adored, harry potter

a long train ride

━ ONE.

     year one, 1991

     The morning air was crisp, a hint of autumn kick mixing with the fresh scents of the lush countryside around the manor. After several bustling and thrilling days of preparations, the time had finally come for Kallias to set off for Hogwarts. The trips to Diagon Alley had been nothing short of magical. From the enchanting smell of fresh parchment at Flourish and Blotts to the sight of robes tailored to perfection at Madam Malkin's, the entire experience felt like something out of a dream. He and his parents visited many shops and picked out spellbooks, cauldrons, a beautiful Kneazle with dark fur, and, most excitingly, his first wand.

But even amid the excitement, something else had been less comfortable. Kallias could still remember the sensation of walking through Diagon Alley, the vibrant marketplace alive with the sounds of chattering witches and wizards, the clatter of cauldrons, and the distant screeches of owls. Yet, the feeling of being observed had never entirely left him.

Lingering eyes followed him wherever he went, passersby casting sneaking glances. Some recognised the Peverell name, whispering it behind hands or in hushed tones, while others stared, curious about the boy who carried such a famous legacy. Kallias had grown used to it, the constant presence of those eyes.

     Looking at his wand, crafted from ebony with a core of dragon heartstring, was a powerful and fitting choice for a young wizard of his roots. The wand chose Kallias during a memorable visit to Ollivanders in Diagon Alley. He fondly remembered;

Entering the narrow, dusty shop, the air was thick with the smell of wood and dust. The walls were lined with thousands of slim boxes, each housing wands waiting for their appropriate owners. And Mr. Ollivander, the shop's owner, who had watched Kallias with sharp, calculating eyes.

"Peverell, is it?" Ollivander mused, his voice echoing barely in the quiet of the shop. "A family of extraordinary history... Let's see what we have for you."

Ollivander had moved with a nearly spectral grace, bringing several boxes and laying them before Kallias. He had tested the wands individually, but none seemed right; some felt too heavy, others too light, and none produced more than an occasional lackluster spark. When Ollivander handed him the ebony wand, Kallias felt warmth spread through his fingers.

"Ah, ebony and dragon heartstring, ten and three-quarter inches, unyielding," Ollivander had announced, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles as Kallias had given the wand a wave. Instantly, the room had been filled with a brilliant light, and a stream of shimmering silver sparks flew from the wand's tip, swirling around the shop.

     His mother had been beaming with pride when he received it, her words still echoing in his ears. "This wand," she had said, her voice full of certainty, "reflects the kind of wizard you are destined to become. Independent, strong-willed, and powerful. The ebony wood shows your resilience, your ability to stand firm even when others waver. And the dragon heartstring... well, your magic will be intense, formidable even."

He had listened to her words, feeling a strange pride and pressure.

     Standing at their manor's grand entrance, Kallias clutched his new wand securely in his pocket. Adjusting his sweater, his heart thumping with excitement. He was ready, his trunk packed with all his new supplies and a few comforts from home.

He paused, looking at the grand hall he had grown up in, the place he had known his whole life. Walls which were panelled in a deep, rich black, adorned with intricate mouldings and carvings. The floor beneath his feet was cool, white marble, with grey veins threading through it like strands of silver, transitioning smoothly into black, polished marble.