Chapter 1
Chris Halliwell, age thirteen, takes a deep breath and runs straight at the brick wall, pushing a luggage cart in front of him.
He closes his eyes at the last second and gasps at the brief shock of cold and swirl of magic in the air around him, and then it’s over. He opens his eyes to a train platform in chaos.
Children of all ages run here and there, flustered parents attempting to corral them onto the bright scarlet engine proudly emblazoned with a crest proclaiming it to be The Hogwarts Castle, better known as The Hogwarts Express.
Chris pushes his luggage cart to one of the harried attendants and boards the train, hauling his heavy trunk with him. He keeps his hood pulled up and his head down as he searches for an empty compartment as the train whistle blows, announcing its pending departure. Students surge onto the train behind him, calling out final goodbyes and waving to their parents and younger siblings.
Being one of the last students to board the train Chris is unable to find an empty compartment and resigns himself to knocking on the side of the last compartment, where two young boys already reside. “Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”
The two boys look at each other and shrug, the smaller of the two, a pale boy with messy black hair and bright green eyes hidden partly behind broken glasses pats the seat beside him.
Chris mutters his thanks and manages to get his trunk up onto the luggage rack before flopping onto the seat indicated by the dark-haired boy.
The other boy, a freckled redhead with a smudge on his nose clears his throat. “I’m Ron by the way, Ron Weasley.”
The boy next to Chris waits a beat and then responds in kind. “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”
Ron’s mouth literally drops open. “Are you really? Mum said we would be in the same year, but nobody’s heard from you since…wait, do you have the…” he breaks off awkwardly and points at his own forehead.
Harry, looks utterly lost until Ron clarifies in a hoarse whisper, “The scar?”
Harry grins and moves back his fringe to reveal a thin scar above his right eye shaped like a lightning bolt.
Ron grins back, “Wicked.”
Both boys turn to Chris with an expectant look on their faces.
Chris, utterly baffled by the exchange just stares back for a moment before responding. “Chris. Chris Halliwell. What’s the big deal about the scar?”
Ron now gapes at Chris like he’d sprouted an extra eye. “What do you mean? Everyone knows about that bloody scar. Are you a muggle-born?”
Chris swallows hard, his face heating up uncomfortably, “what’s a muggle-born?”
The compartment door slides open at that moment, saving Chris from answering, revealing a girl with bushy brown hair already dressed in school robes. “Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.”
The three boys exchange looks and shake their heads.
Chris exhales a deep sigh and holds out his hand, palm up. ‘I hope this works or else I’m going to look like an even bigger idiot than I do already.’
Concentrating hard, Chris pictures the toad he’d seen hopping along the platform earlier in his head and imagines it appearing in his open hand.
“What are you-” the bushy-haired girl stops mid-question as a swirl of bright blue orbs appears over Chris’ palm, slowly coalescing into a disgruntled-looking toad.
The girl sits down hard in the seat next to Ron, her mouth open in a silent o of shock.
“Bloody Hell.”
Chris slides the toad into the pouch in his hoodie and leans over to close the compartment door, his face heating up, instantly regretting the decision to showcase his half-whitelighter status.
“What spell was that?” the girl finally manages to get out.
“Erm, it wasn’t. I uh don’t suppose you all could just forget you saw that, right? After all, I found the missing toad, so mission accomplished?”
The other three glance at each other before shaking their heads unanimously. “Not a chance, mate.”
Chris sighs deeper than any thirteen-year-old has the right to and casts about for where to start with his explanation.
“You're American,” the girl with the bushy hair says. “I think I read something about American witches and wizards being more adept at silent magic, a lasting impact from the Salem Witch Trials.”
Chris shoots the girl a surprised glance, “That's right. My family can trace our ancestry as far back as that actually before things get cloudy. Melinda Warren who was burned at the stake in 1692,” he ignores the gasps of horror, “she didn't use magic to save herself to protect her young daughter, Prudence from the same persecution. Before she was burned though she delivered a prophecy: You may kill me, but you cannot kill my kind. With each generation, the Warren Line will grow stronger and stronger - culminating in the arrival of three sisters. Together, these three sisters will be the most powerful witches the world has ever known. They will be known as The Charmed Ones.”
