Four years had evaporated like a misplaced potion, leaving behind only the faintest wisp of their former shape. Viktor Ivanov, now a full ten years old, stood before the grand, enchanted mirror in his room. He had inherited his mother's sharp cheekbones, now more defined, and his father's dark, black hair, which fell in a perpetually messy, greasy black fringe over his intense grey eyes. The faint, unsettling aura still clung to him, now maturing into a striking, almost handsome dark wizard look.
Hailey Beaumont and Claire Vance had become constants, their witty debates and shared escapades proving far more engaging than any theoretical study. Even the occasional, often chaotic, run-ins with boys like Bill Weasley and the ever-mischievous Fred Flint had added unexpected color to his days.
The morning the letter arrived was no different from any other, save for the sudden, excited squawk from an unfamiliar, tawny Hogwarts owl perched on the breakfast table. The owl, its chest puffed out with importance, thrust forward a thick, yellowish parchment envelope, addressed in emerald green ink. Viktor reached for it, his movements deceptively calm. His parents, Alexei and Natasha, watched him, their smiles wide with a mixture of pride and anticipation.
His heart hammered against his ribs. This is it, he thought, a thrill shooting through him that was surprisingly potent. For all his accumulated knowledge, the tangible reality of a magical letter from a magical school, confirming his place, was undeniably exhilarating. He broke the wax seal, emblazoned with a majestic crest—a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake.
The elegant, spidery script inside confirmed it: "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He skimmed the list of required books, the stern instructions regarding uniforms, and the crucial detail about the "standard set of equipment." A surge of genuine excitement, untainted by cynical pragmatism, washed over him. He knew the stories, the history, the legacy. And now, he was part of it. He offered his parents a small, triumphant smile, trying to play it cool, but the tremor in his hands betrayed his true thrill.
"Well?" Alexei boomed, unable to contain himself. "Tell us, son! The great Hogwarts has finally called?!"
"It has," Viktor confirmed, his voice a little steadier than his hands. "First year. The full list of requirements is here."
Natasha clapped her hands, a rare, uninhibited gesture of delight. "Wonderful! Then it's decided! Tomorrow, we go to Diagon Alley!"
The following morning
Diagon Alley was a sensory explosion. The air thrummed with unspoken magic and the clamor of a thousand conversations. Crooked shops, stacked like mismatched books, leaned precariously against each other, their colorful, hand-painted signs swaying gently in the unseen breeze. The calls of vendors hawking everything from enchanted sweets to rare potion ingredients mingled with the hooting of owls and the distant clatter from Gringotts.
Viktor felt a child's delight bubble up, a visceral excitement that overshadowed his analytical appreciation for the sheer logistical marvel of it all. It smelled of parchment, wood, and something vaguely metallic and magical.
His parents, Alexei, a whirlwind of booming laughter and confident strides, and Natasha, a vision of impeccable elegance, navigated the throng with practiced ease. Viktor, however, was more interested in the sheer spectacle. He lagged slightly, eyes wide, taking in the flying brooms in a shop window, the shimmering robes of passersby, and the tiny, animated garden gnomes frolicking on a display stand.
"Viktor, darling! Over here!" Natasha called, waving towards a bustling section near the Gringotts entrance. And there they were: Hailey Beaumont, her fiery red hair a beacon in the crowd, practically vibrating with excitement, and Claire Vance, quieter, but her thoughtful brown eyes alight with wonder. Their parents, Mr and Mrs Beaumont, and Mr. and Mrs. Vance, stood nearby, all smiling.
"Viktor!" Hailey shrieked, darting forward and enveloping him in a surprisingly fierce hug. "You got your letter too, didn't you? We thought so! Hogwarts, here we come!"
Claire offered a more sedate but equally warm smile. "It's truly marvelous, isn't it? I've been rereading 'Hogwarts, A History' all week."
Viktor grinned, a genuine, unforced expression. It felt good to see them, to share this moment of burgeoning excitement.
"So," Mr Beaumont announced, his voice jovial, "first stop: getting our young scholars properly equipped! Pets first, I believe?"
They arrived at the Magical Menagerie, a shop teeming with cages, aquariums, and perches, the air thick with the scents of fur, feathers, and scales. Owls hooted, cats purred, and various bizarre creatures chittered from hidden corners. The children, utterly captivated, immediately dispersed to gaze at the potential companions.
Viktor gravitated towards the owls, appreciating their silent dignity and intelligent eyes. He watched Hailey cooing at a fluffy, snowy owl, and Claire observing a sleek, tawny one with intense focus.
Suddenly, Alexei Ivanov, who had been surveying the shop with a grand, discerning air, strode over to a large, empty cage at the back. He tapped it with his cane, his eyes gleaming with an audacious idea. "Ah, yes! Pets!" he boomed, his voice carrying clearly across the bustling shop. "A most crucial selection! For my son, a proper Ivanov, a man who will one day stand at the pinnacle of wizarding society... a proper man should have a tiger!"
