Atomistic Omens

 

Tadfield - 1991

 It was a nice day.

All the days had been nice.

Yet Ezra couldn't shake a growing sense of unease. Despite the comforting warmth of the teacup cradled in his hands and the array of books spread out before him, an intangible urgency lingered at the edges of his thoughts as if he was on the brink of recalling something significant—something feels almost…ineffable.

A gentle breeze swirled around him, carrying the rich, earthy scent of freshly turned soil. It urges him to lift his gaze from the pages before him, and there, amidst the dappled sunlight of the garden. His best mate was deep in concentration, fussing over the newly planted pots and rows of seeds, a task that had kept the three of them—Muriel, Anthony, and himself—busy for days.

 Anthony's red hair was dancing with the wind, a wild tangle that caught the light and seemed to shimmer like fire in the sun. He was hunched over, his tall, lean frame bending just so as he examined the soil's dampness. Those golden eyes of his sparkles with intensity, and for a moment, Ezra can’t help but admire the graceful angles of Anthony's face, highlighted by his high cheekbones and that slightly determined chin. It is amusing how Anthony can look both elegant and mischievous all at once.

At that moment, Anthony must've sensed he was being watched, for he glanced up and met Ezra’s gaze. A faint flush creeps onto his cheeks, and he clears his throat, trying not to sound too awkward.

 "Erm, do you want to come check on them with me, angel?" Anthony asks, a bit hesitantly.

 "Oh, no! I can't mess with your herbology genius! I'd much rather just watch you do your thing," Ezra replies earnestly, completely at ease and unbothered by any hint of embarrassment.

Most people think of Ezra as the nice, kind, sweet half of their duo—mostly true, but they don’t realize just how brave and bold he can be, especially when it comes to Anthony. And Anthony, despite his intimidating, somewhat grumpy appearance, has a way of turning into a shy, blushing mess whenever Ezra throws a compliment at his way, no matter if they are alone or out in public.

Ezra always tries to tread lightly to avoid making his friend uncomfortable, but there's this strong, almost irresistible urge within him to reassure Anthony that he is perfect just as he is. It puzzles Ezra why he feels this way, but every time he sees Anthony appear even a little self-conscious, a wave of regret and guilt washes over him. Deep down, Ezra feels some odd sense of responsibility for Anthony's insecurities.

The sound of footsteps from the back of the house pulls both Anthony and Ezra from their musings. It was Muriel, Ezra's cousin, who breezes into the garden, balancing a jug of freshly brewed black tea and a delicious plate of lemon cake.

Anthony casts a quick glance at Ezra, who offers a reassuring nod in return. It's typical of them to work a bit of magic in the kitchen, lending a hand to their well-meaning but often disastrous cousin whenever she attempts to whip up a treat. Muriel is an absolute gem, always eager to assist, though her culinary skills are, shall we say, still very much on the learning curve.

As Ezra clears some space on the table for Muriel's offerings, she cheerfully calls out to Anthony, urging him to join in on the afternoon festivities. Despite Muriel's enthusiasm, Anthony feels a nagging worry creep in. What will happen to Ezra's cousin in their cottage once he and Ezra pack up for Hogwarts—the grand school for wizards and witches—tomorrow?

Ezra and Anthony have been tight since they were wee ones, thanks to their parents being old friends. Then there's Muriel—Ezra's cousin and also a squib— who lives without magic despite being born to magical parents. Fortunately, she embraces her magic-free existence wholeheartedly. Muriel adores everything about the Muggle world, finding herself captivated by their everyday lives. To be honest, Ezra and Anthony share her enthusiasm. There's an undeniable charm in Muggle culture that draws them in.

The three of them have lived in this cozy little cottage on the outskirts of London for as long as they can remember. After their parents passed away, it was up to the three kids to keep everything running smoothly. Thankfully, Ezra and Anthony aren't your typical teens. They've got a surprising maturity about them, likely due to their parents' endless adventures around the world in the fascinating realm of magic.

It's amusing how often a few acquaintances of their parents remark on how much Ezra and Anthony remind them of their dads. The thing is, there are no solid family photos lying around to confirm that resemblance. And here's the kicker: neither of them seems bothered by this lack of knowledge about their parents. There's no deep-seated sadness about their absence, just a comfortable acceptance of their odd little family dynamic. Ezra, Anthony, and Muriel are certainly a peculiar bunch, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

"So, are you two excited for Hogwarts tomorrow?!" Muriel chirps, her bright eyes shining with anticipation as all three of them gather around Ezra's quaint little table in the garden. The sun begins to set, casting a warm golden hue over their secluded slice of the world, where the air is fragrant with the mingling scents of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass.

"Uh-huh, whatever," Anthony responds, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I doubt they can teach us much anyway. Most adult wizards and witches we've met are rather dull if you ask me."

Ezra offers a gentle smile, a flicker of eagerness illuminating his features. "Now, Anthony, be nice. Professor Dumbledore—one of my father's smartest mates, according to his notes—is the headmaster there. I reckon we can learn loads from him." 

Anthony shrugs, still not convinced, brushing a loose curl away from his forehead. "Sure, but he's the headmaster. He probably has way too much on his plate managing the whole place to actually teach us anything." 

"Maybe," Ezra concedes, but his mind is already racing ahead, imagining the energetic corridors of Hogwarts filled with magic and the chatter of students. 

"But perhaps , we might stumble upon some classmates who know a thing or two and can help us dig into the mysteries of magic." He expertly slices into the golden lemon cake sitting on the table, its surface shimmering with a thin glaze. The sweet, zesty aroma of fresh lemons fills the air as he reveals the light, fluffy layers inside, a perfect balance to the tangy sweetness on top. Ezra proceeds to carefully hand out its slices to Muriel and Anthony. 

"You just want more people to join our little quest to sift through your grandma's and our parents’ old notes," Anthony quips. "But how can we be sure we'll even find kids like us at Hogwarts?" 

Muriel jumps in, her voice bright and full of conviction, almost musical in its insistence. "Oh, I'm certain you will! I have a good feeling about it. Anthony, I know you're trying to look out for me, and it's really sweet, but you both *have to* go to Hogwarts! I'll be perfectly fine here."

