As the old Chinese saying went: Man's calculation is not as good as Heaven's calculation.
Before the next morning even arrived, Adam's grandparents—Emma and Alfred Reed—received an urgent message via owl post from across the Atlantic. They had to return to New York immediately.
"Adam," Grandma Emma said as she hugged him tightly, "take this, and be careful at Hogwarts."
She pressed a smooth, warm jade pendant into his palm. The carving glowed faintly under the lights—no ordinary ornament. Emma chanted softly in Mandarin, infusing it with a subtle protection charm rooted in Chinese alchemy and spiritual magic.
"And this," added Grandpa Alfred, reaching into his enchanted suitcase and pulling out a weathered, thread-bound book. "This is the one you grabbed during your zhuāzhōu ceremony. I found it again after so many years. We dismissed it then, but now that you've shown magical aptitude… this may be something much more."
Adam blinked. He recognized the faded cover instantly—the very book he had clutched as a toddler, forgotten in a box for a decade. It radiated something now. Something old.
After a few more hurried words and a kiss on the forehead, the Reeds stepped into the fireplace. In a burst of green flame, they vanished, presumably via international Floo Network coordination with the MACUSA Department of Magical Transportation. Or, Adam mused, maybe his Chinese grandparents had used their own method. Apparition wasn't legal for such distances, but who knew what ancestral Taoist techniques they still used?
Just after midnight, Adam stood beside a cake bigger than his head. It was covered in berries and piped cream, glittering under candlelight. His family circled him, singing.
🎵"Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you…"🎵
With a flick of his wand, Alfred had charmed the frosting into tiny cream creatures—plump strawberries with frosting arms that clapped and twirled. A dancing blueberry even bowed dramatically as the song ended.
Adam closed his eyes and made a wish.
The Three Pure Ones of Taoism, the Jade Emperor, Buddha, Jesus Christ, Allah, Merlin the Wise… whoever it was that granted me a second life—
Please don't let this be just a cruel joke. I don't need some overpowered cheat or "golden finger." I just want to survive. Please… let me live long and quiet.
"Fuuuh—"
He blew out the candles in one go. For a second, the flame-smoke swirled into the shape of a dragon's whisker, but it vanished before anyone noticed.
"Alright, time for bed. Big day ahead!" his father chuckled. "Well—technically today."
Grandpa grinned. "We're going to Diagon Alley, Adam. You'll like it there."
"Okay, Grandpa," Adam said with a smile. He knew what awaited in Diagon Alley: Ollivander's, Eeylops Owl Emporium, Flourish and Blotts, the Leaky Cauldron. Still, the excitement bubbled under his skin. This time, it was real.
Back upstairs, Adam finally exhaled.
"Feels like a dream," he muttered, flopping onto the bed.
So much had happened: the Hogwarts letter, discovering his grandparents were magical, the magical legacy from his Chinese side… maybe Taoist priests were just their version of wizards.
He was exhausted, yet not sleepy. His eyes drifted to the book Grandpa had given him—the one from his zhuāzhōu.
It was thick, bound in yellow thread, and worn with age. Curious, Adam reached out—
HISSSSS
A brilliant white light exploded from the book the instant his fingers brushed the cover. Adam yelped, instinctively shielding his eyes. Tears welled up, but when he blinked them away, there was no pain. No burns. Just a faint shimmer that vanished into the air.
Then, a voice—clear and sudden.
"Are you the contractor?"
Adam froze. The room was empty. The book lay motionless on his lap.
"…Who's there?"
"I'm here."
The voice came again, slightly muffled.
"…Talking book?" he muttered, heart pounding.
"Yes! Look to your left! Your other left!"
The voice was impatient now.
Adam placed the book gently on his blanket. As he did, the cover shimmered again, transforming before his eyes. The thread-bound exterior morphed into sleek red leather adorned with a sun sigil. His eyes widened.
"This is…!"
Cardcaptor Sakura. He recognized the design immediately—the Sealed Book. Childhood memories flashed before him. He hadn't seen the show in years, but how could he forget Cerberus and the Clow Cards?
"I knew it!" he whispered.
"I am the guardian of the Clow," the voice declared, sounding proud. "I am Keroberos! Make a contract with me, and you'll gain the power of Clow Reed!"
Adam blinked. "Wait—what's the catch?"
"The price is…" the voice paused. "Three sweets a day, daily brushing of my mane for one hour, and mandatory playtime."
"…You're joking."
"DON'T MOCK ME! That's not my final offer!"
A second voice chimed in—sharper, more serious. "Keroberos, you're making us sound ridiculous."
Adam raised a brow. "Another one?"
"Yes," the voice said smoothly. "I am Spinel Sun, the secondary guardian of the Sealed Book. Don't mind Cerberus. He's… nostalgic."
"Spinel…?"
Adam felt a cold sweat. Weren't both Keroberos and Spinel from different versions of the Clow legacy? How were they both here—and in the same book?
"Sorry," Spinel said with professional politeness. "You must be overwhelmed. Let me explain."
According to Spinel, the book truly was a magical artifact created by Clow Reed, the half-Chinese, half-English sorcerer mentioned even in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7. But unlike in the Sakura anime, this book had been sealed away in the East, stored among Adam's ancestral heirlooms. Somehow, during the zhuāzhōu ceremony, it had reacted to Adam's latent magic.
The Sealed Book contained powerful magical spirits known as Clow Cards. To access them, one must become the rightful master through a magical contract.
"…So, what's the contract?" Adam asked, arms crossed.
"In exchange for using the Book's power, you must provide magical energy to sustain the cards and guardians," Spinel explained. "And swear never to abuse them for harm."
"Isn't that how magical contracts work in Harry Potter, too?" Adam muttered. "Like the Unbreakable Vow or the Goblet of Fire's binding magic?"
"Similar in principle," Spinel said. "Except this one doesn't kill you if broken. It just… strips you of your magic and memory."
"…Oh, just that," Adam said flatly.
Still, it was too surreal. Two sentient voices in a magical book—his childhood cartoons bleeding into his second life? No. He needed confirmation.
"I'm not signing anything yet," Adam declared. He wrapped the book in his duvet, carefully using his sleeve instead of bare hands. "Time to consult my magical elders."
"Wait—what are you doing?!"
"I need to be sure this isn't some soul-trapping spirit trying to use me for a vessel," Adam replied calmly. "I've read enough Magical Theory to know enchanted books can be dangerous."
"But—your grandparents won't be able to see us!" Keroberos cried. "Only someone with magic and resonance with Clow Reed can perceive the Book's true form!"
Adam paused in the doorway.
"…Then I guess I'm the first in decades."
He turned and bolted down the stairs.
"Grandpa! Grandma! You guys ever hear of a Sealed Book talking to you?!"
Upstairs, Keroberos and Spinel exchanged a long, awkward glance.
"…Do you think he'll come back?"
"Eventually," Spinel sighed. "Unless he hands us to the Department of Mysteries."
"…He wouldn't…"
"…Would he?"