The elderly shopkeeper, a small, wiry witch with spectacles perched on her nose, dropped a cage of puffskeins with a horrified squeak. "A tiger, sir?! Are you quite mad?! We don't stock—"
"Nonsense!" Alexei waved a dismissive hand. "A majestic beast! Fierce, intelligent, commands respect! Far superior to these common owls and mangy cats! Imagine, a tiger prowling the halls of Hogwarts! Now that is an entrance!"
A tiger! Viktor's heart actually gave a little leap. He half wanted the tiger. Who didn't, on some primal level, fantasize about owning such a magnificent, dangerous creature? The thought of strutting into Hogwarts with a full-grown tiger at his heels, casually ignoring the chaos, was undeniably appealing.
Natasha, standing beside him, managed a delicate sigh that was somehow both elegant and profoundly exasperated. "Alexei, dear. Do try to remember the regulations. Hogwarts does not permit exotic beasts of that scale. And besides," she added, her eyes twinkling with a dry wit, "a tiger? Think of the claw marks on the heirloom furniture. And the smell. Frankly, darling, a tiger would be terribly déclassé."
Across the aisle, Mr Beaumont cleared his throat, a nervous cough. "Indeed, Alexei. While... impressive... I'm quite certain the school rules are rather strict on, ah, 'acceptable' companions." Mrs Beaumont patted her husband's arm, her smile polite but strained.
Mr. Vance, a meticulous man, adjusted his spectacles. "A matter of practicality, of course. Imagine the feeding bill. And the sheer logistical nightmare of concealment, should one truly attempt it." His wife, Mrs. Vance, merely shook her head, a small smile on her lips.
"Father," Viktor hissed, tugging gently on Alexei's robe. "I think an owl would be quite sufficient. And significantly less likely to earn me detention on the first day."
"An owl?" Alexei scoffed, though his eyes twinkled. "But the impact! Fine, fine. If you insist on practicality." He gave the flustered shopkeeper a grand nod. "Bring us your finest eagle-owls then!"
After much consideration, Viktor chose a magnificent, dark brown eagle-owl with piercing amber eyes and a quiet, watchful demeanor. Hailey, after much deliberation, picked a sleek, silver-grey eagle-owl that looked intelligent and quick, while Claire, after patiently observing all the options, settled on a smaller, beautifully mottled eagle-owl with particularly large, expressive eyes that seemed to take everything in. Each child now had a loyal, feathered companion, a silent promise of messages and adventures to come.
Their next stop was Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where the children were measured for their traditional, somewhat stiff black school robes. Viktor endured the endless pinning and prodding with stoic patience.
Then came the grand tour of Potage's Cauldron Shop and Scribbulus Writing Implements, where the three families converged into a single, lively shopping party.
"Now, the cauldron," Natasha announced, examining a gleaming copper cauldron with a critical eye. "Hmm. Standard size two. Acceptable, I suppose, for a beginner. But the craftsmanship..." She sighed, a delicate, almost theatrical sound of disappointment. "So terribly common. I had hoped for something a little more… bespoke. Unfortunately, they insist on these plain designs. Anything with proper enchanting would be considered... cheating, apparently." She uttered the word as if it were a particularly distasteful bug.
"Oh, it's just dreadful, isn't it?" Mrs Beaumont chimed in, echoing Natasha's sentiment. "My mother always said a proper cauldron was half the potion. These look like something from a muggle kitchen!"
Mr. Vance nodded sagely. "Indeed. While functional, the lack of intrinsic magical properties in the base material is a shame. One would have thought about the tuition fees..." He trailed off, clearly in agreement.
Viktor just picked out a cauldron that seemed sturdy enough, trying not to smirk at the collective pure-blood dismay over school supplies.
They moved on to the other items. Viktor methodically ticked off items from his list:
A set of gleaming glass phials. Mrs Vance picked one up, her fingers delicately tracing its curve. "Glass? Oh, dear. Not even crystal? So terribly fragile. And the stoppers, so rudimentary. One might think a wizarding school would provide more durable vessels. But no, standard issue." She sounded utterly pained.
Hailey, overhearing, threw her hands up. "Exactly! Why can't we get the ones that clean themselves, or that tell you if you've added too much of an ingredient? It's not fair!"
A polished brass telescope. Mrs Beaumont held it up, peering through the lenses, her brow furrowed. "The focal lenses appear mass-produced. One would think a true scholar would require bespoke optics for their astronomical pursuits. But, rules." She sighed again, a sound that could only be described as a lament for fallen standards.
A set of shimmering brass scales. Natasha ran a gloved finger along the pan. "And these are so… basic. No intricate enchantments for self-calibration? Honestly, the quality of instruments these days. If it weren't for the rules about fair play, I would simply have our own craftsmen forge you something truly worthy of an Ivanov."
Mr Beaumont laughed. "My dear, the Ministry insists on a level playing field. Imagine the chaos if every child arrived with their own personal magical arsenal. We'd have first-years transfiguring the Great Hall into a ballroom on day one."
Mr. Vance offered a practical perspective. "It teaches them the fundamentals, I suppose. To learn to enchant basic materials before moving onto more advanced ones."