Muriel usually embodies kindness and innocence, often deferring to Anthony's lead, even though she's physically older than him. But her tone turns resolute when it comes to Hogwarts, her determination palpable.

"... She's right, Anthony," Ezra affirms, warmth in his voice as he savors another slice of lemon cake, relishing its bright flavor. "I share a similar impression of Hogwarts as Muriel. Besides, she won't be alone. With Anathema and Newton around, plus Adam and his group, don't forget about the new café in Tadfield run by Nina and Maggie. You really don't need to worry about her."

"I'm not worried about Muriel… I'm just a bit concerned about how our cottage will hold up while we're away," Anthony admits, a teasing smirk aimed at Muriel. Ezra laughs as Muriel playfully slaps Anthony's shoulder in response. Anthony then continues, scratching the back of his neck pensively, "And speaking of Adam, it's hard to believe he's not a wizard. I always sense a powerful aura of magic around him. It feels like he's just refusing to tap into it."

"You mean he rejectsbeing a wizard? Can you actually rejectthat?" Muriel asks curiosity piqued as she pours a generous amount of milk into her cup of tea, steam curling upwards in delicate tendrils.

Anthony takes a moment, contemplating his words, the sweet and sour taste of the cake lingering on his tongue. "Well… it's something that's never been recorded. That doesn't mean it can't happen, though," he replies, sipping his dark tea, preferring it without sugar or milk, his gaze thoughtful.

Ezra's enthusiasm rises, believing deeply in the potential of magic. "That aligns with my father's notes, which suggest that everything has magic. The challenge lies in understanding how to channel it."

Anthony casts a concerned glance at Ezra, his brow knitting with unease. "Ezra, you realize that this very conviction leads to the downfall of countless wizards and witches in ancient civilizations across Africa, Asia, and the Mediterranean, don't you? They face curses and ruin because of these ideals!"

"I know," Ezra replies, a thoughtful expression washing over his features as his fingers brush against the cool surface of the table. He considers the weight of their discussion. "But it makes the most sense. Besides, you were the one who found the notes about it , Anthony. And, as you said before, their punishments didn’t seem justified. They just wanted to uncover the true essence of magic itself."

"I just worry about you, angel," Anthony leans in, lowering his voice, the playful banter shifting to something serious. "Having ideals is one thing, but discussing them openly could get you into serious trouble. Think about it: not just the risk of being cursed, but also being hunted down by the current wizarding government and those insufferable pureblood supremacists, not to mention the remnants of Voldemort's followers."

"Dear, just like Muriel, I can take care of myself," Ezra responds reassuringly, his tone warm, a stark contrast to the growing weight of their conversation. "You shouldn't let your concerns for our safety overshadow your brilliant insights. Besides, if you're so worried about me being mistreated by our fellow wizards and witches, then that's even more reason for you to come with me to Hogwarts."

"Of course, I'll go with you!" Anthony asserts, annoyance creeping into his voice. "I need to get a license to use magic freely. I'm sick of setting up wards around my location just to avoid being logged as an underage magic user. This is my magic, and I should be able to do what I want with it."

Muriel giggles, her eyes sparkling as a wide smile spreads across her face at Anthony's quick comeback to Ezra's suggestion.

Anthony shoots her a slight warning glare, and then a thought strikes him. "Speaking of which, isn't this the same year that kid who took down Voldemort starts at Hogwarts too?"

Ezra nods with a calm certainty. "Yes, I believe Harry Potter is in our year. This only fuels Muriel's and my hope of finding fellow wizards and witches to carry on our parents' studies."

Anthony shrugs a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Or he could just end up being a bighead, what with everyone sure to fawn over him for being the savior of the wizarding world."

Ezra responds, "We must meet him to truly understand. I heard he's been raised among his Muggle relatives on his mother's side. I suspect there are more layers to Professor Dumbledore's decision regarding his living situation. First, according to our parents' notes, I believe Harry Potter was saved that fateful night in Godric's Hollow by his mother's blood magic—an ancient sorcery that requires an unbreakable bond and a powerful witch. By living with his aunt, Harry is undoubtedly shielded from possible malevolent curses cast by Voldemort's former followers, who the wizarding government deemed 'misunderstood', if they were to show up unexpectedly. Moreover, this arrangement allows Harry to grow up away from the pressures of being celebrated as the hero of the wizarding world. It's a rather astute plan that Professor Dumbledore has devised."

Anthony frowns, nudging his second helping of lemon cakes toward Ezra. "You can have it, I'm stuffed. You seem pretty trusting of Dumbledore. We only ran into him once at Hogsmeade, and he was in such a rush to chat you up about looking like your dad that we barely had a real conversation."

Ezra happily accepts the slice, tempted to urge Anthony to eat more, but he knows dessert isn't really Anthony's thing. "It's just a gut feeling, I suppose. As long as we stick together, I'm sure we'll figure everything out once we get to Hogwarts."

Anthony feels his face heating up again as Muriel laughs. "Well, I'm sure Hogwarts will be thrilled to have you two!", she said. 

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, splashing rich oranges and purples across the horizon, the three friends share a comfortable moment of silence. The sweet, zesty taste of lemon cake lingers in the air, a bright and tangy reminder of the unpredictable adventure waiting for them at Hogwarts.

 

Hogwarts Express - 1991

Harry stands fidgeting in the narrow corridor of the Hogwarts Express, restlessly looking for the sight of an empty compartment.

In his eagerness, he forgets to knock before sliding the door open. Inside, two boys sit, their attire strikingly modern compared to the other students on the train, making it clear they are well-acquainted with Muggle culture. One boy leans casually against the window, sporting dark red hair and dressed in a black t-shirt and leather jacket, complete with dark sunglasses that lend him an air of mystery. The other boy, an intriguing contrast, has soft white curls and wears a blue shirt layered beneath a brown vest and a cream jacket, engrossed in a copy of Pride and Prejudice.

"I'm telling you, Anthony, you really should give Jane Austen a chance. Her novels are absolutely— Oh, hello there!" The boy with the curls turns, his greenish-blue eyes meeting Harry's forest-green ones. In that instant, Harry feels an unexpected wave of warmth and safety wash over him.

