"Wake up, brother! We're going to be late for the train!"
The familiar, high-pitched voice hit me like a jinx to the head before the actual weight of my sister did. Evelyn—Eva, as everyone calls her—had taken it upon herself to be my personal alarm clock since she could walk. She was now nine, and still, her preferred method of waking me up remained the same: a flying leap onto my bed, right on top of me.
"Ugh—Eva!" I groaned as I rolled over, muffled by the pillow now partly on my face.
She giggled. "You're leaving me today, so this is your punishment for abandoning your adorable sister."
I couldn't help but smile, even while groaning. "You're not adorable when you're crushing my ribs, Eva."
She stuck her tongue out, then hopped off the bed with the energy of a dozen fairies and ran out yelling, "Hurry up, slowpoke!"
Today was September 1st.
The day I'd dreamed about for more than a decade, or two if I counted my past life.
In a week, I'd turned eleven. Today, I was finally going to Hogwarts.
I sat up slowly and glanced toward my bedside table, where my wand rested neatly on a velvet cloth. It still felt surreal. For the last two years, since I'd succeeded in casting my first spell, I'd spent every moment I could in secret study and practice. Wandless magic had become a quiet obsession of mine—an area I wanted to master before anyone ever saw me cast. But no matter how powerful, it had its limits. Without a wand, maintaining accuracy and power was draining and inconsistent. I needed focus. I needed precision. And then, a month ago, everything changed.
---
we visited Diagon Alley. My parents escorted me to Ollivander's to get my wand.
The moment we stepped inside, the scent of wood shavings and dust filled my nose. Garrick Ollivander emerged from the shadows like a figure from a painting, all sharp eyes and slow movements.
A pale, wide-eyed man emerged from behind a shelf. "Ah… Mr. Whitmore," he said, eyes darting to my father and mother. "Alaric. Seraphina. I remember your wands perfectly. A proud willow, twelve inches, unicorn hair—yours, Alaric. And Seraphina, yours was yew, eleven and three-quarter inches, phoenix feather, yes?"
He turned to me. "Now, the young master Whitmore. Come, let's find you your wand."
He measured everything—height, arm length, even the space between my nostrils—and then started handing over wands. One flick blew out a lamp. Another sent parchment flying. His excitement only grew.
Then he paused, pulled out an older box from behind his desk, and held it with reverence.
"This one… perhaps."
I took it in my hand. A warm pulse spread through my fingers. I gave it a careful flick.
A brilliant golden light flared from the tip, illuminating the entire shop.
Ollivander's eyes gleamed. "Fascinating."
"What is fascinating?" I asked, staring at the wand.
"Ah yes… Eleven and a half inches. Elder wood, with a dragon heartstring core. Very rare. Very powerful. Elder is a wood of legend—it chooses no fool. And dragon heartstring… strong, passionate, sometimes unpredictable. It will bond fiercely, but betray it, and it will not forgive."
He leaned closer. "This wand chose you. It expects greatness. Be worthy of it."
My parents exchanged surprised but proud looks. I held onto that moment.
---
Back to the Present
I picked up the wand gently, running a thumb over the polished elderwood. It had chosen me. And I was going to make it proud.
I dressed quickly and made my way downstairs.
Mother was already there, elegant as ever in a deep green cloak. She greeted me with a radiant smile. "Willy! Look at you, all grown up."
"It's William," I reminded her, but couldn't help smiling.
Breakfast was hearty—fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, and even a slice of treacle tart. Evelyn clung to me the whole time, pouting.
"I want to come too!"
"You'll get your turn," Father said, lifting her onto his lap. I leaned over and hugged her tight.
"You'll get letters every week," I promised.
"Every day," she insisted.
Mother embraced me next. "Be brave, be kind, and please… don't charm your professors."
"Only if they deserve it," I said.
Father's hands gripped my shoulders. "Remember who you are, son. And remember that Hogwarts is just the beginning."
We arrived at King's Cross and walked calmly through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Evelyn waved at me frantically. Mother looked composed, but I saw her eyes mist over. Father smiled with pride, arms crossed.
---
With one last glance, I boarded the scarlet train.
The Hogwarts Express was every bit as magical as I'd imagined.
I stepped aside for a moment and discreetly flicked my wand, whispering a charm I had recently created myself: Invenio. A soft golden trail extended from the wand, pointing me toward a cabin further down the train.
I followed it and slid the door open.
A boy was sitting alone, skinny, with messy black hair and round glasses. His head turned, revealing a familiar lightning bolt scar.
"Mind if I sit here?" I asked casually, as if I hadn't just met the most famous boy in the wizarding world.
He looked up, surprised, but nodded. "No, go ahead."
I slid into the seat across from him. "I'm William Whitmore. First year."
"I'm Harry. Harry Potter. Also first year," he said a bit awkwardly.
I didn't gasp or gape or say anything dramatic. I knew Harry well enough from the books to understand he hated that sort of thing—the gawking, the whispers, the stares. Instead, I offered him a calm smile.
