only get you so far, Headmistress."

"Wait, a legitimate wizarding ascendant, you said?" My father asked in a serious tone.

"Yes, Mr. Martin. Only a wizard over the age of seventeen or with a legitimate wizarding ascendant can open a Vault at Gringotts…"

"Then have it in the name of my father, Henry C. Martin." Dad argued authoritatively. "How's that for an ascendant?"

We all stared at my father perplexed, not expecting him to come forward like this. Longbottom then looked at me with bewilderment, making me wonder if I had done something wrong. The Goblin's smirk slowly faded as he stared deep into my father's eyes, as if looking for evidence of misinformation. Upon noticing he was serious, the Goblin then excused himself and went to the back of the bank. Moments later he returned with another, more well-dressed Goblin figure.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom and Headmistress McGonagall. How may I be of service?" The other Goblin asked rather cynically, as if expecting nothing fruitful to come of this conversation.

"Henry C. Martin's grandson is being denied the opening of a vault of his own." McGonagall spoke forward, "We demand for this to be rectified."

"And does the grandson have proof of his magical ascendance, by any means?" The other Goblin questioned.

My father glanced at me, a subtle nod as if giving me a cue. I felt a bit lost in the conversation, but I instinctively fumbled to retrieve the Grimoire from my bag, the leather-bound book seeming almost reassuring in this perplexing situation.

"Does… this count as proof?" I asked as I lifted up the book.

"Let me see…" requested the Goblin, so my father took the book from my hands and placed it above the counter.

The Goblin stroked the book with his hands, examining its cover carefully. Upon doing so, a small, multi-coloured light emanated from the gem of one of his rings, as if it had spotted something.

"Indeed, Henry C. Martin's magical signature is all over this artefact…" The Goblin mused.

"Does that mean we get a vault?" I asked expectantly. The Goblin hesitated a bit to respond.

"Yes, it does… do follow me, Mr. Edward…" The well-dressed Goblin spoke. The eight of us then began walking until the Goblin stopped us and said "Only one of you may accompany Mr. Edward as we head deeper into the vaults."

"But we're his family!" My mother protested with a scoff.

I sighed in exasperation "Let me guess, it's bank policy."

"Correct." Agreed the Goblin with a cynical smirk.

"Don't worry, I'll go with him." Offered Professor Longbottom. "Minerva, would you care to take the others back to the Leaky Cauldron while we deal with this?"

"Of course not, professor. All of you, follow me now!" McGonagall spoke to the others as Longbottom and I headed to the back of the bank. "They'll be back soon enough, let's go."

And so we separated. The well-dressed Goblin led us to a set of ornate doors marked with the Gringotts crest. As the doors creaked open, revealing a dimly lit tunnel, Professor Longbottom and I exchanged glances. The air inside was heavy with a mix of earthy dampness and the faint rusty scent of metal.

"Mind the gap, please." The Goblin said as we reached what looked to be an underground rail station. I was puzzled for a moment wondering if we had left the bank at any point. We stepped onto a narrow platform alongside the rails, where something that looked like a cart awaited us. The Goblin  gestured for us to hop in. Professor Longbottom took the front seat, guiding me to sit beside him.

"WHOA!" The cart shot forward with surprising speed, zooming through a labyrinth of tunnels adorned with all sorts of railway signalling. As we descended deeper into the bowels of Gringotts, the air grew colder, and the faint echoes of distant clinks and clanks filled the tunnels.

"Professor, is this common for wizards??" I asked, my voice barely audible over the rush of wind and clanking metal.

"Gringotts is unique, Carlos. It's not just a bank; it's a fortress guarding the treasures of the wizarding world!" Professor Longbottom explained through the chaotic noise surrounding us. "These rails connect to various vaults, ensuring secure access. Many wizards prefer the security of Gringotts for their most valuable possessions!"

The cart whisked us through a massive cavern, revealing vault upon vault, each guarded by imposing goblin statues. I had to hold on tight as the cart made abrupt twists and turns.

"You never told me Henry C. Martin was your grandfather!" Commented Longbottom.

I turned my head to him as we took a turn "You knew my grandfather??"

"I didn't know him, but he's very much a famous personality in our world. One of the most competent Curse-Breakers of his time!" Longbottom explained.

"A Curse-Breaker? WHOA-" I said as I dodged a lighting fixture that passed way too close to me, "What's that??"

"They're explorers at heart, wizards that venture into the unknown to retrieve all sorts of valuable artefacts from the past, as well as to undo ancient curses and spells." The Professor said.