"I'm sorry, I thought this compartment is empty… erm…," Harry stammers, momentarily flustered.

"Oh, I believe the rest of the compartments are already full, my friend. You're welcome to join us if you want," the curly-haired boy replies, gesturing invitingly with an open arm on the sea next to him.

Harry glances at the other boy, who observes him quietly behind dark sunglasses, his presence somewhat intimidating. Yet, oddly enough, Harry feels no sense of being unwelcome. Sensing Harry's hesitation, Ezra flashes a playful wink and adds, "Oh! This is Anthony. He may look scary, but he's really quite nice deep down. I'm Ezra Fell, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"I'm not nice!" Anthony scoffs, though he does not contest the invitation. Their playful banter helps ease Harry's nerves, prompting him to nod back at Ezra's encouraging smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Ezra and Anthony. If you don't mind..." With a mix of trepidation and excitement, Harry steps inside, wheeling his trunk behind him.

"Oh, let me help you with that," Ezra offers, snapping his fingers. Harry watches in astonishment as his trunk levitates effortlessly into the air, tucking itself neatly into the overhead compartment.

"Thanks, Ezra! Oh, I almost forgot. My name is Harry… Potter," he adds, feeling a flutter of nerves with the introduction. Unlike others he has encountered so far in the wizarding world, Ezra only widens his eyes in surprise, but instead of asking about the scar, he regards Harry with warmth as Harry settles down next to him.

"Ahhh… that explains the quirkiness of your magic. I see. I'm sorry about your parents. They sound like courageous and honorable people. My parents and Anthony's parents also passed away when we were young. We live together in a cottage just outside London."

So many questions about his 'quirky' magic swirl in Harry's mind, but before he can voice them, a knock at the door interrupts. A boy with bright red hair peeks inside.

"Hi, guys! Sorry, can I sit here? The other compartments are full…"

"Of course! The more, the merrier!" Ezra replies, his face brightening with delight, while Anthony continues to watch Harry intently, particularly at his forehead. Harry hopes the scrutiny wears off quickly. 

Anthony turns, gives Ron a polite nod, and moves closer to the window, welcoming the boy to sit down next to him.

Just like Harry's trunk, Ezra assists the redhead in floating his own trunk up to the shelf of their snug compartment. The newcomer's eyes widen in sheer awe as he whispers, "Wicked! How do you do that without a wand?!"

"Oh, thank you! Erm, well.. my parents taught me…through their notes. My name's Ezra Fell, by the way. Nice to meet you… erm…"

"Ron, Ron Weasley. Nice to meet you all. By the way, aren't you related to A.Z. Fell? He's one of the few wizards I've been trying to find in the Chocolate Frog card collection!" Ron says, settling himself into a seat next to Anthony, who sits back, quietly observing his friend's expanding circle of companions.

"Well, yes, that's actually my dad," Ezra begins to explain, but his voice fades as the unmistakable figures of the Weasley twins peek into the compartment. Their heads bob as they glance at Harry with a look of sudden recognition, having just realized who he was while helping lift his trunk onto the train's door earlier.

Mischief and delight play across their faces.

"Good day to you all! We're Fred and George Weasley. Ron here is our little brother," Fred declares cheerfully, his infectious smile illuminating the compartment.

"Oh, Ron! I see you've made new friends… and hello again, Harry Potter!" George adds, a wide grin spreading across his face as he nods vigorously at everyone. Ron's eyes nearly pop out of his head as he turns to Harry in disbelief.

"Wow, are you really Harry Potter?!" 

Harry nods, feeling a flutter of nerves as the attention shifts squarely onto him. He hopes this scrutiny will wear off soon. It's rather ironic how, back at the Dursleys, he longed for more attention—though not the sort Dudley and his friends bestowed , nor the 'you're a freak' treatment from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Here in the wizarding world, where the attention feels far more welcoming, Harry finds himself at a bit of a loss regarding how to respond. On one hand, it warms him to see people light up at his presence, yet on the other, he grapples with feelings of being an imposter amidst this unexpected interest, particularly when, just days before, he had no inkling that magic was even real.

Fortunately, Ezra seems to sense Harry's unease, leaning forward with a reassuring presence.

 "Hello, it's truly wonderful to meet you both. I'm Ezra Fell, and this is…" he gestures grandly towards Anthony, encouraging him to take the spotlight. 

"Anthony. No last name. Don't ask," Anthony replies, his tone brisk yet not devoid of warmth. He offers a nod, his demeanor radiating quiet confidence, his posture relaxed yet notably composed.

"Your glasses are brilliant! Are you one of those Muggles' secret undercover spies here to investigate our wizarding school?!" Fred quips, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. The compartment hums with spontaneous camaraderie, laughter bubbling up like an effervescent potion. Leaning back nonchalantly, Anthony's lips curl into a smirk. 

"You sure you want to know?" He hovers his hands dramatically above his glasses, readying for an imagined revelation. Just then, the atmosphere shifts, footsteps echoing down the corridor and slicing through the burgeoning whimsy. 

The compartment door is yanked open wider by a blond boy with pale skin—someone Harry instantly recognizes from Madam Malkin's shop. He is flanked by two stout boys who shuffle into the narrow aisle. 

"Outta my way, Weasleys," the boy sneers, his tone thick with disdain, yet Fred and George remain steadfast, eyebrows raised in a silent challenge, daring him to make a move.

Draco, dismissing the twins with the wave of a hand, abruptly shifts his scrutinizing gaze to Harry, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he sizes him up.

"Is it true?! You're Harry Potter?!" Draco Malfoy demands, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and superiority while ignoring everyone else in the cramped compartment.

"Yes," Harry replies, glancing at Draco's companions, who resemble a pair of oversized Dudleys. 

"This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle. I'm Draco Malfoy. It seems you've unfortunately found yourself surrounded by the wrong sorts here—the Weasleys and clearly Muggle-loving wizards. You ought to understand that some wizarding families are simply inferior, and it's wise to choose your companions carefully," Draco declares, his smirk more a sneer, a clear proclamation of his arrogance.

