The morning of September first arrived not with the chime of a mundane alarm, but with the riotous clang of a brass gong enchanted to sound like a chorus of owls playing kettle drums. Adrian startled awake, tangled in his patchwork quilt like a caterpillar mid-transformation.
Pandora's voice wafted through the crooked door of his room. "Up, up, my cosmic comet! Time waits for no wizard, especially on Hogwarts day!"
Adrian groaned theatrically, flopping back against his pillow. "Tell Time I'm not speaking to it until after breakfast."
The Lovegood home, a spiralling tower of peculiar design nestled on the edge of a sleepy moor, was alive with its usual whimsy. The walls shimmered with moving tapestries that displayed constellations and mythical creatures dancing to silent symphonies. Charms kept the teacups floating just out of reach until one uttered the correct rhyme, and the staircase had a habit of shifting steps at will. The scent of stardust and cinnamon wafted through the crooked corridors as Adrian descended to the kitchen.
Downstairs, the household was its usual maelstrom of organized chaos. Floating suitcases bobbed along the ceiling like balloons tethered by charm-tied strings. A kettle argued with the toaster. A jar of pickled phoenix feathers hummed ominously in the corner. And in the centre of it all, Xenophilius danced an interpretive jig meant to ward off train delays.
Adrian, now dressed in fresh Hogwarts robes that still itched with enchantment, found his seat at the kitchen table already set with a hearty breakfast. Fried mushrooms shaped like crescent moons, toast charmed to never burn, and eggs that twinkled softly sat waiting.
"Eat, love," Pandora urged, setting a bowl of stardust porridge before him. "You'll need your energy for the train and all the new friends you'll make."
He smiled faintly. Though a part of him yearned for something familiar, something real to hold onto in this world of second chances, he found solace in his mother's easy grace.
Across the table, Luna carefully fed tiny bits of toast to a garden gnome wearing a bib. "You're excited," she said, eyes dreamy. "Even if your mouth says you're nervous. Your eyes are doing the sparkly thing."
He chuckled. "Betrayed by my own sparkle. Typical."
He shared easy laughter with his parents, though something deeper stirred beneath the surface. Xenophilius was an oddity to most, but Adrian felt a certain warmth towards the man's eccentric spirit. Pandora, with her radiant calm, was the gravity around which this curious little world spun. And Luna… Luna had that rare clarity hidden behind her dreamy gaze. He hadn't known them in his past life, not like this. But here, they were his.
The Portkey to King's Cross was a discarded gobstone glued to the bottom of a potted gnome. One moment they were gathered around it in the garden, and the next—
WHOOSH!
—they landed in a dizzying heap behind the concealed entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The scarlet Hogwarts Express gleamed on the tracks like a dream summoned into reality. Steam hissed around its wheels, and the excited chatter of students and families filled the air.
Pandora adjusted Adrian's collar with motherly precision, then handed him a paper-wrapped bundle.
"Sandwiches. One for every mood—happy, nervous, thoughtful, and slightly rebellious."
"Are they labelled?" Adrian asked.
"Of course not," she replied cheerfully. "You must consult your heart."
Xenophilius pulled him into a hug that smelled of ink and lavender. "Write often. Observe everything. And if you see any Blibbering Humdingers, don't provoke them."
Luna kissed his cheek and placed a small crystal charm in his palm. "It's for clarity," she said. "Or at the very least, amusing visions."
Adrian hugged them all tightly. "I'll make you proud."
"You already do," Pandora whispered.
Then, with one final wave, Adrian boarded the train.
The corridor buzzed with laughter, chatter, and the clatter of trunks. Students old and new milled about, searching for compartments. Adrian passed by several full ones before spotting a half-empty cabin occupied by a boy with messy black hair and glasses, and another with red hair who was stuffing chocolate frogs into his mouth like he feared they'd escape.
Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley.
His pulse skipped.
He knocked gently. "Mind if I join?"
Harry looked up, eyes bright with curiosity. "Er—sure!"
Adrian slid the door closed behind him and took the empty seat.
"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
Adrian feigned appropriate surprise, widening his eyes. "No way! The Harry Potter? Blimey, that's mental."
Harry flushed. "People keep saying that… I didn't even know I was famous until about a month ago."
Ron, mid-chomp on a chocolate frog, nearly dropped it. "Wait—you didn't know? You're in every book on wizard history!"
Harry shrugged helplessly. "I didn't grow up in the wizarding world. It's all a bit mad, really."
Adrian offered a sympathetic smile. "Must be like waking up in a storybook halfway through."
"Exactly!" Harry said, grateful.
"I'm Ron, by the way," the redhead added, offering a chocolate frog like a peace offering.
"Adrian Lovegood," he said, shaking their hands. "Pleased to meet you both."
"Lovegood…" Ron muttered. "That name sounds familiar…"
Adrian shrugged, grinning. "Probably my dad. He runs The Quibbler — a magazine full of oddities and conspiracies. Think magical nonsense, printed monthly."
Ron laughed. "Oh, that! My dad reads it. Pretends he doesn't, but he hides the issues in his sock drawer."
As the train pulled away from London, they fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. Ron rambled on about Hogwarts houses, Chocolate Frog cards, and Fred and George's pranks. Harry listened intently, eyes wide with wonder at every revelation, asking endless questions about Quidditch, spells, and enchanted staircases. Adrian joined in, casually filling in the blanks, careful not to overwhelm.
And then, as fate would have it, the door slid open again.