The next morning was perfect for a visit to Diagon Alley. Clear skies. Cool breeze. That strange little hum of magic in the air that seemed to pulse stronger the closer we got to London. It was me, Harry, my mom and dad, and Sirius—finally looking like himself again. Clean robes. Fresh shave. A glint in his eyes.
We'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron with plans to collect our school supplies, update our wardrobes, and enjoy some proper magical shopping. Aster and Hinata were to meet us later for lunch. But just as we reached the back brick wall of the Cauldron's courtyard—where the gateway to Diagon Alley could be opened—we saw a family standing off to the side. Three Muggles well, not quite.
The girl with dark brown hair, backpack hugged to her chest, books in both arms—was wide-eyed. Her parents looked with a mix of curious and uncertain, scanning the wall like they were expecting a hidden door to just appear. I knew automatically That was Harmonie and her parents. She didn't look like Emma Watson but could look like a close relative
I leaned over to my mom and whispered, "She's probably a first-gen witch can I help them?" My mother gave me a proud nod and the smallest smirk. "Lead the way, young Lord." I rolled my eyes, but walked forward.
"Hi there," I said, putting on my most polite tone. "You look a little… well, a lot like we did the first time we came here. First year?" The girl's eyes lit up. "Yes! I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. And—this is my mum and dad." "Callum. Callum Dawn." I gestured behind me. "That's my family. We're actually here for the same thing. If you'd like, we could help guide you through the shopping process. It's a lot to take in."
Her father gave a relieved smile and stepped forward, offering a handshake. "Richard Granger. And thank you. We weren't quite sure where to go after the… talking mirror pointed us here." I smiled back. "The Cauldron's entrance is enchanted. And the gateway to Diagon Alley is just behind us—but you need to know how to open it."
My dad tapped his wand gently against the correct bricks in sequence—three up, two across. With a rumble, the bricks shifted and folded open like paper, revealing the entrance to Diagon Alley. Hermione gasped and her parents blinked in unison, jaws slightly slack.
I waved them forward once we stepped in, I motioned for them to wait just inside. "We should head to Gringotts first. It's the wizarding bank. Run by goblins, and slightly terrifying if you don't like roller coasters." Hermione turned to me, brows already furrowed in question-mode. "Goblins? Like—actual mythological goblins?"
My dad chuckled behind me. "Not myth. Just very private and very stingy about their gold." I continued, "You'll need to exchange pounds for wizarding coins. There are three types: Knut's—the smallest, Sickles, and then Galleons, the gold standard."
She soaked it all in like a sponge—eyes wide, questions forming faster than her lips could ask. I glanced back at my mom, who gave me that look.
The Look that gently smug, "my son is making his first friend?" look. I blinked. Blushed and averted my eyes. Sirius nudged me from the side. "Smooth, Casanova." "I'll put your bike keys in the fireplace while you sleep," I muttered.
Harry grinned and with that, we guided the Grangers toward Gringotts
The moment we stepped into the marble halls of Gringotts, the air changed. Goblins moved swiftly across ledgers and coins behind polished counters. Gold scales clinked. Quills scribbled. The chandeliers gave off a bright light.
Hermione's eyes were everywhere. Wide with wonder. And questions. "Are those actual goblins?" "Yes," I said. "Very powerful ones." "And they run the entire banking system?" "More like their the only one," my dad added, stepping beside us. "Gringotts has existed for centuries. They have vaults stretching through most of underground London."
Hermione turned to him, curious. "Do they take only British currency?"
"They take almost every big or magical countries currency," Dad said warmly. "Come, I'll help you and your parents set up an account. The exchange rate's a bit archaic, but we'll make sure you don't overpay." Mr. Granger shook his hand, grateful. "We appreciate that, Mr. Dawn. This is… overwhelming, to say the least."
I let Dad guide them to the front while I hung back with Mom, Harry, and Sirius. Mom took out and handed the vault keys for me and Harry's vault. Sirius took a moment but found his. It didn't take long before we were all climbing into a cart—Harry, Hermione, Mom, Sirius, and me—seated on a magically reinforced bench.
