The months leading up to Hogwarts passed more quietly than I expected.
Shell Cottage became home during that time. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore took some getting used to when I tried to sleep, but I eventually grew to enjoy it. My mom seemed lighter there, happier.
We spent long mornings walking along the cliffs, afternoons reading by the fire, and evenings studying. She taught me the first-year curriculum. Nothing beyond that, though—she preferred that I discover things naturally at school and challenge myself in the subject I want to learn ahead in.
Diagon Alley became our second home.
For the better part of eight months, we visited often—sometimes with purpose, sometimes simply to wander.
Mom took a job at the Magical Menagerie. It turned out she had spent a lot of time there in her youth, and the shopkeeper was more than pleased to see her again. With her prior experience working at a magical pet shop in America, she fit in quickly, effortlessly caring for the animals.
It was there she told me about Hagrid.
"I ran into an old friend named Hagrid today," she said fondly one evening, smiling at the memory. "He hasn't changed a bit—still with a heart as big as he is. He could barely fit through the door when he came into the shop, which gave us both a good laugh. We talked for a while, and I told him about you. Imagine his surprise—me disappearing for eleven years and returning with a son in tow."
She paused, then continued, "He mentioned he was escorting the child of a dear friend of mine while they shopped for Hogwarts supplies. If you meet a boy named Harry Potter, do me a favor and try to be his friend. I'd be grateful."
"Sure, Mom," I said easily. "And since you were friends with his parents, why don't I give him a photo of you both from school? That way he'll know I'm not lying."
She clapped her hands together, nodding in approval.
"That's a wonderful idea. His parents passed away a long time ago—about a year after I left for America—so I'm sure he would cherish it."
She handed me a moving photograph from her album. It showed her standing beside a red-haired girl with bright green eyes, both smiling widely in front of a massive red train.
I carefully tucked the photo into the pages of my Transfiguration textbook, knowing I wouldn't lose it there. I carried that book everywhere—Transfiguration was, by far, my favorite subject.
Before I knew it, summer had ended.
And just like that, I was standing inside King's Cross Station.
It was strange how the Muggles barely batted an eye as I pushed a cart stacked high with luggage, an owl in a cage on top.
After psyching myself up for a few moments, I ran straight through the pillar my mom pointed out—and emerged onto the other side, greeted by the same massive red train from the photograph.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was pure chaos.
Steam hissed through the air, trunks scraped against the stone, and voices overlapped in a mix of excitement and nerves. Honestly, it looked like any normal scene of parents sending their children off to boarding school—just with a lot more floating luggage involved.
"Well, dear," my mom said softly, "it looks like it's time for you to go. Make plenty of friends, and have Koko send me a letter telling me which house you end up in. I was a Hufflepuff myself, so I can't help being a little biased—but I'm sure any house will be lucky to have you."
She kissed my forehead and gave me one last warm smile.
Then, with a soft crack, she Apparated away.
"Well, that was a rather quick goodbye," I muttered to myself as I picked up Koko's cage and pulled out my wand.
Murmuring, "Wingardium Leviosa," I aimed it at my trunk, lifting it to float neatly beside me. I left the rest of my luggage behind in the designated loading area and started walking toward the train.
That was when I felt it. A rather piercing gaze burning into the back of my head.
I turned and found myself making eye contact with a girl sporting an impressive amount of bushy brown hair. Even without having seen the movies, some appearances were just known—this had to be Hermione Granger.
What I couldn't figure out was why she was glaring at me as though I'd just kicked her puppy.
Deciding to ignore her for now, I gave an awkward wave and kept walking.
After a few minutes, I finally found an empty compartment. I secured my trunk, then sat down with a relieved sigh.
"Do you want to stay with me for the ride," I asked Koko as I set her cage beside me, "or do you want to fly ahead and maybe get some sightseeing in?"
She let out a low screech and bobbed her head toward the window.
"Sounds good to me," I said with a chuckle. "Get some rest, then. We should be leaving in about thirty minutes, and you've got a nine-hour flight ahead of you."
Koko promptly closed her eyes and settled onto her perch.
Deciding to join her and relax, I pulled out my advanced Transfiguration book—the one I'd bought yesterday—and double-checked that my mom's photograph was tucked safely inside before beginning to read.
I'd barely finished the first page when the compartment door slid open abruptly, startling me from my reading.
Looking up, I saw the same bush of brown hair from earlier. I offered a polite smile, hoping she had cooled down from whatever mood she'd been in before.
"Hello," I said pleasantly. "A fine morning we're having, isn't it? Would you like to join me?"
I gestured to the empty seat across from me.
