After the whirlwind of Flourish & Blotts and the zoo that was the Magical Menagerie, the rest of Diagon Alley was a blur of potion ingredients, new robes, and a rather alarming encounter with a sentient quill that tried to sign me up for a lifetime subscription to The Daily Prophet. We finished our shopping with Mum looking vaguely satisfied, Daphne perfectly composed, and Astoria clutching a fluffy, albeit slightly judgmental, new owl named 'Professor Hoot.' Mine was still 'pending', the System had suggested I hold off on a familiar for now, something about "optimal synergy" with future skill acquisitions. Fine.
Back at the manor, the air thrummed with a different kind of anticipation. Hogwarts. It was almost time. I spent most of the following days getting to know my new wand. Blackthorn and Thestral hair. Ten inches. It wasn't flashy like some of the ones Harry had tried, but it felt... right. Like a natural extension of my arm. Great Sage was humming along, processing every interaction.
'Wand Synchronicity: Progressing. User's unique energy signature and intent align with Thestral hair core's adaptability. Blackthorn's loyalty establishing. Recommend continued practice for optimal integration.'
I found myself idly twirling it, sometimes attempting subtle, wandless charms I'd picked up from my earlier reincarnated life. A faint warmth would spread through my hand, a ripple in the air. It wasn't full magic, not yet, but it was a hint.
One afternoon, I found Daphne in the sprawling manor library, poring over a faded family tree, tracing lines of pure-blood ancestry with a focused intensity usually reserved for breaking complex curses.
"Still perfecting your lineage, Daph?" I asked, leaning against a bookshelf filled with obscure texts on ancient magic. My wand gave a faint, almost imperceptible tremor, like it was agreeing.
She looked up, not startled, but with that familiar Greengrass patience I occasionally found irritating. "Just reminding myself of our heritage, Lucian. It's important to remember who we are. Our position." She tapped a name near the bottom. "And what's expected."
"Right. Expected to be in Slytherin, you mean," I said, twirling my wand casually.
"Naturally," Daphne stated, as if it were an immutable law of physics.
"It's where all Greengrasses belong. Where ambition and tradition are valued. It's the only logical choice for someone of our... caliber."
I chuckled. "Logical, sure. Predictable, definitely. But 'best'? That's a strong word."
Her head tilted, a clear challenge. "And which house, pray tell, do you consider 'best', Lucian?"
"Oh, I don't know," I mused, tapping my chin with my wand. "Gryffindor has the hero complex, Hufflepuff has the unending supply of baked goods and questionable loyalty, Ravenclaw has the smarts but probably zero common sense."
Daphne's lips thinned. "But Gryffindor is reckless. Hufflepuff is... well, Hufflepuff. And Ravenclaw often lacks ambition." She paused, her gaze speculative. "You'll be in Slytherin, of course. You're clever, cunning, and entirely self-serving."
"Hey! I'm self-serving with style," I countered, feigning offense. "And I'm also fiercely loyal to, you know, myself. So maybe Gryffindor? Or Hufflepuff on a good day, if they promise enough snacks."
Daphne just sighed, shaking her head. "You'll be Slytherin. Just like me."
As the time has passed, the morning we were set to leave for King's Cross, Astoria was being particularly clingy.
"You're going away," she stated, her big, serious eyes fixed on my packed trunk, which was currently trying to eat one of Mum's decorative cushions.
"Just to school, little sis," I said, bending down to her level. Daphne knelt beside me, a rare soft look on her face.
"Big school," Daphne added, gently tucking a stray curl behind Astoria's ear. "But we'll write. And you'll have Mum and Father."
Astoria's lip wobbled. "But... no Lucian to get snacks?"
My Instant Object Manifestation (IOM from now) nearly twitched. A small, perfectly wrapped treacle tart appeared in my hand. "A parting gift," I announced, presenting it to her.
Her eyes lit up, and she instantly forgot her impending abandonment. "Treacle tart!"
Daphne have faint smile played on her lips. "He'll be back for the holidays, Astoria. And you'll have Professor Hoot to keep you company."
Astoria hugged Professor Hoot, then buried her face in Daphne's robes. "Don't go."
It was a surprisingly genuine moment of sibling affection. Almost sappy. But honestly, it made my chest feel a little warm. Even with all the System-powered ambitions, there was something comforting about this tiny, observant human who depended on us.
"We have to," I said, ruffling her hair. "But we'll be back before you know it. And then I'll tell you all about the truly ridiculous things that happen at Hogwarts."
The Greengrass convoy was once again in motion. This time, we were heading to King's Cross. Mum had insisted on taking the family's enchanted carriage, a magnificent, glossy black vehicle pulled by (thankfully unseen by Astoria) a pair of rather impatient Thestrals. It fit enough luggage for a small army, much to Father's silent, composed exasperation. Astoria was already snoozing, strapped securely in a magically cushioned car seat.
The Muggle world, even from inside our subtly charmed carriage, was a baffling experience. My Great Sage was running constant diagnostics:
'Analyzing
Muggle Environment: High density of non-magical individuals.
Dominant Transportation Method: Inferior.
Energy Consumption: Excessive.
Noise Pollution: Unacceptable.'
I snickered.
"Lucian, dear, try to suppress your amusement," Mum said, without looking away from the chaotic traffic. She always knew.
"Alright, Daphne, Lucian. Stick close. And remember the procedure." Mum's voice was low, but firm.
We approached the barrier between platforms Nine and Ten. A few more steps. A shimmer. And then, the world transformed.
Platform 9 ¾.
It was everything the books described and more. A colossal, scarlet steam engine, the Hogwarts Express, belched smoke into the already magical air. Owls hooted from cages, students in robes of all shapes and sizes greeted each other loudly, and the air crackled with excitement. Parents hugged, trunks clattered, and the sheer noise was incredible.
"Well, this is certainly... bustling," Daphne observed, her eyes wide despite her composure. Astoria, still half-asleep, managed a tiny, bewildered "Mmph?"
"Bustling is an understatement," I thought.
We found a trolley. It was surprisingly heavy. "Luggage," Mum said, with a wave of her wand. "Lucian, dear, assist your sister."
I gave a cheerful internal hum. Time for some subtle IOM. As Daphne wrestled with a particularly stubborn trunk, I subtly focused. A small, sturdy, magically reinforced strap appeared, perfectly positioned on the side of the trunk. It gave her just the leverage she needed, and she hoisted it onto the trolley with only a minor grunt.
"Oh! How convenient," Daphne murmured, looking at the strap with faint surprise. She probably thought Mum had conjured it. And I wasn't about to correct her.
We boarded the train, finding an empty compartment near the middle. The plush seats were comfortable, and the window offered a view of the platform's cheerful chaos. I leaned back, stretching out my legs. This was it. The journey to Hogwarts.
The whistle blew, a mournful, echoing sound. The train lurched. We were off.
My adventure, the real one, had truly begun.
*Lucian's fate is in your hands—vote with a stone and tell me in the comments:
Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff? 🦁🐍🦅🦡*