"So that's what my grandfather- AH!" I got interrupted by a wooden beam that passed close to my head, "So that's what my grandfather did in his travels??"

"That's what all of them do, yeah!" Answered Longbottom. "But few were as prestigious as your grandfather was. He travelled all over the world and ventured into many uncharted territories. A truly remarkable man, I must say!"

Finally, the cart slowed, bringing us to a halt in front of a large vault guarded by a particularly fierce-looking goblin.

"Mr. Edward, your family's vault," the well-dressed Goblin declared.

"Wait, family vault?" I muttered as I disembarked the cart, a little dizzy from all the twists and turns we took.

"Phew, that was quite a trip, wasn't it? How are you holding up, Carlos?" Asked Longbottom, patting me on the back.

"Barely…" I responded.

The Goblin then placed his hand on the metal door, causing all manner of mechanical sounds to come from the inside. After a while, the noise stopped and the vault door slowly creaked open, revealing…

"Whoa…" I said, looking at what seemed like piles upon piles of gold. Only a tad bit of it was visible from the outside, but as the goblin approached with the lantern, the magnitude of the treasure was revealed to be enormous.

"And with fame… came the rewards." Added Longbottom as we both stared into the mountain of valuables that lay before us.

"So, all of that gold is actually… mine?" I sheepishly asked as we stepped outside of the bank, hoping for some confirmation before I got any hopes up.

"Eh, almost yours." Said Longbottom, "As your grandfather was never pronounced dead, he is still technically the owner of the vault. Given he's been missing for decades, his immediate family is granted limited access to his treasure."

"Oh." My heart sank a bit at Professor Longbottom's clarification. I then felt bad for being at all disappointed at the obvious answer.

"But don't worry," Professor Longbottom continued, "You have access to the funds for your Hogwarts expenses.”

“But wait a minute… What expenses? Didn't you say Hogwarts was going to cover everything?”

“Hogwarts covers the essentials, yes,” Professor Longbottom explained. “Tuition, accommodation, and basic supplies are provided. However, your grandfather's vault allows you to get new, high-quality supplies instead of second-hand ones. Plus, there are always additional items you might need that Hogwarts doesn't cover—personal books, special ingredients, and other such things.”

“So, I can get all new supplies?” I asked, a bit more hopeful.

“Exactly,” Professor Longbottom confirmed with a cheerful nod. “This way, you’ll have everything you need to start your education at Hogwarts on the right foot, with a few extras that might help you along the way. Your family can manage the rest of your finances until your grandfather's status is resolved."

"But… how can it be resolved?" I questioned, my thoughts still grappling with the complexities of the magical world, "I mean, how do we know what even happened to him?"

"It's a delicate matter, Carlos. We'd need to explore the circumstances surrounding your grandfather's disappearance. There might be clues, magical or otherwise, that could shed light on what happened," Professor Longbottom explained, his gaze contemplative.

"And how do we do that?" I inquired, feeling a growing sense of responsibility and curiosity.

Professor Longbottom chuckled, "Don't worry about that, Carlos. You're only just starting out your magical journey. Perhaps you can dwell into that when you're a little older."

"A little older…" I muttered as we walked back into the crowd of Diagon Alley. The place seemed even more packed now, so I had to stick close to Professor Longbottom to avoid getting washed away in that sea of people.

"Right. Our next stop is here," Said Longbottom as we stopped in front of a narrow and dark shop nestled between two taller establishments. I think its name was… Ollivanders?

Before we could enter, I saw a pale boy in black and red attire march out of the store with misty eyes, not looking back at any point. An angry looking man in a red and brown armoured outfit wearing a black cape left afterwards.

The shop greeted us with a soft chime as we entered. The air inside was filled with the distinct aroma of aged wood and cardboard. Thousands of slender boxes were neatly stacked in shelves that stretched through a mezzanine, with more stacked on the back of the store. The whole place was eerily empty compared to the outside.

"Are you sure they're open…?" I asked sheepishly, afraid we might have overstepped some boundary.

Professor Longbottom then loudly cleared his throat, to which a ladder on rails made its way to the front of the store. On it stood a thin, elderly man dressed in a purple attire that would not have been out of place in the 1800s. The old men glanced at us and put on a wrinkly smile.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom. How very pleasing to see you again." The man greeted us.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Ollivander." Professor Longbottom replied, tapping me on the shoulder "Today I bring you this fellow young man in need of his very first wand. Think you can help him?"

"Ah yes, how exciting must it be to be getting your first wand. Tell me young gentleman, what is your name?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

"Erm… Carlos… Martin Edward, sir." I stuttered, afraid I would mispronounce my own name.

