A low fire burned steadily in the wide stone fireplace of the three-storey villa resting quietly in the Italian countryside, where evening light slipped through tall windows and softened the room with warm shadows. Wayne Spencer sat near the hearth, holding a magazine loosely in his hands, the glossy pages catching the firelight as he studied the cover without urgency. His wife's photograph dominated the page, poised and familiar, her expression caught between roles, a face recognised across studios and continents alike. He looked at it with a faint smile, one shaped more by familiarity than admiration.
He shifted slightly in his chair and prepared to rise when a subtle rustle drew his attention toward the mantel. A private Hogwarts owl perched calmly near the fireplace, its pale feathers edged with soft brown markings, eyes sharp and observant beneath a narrow brow, unaffected by heat or intrusion, its posture patient rather than invasive, as if it had chosen to wait rather than announcing itself. Wayne studied the owl for a moment, then spoke quietly, his voice carrying mild reflection rather than surprise.
"It's been a long time since I saw a magical creature," he said softly, his tone thoughtful, as though the sight had stirred memory rather than concern.
He remained seated for a few moments longer, watching the owl without urgency, then stood and summoned a plate from the nearby table with a casual motion of his fingers. From the bacon he had prepared earlier, crisp and layered with subtle alchemical refinement, he cut a careful portion and held it out. " "
The owl accepted the offering readily, settling more comfortably once the gesture had been made. Wayne nodded faintly in approval, then reached for the letter tied neatly to the bird's leg and untied it after giving the owl a brief, absent pat.
He unfolded the parchment and began to read.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster's Study
Dear Mr Spencer,
I trust this letter reaches you at a moment of your own choosing, as I have learned that chance rarely visits you without prior arrangement.
Though your time at Hogwarts was brief, it proved remarkably difficult to confine to footnotes. Certain records have a habit of growing longer when one is not watching them closely, and yours has done precisely that, despite my best efforts to keep it tidy.
The castle itself has changed very little, which is to say that it has learned a great deal while pretending otherwise.
I therefore extend an invitation to visit, not for ceremony, but simply to walk the grounds once more. I find that Hogwarts reveals different things to those who have already surprised it, and I should very much enjoy observing what it chooses to remember.
Should you find the idea agreeable, I would be pleased to arrange a quiet tour and perhaps a conversation or two, if time permits.
I remain, as ever,
Yours sincerely,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster
Order of Merlin, First Class
Grand Sorcerer
Chief Warlock
Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards
Wayne folded the letter slowly and let out a quiet breath, his expression unreadable as he stared into the fire for a brief moment. Footsteps sounded faintly from the upper floor, unhurried and familiar, and he lifted his voice just enough to carry, speaking with calm certainty rather than excitement.
"Wifey," he called, his tone mildly amused, as though announcing something ordinary rather than impossible, "we are going to Hogwarts."
From above, a pause followed, then a voice answered, warm and curious.
"Are you serious," she asked, her tone carrying disbelief softened by interest, footsteps already beginning their descent.
Wayne smiled faintly and turned toward the staircase, the owl remaining quietly by the fire, patient as ever.