Ethan stepped out of Flourish and Blotts, the door clicking shut behind him as the warm afternoon sun spilled over Diagon Alley. A satisfied grin tugged at his lips. The weight of his items sat comfterbly inside the trunk he had bought earlier, packed full with fresh parchment, potions ingredients, a polished set of brass scales, and brand-new Hogwarts textbooks. The scent of ink and old paper still lingered on his clothes. He couldn't help but glance around, his excitement visible.
He had done it. Shopping for school supplies in Diagon Alley, wand from Ollivanders, robes from Madam Malkin's, everything. It was one thing to read about, another to live it.
This wasn't a dream. It was real.
Ethan Wright was going to Hogwarts.
His eyes drifted to the giant clock suspended outside Gringotts, the golden hands ticking steadily toward the top of the hour. His stomach dropped.
"One hour until the train leaves," he muttered.
He turned on his heel, weaving through the thinning crowd with urgenc, Notcis giving a displeased hoot for the sudden movements. He'd gotten too caught up browsing the shelves, flipping through charms books, trying on enchanted gloves. Now, he was on the edge of running late and missing the train.
Just as he rounded a corner near the Apothecary, a voice called out, bright, familiar, and completely unexpected.
"There you are, Ethan! I was wondering when you'd be done."
His steps halted mid-stride.
He turned slowly toward the voice, feeling a strange pressure behind his ribs. A woman stood at the mouth of the alley, hands resting on her hips, a knowing smile playing at her lips. She looked about mid-thirties, auburn hair tied in a loose bun, and wore deep green robes with subtle silver trim. Elegant, practical, composed. There was a warmth in her brown eyes that pulled something loose inside him.
He didn't know her.
And yet, a name formed in his mouth before he could stop it. "Mum?"
The word tumbled out awkwardly, half disbelief, half instinct.
She chuckled and closed the distance between them. "Don't sound so surprised, dear. You didn't think I'd let you go off to Hogwarts without a proper sendoff, did you?"
Ethan blinked, still rooted to the spot, still trying to process it. The system hadn't just generated paperwork or a name, it had created a person. A mother. Someone real. Someone who had memories of him, mannerisms built over years that he'd never lived. His chest tightened at the realization.
The world hadn't just placed him inside it—it had written him into its fabric.
He fell into step beside her as she took his hand gently, steering him toward the Leaky Cauldron with the air of someone who had done it dozens of times. Through the pub they went, the magical transition back into Muggle London smooth as silk.
The streets outside were bustling with people. Taxis honked, suitcases rolled over pavement, and London's gray skyline hung overhead as they approached King's Cross Station. The sight of it hit Ethan harder than expected. He had seen it before—on screen, in books, in dreams. But standing there now, dragging his trunk behind him, it struck him just how real it all was.
And then he saw them.
A flash of red hair. A woman in a knitted sweater, tall and bustling with motherly energy. A messy-haired boy pushing a trolley and gawking at the station signs. A freckled boy talking a mile a minute.
Harry Potter. Ron. Mrs. Weasley.
Ethan slowed, heart skipping. They looked exactly as he remembered.
"-packed with Muggles, of course," Mrs. Weasley was saying, looking toward the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten.
Harry watched with wide-eyed confusion as she guided her sons through, one by one, into the magical passage.
He's really here, Ethan thought, stunned. I'm watching this happen. This exact moment.
His mother leaned in with a smile. "Come along now. You don't want to miss your turn."
She walked ahead, seamlessly blending into the stream of wizarding families. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, vanishing through the barrier.
Ethan swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the handle of his trolley.
His turn.
He took a breath, stepped forward at a steady pace, and emerged on the other side into a world of steam, color, and sound.
Platform 9 ¾ was alive with noise and motion. The Hogwarts Express stretched across the tracks like a red serpent, its windows shining in the sunlight. Clouds of white steam curled through the air, mingling with the excited chatter of students and the scent of oil and coal. Owls hooted from cages. Cats darted between legs. Trunks rolled along the ground as families embraced and children waved their last goodbyes.
Ethan took it all in with wide eyes.
He was here. For real.
His mother reappeared beside him, adjusting his collar with one last fussing touch. "Take care of yourself," she said gently, her voice warm. "Study hard. Write me often. And don't forget to have fun."
Ethan nodded, the moment catching in his throat. "I will."
She kissed his forehead, smiling proudly. "Off you go then. Don't miss the train."
He turned toward the train, entering the narrow corridor of the Hogwarts Express as it was filled with noise and laughter. Students leaned out of compartments, waving to friends. Robes fluttered. Spellbooks spilled from open trunks. Ethan moved down the passage, scanning for an open seat, feeling both overwhelmed and overjoyed.
Finally, near the rear, he found an empty compartment. He slid the door shut behind him, hoisted his trunk into the rack, and collapsed onto the cushioned bench with a deep breath.
Immediately, the whistle blew, long and low.
He leaned toward the window, watching the crowd outside blur into a watercolor of robes, hair, and smiles. His mother stood near the platform edge, waving one last time.
The train lurched forward.
Ethan waved back until she disappeared from view. The platform shrank behind them.
He was on the train to Hogwarts.