"Hm… how curious." The old man mused. "This name is not yet familiar to me. And I am familiar with most names that pass by this shop. Let me ask you this, Mr. Edward: What can you tell me of your family?”

I froze upon hearing that question. “My… family?” I mumbled.

“Yes… surely your family has some ties to the wizarding world, maybe a distant one, but it is there nonetheless. Is any close relative of yours a wizard or witch?”

“Well, um… there’s-”

“He’s actually a muggleborn, sir. New blood entering our world!” Responded Longbottom cheerfully, though that last sentence sounded rather odd to me. New blood?

“Ah yes, of course. Can't expect muggleborns to be versed in their family's history now, can we? If you will follow me…" He chuckled as he opened the counter door to let us through. Professor Longbottom winked at me as he went ahead. What was that supposed to mean?

Mr. Ollivander led us deeper into the shop, signalling for the two of us to enter a narrow door that led to a large room with a small podium and a lectern. Around it, stacks upon stacks of opened wand boxes littered the floorboards.

"If you would give me just a moment…!" He excused himself as he left the room, to which we soon heard box rummaging sounds coming from the corridor. Moments later, Mr. Ollivander reappeared carrying around 15 to 20 boxes on his arms, laying them on a sideboard next to the door. He then chose one of them, examined it and handed it to me. "Here, let's begin with this one. Alder wood, 10,5 inches, mermaid hair core, harvested under a full moon tide."

I nervously took the wand from Mr. Ollivander's outstretched hand, unsure of what to do next. I stood on the podium, holding the wand in an awkward stance, pointing it at the void.

"Go ahead, give it a wave," Mr. Ollivander encouraged, his bright eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me squirm.

I hesitated, my palms growing clammy as I raised the wand, trying to mimic some of the motions I'd seen on the grimoire during the last few weeks. Upon drawing the air patterns I remembered, however, nothing happened. I tried again, pointing at one of the opened boxes on the floor.

Nothing.

I exchanged a nervous glance with Professor Longbottom, who offered an encouraging smile. "Just relax, Carlos. It takes time for some wizards to find the right match."

I nodded, trying to steady my trembling hands as I returned the wand to its box. Mr. Ollivander proceeded to examine it once more, this time with a frown on his face. He then picked up another box and handed me the next wand. "Let us see this one then. Emberwood, 11 inches, dragon heartstring core, tempered by the breath of a volcanic eruption."

I took the next wand from Mr. Ollivander with a sense of trepidation, my nerves fraying with each passing moment. As I stood on the podium, I felt the weight of expectation bearing down on me, the pressure to perform overwhelming.

With a shaky hand, I attempted to replicate some of the other wand movements I had seen in the grimoire, hoping one of them would make at least something move.

Nothing happened.

"Strange…" Mr. Ollivander muttered under his breath, his tone troubled, to which I cast him a concerned look. Longbottom seemed a tad uncomfortable while watching me from the corner of the room.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing you should worry about, Mr. Edward." He reassured me, though his words did little to calm my nerves. He took the wand from my hand and examined it closely, as if searching for some hidden clue, his frown deepening. He proceeded to hand me yet another wand. "Voidvine wood, 12 inches, Essence of ancient ice, harvested from a glacier untouched by sunlight for millennia." 

I barely noticed how they all seemed to have different wood and jewel patterns. They were pretty, sure, but I was too nervous to give them a proper look.

Once again, I tried to channel some form of magic, hoping desperately for a different outcome. But once again, my efforts were met with failure. No sparks, no flickers of light, nothing. Frustration and disappointment gnawed at me, and I could feel the weight of Ollivander's scrutiny bearing down on me.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander," I said, my voice tinged with defeat. "I just... I can't seem to make any of them work."

Ollivander's expression softened slightly, his gaze shifting from the wand to me. "Not to worry, Mr. Edward," he said, his tone gentle yet concerned. "Sometimes, the right wand chooses the wizard in its own time."

But as Ollivander continued to search through the boxes, I could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. And with each failed attempt, my own confidence waned. Wands came and went, each more eccentric than the other, but all of them displayed the performance of a mere twig.

After at least ten of these wands had gone by, Mr. Ollivander excused himself once again, except this time he took professor Longbottom with him. Though he closed the door behind them, I thought I could hear a faint chatter coming from the corridor. I couldn't make out anything intelligible, which only contributed to my anxiety.

My heart began to race. Had I failed that badly this early on?