"I reckon I know which sorts I want to hang out with just fine," Harry shoots back, his defiance palpable in the tense air.

"Oh! Little Malfoy's been rejected by his crush, Harry Potter," the twins chant merrily, laughter bursting forth like fireworks, echoing throughout the compartment and causing Draco's pale face to flush a furious crimson.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. You wouldn't want to end up like your parents—"

"That's enough." Anthony rises slowly, his height almost matching that of the twins, looming over his peers as he locks eyes with Draco. He removes his sunglasses, revealing golden eyes that shimmer in the light streaming through the window. As he shifts, they catch sight of a striking snake tattoo coiling upward from beneath his ear, lending him an even more imposing presence.

With his strikingly handsome appearance, Anthony easily captivates any room, and Harry feels a twinge of relief, knowing he might divert some attention from himself in the future.

"Now… I think it's best you and your two piggy bodyguards make your way back to your compartment. It's rather cramped in here, don't you think?" Anthony states calmly, his voice steady, though for a fleeting moment, Harry sworn he saw Anthony's pupils swirl before settling into slits, reminiscent of a serpent's gaze.

"Don't you dare order me around…" Draco begins, but his bravado falters, and he turns back and attempts to walk back to his seat like he was under some invisible spell, Crabbe and Goyle exchanging bewildered glances.

As Draco departs, Anthony's gaze returns to normal, and he leans in, showing a chilling grin to the retreating trio. The boys bolt, their lack of coordination leading to an amusing tumble as they trip over one another while Draco awkwardly squeezes through the chaos.

"Run, run, run! Run away, little Malfoy!" the twins chant in unison, erupting in laughter that resonates through the corridor, drawing curious heads from nearby compartments to witness the ruckus. Snickers and giggles follow, trailing after the hapless trio.

"Anthony!" Ezra scolds, though a hint of amusement twinkles in his eyes.

"What?! I just sent them back to their seats. They were blocking the aisle," Anthony replies, a naughty glint dancing in his tone.

"Wicked it is!" Fred laughs, turning to Anthony, his eyes sparkling with mischief after relishing in Draco's misfortune. "So, you can hypnotize people with your eyes?"

"Yeah… it's a family curse, you know," Anthony replies, his voice laden with reluctance as he sinks back into his seat, adjusting his glasses. "Comes with some rather strange traits regarding the eyes. That's why I wear sunglasses. Don't want to accidentally hypnotize anyone…"

George interjects, his tone teasing yet genuine. "But you can clearly control it. Besides, Hogwarts is brimming with oddities. You won't be the only one around here."

Ezra perceives an odd wave of guilt washing over him, an uncomfortable sensation as he watches Anthony fidget at the twins' suggestion to abandon the sunglasses. Unable to hold back, he speaks up, his voice steady and sincere. "They're right, Anthony. When we lived among Muggles, we had to hide our magic, but not here in the wizarding world. There's a multitude of peculiarities surrounding us, and your eyes are far too beautiful to be concealed all the time."

Instantly, Anthony's cheeks flush a deep crimson. "But…"

Ignoring the twins' teasing whistles, Ezra presses on, his gaze unwavering. "And we're going to spend the entire year at Hogwarts. I would love to see your eyes more often during our conversations." Harry and Ron exchange glances, understanding that they are privy to something personal that isn't meant for them. With a silent nod, they decide to keep their distance, not wanting to add to Anthony's anxiety.

Nervously, Anthony rests his hand on his glasses, hesitating before slowly pushing them off his face. As the twins begin to clap, Ron shoots them an irritated look, a dawning comprehension of why his mother often feels exasperated with them.

"Oh, shut up, you two!" Anthony retorts half-jokingly, yet the laughter seems only to amplify his embarrassment.

"You look beautiful, Anthony," Ezra states, his tone sincere and warm.

"S..shut up, Angel," Anthony stammers, his voice a mixture of bashfulness and affection that only deepens his blush.

"Oh, 'Angel'?!?" Fred whistles, his grin stretching from ear to ear, reveling in the moment.

"It's a childhood nickname!" Anthony interjects hurriedly, his face growing even warmer. Harry and Ron can't contain their giggles this time, finding Anthony's nervous fidgeting undeniably relatable.

"Ya know, Ezra," Fred remarks, his voice laced with cheeky amusement, "we were worried your handsome mate would charm all the girls, but since you are his Angel, I guess we're safe."

"Shut it, you two! Get back to your seats before I make you," Anthony threatens, though the mock ferocity in his voice is undermined by the heat rising in his cheeks. The twins laugh, fully aware that Anthony's intimidating façade crumbles, leaving him a blushing mess after all of Ezra's compliments.

"Oh, don't worry about us, Anthony. We fancy girls. Your angel is safe from our charms. Besides, we really should return to our seats. Lee Jordan and others would be eagerly to hear all about the first years this year. Take care of our little brother. Bye!" George adds, tugging Fred away, both glancing back with mock fear as Anthony growls after them, the corners of his mouth tugging into an unwilling smile.

Also Hogwarts Express, 1991

Padma Patil gazes out of the window as the train glides past expansive green fields, a mix of nervousness and excitement tingling within her for Hogwarts.

Opposite her, a worried-looking boy named Neville Longbottom sits, his curiosity piqued by the Muggle Sony Walkman cassette machine resting in her palm. Instead of making any dismissive comments, he simply watches. Padma, pleased by his interest, takes the opportunity to share the wonders of Muggle technology—a topic she rarely discusses with anyone, let alone her extended family, especially after the incident.

Suddenly, Neville remembers the list his grandmother has prepared for him, detailing all the essentials he must check off after boarding the train. He begins rummaging through his belongings, his focus unwavering. Padma waits patiently, her enthusiasm for their conversation bubbling just beneath the surface, eager to continue once he finishes.

’He does seem like a nice boy,’ she thinks, though part of her still wishes she could be sitting with her cousin instead. She recalls how, just after they stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, Parvati cast her a cold glare when Padma tried to follow her into the compartment. Taking the hint, Padma chose to sit in a nearby compartment, wanting to avoid putting her cousin in any discomfort.