"I won't refuse, then. Thank you," she said as she reached down to pick up her trunk.
I decided it would be best to help—judging by the way she braced herself, it was fairly heavy. Pulling out my wand, I murmured the levitation charm, allowing the trunk to float effortlessly into place.
To my surprise, she froze. Then she shot me a sharp, challenging glare before sitting down across from me once her trunk was stowed away.
"How do you already know how to use the levitation charm so fluently?" she demanded. "We only received our wands last week, and even after reading all the first-year books, I've only managed to get down a few of the spells at the beginning."
Ah. That explained the glare.
"Oh—well, I'm a bit of a special case," I said calmly. "I got my wand on my birthday back in January. I used to live in America and wanted my wand from Wolfe Fine Wands instead of Ollivanders. So, you could say I beat the system a little. By the way, my name's Perseus Winters—but feel free to call me Percy."
As I spoke, realization dawned on her face.
"Oh! How rude of me," she said quickly. "My name is Hermione Granger. But—you said you're from America, yet you have an English accent?"
"Well, Hermione, that one's fairly easy to explain," I replied. "I'm sure you know about the war with Voldemort, right?"
She nodded, so I continued.
"My mother decided it would be safest to move away for a while. She's Muggle-born, and my father was a pureblood—so things were… complicated. Especially after he died. But as for the accent, my mum never lost hers, and I was raised by her."
She looked genuinely surprised by that.
"I see," she said slowly. "That's a rather deep explanation for someone you've just met."
I shrugged. "Figured being honest might help you warm up to the idea of being my friend. You see, you're the only person my age I've really talked to. So—what do you say? Want to be friends with a bloke you just met on a train?"
She looked at me, clearly surprised—and a little shy—by my request. After a moment, she nodded in agreement.
"Excellent," I said with a bright smile. "It's a pleasure to meet my first friend. I'm sure we're going to have a lot of fun at Hogwarts over the next seven years."
Then I added, more gently, "Oh—and by the way, I could tell you were worried that I'm ahead of you practically, but you really don't have anything to worry about. The fact that you've already read all the first-year material means you're ahead of almost everyone—including me."
I shrugged lightly.
"Most purebloods—and some half-bloods—spend their childhood drilling etiquette like it's the medieval ages, since they can't properly control magic until they're eleven. So really, everyone starts on equal footing. Well… except me," I admitted with a small grin. "But you'll catch up in no time. You're obviously very smart."
"If you wouldn't mind," Hermione asked eagerly, "would you help me with the spells you already know?"
"I can't say I'm much of a teacher," I replied, "but I wouldn't mind helping. Let's start with the levitation charm, shall we? It can be pretty useful—as you saw with the trunks."
She pulled out her wand at once as I set my book down on the seat beside me.
"Alright, the easiest way to explain it is to show you," I said, raising my wand. "When first learning a spell, pronunciation and wand movement are important—just like with any spell—until you understand it well enough to cast silently. Now, for this one: the wand movement is a swish and a flick, the incantation is Wingardium Leviosa. Make sure to emphasize the 'o,' and really picture what you want the spell to do. Magic is will, after all. I'll demonstrate."
With a deliberate swish and flick—and exaggerated pronunciation for teaching emphasis—my book lifted smoothly into the air.
"Normally," I continued, "this is taught using something lighter, like a feather, but I think you'll manage just fine."
Hermione nodded and immediately began working on the spell. Less than a minute later, my book rose a few inches above the seat.
"Wow," I said, clapping my hands lightly. "You picked that up fast. You definitely didn't need my help."
"The demonstration really helped," she said, clearly pleased. "I appreciate it."
Before I could reply, I felt the train lurch forward.
Finally—we were moving.
I glanced over at Koko, who had perked up in her cage, clearly ready.
"Not a problem, Hermione," I said. "I'm going to open the window for a moment. I promised Koko she could take off once the train started moving."
I slid the window open and unlatched the cage. Koko launched herself into the air without hesitation, wings spreading wide as she disappeared alongside the train.
"So her name is Koko?" Hermione asked. "She's beautiful. I'm not really used to seeing owls—or people casually owning one—so I wasn't sure what to say when I saw her."
"Yeah, wizards are pretty weird," I admitted with a grin. "But I suppose that's part of the magic, right? What witch or wizard isn't depicted with some kind of animal? That said, I really do love that owl though. Are you planning on getting a pet companion?"
"I didn't see the point," she replied thoughtfully. "School is meant for studying, after all."
"Maybe," I said, shrugging. "But I think it's nice to have one. Hogwarts can get pretty stressful. Besides—my mom works at the pet shop in Diagon Alley. I could probably get you a discount.