The others stare transfixed as Chris takes a moment to consider what to say next, “Those three sisters are…were my mother and aunts. Magic in America is very different from the rest of the world. Because of increased scrutiny and persecution leftover from the days of the witch trials and the war with Grindelwald witches and wizards grew more and more adept with wordless and often wandless magic, and others evolved to suppress their magic entirely without becoming Obscurials. A couple decades worth of separation led to two distinct magical worlds in the United States: mine and yours.”
Chris took in the stunned faces around him and forged ahead, figuring there was no point in stopping now, “my world, the Wicca is governed by The Elders and our powers are wandless and wordless, we can write spells to accomplish things our innate powers cannot, as well as brew potions. Each Wicca is born with a specific power, which has to be trained and can grow throughout our lives. Good Witches defend innocents and lead mostly normal lives while Warlocks steal powers through murder and deals with demons.”
“Demons, come off it, mate.” Ron waves his hand dismissively, “Now I know you're off your rocker. Demons don't exist.”
“They appear quite commonly in Muggle literature,” the girl shoots back.
Chris nods appreciatively towards her, “Exactly right, er…”
“Hermione. Hermione Granger,” she supplies.
“Why do you think demons don't exist in wizarding literature, but are everywhere in muggle lit? Because Muggles are easier targets. Wizards usually confine themselves to their parts of the UK where they can be themselves without risk of exposure, demons learned to stay away. In the US, witches are far less common and more spread out, so demons attack both, we protect those who can't protect themselves.”
Harry speaks up for the first time in a while, “You mentioned Wicca have specific powers, is that what those blue lights were?”
“Not exactly. My actual power is Telekinesis.”
“The ability to move objects with one's mind,” interrupts Hermione, “I read about it once.”
“Correct. Muggles consider Telekinesis to be an experimental/theoretical science that they just haven't figured out yet. That's my Wiccan power, but I'm only half Wiccan.”
Blank stares. Ron chuckles nervously, "What do you mean, mate? Do you mean you're a Halfblood?"
“I don't know what a Halfblood is, so no...we call them Whitelighters, they are guardians and guides for young witches and future Whitelighters. Muggles would call them Guardian Angels. The Elders, who govern our smaller magical world are Whitelighters who have great experience, and knowledge and have been gifted higher powers. Whitelighters have many witches under their protection, spread throughout the greater world, and to be where they are needed can orb, which is essentially teleportation. My father, Leo, is a Whitelighter, well he's an Elder, but same species.”
“So you're trying to tell us that you're half angel and half super witch?” Ron, incredulous.
Chris shrugs, “Why would I make something so crazy sounding up?”
“He's got you there,” agrees Harry.
From Chris’ hoodie pocket, the toad croaks loudly, causing everyone to laugh.
Chris extracts the toad from his pocket and hands him to Hermione, “You should probably be getting him back to ah-”
“Neville. And yes, I should be, lovely to meet you all.”
“Chris,” he extends his hand and shakes her unoccupied hand, “and this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.”
Hermione's mouth drops open again. “Harry Potter? Blimey this should be an interesting year. Again, lovely to meet you all.”
Hermione stands and exits the compartment, Chris closes the door and turns to face Harry and Ron, “Alright, enough about me. How come everyone knows who Harry is?”
Ron immediately launches into an explanation of the Second Wizarding War and the rise and fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort, only pausing in his tale when the compartment door opens again.
A matronly witch with a trolley full of sweets is on the other side, “anything off the trolley, dears?”
Ron holds up a paper-wrapped lump and sighs sadly, “I'm good.”
Chris is spared an answer when Harry pulls out a handful of gleaming gold coins and announces, “We'll take the lot.”
The three boys spend the rest of the train ride opening sweets and discussing various things they'd heard about Hogwarts.