Viktor suppressed a smile. His mother, for all her love, had an impossibly high standard for literally everything. He found it endearing, if slightly embarrassing, that she shared this very specific form of high-brow pure-blood exasperation with the other parents. He recognized the instruments were perfectly functional for a ten-year-old. He simply nodded, enduring the collective lament about the "poor" quality of essential school supplies, knowing they were genuinely distressed by the lack of pure luxury.
They also bought their quills, ink, and parchment. Viktor paused at the quill display, seeing a particularly ornate, self-writing quill. "I'll take this one too," he told his father, gesturing. "I've always wanted to try one out."
Their final stop before wands was an often-overlooked little shop specializing in trunks and travel bags. Alexei insisted on getting the best. "A wizard must travel in comfort and with practicality!" he declared. They settled on a beautiful, dark leather trunk. "This," the shopkeeper announced proudly, "is made of the finest dragon hide, rendered light as a feather with a permanent Featherlight Charm, and enchanted with spatial expansion. It can hold far too much than its outside appearance may suggest, young sir!" Viktor hefted it; it felt like a feather. He grinned. This was the kind of practical magic he appreciated.
The last, and most anticipated, stop was Ollivanders. The shop, nestled between a dusty secondhand bookshop and a magical sweets store, exuded an aura of quiet power. The sign, with its peeling gold letters, seemed to hum with ancient magic. Inside, it was a place of hushed reverence – towering shelves reached to the unseen ceiling, packed tightly with countless narrow boxes. The air was thick with a fine layer of dust, smelling faintly of wood, magic, and something uniquely electric.
Mr. Ollivander, a thin, ancient man with pale, unblinking eyes, emerged from the shadows, his presence both gentle and unnervingly perceptive. He greeted the adults with a polite bow.
"Ah, Mr. Ivanov, Mr. Beaumont, Mr. Vance. Here to get wands for the young ones, are you?" he murmured, his gaze sweeping over the children with intense, knowing eyes. "A momentous occasion, indeed."
The process was long, fascinating, and at times, utterly chaotic. Wands were presented, swished, and discarded. A cauldron exploded, a pile of parchment caught fire, and a nearby mannequin suddenly started tap-dancing wildly. Viktor found himself surprisingly drawn into the ritual. He'd imagined this moment, of course, but the sheer physical sensation of wands rejecting him, or causing minor havoc, was unlike anything he'd anticipated. He was intrigued by the subtleties of magical resonance, while his child's heart simply yearned for the right wand.
Finally, Ollivander presented a wand to Viktor. "Ebony," he intoned, his voice soft. "Unicorn hair core. Thirteen and three-quarter inches. Pliant flexibility."
As Viktor took it, a warmth spread through his fingers, a pleasant tingle that vibrated up his arm and settled in his chest. A faint, golden light emanated from the tip of the wand, and a gentle breeze, smelling of fresh rain, swirled through the shop, rustling Ollivander's sparse hair. It wasn't a violent burst of magic, but a profound, resonant connection. It felt right. More than right. It felt like an extension of himself, a natural, undeniable fit.
"Yes," Ollivander whispered, a rare smile gracing his lips. "Oh, yes. A curious combination, and a powerful one. Ebony is also particularly renowned for its affinity with combat magic and transfiguration, favoring those of strong conviction and unyielding purpose. Unicorn hair, known for its loyalty and resistance to the Dark Arts. And a pliant flexibility... adaptable, yet holds its principles firmly."
He looked at Viktor with a knowing gaze. "A most interesting journey awaits you, young Ivanov."
Hailey, a short while later, found her match in a vibrant Holly wand with a Dragon heartstring core, 11 inches, and surprisingly springy. It crackled with energy when she held it.
Claire, after a few more tries, connected with a graceful Willow wand with a phoenix feather core, 10 and a half inches, and a slightly swishy flexibility, which hummed softly in her hand.
With their trunks filled and their wands securely (and reverently) tucked away, the families met up outside for a final treat. They settled into a charming, colorful ice cream parlor called Florean Fortescue's, the scent of sugary delights filling the air.
Viktor, Hailey, and Claire devoured their ice creams, their faces smudged with chocolate and strawberry. The intensity of Ollivanders had given way to a relaxed, joyful camaraderie.
"I can't believe we're actually going to Hogwarts!" Hailey exclaimed, her eyes bright. "It feels so real now, doesn't it?"
"It does," Claire agreed, thoughtfully licking her scoop. "I've started to memorize the layout from 'Hogwarts, A History'. I think the library is near the Great Hall."
Viktor chuckled. "Don't forget the secret passages. I'll need to update my maps."
"Oh, you'll love it," Hailey said, nudging him. "We'll be able to explore so much!"
"Well," Viktor said, a genuine smile on his face. "I suppose this means we'll all be meeting up again very soon." He looked at each of them. "On September first, at the train station. We should definitely find a compartment together."
Hailey bounced in her seat. "Yes! Absolutely! We'll look for you on the Hogwarts Express!"
Claire nodded, a comfortable smile settling on her face. "It's a plan."
As the afternoon sun began to dip, casting long shadows across Diagon Alley, Viktor felt a profound sense of contentment. His new life, once a strange, isolated existence, was now brimming with magic, friendship, and the thrilling promise of Hogwarts. The train station would be just the beginning.