"Kai Adler" strikes a nice balance—short, sleek, with a subtle nod to his heritage ("Kai" is used in Germanic and international contexts, and "Adler" means eagle in German, evoking sharpness and freedom).
Sunlight streamed through the tall window, casting golden beams across the quiet room and warming the boy's relaxed figure. A soft breeze stirred the curtains as a porcelain cup lifted from across the room and floated to his hand with practiced ease.
Kai Adler took a slow sip of coffee, his pale blue eyes distant with thought.
Three days, he mused. It's been three days since I arrived in London. Where's that letter the old man promised?
He sighed quietly, leaning further back into the cushioned chair. He wouldn't lie… would he?
He doubted it. The old man never said anything he didn't mean—especially when it came to threats.
With a casual flick of his fingers, the coffee cup returned to its saucer without a sound. He tilted his head.
Strange drink, this coffee. Bitter, but oddly satisfying.
Everything in this world was strange.
Not because he was German and this was England.
But because this world wasn't his in the first place.
He wasn't supposed to be here. Not in this body, not in this timeline, not in this universe.
His name was Kai Adler. In his previous life, he'd been born in Hamburg in 1973—an ordinary boy in an ordinary city, with ordinary dreams. He'd been proud to pass his Abitur and get accepted into a decent university. He still remembered the way his mother had hugged him, and how his father had quietly clapped him on the shoulder as they said goodbye at the train station.
Then the world shattered.
There had been a tremor, a flash of pain, and when he opened his eyes… he was five years old again, staring up at a looming figure in tattered robes inside a cold, silent fortress.
Nurmengard.
The man didn't say much at first. Just looked at him for a long time with unreadable eyes.
Eventually, Kai understood: the man had taken him in. And for reasons Kai still didn't fully grasp, he was determined to train him.
In magic.
Real, living, breathing magic.
He still remembered the awe and disbelief he felt the first time the old man casually levitated a teacup. It was the moment the world changed again.
From then on, his life was anything but ordinary.
No friends. No toys. No schoolyard games.
Just stone walls, strict lessons, and silence. The old man—Gellert, as Kai later learned—was a harsh teacher. Demanding. Ruthless. But fair in his own way. He didn't waste time with wands or books; he taught Kai to draw magic from within, to hone it through control, precision, and sheer willpower.
Failure wasn't tolerated. Mistakes were punished.
And once—just once—he had tasted the Cruciatus Curse.
He still woke up some nights feeling it crawl down his spine.
Then, three days ago, Gellert had handed him a satchel, sent him to a quiet Muggle neighborhood in London, and said:
"Wait. A letter will find you. Until then, do not draw attention. If you disobey… well, you remember what that feels like."
He remembered.
So he waited.
The flat was clean, quiet, and surprisingly normal. He spent his time watching Muggles go about their lives—watering gardens, walking dogs, waving to neighbors. It reminded him, in a strange way, of the life he once had.
Until that voice.
"Expelli…armus. Expelliarmus!"
The words drifted through the window, faint but clear.
Kai raised an eyebrow, stood up, and peered outside.
On the lawn next door, surrounded by bright yellow daffodils, stood a girl in a red cardigan. Her brown hair was a wild halo in the sunlight, and she clutched a thick book in one hand and a wand in the other. Her brow was furrowed in frustration as she muttered the incantation again.
Only a spark fizzled from the tip of her wand.
With a soft click, Kai opened the window.
"Practicing magic?" he called down.
The girl jumped and looked up. Their eyes met—hers wide and startled, his calm and amused.
She saw a boy not much older than herself. Pale skin. Ice-blue eyes. Golden-blond hair tousled by the breeze. There was something quiet about him, something confident. He looked down at her with mild curiosity.
The girl instinctively hid the wand behind her back.
Kai smiled faintly. "Relax. I can do magic too. Watch."
Pop.
In a blink, he stood on the lawn beside her, hands in his pockets.
Her eyes widened. "You Apparated?!"
"Yeah. Don't you know how?"
"Of course I know what it is! But you have to be seventeen to do that! And you're not even using a wand!"
He tilted his head. "Don't have one."
"You what?"
She gawked. He held out his hand, and her wand vanished from her grip, reappearing in his fingers.
"Is this what passes for a wand these days?" he mused, inspecting it like a novelty. "Looks fragile."
"Give it back!" she barked.
He grinned. "Say please."
Instead, she raised the heavy book threateningly. "Are you giving it back, or am I going to knock you out with Hogwarts: A History?"
He laughed, holding up the wand in surrender. "Alright, alright. No need for violence."
She snatched it back and gave him a sideways glare.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she said primly.
"Kai," he replied. "Kai Adler."
"You're weird."
"I get that a lot."
The two stood in the sunlight, surrounded by daffodils and the quiet hum of midsummer.
Far above, unseen on a distant rooftop, a tall man in a purple robe watched them in silence. His long silver beard rippled gently in the wind.
He'd seen the wandless magic. The confident Apparition. The curiosity on the boy's face.
So this is the one, Albus Dumbledore thought.
The boy Gellert raised in the shadows.
His eyes softened.
Let's see who he becomes in the light.