"Welcome to the wizarding world, Mr. Potter." I said warmly. Just enough to let him know I knew—but not enough to make a big deal out of it.
He blinked at me, a bit surprised. Then smiled faintly. "Thanks."
"You can call me William, by the way."
"Then you can call me Harry," he replied with a chuckle.
I reached into my satchel and pulled out a worn copy of Hogwarts: A History. As I flipped it open, I felt his curious gaze drift over the cover.
"You've read that already?" he asked.
"Three times," I replied, grinning. "And I still find new things in it. Want me to tell you some fun facts?"
He laughed. "Sure."
It had been an hour and a half since Harry and I began talking. We shared stories about our families and how different our lives had been. Harry, though fascinated, looked increasingly worried.
"I'm going to be awful," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I didn't even know I was a wizard until a month ago. Everyone else will be way ahead."
I gave him a reassuring smile. "You won't be. Hogwarts is full of students who only just found out about the wizarding world. You're not alone, Harry. Some Muggle-borns knew even less than you a few weeks ago. You'll be fine."
Before Harry could reply, the compartment door slid open with a sharp clatter. Three boys stood in the doorway. The one in the middle had slick blond hair and a look of superiority so exaggerated, it was almost comical.
"Is it true?" the blond boy drawled, eyes sweeping across the compartment. "They're saying Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
Harry looked at him warily and nodded. "Yes."
The boy stepped in slightly. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy. And these are Crabbe and Goyle."
Crabbe and Goyle were built like trolls and looked just as smart. They flanked Malfoy like bodyguards.
Draco's eyes landed on me. "And you?"
"William Whitmore," I said simply.
His eyebrows shot up. "Whitmore? Huh. All goody-two-shoes, aren't they?"
I smiled lazily. "Yeah, not like some who change sides like chameleons change colors."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Watch your mouth, Whitmore."
"Or what?" I said, leaning back in my seat. "You going to comb me to death with your slick hair?"
Crabbe and Goyle looked confused, clearly missing the joke. Malfoy's lip curled. "You want to fight?"
"Not if you leave quietly, kid."
Draco sneered. "I'll see you at school, Whitmore."
"What, you fancy my hair or eyes? Don't worry, I'm flattered but taken."
Harry let out a snort of laughter.
Malfoy turned to him. "See you too, Potter. Hope you make the right sort of friends." And with a final glare, the three of them left.
Harry looked over at me, a hint of amusement on his face. "You're… kind of famous."
"Not me. Just the family name," I said with a shrug. "I'm just a normal kid like you."
Harry smiled at the word normal. It struck me how much that word must've meant to him. For the first time, he wasn't being treated like a freak by his relatives, or a hero by strangers. Just a boy.
A little while later, the door opened again. This time it wasn't Malfoy. A bushy-haired girl and a round-faced boy stood there.
"Has anyone seen a toad?" the girl asked briskly. "Neville's lost one."
Harry shook his head. "No, we haven't."
I stood up, pulling out my wand. "But I can help."
The girl blinked. "You're going to use magic to find it? I haven't read about a spell like that yet."
"You'll see," I said, pointing the wand.
"Invenio."
Same charm I used to find Harry. My wand rotated once, twice, then stopped, trembling slightly as it aimed at Neville.
"You're sure it worked?" she asked, skeptical.
"Positive. Neville, check your inner pocket."
Neville hesitated, then reached into his robe and pulled out—his toad.
"Trevor!" he exclaimed.
The girl gaped. "That was amazing! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. And this is Neville Longbottom. We're both first-years. I'm Muggle-born."
I smiled. "William Whitmore. And no need to explain blood status. All students are equal at Hogwarts."
Hermione blushed. "Oh... I've read about your family in every history book. I'll remember that."
"I'm Harry. Harry Potter," Harry added.
Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry—Harry Potter? You're in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!"
"I'm in books?" Harry asked, looking baffled.
"Yes, all about you—how you survived the Killing Curse, and your parents—"
"I think that's enough introductions," I cut in quickly.
Hermione's face fell as she realized how close she came to saying something painful. "Oh—I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," Harry said quickly, though his voice was quiet.
Hermione straightened. "Well, You should be changing into your school robes. We'll be arriving in an hour. See you later."
Once she left, Harry and I changed into our robes and gathered our things. As the train pulled to a stop, we stepped out into the chilly evening air.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" came a booming voice.
"That's Hagrid," Harry smiled. "He brought me from the Dursleys."
I gave the man a nod. "William Whitmore, sir."
"Ah! A Whitmore! Good family. Good lads," Hagrid said with a grin. "Tea sometime, yeah?"
"We'd like that," Harry said.
The first-years were led to boats, four to a vessel. Harry and I were joined by Hermione and Neville. As we sailed across the black lake, I caught my first glimpse of Hogwarts. Towers stretched into the sky, and warm lights flickered through narrow windows. It was like a painting come to life.