The week after our shopping spree of doom had been… weird.
Dad was obsessed with understanding everything about magic. He had bought at least ten different books with titles like The Complete Idiot's Guide to Wizard Parenting, Magic 101: What Muggles Need to Know, and Accidental Magic and How Not to Burn Your House Down—his personal favorite. Every evening, Dad could be found highlighting paragraphs and muttering things like, "Okay, so no spellcasting near electrical outlets… got it," and "How flammable is dragonhide, exactly?" He even had a spreadsheet tracking magical hazards and possible solutions. I was pretty sure he was one step away from trying to draft magical insurance policies.
Meanwhile, Mom had gone into full Pinterest mode.
"Do they allow homemade cookies?" she asked for the eighth time while packaging enough baked goods to supply an army.
"Mom," I groaned, "I'm pretty sure Hogwarts has a kitchen."
"But what if they don't have your favorite cookies?"
"…I'll survive."
"Hmm." She wasn't convinced.
As for me? I had been buried in my new books, especially the one on Occlumency.
"Occlumency: A Beginner's Guide to Shielding the Mind," I muttered, flipping through the worn pages. "Block out unwanted intrusions… focus on clearing the mind… visualize a barrier…" I was doing my best to practice, but clearing my mind was proving harder than I expected. My thoughts tended to wander—especially when I started thinking about my powers. The warmth in my veins was always there, thrumming just beneath the surface, waiting for me to call it. And when I focused on it too much… well, things tended to get warm.
Solara, my new mysterious bird, chirped softly beside me, perched comfortably on my shoulder. Her feathers shimmered like liquid sunlight, dancing between gold and deep blue when the light hit them just right. It felt… familiar. Almost like she was connected to my powers somehow.
"Think I can pull off this Occlumency thing, Solara?"
She blinked at me… then tilted her head as if to say, "You? Block anything? Good luck."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Speaking of Solara, I had finally picked a name for her after three days of brainstorming.
"Solar… Solstice… Solaris…" I had muttered.
And then it hit me.
"Solara."
She had chirped in approval the moment I said it, almost like she was saying, "Finally, you got it right."
Now, Solara spent her days following me around like a miniature guardian, her feathers occasionally glowing faintly when I practiced with my powers. I wasn't entirely sure if she was magical or something more… but I had a feeling I'd find out sooner or later.
It was a quiet Saturday morning. Too quiet. Dad was re-reading the liability clauses from Gringotts. Mom was debating which scarves would look "properly magical." And I was—
Ding-dong.
"Is that…?"
"McGonagall," I muttered, getting up.
Dad immediately straightened his tie.
"Be polite," he whispered.
"Dad, I'm not gonna—"
"Polite, Ethan."
I opened the door to see Professor McGonagall standing there, looking as prim and proper as ever.
"Good morning, Mr. Carter," she said, her tone clipped but polite.
"Morning, Professor," I said, stepping aside. "Come on in."
Dad immediately extended his hand.
"Professor," he said, smiling. "Pleasure to see you again."
McGonagall gave him a small nod, but her eyes were already scanning the living room… as if expecting something to catch fire.
"…I see things are still intact."
"For now," Dad muttered.
Mom came bustling in with a tray of tea and biscuits.
"Professor McGonagall," she said warmly. "So lovely to see you again!"
"Likewise, Mrs. Carter."
They all sat down, and for a moment, everything was normal.
Then Dad spoke.
"So… Professor," he said, leaning forward. "Just to clarify… exactly how much danger are we talking about with this Hogwarts thing?"
"Danger?" McGonagall arched a brow.
"You know… dragons, cursed objects, teenagers with wands…"
"Dad…" I groaned.
McGonagall's lips twitched, almost like she was amused.
"Mr. Carter," she said dryly, "I assure you that Hogwarts has been operating for over a thousand years. We have… contingencies."
Dad didn't look convinced.
"Contingencies," he murmured. "Right."
"Ethan," she said, turning to me. "Have you practiced any magic since receiving your wand?"
"…Sort of?"
"Show me."
Dad and Mom immediately sat up straighter, their eyes locked on me like I was about to detonate.
"Okay…"
I took a deep breath and pointed my wand at the teapot.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The teapot wobbled… then floated smoothly into the air.
Mom gasped.
"Oh my…"
Dad's jaw dropped.
"Well, that's… new."
"Excellent control," McGonagall said, her tone approving. "Very well done, Mr. Carter."
"Thanks," I said, feeling a tiny bit smug.
But a spark of warmth stirred inside me. I could feel it—my other power—lurking just beneath the surface. It was almost instinctual now. I didn't need to call it consciously. It was there. Watching. Waiting.
"Perhaps another spell?" she suggested, eyes twinkling slightly.
"…Alright."
I glanced around and spotted a candle on the table.
"Incendio."
A tiny spark flickered at the tip of my wand…
And then, for a brief moment, I felt something else—like a surge of heat swelling through me.
BOOM.
The candle didn't just light. It exploded.
"OH MY GOD!"
"ETHAN!"
"Oops."
Dad leapt to his feet, grabbing a dish towel to smother the flames.
Mom was fanning the smoke with a magazine.
McGonagall… just calmly waved her wand and restored everything to its previous state.
But I felt it.
For a split second, I had lost control. My power had leaked through the spell, amplifying it. I hadn't meant to use it… but it had answered anyway.
"…Right," Dad muttered, coughing. "That's gonna be a thing, isn't it?"
"Occasionally," McGonagall murmured, her lips twitching.
"Maybe we need a fireproof clause in the insurance," Dad mumbled, scribbling furiously in his notebook.
"Ethan," Mom said, her voice somewhere between proud and terrified. "Sweetheart, are you sure you're ready for this?"
"I'll be fine, Mom," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
Mom's eyes darted to Dad, who looked like he was mentally calculating funeral costs.
"Professor…" Dad said slowly. "Is there a… safety course for this?"
"Mr. Carter," McGonagall said, her tone dry. "That's what Hogwarts is for."
"…Right."
"Now," McGonagall said briskly, shifting to teacher mode. "You'll need to board the Hogwarts Express from Platform 9¾."
"…Platform what now?" Dad asked, blinking.
"Platform 9¾," she repeated as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say.
Dad stared at her like she'd grown a second head.
"You're telling me there's a… hidden platform in the middle of King's Cross Station?"
"Indeed."
"And how do we… get there?"
"Walk straight through the barrier between platforms nine and ten," McGonagall said matter-of-factly.
Dad's face was a masterpiece of disbelief.
"…I'm sorry. What?"
"It's perfectly safe," she added, her lips twitching again.
"Perfectly safe?" Dad echoed. "You mean perfectly insane."
"Don't worry, Mr. Carter," she said, standing up. "I'm sure Ethan will manage just fine."
"Well," she said, smoothing her robes, "I believe that covers everything."
"Everything?" Dad asked suspiciously.
"Everything," McGonagall confirmed with a small smile.
Dad didn't look convinced.
"Good day, Mr. Carter. Mrs. Carter. Ethan."
She gave a brief nod and swept toward the door.
As McGonagall disappeared, I glanced down at Solara, who was preening her feathers in satisfaction.
"Solara," I muttered under my breath. "I think this year is gonna be insane."
The bird blinked once, then gave me a chirp that sounded suspiciously like—
"You have no idea, kid."
I sighed and rubbed my temples.
Magic. Hogwarts. And a power that was getting harder to control.
Yeah. This year was going to be very interesting.