The platform was bustling with noise and color—children hauling trunks nearly the size of their bodies, parents fussing over last-minute instructions, owls hooting in their cages, and the gleaming red engine of the Hogwarts Express releasing steady puffs of enchanted steam.
Caelum stood near Platform 9¾, dressed in a neat black traveling cloak, its deep hood shadowing most of his features whenever he stepped outside. He didn't look like the average eleven-year-old—not with his composed posture, nor the quiet intensity in his gaze. And certainly not with the restraint he carried like a second skin.
"Well," Amelia said beside him, smoothing the lapel of his cloak with practiced care, "this is it."
He nodded, eyes still fixed on the train.
"I packed the Ministry forms in your satchel," she added absently. "Just in case."
"What eleven-year-old brings Ministry documents to school?" Caelum muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "The kind who burns buildings and dismantles smuggling rings before his first flying lesson."
Bridget chuckled softly from behind them. "And don't forget—your favorite strawberry cakes are packed right at the top of your trunk."
Beside her, Susan clutched Bridget's hand tightly, trying—and failing—to hold back tears. Her wide eyes shimmered, her lip trembling.
Caelum crouched slightly and rested a hand on her head, meeting her gaze.
"I'll write to you," he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Every week. Owl post is fast, remember?"
Susan sniffed. "And in two years, I'll be there too."
"You'd better be," he said with a small grin. "But don't go causing trouble while I'm gone."
"You're the one who causes trouble," she shot back, sticking out her tongue.
"Exactly," Caelum said. "That position's already taken."
Amelia stepped forward, her hands settling briefly on his shoulders before pulling him into a firm, brief embrace.
"Caelum… just be yourself," she said quietly. "Not the weapon. Not the project. Just the boy I know."
He returned the hug—slightly awkward, but real—and gave a small nod.
With one last glance back, he turned and pushed his trolley toward the train.
…
The moment he stepped into the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, the world shifted. Noise and laughter echoed through the narrow space, and the scent of sweets and worn leather filled the air.
He wandered through compartments, scanning quietly for a place to sit. Most were full of chattering students, some already forming little groups of friends.
Then he spotted a compartment with only one other boy inside—a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a quiet face and tousled brown hair. He sat by the window reading from a worn book of Quidditch tactics.
"Mind if I join you?" Caelum asked.
The boy looked up. "Not at all."
Caelum slid the door closed behind him and settled across from the boy.
A moment of silence passed.
"Cedric Diggory," the boy offered, extending a hand.
"Caelum," he said, shaking it. He didn't give a last name. Cedric didn't ask.
"First year?"
"Yeah."
"Same." Cedric smiled. "You nervous?"
Caelum considered it. "Not really. Just… curious."
The train gave a sudden lurch and began to pull forward. Outside the window, Amelia, Bridget, and Susan waved as the platform drifted away.
Caelum lifted his hand, just once.
Then he turned toward the future.