Pavarti used to be very sweet to her during Padma's younger years, particularly after Parvati's mother - Padma’s aunt on her father side—had taken her in two years ago, when Padma was merely nine, following the tragic passing of her parents. Whether it stemmed from genuine compassion or from a desire to showcase their benevolence, Padma felt eternally grateful for the kindness she had been afforded by her aunt's family.

The fact that Padma's mother was a Muggle had stirred considerable discontent among her father's relatives. They had erupted in outrage when he had insisted on marrying her mother, a choice that seemed to defy their ancestral traditions. According to the old legends, wizards and witches from the East were considerably less fertile than their Western counterparts—a plight attributed to the misguided attempts of their forebears, who had tried to assist Muggles in unlocking their magical potential, only to find themselves cursed with dwindling descendants.

Padma comprehended why her paternal relatives might have been anxious about her parents' union. However, fortune had smiled upon her, for she had been born with the gift of magic. This had earned her mother a place back in the family's good graces. Her father had often claimed that she was destined for greatness, a belief he attributed to the stars that had heralded her arrival. Since Padma's magical abilities were confirmed, the Patil family had softened, their initial opposition fading away.

As cousins born in the same year, Padma and Pavarti had formed a close-knit bond, a connection that only grew stronger after Padma's adoption. For a while, it seemed that brighter days lay ahead after the abrupt loss of her parents. Yet, that semblance of normalcy was abruptly shattered by what would come to be known simply as... the incident.

To this day, Padma struggled to recall the particulars of that day, each moment obscured by a fog of confusion. Yet, from that point onward, her aunt's family had enveloped her in a shroud of indifference, treating her like an unwelcome specter. Whispers circulated among other relations—uncles, aunts, and even cousins—who had come to regard her as a harbinger of misfortune, a source of unspoken anxiety.

Initially, the pain of being shunned had been acute. In an effort to win the affection of the other children, Padma had tried offering toys and books, only to be met with insufferable apathy. The most agonising moment occurred when, in a fit of tears, she sought her aunt's counsel, pleading for an understanding of why she was being blamed for an incident she could not even remember. Her aunt's expression had turned frigid, her words piercing Padma's heart like needles, declaring it selfish of her to disturb others. "I needn't have taken you in," she had said coldly, a reminder that reverberated painfully in Padma's mind.

Padma bears no grudge against Pavarti, as she understands that her cousin is merely following the lead of those around her. Nevertheless, the void left by their severed connection weighs heavily upon Padma, a palpable loss that left her feeling isolated.

Just as she was absorbed in these thoughts, a sharp knock at the door startled both her and Neville. Rising to answer the unexpected visitor, Padma is greeted by the sight of a diminutive girl, seemingly around their age, her bushy brown hair cascading around her face and framing a pair of bright brown eyes that twinkles with curiosity. An inexplicable warmth surges within Padma, though it is clear that the newcomer was equally taken aback, stepping back slightly, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks before she composed herself.

"Hello! I'm Hermione Granger. It's lovely to meet you!" she said, her voice infused with a delightful mix of confidence and shyness. "Would you mind if I sat here? It's one of the best places to disembark from the train."

"Hello, Hermione! I'm Padma Patil," Padma replies, her heart lifting with this unexpected encounter. "It's wonderful to meet you, too! Please, do come in."

With a warm smile, Padma steps forward, eager to assist Hermione, who is struggling to haul her heavy trunk. As she lends a hand, Hermione engages in an animated conversation with Neville, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I'm absolutely thrilled to be heading to Hogwarts! I never knew I was a witch until I received my letter. I even bought some extra books beyond the required list, like Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. If you'd like something to read on the train, I'd love to share!" Hermione rushes through her words with enough enthusiasm to make Padma worry she might forget to breathe. But thankfully, Hermione manages just fine.

"That's incredibly diligent of you!" Padma replies, her admiration clear. "I've read the others you mentioned, but not Modern Magical History. May I borrow it?" A sudden desire to impress Hermione surges within Padma, sparked by a competitive streak and a shared passion for books. It feels lovely to see Hermione's brown eyes brighten at her acceptance of the offer.

"Oh no! Do we have to read all the books before going to Hogwarts?!" Neville's voice trembles with anxiety, his freckled face paling at the thought.

"Technically, we don't have to, but being prepared is certainly helpful," Padma reassures him. "But have you checked everything on your grandmother's list?"

Neville's gaze drops to the long piece of parchment in his hands as he scans it eagerly. "Yes, I believe so. The only thing left is… Trevor. Oh no! Where is my toad?! I have to find him!"

Suddenly, he jumps to his feet, eyes darting about the compartment in a panic.

Without hesitation, Hermione and Padma join in the search. "Wait a moment," Padma interjects, "I don't remember you bringing your toad in with you. It might have jumped out before you got here. We should look outside."

As they venture out into the train's corridor, laughter fills the air, erupting from a group of three boys ahead of them. A small blond boy is wedged in between two larger boys, all of them attempting to squeeze their way down the aisle. Even though the train's corridor is wider than that of most regular trains, the three of them are hopelessly entangled.

The other children from their compartments peer out curiously, snickers bubbling up as Padma, Hermione, and Neville all try to suppress their own laughter at the sight of such misery.

Hermione regains her composure first, stepping closer to the frustrated boys. "Stop! Stop! You're only going to slow yourselves down like this," she calls firmly.

With determination, Padma reaches out to pull the middle boy free from the tangle while chiming in, "Hermione is right. You need to move in a line. One of you should follow right behind the other."

Finally, the blond boy manages to extricate himself, his perfectly coiffed hair now in a mess. He huffs, trying to fix his appearance as he brushes past them, muttering defensively, "I knew that!"

As the boys shuffle along in a more orderly manner towards their compartment, Hermione shakes her head disapprovingly. Meanwhile, Padma feels a surge of boldness and calls out after them, "A 'thank you' would be nice!" Her voice carries down the corridor, mixing with the fading laughter.

The trio resumes their search for Neville's toad.

Ron leans forward, his enthusiasm bubbling as he eagerly explains the exhilarating game of Quidditch to Harry. He fidgets with the bright wrappers of the sweets they've just acquired from Honeydukes Express, twisting them into makeshift models that resemble a Quaffle, two Bludgers, and a Golden Snitch. Just as he feels a swell of pride wash over him at his slightly chaotic creation, a sharp knock resounds at the compartment door.