"Hold on tight," the goblin grunted and then the cart dropped. The wind howled past our ears. The stone walls blurred by. The magical torches flickered in our wake. Hermione screamed. Harry whooped and I grinned.
"This is better than the London Eye!" Hermione shouted, laughing Sirius smirked. "Next time, we do it with blindfolds." After a few sharp turns and a waterfall that shimmered with protective charms, we stopped.
The Potter Vault. Massive. Guarded by silver-etched door runes and ancient goblin wards. The goblin held out a key and unlocked the Vault. "Your inheritance, Mr. Potter." The vault creaked open, revealing mountains of Galleons, heirlooms, and silver-etched tomes. Harry blinked. "All of this… was my parents'?"
Sirius stepped forward, a little gentler now. "Your mum and dad made sure you were taken care of. This is yours, Harry. Every sickle." "Plus I will be putting in some money every month until you graduate plus a few items I believe will help you in your later years." My mom said
Harry just stared. Then Sirius ruffled his hair. "Let's take what you need. You're not retiring yet." Hermione, ever the scholar, asked softly, "Is your vault next, Mr. Black?" Sirius nodded. "Yeah. After Callum's."
Then he added with a grim chuckle, "Technically, the Black family vaults were taken from me when I was disowned… My uncle reinstated me quietly after my parents died. And now—with my charming cousin Bellatrix in Azkaban—most of it is mine. Which means," he added, turning to Harry, " it will be yours too. You are my heir, after all."
Hermione frowned. "Why would you need to be reinstated into your own family's vault?"
Sirius exhaled slowly. "Because I didn't believe in their views. The Blacks were… purists. Bloodline obsessed. Power-hungry. They believed in blood purity over kindness and decency. That made me the black sheep pun not intended."
Hermione went quiet. We rolled forward toward my family's vault. The magic around us hummed stronger. She turned to me. "What did he mean by that, exactly?" I didn't sugarcoat it. "Hermione," I said, voice calm, "the wizarding world—especially Britain and some of Europe—is extremely xenophobic. To them, magic and blood status determines your value."
She blinked. "But… that's barbaric." I nodded. "It is. You're a first-generation witch. Which means people like Sirius family will look at you like you're dirty. Inferior. Some may never say it outright in public—but they'll think it and others will and maybe even hurt you cause of it."
She looked hurt, then angry. "And Harry?" "He's what they call a half-blood. His father was from a famous pureblood family—the Potters. But his mother, Lily… was like you. A first generation witch born to muggles or humans. So Harry's in the middle."
Her shoulders stiffened. "But that's ridiculous. Magic is magic. You can't choose who's born with it." "You're right," my mom said, kneeling beside her. Hermione turned. Mom's expression was kind, but firm. Her presence was radiant. "They're ignorant, Hermione. Small-minded people clinging to blood over worth. But you're bright. You're brave. And you're going to change things—just like Callum, just like Harry."
Hermione's eyes shimmered. She nodded slowly. "If you ever need help," Mom said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "our family will always be ready." Hermione managed a soft smile. Then the vault door before us rumbled.
My family's vault. The Tesfaye seal glowed across the surface—a lion surrounded by flame—and the goblin nodded once.
"Welcome to the vault of Tesfaye" The door opened and the vault door rumbled, and a warm surge of mana kissed the skin of everyone present. Except for my mother, who merely stepped forward with quiet expectation, the entire group paused at the threshold.
Even Sirius, who'd grown up with rooms full of opulence, eyes opened wide. Harry let out a small gasp. Hermione's jaw dropped. Inside the Tesfaye family vault, piles of gold Galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts shimmered like a frozen sea of wealth. But that wasn't what pulled attention.
There were shelves of tomes—some glowing faintly, others sealed with shifting runes and clasps of ivory bone or phoenix feathers. Racks of magical items lined the walls. Glowing rings, blades wrapped in cloth, boxes that hummed with glowing runes when passed too close.
