Ethan stood at King's Cross Station, flanked by Margot and Elias, both visibly nervous. His trunk hovered beside him, charmed to roll silently. Cipher, his snowy owl, blinked from inside her cage, unbothered by the crowd.
"Are you sure it's Platform nine and three-quarters?" Elias asked for the third time.
Ethan nodded. "That's what the letter said."
Margot clutched her handbag. "We never went, you know. Our magic wasn't strong enough. We were never invited."
Ethan gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine."
Target: Platform 9¾. Entry method: phased traversal through barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Risk: minimal. Visibility: low if timed correctly.
Aether's voice was calm, clinical. Ethan scanned the crowd. No one seemed to notice the barrier. He waited until a family of redheads approached—clearly magical. The youngest boy looked about his age, dragging a battered trunk.
"Now," Ethan whispered.
He walked briskly toward the barrier, timing his steps to follow the red-haired boy. Margot gasped as he vanished through the wall.
The other side was a different world.
Steam hissed from the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express. Owls hooted. Cats meowed. Students in robes hugged parents and waved wands. The air buzzed with excitement and magic.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
Environment scanned. No immediate threats. Recommend boarding early to secure strategic seating.
He found an empty compartment near the middle of the train. Cipher's cage slid into place beside him. He sat by the window, watching families say goodbye.
Margot and Elias didn't come through. Squibs couldn't cross the barrier. He felt a pang of guilt—but also resolve.
He was their hope. Their legacy.
The door slid open.
A girl with bushy brown hair and a stack of books peeked in. "Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
Ethan nodded. "Go ahead."
She settled across from him, adjusting her robes. "I'm Hermione Granger. First year."
"Ethan Blackwood."
She smiled politely, then glanced at his owl. "Beautiful plumage. Snowy owls are rare."
"Her name's Cipher."
Hermione opened Hogwarts: A History and began reading. Ethan watched her for a moment.
Subject: Hermione Granger. Muggle-born. High cognitive activity. Likely Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Potential ally for academic collaboration.
He smirked. "You've read that before?"
"Twice," she said proudly. "I want to be prepared."
Ethan nodded. "Smart."
Hermione tilted her head. "You sound older than eleven."
Ethan shrugged. "I read a lot."
A few minutes later, the door slid open again.
A boy with dark hair and a thoughtful expression stepped in, holding a small leather-bound notebook. He looked around, then smiled politely.
"Mind if I join you?"
Hermione gestured to the seat beside her. "Sure."
"I'm Terry Boot," he said, settling in. "First year. Hoping for Ravenclaw."
Ethan's interest piqued. "What makes you think you'll be sorted there?"
Terry grinned. "I like solving things. Riddles, spells, logic puzzles. My mum says I ask too many questions."
Subject: Terry Boot. Half-blood. Canonical Ravenclaw. High analytical aptitude. Low threat. Potential peer-level collaborator.
Ethan leaned forward. "You study wand mechanics?"
Terry's eyes lit up. "A bit. I've been trying to figure out if wand movement affects spell strength or just accuracy."
Hermione looked intrigued. "You should read Magical Motion and Intent. It talks about wand rhythm and emotional focus."
Ethan glanced at Aether's interface. The title lit up in his peripheral vision.
Book indexed. Recommend cross-referencing with Terry's notes for practical insight.
He smiled. "I'd like to see your notebook sometime."
Terry nodded. "Sure. Maybe we can test some theories together."
The train began to move. Hermione returned to her book. Terry scribbled in his notebook. Ethan pulled out The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and began reviewing wand diagrams. Aether highlighted optimal angles and wrist rotations in his vision, but Ethan performed each motion manually.
He whispered Lumos. The tip of his wand glowed faintly.
Hermione looked up. "You've practiced?"
"A bit."
Terry leaned in. "Your grip's tight. You've done this before."
Ethan shrugged. "I've been training."
Spell success rate: 58%. Neural synchronization improving. Recommend continued drills.
He didn't want to show off. But he also didn't want to hide. These two—Hermione and Terry—were thinkers. He could learn from them. Collaborate. Build trust.
Hours passed. The train wound through countryside and forests. Students changed into robes. The sky darkened.
Ethan stared out the window, mind racing.
Projected Hogwarts dynamics: competitive. Recommend low-profile approach. Focus: Charms, Transfiguration, library access.
He agreed. Drawing attention would be dangerous. Especially with an AI in his head.
But he needed allies. Hermione was promising. Terry was methodical. Others would come.
He would observe. Adapt. Excel.
As the train slowed, a booming voice echoed down the corridor.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
A giant man with a wild beard waved them toward boats. Ethan followed Hermione and Terry, stepping into a vessel that glided across the lake.
Hogwarts rose in the distance—towers, turrets, glowing windows. It looked like a dream.
Ethan felt something stir inside him. Not awe. Not fear.
Purpose.