A bushy-haired girl peeks in, her curious round eyes dancing between the boys with a glint of excitement. "Excuse me," she says, her voice sounds a bit bossy.

"Hello, everyone! Neville's lost his toad. Have you seen any toads around here? Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then!" The girl's energy is infectious. She locks her gaze onto the wand in Ron's hand, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

A rush of colour floods Ron's cheeks, and he coughs to dispel his nerves, fidgeting with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. "Erm… okay, let's try… Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow… float this candy up in the air!" He aims his wand at the candy wrapper, giving a hopeful flick of his wrist, but nothing happens. The wrapper remains obstinately still, almost mocking him. Anthony stifles a laugh, and Ezra gives his friend a light slap on the hand, keen to prevent any more embarrassment for Ron.

"Is that even a real spell?" Hermione asks, raising an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. "It doesn't seem very effective, does it? I've been practicing a few simple spells, and they've worked quite well. You see, nobody in my family has magic, so getting the letter to Hogwarts was a huge surprise for me. I've already gone through our course book. Hopefully,that should be enough… I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

Harry casts a quick glance at Ron, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as he notes Ron's also slightly panicked expression at the thought of having to memorize an entire course book. They redirect their attention to Ezra and Anthony, who sit there, stunned but more so by Hermione's rapid-fire chatter.

"That's impressive! You must be clever. Oh and hello, it’s very nice to meet you, I’m Ezra Fell." Ezra remarks, his compliments eliciting a proud smile from Hermione.

"Anthony," 

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron interjects quickly, feeling flustered by the whirlwind of introductions.

"I'm… Harry Potter," Harry manages to utter.

"Are you really?!" Hermione nearly squeals, her eyes wide with disbelief. "I've read so much about you! From all the extra books I've collected. Oh, Padma will be so surprised to see you! She's helping look for Nevile’s toad -Trevor, too."

"Oh, Anthony is brilliant at finding things by scent! Perhaps he can help," Ezra suggests, regarding his friend with a mix of pride and anticipation.

"I'm not a dog!" Anthony protests, crossing his arms defiantly, a pout forming on his lips.

Ezra rolls his eyes playfully, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, come on! Help them find the toad. You've always had a soft spot for small animals, haven't you? Don't you feel sorry for the poor little creature? It must be terrified without its master! And don't worry Hermione, I'll assist your friend in finding his toad," he declares, determination shining in his eyes.

With that, Ezra rises to his feet, prompting Harry to do the same, shaking off any lingering hesitation. Ron groans in protest but eventually pushes himself up. 

Then there's Anthony, who growls softly before standing and striding out alongside them. They all have a mission: to find Neville's elusive toad, Trevor. Before they can even make plans, Anthony strides over to Neville, his expression fierce as he leans in, bringing his face close to the trembling boy.

To anyone unfamiliar with him, Anthony can appear quite intimidating. But those who have seen him with Ezra know there's a softer side lurking beneath the surface.

After scanning the ceiling, Anthony approaches the door of the train and reaches up, pulling something green down from above. As he looms back toward the group, he reveals a small squirming toad in his hand.

"Trevor! Oh, thank you, thank you!" Neville exclaims, relief flooding his voice. "I thought I lost him!"

In response, Anthony merely grunts, his expression unchanging, as he saunters back to their compartment.

Ezra watches after him, a proud smile on his face, then turns to the others. "Anthony's just a bit shy, you know. By the way, I'm Ezra Fell. I think your toad would do much better with a bit of water. He's probably just eager to hop out into the rain outside."

"Oh, okay. Thank you, Ezra. My name's Neville Longbottom," Neville replies, his voice steadier now.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ezra. I'm Padma Patil," adds the girl, who approaches with a bright smile. She must be one of the prettiest girls Harry has ever seen, a fact that strikes him as unusual since he rarely pays much attention to appearances.

"Hi… I'm Ron Weasley," Ron introduces himself somewhat awkwardly, fighting to quell the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry states, feeling a sense of expectation hanging in the air.

"Hello, Ron, and oh, you're Harry Potter! I've heard so much about you. I'm terribly sorry about your parents," Padma says, her tone sincere.

"It's alright... I don't remember much," Harry replies.

"Oh, I've heard they were both from Gryffindor. Ooh, I wonder what house we'll be sorted into?" Padma's eyes sparkle with excitement as the group begins walking back to their train compartment.

"I hope I get into Gryffindor," Hermione interjects, her voice brimming with anticipation. "Headmaster Dumbledore was also sorted into Gryffindor.

"I also hope I'll get in Gryffindor. All my family members have been sorted into it, but anywhere is better than Slytherin," Ron adds, a hint of disdain creeping into his voice.

"What's the difference between them?" Harry asks, curiosity piqued.

"Slytherin is where You-Know-Who went, it's notorious for dark wizards and witches. I bet Draco Malfoy will end up there," Ron sneers, the name alone provoking a scowl.

"You know, Merlin were sorted into Slytherin even though he didn’t go here, too. So perhaps not all of them are as unpleasant as young Malfoy," Ezra comments thoughtfully, his voice smooth and considered. "In fact, it seems that many from Slytherin are noted for being more prosperous and successful than other houses. Their ambition might be controversial, but their work ethic, especially when it concerns their passions, is quite impressive."

Padma reluctantly adds, "You know, in India—my father's homeland—the snake symbolizes both temptation and wisdom. He believes that true wisdom emerges from acknowledging and maintaining control over one's temptations rather than outright denying them. Perhaps many dark wizards from Slytherin simply… haven't embraced the more nuanced aspects of being a snake. Regardless, I'd like to be friends with all of you, no matter what houses we end up in."

Ezra gasps at Padma's insight, nodding vigorously. "Oh, absolutely, dear Padma! That was an acute observation."

Hermione nods in agreement, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "I would love to be friends with all of you."

"Yeah, besides, none of us are gits like Malfoy, so I reckon we'll be just fine," Ron adds with a grin, lightening the mood further.