After a few more moments of uncertainty, the two of them returned to the room, a look of defeat in Ollivander's eyes. He then handed me what looked to be a cheap plastic box with a simple black wand inside of it. No fancy shapes, no patterns, nothing. Just a plain, dull stick.

"Mana-infused wood, 12 inches, pre-made…" He announced rather distastefully, not caring enough to take it off the box for me. I took the wand in my hands and looked at it more closely, looking for something that made it distinct other than its lack of distinction. I took the plain, unassuming wand from the box, feeling a sense of resignation wash over me. It seemed like the last resort, a final attempt to find a match. As I held it in my hand, there was a strange, almost palpable energy emanating from it, different from the other wands I had tried.

"Go ahead, Mr. Edward," urged Ollivander, his voice tinged with a bit of scepticism.

With a deep breath, I raised the wand, unsure of what to expect. I looked at professor Longbottom one more time as he nodded for me to carry on. I attempted a simple swish and flick, thinking nothing would come of it. There was, however, a surge of power that erupted from the wand, sending sparks flying in all directions like fireworks.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, barely managing to keep the wand steady as sparks danced around the room. The display was impressive, but seemed out of control.

Professor Longbottom looked on with a mixture of surprise and concern, his brows furrowed as he watched the erratic display of magic.

"Easy there, Carlos," he cautioned, taking a step closer. "Try to focus your intent, channel the energy."

I nodded, trying to reign in the wild magic that seemed to pulse through the wand. With concentrated effort, I attempted another spell, this time aiming for a nearby stack of boxes. To my relief, a beam of light shot forth from the wand, hitting the target dead on and causing the boxes to levitate.

"So… that's magic, right?" I asked, unsure if that's what was supposed to happen.

The professor and wandmaker seemed unimpressed.

"Yes, Mr. Edward, that is magic…" Mr. Ollivander replied with a sigh, clearly disappointed. "Congratulations, you seemed to have… chosen… the right wand for you."

I was confused as to what it all meant. Clearly I had performed magic in some manner, but it didn't seem to be what they were expecting. Had I chosen the wrong spells? Or were my demonstrations that unimpressive?

"Congratulations, Carlos," Professor Longbottom said, offering a faint smile. "It seems you've found your wand."

I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the lacklustre response. Wasn't this supposed to be a moment of triumph? Instead, there was an air of resignation hanging over us.

"Um… Thank you, Professor," I replied, trying to muster some enthusiasm.

Mr. Ollivander, however, remained silent, his expression inscrutable as he watched me with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"So, uh, what now?" I asked, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled over the room.

"Now, we shall see how well you can control your newfound power," Mr. Ollivander replied cryptically, his gaze fixed on the stack of boxes that were left floating in the air.

"Oh, um…!" I waved the wand again, unsure of how to undo the spell. Instead of placing the boxes down gently, I ended up tossing them towards another pile and knocking it over, making the room a tad bit messier than it already was.

Professor Longbottom looked on with a mixture of concern and fascination, his eyes darting between me and the wand. "It seems this wand has quite a bit of… potential," he remarked cautiously. "But we'll need to work on refining your control."

I nodded, unaware of what said "control" was meant to feel like. In fact, magic didn't feel like… anything, really. It's like it worked on its own, without my input. That worried me.

Was I actually doing anything?

"Indeed, Mr. Edward. Though most wands choose their wizard, it is the wizard who must learn to master its power..." Said Ollivander.

"This is the second time you speak of wands choosing wizards. How does that work?" I asked.

"Wands are… complex entities, you see." Replied Ollivander. "Once they are created, they develop a will - a preference - of their own, let's say. It is they who choose the wizard, not the other way around."

"But didn't you say I chose this wand?" I inquired further.

"Indeed you did, for this is… not like most wands." He explained. "This particular model is what we refer to as a mana wand."

"Mana…? What's mana?"

"Liquified magic." Responded Longbottom. "Think of it like water: it's in the very air we breathe, and if we condense it, it becomes a substance known as mana."

"And it is infused within your wand." Explained Ollivander. "Instead of a typical core, your wand contains a fillet of crystalized mana, which it draws its power from. That means, however, that said power isn't limitless, requiring periodical recharges."

"Recharges?" I repeated, "How does one recharge a wand?"

"A couple of ways. You can either wait for it to replenish on its own, so long as you're in a magic rich environment, or dip it in a pool of mana." Replied Ollivander. "Regardless, it is technology that's relatively new, meant to aid those who struggle to manifest magic, so there is a possibility for… mishaps."

"What… kind of mishaps?" I fearfully asked.

