January 4, 1993.
King's Cross Station was a masterclass in refracted light. The morning sun, low and sharp, poured through the soaring glass arches of the ceiling, turning the humid air into a golden haze and igniting the polished stone floors until they looked like a sea of amber. The station hummed with the restless energy of a thousand lives in transit—the rhythmic clack-clack of luggage wheels, the frantic shouts of porters, and the deep, vibrating hiss of steam engines preparing to haul their heavy burdens toward the horizon.
I moved through the crowd with a level of composure that felt increasingly out of place among the harried Muggle commuters. My black leather trunk rolled behind me, guided by a subtle, wandless current of magic that kept it exactly three inches from my heels. Perched atop the handle was Celeste.
Her silver-blue feathers glinted with a metallic luster under the station lights, her cosmic eyes tracking the movement of the masses with a terrifying, predatory intelligence. To the average Muggle, she was a trick of the light, an exotic pigeon perhaps, or simply a smudge in their periphery. But to anyone with the "Sight," she was an anomaly—a sovereign of the sky who didn't belong in a cage.
Just behind me walked my "Pack." Giselle moved with the effortless, leggy confidence of a hunter who had reclaimed her dignity. Her long, dark coat swayed rhythmically with her stride, the silver embroidery along her hem catching the light like a hidden constellation. Beside her, Asterion was a pillar of absolute stillness in motion. His silver hair was tied back with a leather cord, and his gaze was not on the people, but on the "Currents" of the room. They looked like ordinary guardians, perhaps a bit too well-dressed for the station, but they radiated a gravity that made the crowd instinctively part before us.
Ahead, the familiar brick barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten loomed. And clustered near it was a group that made the magical static in the air spike like a fever.
It was a sea of red hair and public fame. Molly Weasley was at the center of a mountain of trunks, attempting to button Ron's coat while simultaneously keeping Fred and George from disappearing into the crowd. Standing slightly apart were the Potters.
In this timeline, the "Boy Who Lived" wasn't a lonely orphan; he was a project. James Potter stood tall, his black hair as messy as the stories claimed, his glasses reflecting the station lights as he laughed at something Sirius Black was saying. Professor Lily Potter stood beside him, her emerald-green robes marking her as a woman of authority, her eyes sharp and constantly scanning her children.
Harry and Ron were deep in a debate about Quidditch, while Harper Potter—Harry's twin—was leaning against her trolley, looking bored but vigilant.
The moment we entered their orbit, Sirius Black noticed us first. His grey eyes, usually full of a roguish, reckless light, flicked to Celeste. He went still, his grin fading into a look of genuine, sharp-eyed interest.
"Well now," Sirius murmured, his voice cutting through the Weasley chaos. "James, look at that bird."
James followed his friend's gaze, and the entire Potter-Weasley cluster seemed to pivot toward us. I reached the barrier area and stopped, maintaining a polite, respectful distance.
Harper was the first to recognize me. Her expression brightened, the boredom vanishing. "Oh—hey. It's the Ravenclaw."
Harry and Ron turned. Harry's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh! You're the one from the Dueling Club. The one who uses the silver light."
Ron snapped his fingers, grinning. "Yeah! You're the one who disarmed Harper! I've never seen her look that confused in my life."
Harper rolled her eyes, though there was no malice in the gesture. "It was one duel, Ron. And he cheated by being better than me."
I inclined my head politely, my heterochromatic eyes—one gold, one silver—reflecting the group. "Good morning. I trust the holidays were... restorative."
James Potter stepped forward, his eyes searching mine. "Ah," he said, his voice warm but carrying the weight of a father's assessment. "The duelist. I've heard quite a bit about you, Mr. Blackheart. My daughter doesn't usually admit to being outplayed."
Sirius straightened up from the trolley, wandering closer with a curious smirk. "Wait—this is the kid? The one Snape is obsessed with in the Potions Club?"
Harper folded her arms. "He's good, Uncle Sirius. Really good. He didn't even use a shield; he just... moved."
"He barely shifted his feet!" Ron added, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "It was like he knew where the spell was going before Harper even cast it."
I gave a small, modest shrug. "You were both quick learners. The duel was a matter of timing, nothing more."
While the children talked, the atmosphere among the adults changed. Sirius's attention drifted from me to Giselle and Asterion. I could feel his "Auror instincts" flaring. He didn't see two guardians; he saw two variables he couldn't solve.
Asterion met James's gaze with a look of ageless, starlit calm. James reached out a hand, his posture becoming that of a Lord of an Ancient House.
"James Potter," he said.
Asterion took the hand, a brief, firm grip. "Asterion."
Giselle stepped forward, her smile easy but her eyes never leaving Sirius. "Giselle. We're the ones responsible for making sure Orion doesn't spend all his time in the library."
Sirius grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. " 'Friends,' she said earlier. That's a dangerously vague answer for people who look like they could dismantle a ward-line with a dirty look."
"We prefer the term 'Associates'," Giselle replied smoothly.
Lily Potter stepped forward then, her green eyes—so like Harry's and Harper's—softening the tension. She looked at Giselle with a genuine, maternal warmth. "You must be the ones taking Orion to school. It's a pleasure to meet you. Orion has a very... remarkable presence in the castle. My colleagues speak of him often."
"We try to see him off when the shop allows," Giselle said.
