The first day of September arrived quietly, wrapped in the pale stillness of early morning.
Ethan slept deeply in his bedroom, the curtains half drawn, allowing thin fingers of gray light to slip across the wooden floor. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his mind drifting somewhere between dreams and waking.
Then a noise came.
A sudden flutter. A sharp thump. The unmistakable scrape of claws against stone.
Ethan frowned in his sleep, shifting slightly, but the sound came again, louder this time. A distressed hoot echoed through the house, followed by an angry hiss.
His eyes snapped open.
"What in the world…" he muttered, pushing himself upright.
He sat there for a moment, listening. The house was supposed to be empty and silent, protected by charms and wards layered carefully over the weeks he spent in this house. Yet the noise was unmistakable now. A struggle. Feathers brushing against stone. His frown deepened.
Ethan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, running a hand through his hair. He reached for his wand out of habit, then paused, listening again. The sounds were coming from downstairs.
With a quiet sigh, he left his room and moved down the staircase, his bare feet soundless against the steps. As he reached the bottom, the scene before him made everything instantly clear.
"Nina."
His white cat stood proudly in the center of the room, one paw firmly pressed against a large gray owl pinned helplessly to the floor. The owl's wings twitched beneath her weight, its golden eyes wide with alarm. Nina's tail lashed back and forth, her green eyes narrowed as she hissed softly, as though the owl had personally offended her by existing.
"Nina, let it go," Ethan said sharply.
The cat did not move.
"Nina," he repeated, louder now. "Let it go. You naughty cat. What is your obsession with owls?"
Nina turned her head slowly, meeting his gaze. She let out a defiant meow and pressed her paw down more firmly, her ears flattening.
"That is not negotiable," Ethan said as he crossed the room. "Let it go."
He crouched, carefully lifting Nina by the middle despite her irritated wriggle. The moment her weight was removed, the owl scrambled upright, feathers ruffled and dignity wounded. It hooted indignantly, flapped once, then twice, and shot upward toward the open window, vanishing into the morning air.
Something fell to the floor in its wake.
Ethan glanced down and spotted a thick envelope resting near the hearth. He bent to retrieve it just as Nina lunged again, attempting to sink her teeth into the corner.
"Oh no you don't ," Ethan said, pulling the letter out of reach. "Enough."
He nudged her gently away with his knee. "Bad girl. How many times have I told you not to attack owls? If you do that again, I will not take you with me next time."
Nina responded by scratching his cheek with surgical precision.
"Ow," Ethan muttered as she hissed, leapt from his arms, and stalked away with her tail held high.
He shook his head slowly, rubbing the thin red mark on his face. "You are unbearably spoiled," he said to no one in particular.
Then his attention returned to the envelope in his hand.
The crest embossed in red wax was unmistakable. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
His eyebrow rose.
"Well," he murmured. "That is interesting."
He broke the seal and unfolded the letter within.
⸻
{ Dear Mr Trone,
I trust this letter finds you well.
In light of the current circumstances surrounding the start of term, and given your particular qualifications and experience, the Headmaster and I have agreed upon a small but important request.
You are hereby invited to travel aboard the Hogwarts Express on the first of September. Your presence on the train will serve as an additional safeguard for our students during the journey, and in the unlikely event of any incident, we would be grateful for your assistance in maintaining order and security.
Enclosed you will find a valid ticket for passage. I trust you will find this arrangement acceptable.
Should you have any concerns, you may contact me directly.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress }
⸻
Ethan read the letter twice, then once more.
"Hm," he said thoughtfully.
He glanced at the clock mounted above the fireplace. Eight o clock.
"Well then," he said, folding the letter carefully and slipping it into his pocket. "I suppose I should get moving."
The morning passed quickly.
He showered, dressed, and brushed his teeth, finishing with a brief potion rinse that left his mouth tingling faintly. Afterward, he walked through the house, wand in hand, renewing the Muggle repelling charms layered over the structure. The wards shimmered invisibly as they settled into place, ensuring that any curious neighbor or wandering official would find themselves inexplicably disinterested.
Satisfied, Ethan returned to his room and packed his belongings into a specially charmed bag. Books, alchemical tools, spare robes, notebooks, and personal items vanished neatly inside, the space within far larger than its outward appearance suggested.
He stood for a moment in the doorway, surveying the house.
"Nina," he called.
No response came.
"Nina," he called again.
A faint meow answered from somewhere nearby.
He followed the sound and found her curled atop a chair, fast asleep, paws tucked neatly beneath her chest.
"There you are," he said with a small smile. "Come on. We are going to Hogwarts."
One eye cracked open. Another meow followed.