"All he's saying is it'll take some getting used to, right?" Reassured professor Longbottom, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Indeed it will, Mr. Longbottom. Perhaps Mr. Edward will fare better on his journey with your guidance." Suggested Ollivander.

"You can be sure of that. I'll be keeping an eye on him and his progress!" The professor announced cheerfully.

"Very well. It was a… pleasure… doing business with you today." Said Ollivander rather dryly.

"The pleasure is ours, Mr. Ollivander. Thank you for everything." Replied professor Longbottom.

"And remember, our doors are always open should you find yourself in need of a… better wand." Finished Mr. Ollivander as he began guiding us out of the shop.

"Wait, aren't we gonna pay for this??" I asked as we walked out the front door, back into the crowded alley.

"I did say I owed you a present, didn't I?" Said Longbottom enthusiastically, a throwback to my birthday months ago. "Come on now, we have quite the school list to gather!"

Time went on as we explored shop after shop, buying all sorts of supplies and gadgets. More than once I saw professor Longbottom use something that looked like a type of credit card, though I was too afraid to ask what it was. I just kept wondering whose money was really going into all this. Was it his, my grandfather's, my family's? That whole bank trip left me confused as to who owns what.

One of our stops involved buying the uniforms for my school year. Some of the most uncomfortable moments happened at Madam Malkin's, where we spent a considerable amount of time getting a uniform tailored to me, which was by far the most awkward experience I've ever had. Considering it was the first time I've ever had anything tailored, I was not expecting it to involve so many pinches, stings and tight grippings in very uncomfortable areas. Madam Malkin herself seemed flustered with my inability to stay still while she did all the measurements and stitching, all using her wand.

Most embarrassingly, it was then I discovered I was unable to tie a tie properly. Worse than that, the try-on booths felt too small as I squirmished to get the fabric tied around my neck and under the shirt collar.

"Hey, is everything alright in there?" I heard an unfamiliar voice with an american accent ask from the booth next to mine as I tried on the tie.

"Hum… yeah?" I answered, wondering if I had elbowed the thin walls that much to draw attention.

"Spin it around the thin end, then push it up the neck and down the knot!" The boy explained.

"... What?" I blurted, unsure of what he meant.

"Take the large end, spin it around the thin one then push it up and down the knot!" He repeated himself, slower this time.

Wait, how did he know…?

I fumbled with the tie, attempting to follow the boy's instructions, but my efforts only seemed to make things worse. The fabric twisted and bunched up awkwardly, refusing to cooperate no matter how hard I tried.

"Uh…!" Suddenly, my finger got stuck in the knot. Trying to undo it seemed to create yet another knot for my other finger to get stuck in. No, don't ask me how I managed to do such a feat.

As I continued to struggle with the tie, feeling more and more flustered by the second, I heard the voice again, this time closer, as if the person had moved to my booth.

"Here, let me show you," the voice said kindly, and before I could react, the curtain to my booth was pulled back, revealing a red haired boy around my age wearing a similar school attire and a friendly smile on his face.

I blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by his sudden appearance. "Um, hi?" I managed to mumble, feeling a bit embarrassed at being caught in such a predicament.

The boy chuckled softly, reaching out to gently untangle the mess I'd made of the tie. "Hello there! Don't worry, it's a common struggle for first-timers," he spoke, his fingers deftly working to straighten out the fabric. "It can be tricky at first, but you'll get the hang of it eventually."

As he continued to adjust the tie, his movements were fluid and precise, as if he'd done this a thousand times before. As thankful as I was, I felt equally embarrassed for needing his willingness to lend a hand.

"There, all done," the boy said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "See? Not so difficult once you know the trick."

I glanced in the mirror, surprised to see that the tie was now neatly and evenly knotted, sitting perfectly against my shirt collar. "Wow, you're really good at this," I remarked, impressed by his expertise.

He shrugged modestly, a grin spreading across his face. "Just a little trick I picked up from my dad. He's a stickler for proper attire. I'm Connor, by the way. Connor Fletcher."

"Carlos… Martin Edward," I replied, offering him a sheepish smile. "Thanks for, uh, helping me out."

"No problem at all, Carlos," Connor said with a reassuring nod. "We first years have to stick together, am I right?'

And so the day carried on as unexpectedly as expected, other honourable mentions including the Apothecary, a shop for potion ingredients filled with smells I didn't dare to guess the sources of. The heaviest of loads came in the form of a cauldron, and boy were those things heavy. It didn't take long before things became too big of a load to carry even with the bags I'd brought, causing me to drop items more than once. That's when professor Longbottom had the idea of getting me a special shoulder bag that was tailored towards academic supplies… which is a fancy way of saying it carries way more than its actual size, which was kinda neat. Yes, the whole cauldron fit inside the bag. Don't ask me how.