 

The Sorting Ceremony 

 

Professor McGonagall steps forward, her robes swishing elegantly as she unfurls a long, ancient-looking parchment.  

"Now, when I call your name, please come up and sit on this stool before I place the sorting hat upon your head. We shall then see which house you will belong to," she announces, her voice imbued with authority, echoing off the stone walls of the Great Hall. She begins to read the names from the lengthy scroll, "Anthony."

Anthony strides up from the back of the gathering. He and Ezra had chosen the rear of the hall during the earlier procession for their fellow first-years, allowing those of shorter stature a more comfortable view. As he walks, a ripple of whispers cascades through the assembled students, drawn not only by the enigma of his missing surname but also by his captivating features, including crimson hair and golden eyes.

Once seated on the high stool, the famed Sorting Hat is placed upon his head. An expectant stillness envelops the hall, leaving a palpable tension in the air. After what feels like an agonizingly long pause, the hat finally exclaims, "SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table erupts in thunderous applause, particularly from the female students, whose excitement is unmistakable. Draco Malfoy grunts, eyes glinting with a hint of displeasure as he watches the reception unfold but chooses to remain silent.

Rising from the stool, Anthony scans the hall once more, nodding politely to Professor McGonagall before making his way towards the Slytherin table, where his new housemates welcome him warmly.

The sorting continues, unfolding rapidly until it reaches Anthony's closest friend, Ezra Fell. The Sorting Hat takes its time deliberating before resounding, "Gryffindor!"

Ezra is met with an enthusiastic cheer from the Gryffindor table as he walks over, graced with an aura of warmth and kindness. He glances toward Anthony, offering a bright, encouraging smile, while Anthony responds with a nod and the familiar salute of two fingers touching his temple—an unspoken bond that signals their support for one another. This simple gesture draws the attention of nearby students, and curiosity is piqued.

"Aye, too bad you lot can't share a dorm together," Fred Weasley teases, his tone light-hearted as he observes the scene. Ezra merely shrugs in playful indifference, "It's all right; we'll find our ways to stay in touch."

George and Fred exchange glances filled with intrigue and playful anticipation, about to prod further when Oliver Wood interjects a note of skepticism in his voice, "I'm somewhat surprised you're so chummy with that lad over at the Slytherin table…"

Lee Jordan chimes in, "I am a bit astonished he got placed in Slytherin. From what I heard, he looks intimidating but seems quite placid around you, so I just assumed he'd end up a Gryffindor, given the typical reputation of Slytherins—well, what they seem to project: absolute evil ruffians."

Ezra responds earnestly, "Oh, don't fret. No matter which house he's in, Anthony is still Anthony. I know his heart. He's undoubtedly the kindest person I've ever met. Though I must admit, his methods can occasionally be…extreme. Honestly, I am more worried for the Slytherin students...."

As the ceremony unfolds, everyone watches as the Sorting Hat barely grazes Draco's head before declaring him a Slytherin. A triumphant smirk curls at his lips as he strides confidently toward the Slytherin table, deliberately avoiding a glance in Anthony's direction. 

Next up is Hermione, who is all nervous and excited as she joins Gryffindor. She quickly takes a seat beside Ezra, her enthusiasm lighting up the already buzzing atmosphere of the hall. 

Then, the spotlight shifts to Padma Patil. She stands out, without a doubt. Her warm brown skin glows naturally, and her large, expressive grey eyes draw in the gaze of those around her. Dark, wavy curls frame her face, giving her a striking presence that's hard to ignore.

The Sorting Hat spends an eternity perched on her head, making everyone hold their breath. Finally, it bursts forth: "SLYTHERIN!" A flicker of surprise crosses Padma's face, but she quickly recovers, masking her nervousness. With an elegant stride, she walks to the Slytherin table, settling next to Anthony. But just as she gets comfortable, her small Sony Walkman slips from her grasp, clattering onto the table.

Before anyone else in Slytherin can catch on, Anthony quickly covers the Walkman with his robe, pretending it's a casual rest as he leans on one hand. Padma follows suit, playing along as she engages with her new housemates, nodding and laughing. It eases her nerves a bit, each shared smile warming her up to the group.

She holds her breath for Harry's Sorting, a moment that pulls everyone's focus. As the hall quiets, she surreptitiously retrieves her Walkman from beneath Anthony's robe sleeves, placing it safely away. "Thank you," she whispers, genuine gratitude shining in her eyes.

"It's nothing. Just make sure to hide it well. You don't want to give them a reason to isolate you for future hanging out with Gryffindor," Anthony replies, casual but caring.

"Really, thank you again… Ezra's right. You're quite kind," Padma adds playfully as she catches sight of the faint blush on his cheeks at the mention of Ezra. 

"I'm not kind!" he protests grumpily.

The hat takes its sweet time with Harry too, finally shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!" The Weasley twins erupt in cheers: "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Their excited cries fill the hall with life.

As the Sorting Ceremony wraps up, Padma can't help but glance over at the Gryffindor table. The houses' rivalry doesn't particularly concern her, but there's no denying the strength of Gryffindor. She spots Hermione, ever diligent, the wise Ezra, and the legendary Harry Potter, accompanied by the passionate, lively Weasley clan. The energy radiating from them is undeniable and somehow draws her in.

Just then, her heart sinks. Hermione leans over to her cousin, excitement practically bubbling over as she asks, "Hello, Parvati… I just want to confirm that you're related to Padma, right? I mean, you guys have the same last name…" The air hangs heavy with curiosity until Parvati's bright smile abruptly turns cold.

"…Unfortunately," Parvati replies stiffly, her tone chilling the moment.

Instantly, the tension in the air thickens, and even Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville feel it. 

"Well, um," Hermione stammers, her throat suddenly dry, "Neville and I were in the same compartment on the train with your…your cousin."

Parvati looks alarmed, her eyes widening with worry. "You all better stay away from her. She's a bad omen. Ever since we took her in after her parents' mysterious death, it's been nothing but disaster. And now she's been sorted into Slytherin, which just proves it. None of my older cousins ended up in Slytherin." She gestures toward the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, where some older Indian students sit, exchanging anxious glances.