He scooped her up gently and tucked her into the inner pocket of his coat. "Sit here. It will be a long journey."
Her head poked out, ears flicking as she settled.
With everything ready, Ethan moved to the newly activated fireplace. He took a pinch of Floo powder and held it loosely in his palm.
"Stay inside the pocket," he told Nina.
She complied, retreating fully just as he tossed the powder into the flames.
Green fire erupted, swirling around him as he spoke his destination. The world spun, stretched, and then snapped back into place.
Ethan stepped out into a long corridor lined with fireplaces, each flaring to life as witches and wizards arrived with trunks, children, and excited chatter. The air buzzed with energy and anticipation.
Nina peeked out again, eyes wide and alert.
"Well," Ethan murmured, adjusting his coat. "We are not the only ones traveling today."
He followed the flow of people toward the exit, emerging into a bustling station where Muggles and magical folk moved side by side, though never quite noticing one another. Wizards in outdated robes and eccentric hats drew strange looks, though none lingered too long.
Ticket in hand, Ethan trailed a wizarding family toward a seemingly solid wall.
Without hesitation, they walked straight through it.
He paused only briefly before doing the same.
The sensation was strange, like passing through cool water without getting wet. Then the world opened up before his eyes.
Platform Nine and Three Quarters burst into view, alive with noise and motion. Steam curled from the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express. Students laughed, shouted, and hugged their parents. Trunks were loaded, owls hooted, and final instructions were given with varying degrees of seriousness and panic.
Ethan stepped aside, observing quietly.
A staff member stopped him near one of the carriages. "Excuse me, sir. May I ask your purpose?"
Ethan handed over his ticket.
The man scanned it, blinked once, then nodded. "Of course. Welcome aboard."
Inside the train, the corridors were crowded with students finding seats. Ethan chose a quieter compartment near the middle and settled in, placing his bag overhead.
Nina hopped onto the seat beside him, sniffing the air.
The whistle blew. The train lurched forward.
Outside, parents waved. Some cried. Others smiled bravely.
Nina curled into his lap, purring softly.
Ethan stroked her absently and opened a novel from the Muggle world. The rhythmic motion of the train lulled the carriage into a gentle calm.
The sharp metallic ring of the whistle cut through the low murmur of voices that filled the platform, echoing against iron beams and drifting steam. Almost immediately after, the deep groan of the engine followed, a sound that vibrated through the wooden panels of the carriage and into Ethan's bones. It was the kind of sound that announced movement, inevitability, and the beginning of something that could not be paused once it had started.
The door of his compartment slid open with a muted clatter.
Two students stepped inside.
They looked like older students, comfortable and seasoned. One was a boy with dark hair that curled slightly at the edges and a confident posture that suggested he was comfortable taking up space. The other was a girl with chestnut hair pulled back loosely, a few strands already escaping to frame her face. Their school robes were neat but not stiff, worn with the casual ease of students who had already resigned themselves to another long year.
They glanced at Ethan.
"Hi," the boy said, offering a quick nod.
"Hey," the girl added, her voice light.
Ethan returned the nod, his expression neutral. "Hi."
Nothing more was said. There was no awkwardness in the silence that followed, only the quiet understanding that strangers often shared on trains like this. The two students took the seats opposite him, settling in as the carriage gave a small jolt beneath their feet.
Nina shifted slightly on the seat beside Ethan, her tail flicking once in mild irritation before curling neatly around her paws. Her green eyes followed the newcomers with calm interest.
The girl noticed her almost immediately.
"Oh," she breathed softly, her face brightening. "She's beautiful."
Nina blinked slowly, unimpressed by her enthusiasm but she was tolerant.
The girl smiled wider, clearly enchanted, and for a few moments her attention remained fixed on the cat. Every so often, however, her gaze drifted upward, lingering briefly on Ethan before returning to Nina. She seemed unaware of it, or perhaps she simply did not care.
Ethan, for his part, pretended not to notice.
He reached for his wand, lifting it casually and giving a small, precise flick. From the open trunk behind him, another book slid free, gliding through the air before settling gently into his hands. He opened it without ceremony and began to read.
It was a novel from the Muggle world, one he had picked up out of curiosity rather than recommendation. The cover was worn, the pages slightly yellowed, but the words inside pulled him in quickly, forming images that distracted him from the noise of the train and the presence of strangers.
Outside, with a long hiss of steam and a gradual, steady pull, the train began to move faster.
The scenery beyond the window shifted, the platform slowly slipping away as the engine gathered speed. Students passed by in the corridor, laughter and shouted greetings bleeding through the thin walls. Somewhere farther down the train, a trolley rattled as it was pushed from carriage to carriage.