We left the school books for last given the sheer amount of them. It seems the school curriculum had gotten several revisions over the last few years, each of those adding one or more books to the list. So, our last stop was a funny-named bookshop called Flourish and Blotts.

Unlike other shops, the place was packed with customers, all dressed in a sea of colourful robes and witch hats which made it hard to move around. Above the multitude of people, a towering mezzanine of bookshelves covered the walls, with individual books flying - yes, flying - from one shelf to the next in a chaotically organised manner.

"What's happening here?" I asked due to the commotion.

"Hm… I think it's a book premiere." Professor Longbottom replied, his voice barely audible above the noise.

We manoeuvred our way to the front of the crowd, where a tall man stood, surrounded by flashing cameras and enthusiastic fans. He was dressed in striking red and brown robes adorned with pieces of armour, and a black cape billowed behind him. His face, weathered with age, bore a muted scar that added to his mystique. "That's Rudolph Murtlock," Professor Longbottom whispered, nodding toward the man. "He's the author behind the newest edition of 'Hogwarts: A History.'"

I strained to hear snippets of conversation amidst the clamour, catching the name "Murtlock" repeated excitedly by those around me.

As the crowd's attention turned toward Murtlock, he raised his hands, signalling for silence. Gradually, the noise died down, and all eyes were fixed on him.

"Thank you all for joining me today," Murtlock began, his voice commanding attention. "I am thrilled to present to you the latest edition of 'Hogwarts: A History.'"

The crowd erupted into applause, and Murtlock smiled graciously before continuing.

"This latest revision includes new insights, discoveries, and revelations about the history and mysteries of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he explained, his words resonating with the audience. "I have delved deeper into the origins of the four Hogwarts houses, the secrets of the castle's hidden chambers, and the untold stories of its most famous alumni."

As Murtlock spoke, I couldn't help but notice a faint hum coming from somewhere nearby. It sounded almost like a kind of machine.

"In addition," Murtlock continued, "I have included detailed accounts of recent events at Hogwarts, including the Battle of Hogwarts and its aftermath. It is my hope that this edition will serve as a comprehensive guide for generations of witches and wizards to come."

The crowd erupted into applause once more, and Murtlock bowed gracefully before stepping down from the makeshift stage. As he made his way through the throng of admirers, I caught a glimpse of the book he held in his hands—the latest edition of "Hogwarts: A History."

"Mr. Murtlock!" I heard several people, which I concluded were journalists, ask simultaneously. Murtlock then signalled for them to calm down as he selected one of them to speak up.

"Mr. Murtlock, is it true that your latest excavations in Hogwarts castle have uncovered a secret tomb?" One of them inquired.

Murtlock chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes as he responded to the journalist's question. "Ah, the secret tomb rumour. I must admit, it's been quite the topic of discussion lately. While I can't reveal all the details just yet, I can confirm that our recent excavations at Hogwarts have indeed uncovered some fascinating discoveries."

The crowd leaned in eagerly, hanging on Murtlock's every word.

"As for the tomb," Murtlock continued, "it's a remarkable find — a hidden chamber deep beneath the castle, untouched for millennia. We are still cautious over what exactly lies there, but as soon as we find anything conclusive, we'll be eager to share our discoveries with the world."

You could hear the noise of notepads being scribbled furiously, but none of the wizard journalists were holding any writing material. That's when I noticed the notepads were floating around their respective owners, being written on by what looked like… feathers?

"And what about the stories of the ghosts haunting Hogwarts?" another journalist interjected, eager for more insider information.

Wait, did she just say ghosts?

Murtlock smiled knowingly, as if he had been expecting the question. "Ah, the ghosts of Hogwarts. They're a fascinating aspect of the castle's history. In this latest edition of 'Hogwarts: A History,' I've delved deeper into the origins and legends surrounding the castle's spectral inhabitants. From Sir Nicholas of Mimsy Porpington to Helena Ravenclaw, each ghost has a story to tell, and I've made sure to include all the details in the book."

The crowd murmured with excitement, exchanging whispers and theories about Hogwarts' resident ghosts.

"And what can readers expect from this latest edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'?" another journalist inquired, her voice eager.

Murtlock's smile widened, his enthusiasm contagious. "Readers can expect a comprehensive and detailed exploration of Hogwarts' history, traditions, and mysteries. From the founding of the school by the four legendary founders to its modern-day challenges and triumphs, this edition covers it all. Whether you're a student, a scholar, or simply a fan of magical history, 'Hogwarts: A History' offers something for everyone. And just in time for the new school year, nonetheless…!" He commented at the end.