She looked like she was actually considering it when a timid knock sounded at the compartment door.
A rather plump boy stood there, fidgeting nervously.
"H-hello," he said. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a toad, would you? I—I seem to have lost mine."
"Nope, can't say I've seen one," I said, "but I'd be glad to help. What about you, Hermione?"
"Sure," she replied. "It's not like we have much else going on."
"Well, alright then," I said as we stepped out into the corridor. "So, what's your name, mate? I'm Perseus Winters—but feel free to call me Percy. And this tumbleweed here is Hermione Granger."
That earned me a sharp glare from Hermione as we moved down the train, peering into compartments and asking if anyone had seen a toad.
"Ah—my name's Neville Longbottom," he said with a shy nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."
"Longbottom, was it?" I said thoughtfully. "My mom used to be rather good friends with your mom back in their school day. Ever heard the name Alyssa Winters be mentioned around?"
He looked at me in shock—probably more at the idea of my mother knowing his—before slowly shaking his head. Only then did it occur to me what Mom had told me before: Neville's parents had been hospitalized when he was only a year old, near the end of the war, and were still there to this day.
"I see… and I'm sorry for bringing up your parents," I added quickly. "That was insensitive of me."
Hermione looked confused but didn't ask any questions. From the expression on Neville's face, it was obvious the topic was a painful one.
Wanting to pull us out of the gloomy atmosphere, I spoke up again. "Well—would you look at that," I said, as I looked into a compartment next to me
A red-haired boy had his wand out and looked ready to demonstrate a spell to the spectacled boy sitting next to him.
After a light knock, I slid the compartment door open and offered a friendly smile.
"Hello there," I said.
Both boys looked at me in confusion, clearly wondering why I'd suddenly appeared.
"Have either of you chaps seen a toad hopping around?" I asked. "My friend Neville here is searching for his wayward pet."
"No," the ginger said simply.
"Well, that's too bad," I replied easily. "But I couldn't help noticing you were about to show some magic. Mind if I watch?"
In response, he straightened up and cleared his throat, readying himself.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow—
Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"
He flicked his wand, and the only result was the box popping off the rat's head.
Hermione spoke from behind me, unimpressed. "That's not a very good spell. Actually, I'm not sure that's a spell at all."
"I can show you one that actually works," she added, stepping forward and sitting across from the other boy. She pointed her wand at his glasses.
"Oculus Reparo."
The tape at the bridge of his glasses twisted and vanished, leaving them good as new.
Seeing that, I clapped my hands. "Nicely done," I said. "Now, we should probably introduce ourselves. The rather pushy—but kind—girl there is Hermione Granger. The shy boy behind me is Neville Longbottom. As for me, my name's Perseus Winters, though feel free to call me Percy. What about you?"
The red-haired boy answered first, speaking around a mouthful of food. "I'm Ron Weasley—and this next to me is—"
"This must be Harry Potter," Hermione cut in eagerly. "You're rather famous, you know?"
The boy—now clearly identified as Harry Potter—looked as though he already understood the weight of his name and didn't seem to like it all that much.
"So you're Harry Potter?" I said. "Give me a second—I'll be right back."
I dashed out of the compartment and returned less than five minutes later.
"Alright, I'm back," I said, stepping inside again. "This is for you, Harry. My mom used to be best mates with yours, and we thought you might like to have a picture of her when she was younger. The one with red hair is your mom—you've got her eyes, you know."
I handed him the photograph, which he took gently, eyes wide.
"Thank you," Harry whispered.
The others leaned in to look as well.
"Wow," Hermione said softly. "They're both very pretty."
I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah, that's true. I wish I looked more like my mom, but I only got her eyes—same as Harry here. Apparently, I look just like my dad, though I've never seen him."
I paused, then glanced at Neville. "Anyway, I'm sure your toad will turn up soon, mate. But I've got to get changed—and so do Harry and Ron. We should be arriving at school any time now."
With that, I waved goodbye to Harry and Ron and headed back into the corridor.
As I walked away, Hermione spoke up behind me. "That was really nice of you. He looked genuinely happy seeing that picture. But you have to tell me—how do those photographs move like that?"
"Mom and I figured he'd appreciate it," I replied. "But honestly, I've got no idea how the pictures work. You'll have to ask someone else about that particular bit of magic."
Back in our compartment, I got changed, and Hermione and I spent the remaining time talking about magic, school houses, and practicing a few more spells. Before I knew it, the train slowed—and then came to a stop.
Magic school, here I come.