Harry doesn't know Parvati very well, but he can see genuine concern etched across her face. Her words, however, linger in his mind, reminiscent of how the Dursleys used to talk about him.

Just then, another first-year Gryffindor—Harry thinks her name is Lavender—chimes in, "That explains the weird vibes I've been getting from her. My family has a knack for divination, and they always tell me to trust my instincts. I think she's bad news."

"Just ignore her, she'll give up on trying to hang around you soon enough," Parvati says encouragingly, clearly thinking Hermione would nod in agreement.

Before Hermione can defend Padma, Neville pipes up, "Padma is really nice! She helped me find Trevor, and she loves muggles. She even has this Muggle thingy called a… um, Sony? It plays music using these tiny little… um, cra-cassettes? Yeah, but Padma definitely isn't a Slytherin Slytherin."

Parvati's expression darkens as if she's conjuring an ominous future. "Oh! She brought that with her… Some Muggle boys from our neighborhood must have introduced it to her. No adults in our families allow us to hang out with her, especially not the boys. You'd best steer clear."

Hermione glances up, her gaze meeting Padma's, who stands frozen, eyes fixated on the scene unfolding with Parvati. In a heartbeat, Padma looks away, her expression flickering with a mix of embarrassment and sadness. It's evident to Hermione that Padma has endured her share of isolation, and the realization ignites a simmering anger within her.

"She's always been nice to us," Hermione defends, her voice steady but insistent. "It seems to me you're judging her based on your own insecurities…"

Before she can finish, Ezra interjects, “ You know, my best friend, Anthony, would also tend to be considered bad, but he's really nice deep down if given a chance.  I think Padma deserves that same opportunity." He shifts the conversation, leaning in closer to Hermione and whispering, "It's not worth it." 

Ezra senses Hermione's restless desire for knowledge and her tendency to juggle a multitude of things at once. He realizes it's tough for someone like her to maintain friendships, and he doesn't want her to feel more isolated than she already does. Thankfully, Hermione manages to temper her anger before she can say something spiteful. Instead, she takes a moment to follow Ezra's lead, focusing on something lighter.

He tries to lift her spirits with a fascinating tidbit from history he knows she'll love. "The feast is incredible, isn't it? You probably know this already, Hermione, being the bookworm you are, but all this food is cooked and prepared by the house elves. Did you know the head chef of the house elves is nearly 300 years old? He was alive when witch burnings were still happening! I heard he even knew the famous witch Agnes Nutter, who was famous for blowing up those who tried to burn her by hiding gunpowder and roofing nails in her petticoats."

Hermione's eyes widen with excitement. "Oh really? Agnes Nutter? I've read that she was an astonishing seer who bequeathed her family a book filled with future predictions. They say her family denies it, but people suggest it's because they want to keep her incredibly lucky predictions to themselves for their business ventures…"

Nearby, Ron turns slightly, speaking just loud enough for Harry to catch his words. "Hermione's got a point, though." 

Harry nods, observing the restless crowd of students around him. Once they got bored of eyeing him and his scar, their attention drifted towards Padma and Anthony, the two undeniably the most attractive students in their year and perhaps the entire school. Uncomfortably, Harry notices that some girls are casting harsh, envious looks at Padma while the boys seem far more intrigued by Anthony. It's all too evident that Hermione is right.

Neither Harry nor Ron have stepped into a single class yet, but they've already learned the lesson that judging people based on the house system can be misleading.

As the Hogwarts dining hall glows with the warmth of conversation and the remnants of a hearty feast, the last bits of creamy pudding disappear. Anticipation hangs in the air as Professor Dumbledore rises to address the students for a short speech. A hush falls over the hall, eager eyes fixed on their beloved Headmaster.

Suddenly, the tall doors swing open with an exaggerated creak, and in rushes a breathless man with dark hair, his anxious presence cutting through the festive atmosphere. Gasps ripple through the crowd as he stumbles inside, urgency radiating from him.

“Cadmus?! My child, what are you doing here at this hour?” Dumbledore asks gently, but surprise flitting across his face.

“Professor, there’s…” Cadmus’ voice trails off as he scans the bustling hall, his eyes darting around, searching for reassurance. Taking a moment to collect himself, he continues, “There’s something urgent I need to discuss with you… in private, if I can. It’s urgent, sir.” His gaze locks onto Dumbledore’s, full of unspoken pleading.

Dumbledore nods solemnly and turns to the students. “Please stay here for the time being. Caretaker Filch will remain to monitor the gathering. Professors, please follow me and Cadmus outside the hall.”

As the adults exit, a wave of confusion sweeps over the students. Whispers buzz across the tables, curiosity piquing among them.

“Who is that?!” Harry asks, glancing at his friends, his eyes wide.

“Strangely familiar… I think I’ve seen him before,” Ron muses, furrowing his brow in thought.

Percy jumps in with a hint of authority, “That’s Cadmus. He works for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. We saw him in those photos Dad took at the Ministry’s party at the Three Broomsticks Inn last year.”

Suddenly, Anthony, leaning over the Gryffindor first years’ table, raises his voice, startling everyone. “The more important question is: what’s he doing here in the middle of the night?”

“Blimey! Anthony, how did you even get in here?!” Ron exclaims, incredulity creeping into his tone.

With a conspiratorial whisper, Anthony responds, “Keep it down, will you? Or that caretaker is going to haul me back.”

Across the hall, Filch chases after his loyal pet cat, Mrs. Norris, who has developed a sudden interest in escaping, scratching at the door in a desperate bid for freedom instead of doing her job.

“What's with her?” Percy asks, a look of genuine curiosity on his face. Harry notices Ezra shooting a scornful glance at Anthony, who merely shrugs and sinks back down next to his friends.

Fred and George, always the troublemakers, immediately notice the commotion around Harry’s table and lean in, whispering excitedly. “How did you get here?” the twins ask, sitting up straight to hide Anthony from prying eyes.

“Walking, sauntering, slithering my way here, obviously,” Anthony replies with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying the attention. “Now, who wants to bet which magical creatures just got loose around here?” The mischief in his eyes twinkles, setting the stage for whatever antics might unfold next.