With that, Murtlock bid farewell to the journalists and disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind a buzz of excitement and anticipation. As the crowd began to disperse, Professor Longbottom turned to me with a smile.

"Quite the eventful day, wouldn't you say, Carlos?" he remarked, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "So here's what we're going to do next: I have a few books of my own I need to gather, so I'mma have to leave you alone for a few minutes, okay?"

"Alone??" I questioned, my eyes widened. "But… what if I get lost?"

"There's only so much room for one to lose themselves in Flourish and Blotts!" Chuckled Longbottom. "You're safe here, that's all that matters. Here's your book list. Just follow the signs and you should be able to find everything."

He handed me a small piece of parchment, pointing at the many signs around the aisles of the bookshop. I nodded, trying to muster up some courage as Professor Longbottom left me to navigate the bustling bookshop on my own. Clutching the parchment tightly in my hand, I took a deep breath and set off into the maze of shelves.

The signs above each aisle seemed to be written in a language of their own, filled with cryptic symbols and swirling patterns. I squinted at them, trying to decipher their meaning as I wove my way through the crowd of witches and wizards. All the while, I could still hear that hum coming from somewhere nearby, despite all the noise.

I danced around the aisles, dodging the many robed figures as they moved toward and past me. Naturally I couldn't dodge everyone, so I would bump into somebody time and time again every time I stopped to have a look at the bookshelves. The hum, however, continued ringing in my ears, now stealing my attention. I thought I felt something vibrate in my backpack as well?

I opened it up to find a strange golden glow coming from inside of it. It was the Grimoire. Its clockwork mechanism was letting out a glow like it had been activated, although I was sure I didn't use the password at any point.

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to notice the strange glow emanating from my book, but the bustling crowd seemed too preoccupied with their own business to pay me any mind.

With a mixture of trepidation and fascination, I reached out and gently touched the cover of the Grimoire. As soon as my fingers made contact, a surge of warmth washed over me, and the golden glow intensified. Upon opening the book, the following message could be read:

Acquiring knowledge,

Please stand by.

"Acquiring knowledge…?" I muttered, confused. What knowledge was it acquiring, and why now of all times?

"Is everything alright, dear?" A kind voice interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up to see a witch with a concerned expression gazing down at me.

"Oh, um, yes! Everything's fine, thank you," I stammered, hastily closing the Grimoire and stuffing it back into my bag. "Just, uh, trying to find my way around this place."

The witch smiled sympathetically. "It can be quite overwhelming, especially for first-timers. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," I replied, returning her smile before she disappeared into the crowd.

Feeling a sense of relief from the kind witch's words, I continued navigating through the maze of bookshelves, keeping an eye out for the titles on my list. However, the mysterious hum and the golden glow emanating from my backpack kept drawing my attention.

Curiosity piqued, I found a secluded corner of the shop where I could examine the Grimoire without attracting too much attention. Carefully, I opened the book again, watching as the golden glow intensified and the clockwork mechanisms whirred to life.

"Acquiring knowledge... Please stand by," the message read once more, but this time, I noticed something different. Text was scrolling rapidly across the pages, words and images flashing by in a blur. Upon turning the page, another message could be found:

Updating Index…

After a few moments, a list of sorts began writing itself on the page… and then the next page… and then the next. I soon realised the pages were being filled with titles from the bookshop. Some were very straightforward, such as A History of Magic. Other titles like A Study Into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter… not so much.

I picked up the parchment piece Professor Longbottom gave to me and compared the titles from those in the Grimoire, and was surprised to see that most if not all of the books I was supposed to get were there as well, waiting to be accessed.

Did it just… absorb the whole library?

"Hey, what are you doing?" I heard someone ask. My head jolted up to see a pale-looking brown haired boy staring at me with a distrustful gaze. He wore an almost entirely black attire, including gloves and capes, with exception of his overshirt vest which was red.

"Oh, hum… nothing!" I said quickly closing the Grimoire, hoping he didn't see anything compromising.

The young wizard raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on the Grimoire. "Where did you get that?"

"Huh?"

"I said where did you get that??" He said in an aggressive tone, taking a step forward. "Is it from the shop?"

"What? No, I-" I stuttered, somehow thinking I was being accused of theft.

"No matter. You need to give it to me!" The boy ordered, stretching out his hand.