Ethan read.
He read as the countryside began to replace the city. He read as the rhythm of the tracks settled into something almost soothing. He read as Nina pressed her weight more firmly against his side, content in the familiar motion.
And yet, despite the words on the page, his attention drifted.
Not by choice.
The two students across from him had begun to talk in earnest.
At first, it was nothing more than background noise. Complaints about summer assignments, speculation about professors, the usual anxieties that came with the start of term. Then the conversation shifted.
"…the OWLs this year are going to be brutal," the girl said, leaning back in her seat. "I heard they changed the evaluation criteria again."
The boy snorted. "They always change it. They say it's to improve fairness, but it just makes everything worse."
Ethan turned a page, his eyes scanning the lines while his mind quietly filed away their words.
"And that's not even the worst of it," the girl continued. "Have you been following the elections?"
The boy's posture changed immediately. He straightened, interest clearly sparked. "The Ministry ones?"
"Yes," she said. "It's ridiculous at this point."
Ethan's grip on the book tightened almost imperceptibly.
The boy shook his head. "Nearly seven months now. Seven months since the election was supposed to be decided. Postponed, delayed, challenged. Sometimes they say the votes are in, sometimes they say they need another round. And every time, it ends the same way."
"A deadlock," the girl said.
"Exactly. Perfectly even," he replied. "Two candidates locked in a political duel, and neither of them willing to yield."
Ethan kept reading.
Or rather, he pretended to.
"The worst part," the boy went on, "is how divided the Ministry itself has become. Entire departments taking sides. Heads of divisions quietly backing one candidate or the other. Even the Wizengamot members can't agree."
The girl tilted her head, a slow smile forming. "I still think Allison Potter is going to win."
The boy groaned. "Of course you do."
"She's brilliant," the girl said, unfazed. "Have you read her policy proposals? Her work in the Department of Foreign Affairs alone should qualify her. The treaties she helped renegotiate, the new cooperation frameworks she pushed through under the previous Minister. That's real progress."
Ethan's eyes paused on a sentence, then moved on without absorbing it.
"She has support," the girl continued. "A lot of it. And not just from the public. Old families, reformists, international allies. And let's be honest, her name carries weight."
The boy rolled his eyes. "There it is."
"It matters," she insisted. "She comes from a hero's family. People remember that. And Dumbledore himself supports her."
At the mention of Albus Dumbledore, Ethan felt a flicker of recognition, though his expression remained unchanged.
"If that were enough," the boy replied, "she would have won already. You know that as well as I do. The wizarding world pretends to admire heroes, but when it comes to power, they hesitate."
The girl crossed her arms. "So you think Oswin Selvanos is better?"
"I do," the boy said without hesitation. "He's experienced. Decades in the Department of Magical Security. A senior Auror. He understands threats, understands how fragile peace really is. Someone like that makes sense as Minister."
"He's rigid," she countered. "And Outdated."
"He's proven," the boy shot back. "He's got a great record similar to Mad Eye Moody. And people trust that."
Ethan shifted slightly, Nina's fur warm beneath his fingers as he absentmindedly stroked her back.
"Besides," the boy added, "he's got a reputation. People compare him to young Dumbledore."
The girl scoffed. "That's hardly comforting."
"It is to some," he replied.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly before she smirked. "You just support him because you're Irish."
The boy laughed. "And what's wrong with that? If the next Minister of Magic is of Irish descent, from an old pure blood family no less, it would be a meaningful change. Representation matters."
"Do you honestly think the British wizarding elite would accept that?" the girl asked. "An Irish pure blood leading the Ministry? Especially with how traditional some of them are?"
"They'll have to," the boy said. "The world is changing."
"Outside world yes but not Britain," she muttered.
Ethan raised his eyebrows slightly, still focused on his book.
He had read about both candidates in the Daily Prophet. Long articles dissecting every word, every gesture about them , every rumor about them . Analysts predicting outcomes with confident authority one week, only to retract everything the next. Opinion pieces that praised, condemned, and speculated in equal measure.
Allison Potter. Oswin Selvanos.
Names that carried weight of the two powerful families of British magical world. Two Names that stirred debate wherever they were spoken.
The train continued its journey northward, cutting through green fields and rolling hills, carrying with it hundreds of students toward Hogwarts.
Ethan turned another page of the novel.
Outside, the sky shifted slowly, clouds drifting lazily as the landscape grew wilder, more remote. Inside the carriage, the conversation carried on, looping back on itself as debates often did. The girl and the boy argued, teased, challenged each other, neither willing to concede.
And Ethan listened to their arguments while pretending to read his novel.