Celeste chose that moment to let out a soft, musical chirp. She tilted her head, her feathers shimmering with a sudden, beautiful blue light. Lily's eyes widened.
"Oh my—what a magnificent bird. I've never seen anything like her."
"Her name is Celeste," I said. "She's a... unique breed."
Arthur Weasley leaned over Lily's shoulder, his eyes wide with fascination. "Incredible plumage! Is she a hybrid? The magical resonance coming off those feathers is... well, it's quite something!"
Sirius crouched down to inspect her, his roguish charm returning. "That's definitely not an owl, kid. What is she, a secret weapon?"
"She is a companion," I replied.
The conversation turned back to school and the upcoming semester, but I could feel Lily's gaze lingering on me. She was an intuitive woman, a healer of sorts, and she was sensing the "void" I carried.
"So, Orion," she said kindly, stepping a little closer. "Have Giselle and Asterion known you long? You seem very... synchronized with them."
I nodded. "Since I was very young, Professor."
"That's wonderful," Lily said, though she hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. "Are they... family? Do you have brothers or sisters back home?"
The noise of the station seemed to fade for a heartbeat. I felt the "Deers of Death" part of my mind recognize the opening. I decided, in that moment, to give her a piece of the truth. Not for pity, but for Alignment.
"No," I said, my voice calm and flat. "They found me."
Lily tilted her head, her expression shifting to one of concern. "Found you? What do you mean?"
"I was taken when I was a child," I said simply. "By a man who had no right to me. I don't remember much of the 'before.' Giselle and Asterion were the ones who pulled me out of the dark and gave me a name."
The words landed like lead weights in the middle of the golden morning.
Lily's hand rose to her chest, her emerald eyes shimmering with a sudden, sharp empathy. "Oh... Orion. I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
Molly Weasley looked over, her face crumpling with sympathy. "Oh, you poor dear. To be taken like that..."
James frowned, his playful demeanor vanishing, replaced by the grim focus of a man who had fought in a war. "You don't remember your birth parents at all?"
I shook my head. "Not clearly. Just fragments of light and a lot of cold. But it doesn't matter. Giselle and Asterion raised me. They taught me the 'Oceans'."
Giselle rested a gentle, firm hand on my shoulder. It was a gesture of absolute possession. Lily looked at Giselle, and for a moment, an understanding passed between the two women—one who had birthed children into a world of light, and one who had claimed a child from a world of shadow.
"I'm glad he had you," Lily said softly, her voice thick with emotion.
Giselle returned the smile, though hers had a sharper edge. "So are we, Lily. He was always meant for the stars."
Sirius watched the interaction with a newfound gravity. He was still suspicious—his nature wouldn't allow otherwise—but the suspicion was now tempered by a reluctant respect for the survivors standing in front of him.
Molly suddenly clapped her hands, her voice breaking the heavy atmosphere. "Alright everyone! Emotional moments aside, the train leaves in ten minutes! If you aren't on it, you're walking to Scotland!"
The spell was broken. Fred and George immediately sprinted for the barrier. "Race you, Gred!" "You're on, Forge!" They vanished through the solid brick wall with a synchronized pop.
Ron scurried after them, shouting about his forgotten sandwich. Harry grabbed his trunk, giving me a quick nod. "See you on the train, Orion. We'll have to talk more about those daggers you use."
Harper looked at me, her green eyes challenging. "Rematch, Blackheart. Sometime before February. I'm practicing my shielding."
"I look forward to it, Harper," I replied.
The younger students began filing through the barrier. Arthur followed them, still mumbling about Celeste's wing-structure. Molly ushered the last of the children through, giving me a final, watery smile before vanishing.
James lingered for a moment. He gave me a friendly, masculine nod. "Good luck this semester, Orion. Keep an eye on those two for me, would you? They have a habit of finding trouble."
"I'll do my best, sir."
Sirius flashed a crooked grin, ruffling Harry's hair as he passed. "Don't go too easy on Harper next time, kid. She needs the ego-check."
Lily stepped forward last. She didn't say anything at first. She simply placed a gentle, warm hand on my arm. "I'm glad you weren't alone in the dark, Orion," she whispered. "No child should ever have to be."
I looked into her eyes and saw the person she was in the other world—the mother who died to save her son. Here, she was alive, but the heart was the same.
"So am I, Professor," I said.
A moment later, the Potters and Sirius disappeared through the barrier. The roar of King's Cross rushed back in, filling the vacuum they had left behind.
Giselle looked down at me, her amber eyes reflecting the golden light of the station. "Well," she said lightly, "that was surprisingly pleasant. I think the Professor likes us."
Asterion gave a small, approving nod. "She sees the alignment. She is a woman of high frequency."
Celeste chirped, ruffling her feathers as if to say it was time to go. I picked up the handle of my trunk, feeling the weight of the Golden Egg and the Starfall Yew.
"Let's go," I said.
I walked toward the brick wall, my eyes fixed on the point where reality folded. Without hesitation, I stepped through.
The station vanished. The gold light turned to steam and scarlet. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters waited, and beyond it, the castle was calling.
The game was changing. I had revealed a piece of my past, and in doing so, I had forged a thread with the family at the center of the storm.
As I boarded the train, I felt the stars above the Scottish Highlands—unseen but present—waiting for my return. The semester was starting, and this time, I wasn't just a witness.
I was a participant.