"What? Why do I- Hey!" I interjected as he tried to take the book from me by force. I held the Grimoire close to my chest, elbowing him away. He then pushed me against a shelf that stood behind me, dropping several books on my head. I winced in pain and stumbled backward, trying to regain my balance. The Grimoire slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor with a thud. Before I could reach for it, the aggressive wizard lunged forward, snatching the book from the ground.

"No!" I protested, reaching out futilely as he held the Grimoire triumphantly in his hands. My heart raced with a mixture of fear and frustration as I watched him smirk victoriously.

"Thanks for the gift, newbie," he sneered, turning to leave with the Grimoire in tow.

But just as he took a step away, a firm hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. I glanced up to see Professor Longbottom standing behind him, his expression stern and determined.

"Is there a problem here?" Professor Longbottom's voice was calm but authoritative, cutting through the tension in the air.

The aggressive wizard hesitated, his smirk faltering as he glanced back at Longbottom. "N-no, sir," he stammered, his bravado waning under the professor's gaze.

"I beg to differ," Professor Longbottom replied, his tone cold. "You seem to have mistaken my student's property for your own. I believe you owe him an apology and a return of his belongings."

The wizard's expression darkened, and for a moment, I feared he might refuse. But under the weight of Longbottom's gaze, he relented, handing the Grimoire back to me begrudgingly.

"Sorry," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the background noise.

"What is happening here?" Asked Rudolph Murtlock as he stepped closer to the scene, his voice now broad and authoritative.

"What's happening, Mr. Murtlock, is that your son has engaged in questionable behaviour just now, trying to steal Carlos' book." Explained Longbottom in a tone of reprehension.

"My son? Stealing? You have got to be mistaken." Retorted Murtlock. "There's no way he would do-"

He quit his sentence as his look befell me and my Grimoire. His face turned slightly pale and his eyes grew wide, as if he had seen a… Well, clearly not a ghost given those seem to be a thing, but something rather terrifying.

"What is this?" Murtlock asked dryly.

"I believe that is none of your concern, Mr. Murtlock." Longbottom replied hastily. "Your son's actions, however, are. Though I'm sure such behaviour won't pass you by unpunished now, will it?"

Murtlock hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between Professor Longbottom, his own son and me.

"No… of course it won't." He finally spoke up, though in a bitter tone. He gave me one final look of distaste before ordering, "Tiberius, come."

And so the boy named Tiberius walked off, but not before giving me an angry stare, as did his father. "What were you thinking??" I heard the man mutter angrily as we moved away from the scene.

"I don't get it…" I asked Professor Longbottom after we left the shop. "Why did that boy try to steal from me? I did nothing to him…"

"Don't get yourself caught up in the reasoning of those who wrong you, Carlos," Advised Longbottom. "Often times those are petty, and are best left ignored."

"But why my book? What did he see in it that made him want to take it?" I followed up.

"You tell me. It belonged to your grandfather, right? That alone should be indicative of its value." Suggested Longbottom. "But that isn't some ordinary book now, is it?"

"I think it's called a Grimoire." I continued. "It seems to have knowledge imbued in it, but I don't know where it comes from."

"A Grimoire, huh? I figured it was too fancy a book." Commented Longbottom.

"You know what a Grimoire is?" I asked.

"Yeah, I've heard of them," Professor Longbottom replied, his expression thoughtful. "They're magical repositories of knowledge, being able to store and update the information within themselves. Some say they have a mind of their own, seeking out those who are worthy of their wisdom."

"Worthy?" I echoed, puzzled. "But why would it choose me?"

"Who knows?" Longbottom shrugged. "Perhaps there's something special about you that caught its attention. Or maybe it's simply fate at work. Either way, it seems like you've stumbled upon something remarkable."

I glanced down at the Grimoire nestled in my bag, its golden glow faint but unmistakable. Despite the confusion and uncertainty swirling around it, there was also a sense of curiosity and wonder that drew me to it.

"It's certainly... intriguing," I admitted, still grappling with the idea that I now possessed such a mysterious and powerful object.

"Just be careful with it, Carlos," Longbottom cautioned, his tone serious. "Grimoires are known to be both powerful and unpredictable. You never know what secrets they might hold and who might be after them. Letting it fall on the wrong hands could be detrimental to your grandfather's legacy."

I nodded, silently vowing to heed his warning. The Grimoire may hold the key to unlocking untold mysteries and knowledge, but I couldn't afford to underestimate its potential risks.

"Let's get back to your family now, shall we?" Suggested Longbottom. "I heard the Leaky Cauldron is having roast beef for lunch today. Yummy!"

Ugh. I hate Roast beef.