Hanging above it all—a massive metal seal, shaped like a roaring lion cloaked in white-gold flame. I stepped inside slowly, pulse thudding. "This is… mine?" My mom smirked lightly. "No."
I blinked.
"This," she said, walking forward and plucking a small enchanted pouch off a pedestal, "is the outer vault." She gestured past a veil of ruins at the back wall—where another vault rested, sealed behind a door etched with a black flame so dark it seemed to drink the light around it. "That," she said, pointing, "is the True Vault. That one holds the heart of our families legacy. You'll only gain access when you're officially recognized as the Heir in full and Aster shows you."
"And when will that be?" I asked. "When you're ready," she replied, tone serious and when your ready to bear the responsibility of our family."
I didn't push. The small pouch shimmered with blue runes as she handed it to me. "This has your school money, and a few key items your Aunt and I selected that will help you at Hogwarts." I reached for it with both hands, bowing my head slightly. "Thank you, Mother."
Her eyes softened, and she smiled. "You're welcome, my son." The vault door sealed behind us with a deep metallic hum.
The Black family vault was next. And it was… heavier.
Artifacts hummed from the corner. Cursed books. Old goblets. Jewels enchanted and regular. But amid the darkness were also artifacts of worth—portraits, tomes of Black family spells, chests full of galleons, and even a few relics. Sirius collected only what he needed—enchanted gold pouch in hand—and gave a satisfied nod. "Some of this will go to Harry," he said. "Some to help restore what the family should've been."
We met up with my dad and the Grangers shortly after, both parties in a daze from what they'd seen. "Still with us?" my dad joked, nudging me. I blinked. "I'm… still processing." He laughed. "Good. Means you're taking it seriously."
Our next stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Classic storefront. Clean windows. Floating scissors and measuring tape bobbing about behind the glass. We stepped inside, greeted by the scent of enchanted fabric and lavender wax and that's when we ran into him.
I recognized him instantly Draco Lucius Malfoy.Blonde hair slicked back like a young prince. Cold gray eyes full of self-importance. Dressed in a sleek, custom-fit wizarding tunic of forest green with silver embroidery. He was standing on a small platform being measured. This boy who would one day mock Muggle-borns. Who'd wear his family's bigotry like armor but right now right now he was just another kid a spoiled one though.
I stepped forward calmly, heart steady this was a moment. A pivot point a chance to set a new tone before the script could write itself. "Hello there," I said casually, extending a hand. "I'm Callum. Callum Dawn. This is my friend Harry Potter. And that's Hermione."
Draco turned and looked at me then at Harry and Hermione. The faintest curl of a sneer twitched at the corner of his mouth and faltered, just slightly. The usual arrogance hadn't had time to fully form. "Hello," he said, glancing first at me, then to Harry. "I'm… surprised. I didn't think I'd be meeting the famous Harry Potter today."
Harry blinked. "That's me, apparently." "Can I see it?" Draco asked. Harry didn't hesitate. He brushed aside his fringe and showed the faint lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Draco nodded slowly. "It's real…" He turned to me next. "And you—Callum Tesfaye Dawn . My father's talked about you."
"Oh?" I said, voice calm, shoulders square. He extended a hand and shook mine, then Harry's. "He said you were from an old wizard noble family from overseas. And there's been a bit of a… commotion at the Ministry since you showed up."
I met his eyes. "That's one way to put it." Then his gaze slid to Hermione, sharp and calculating. "And what family are you from?" he asked. Hermione opened her mouth—but I stepped between them smoothly. "She's with us," I said.
His eyes narrowed. "I just asked a question—" "And I asked why it matters." Draco's lips curled. "It matters because you need to know who you're standing next to. There's magic, and then there's blood. Her kind—"
Before he could finish, a new voice cut in, low and cold. "Well, well… you're a dead ringer for your father. And you sound like him too—but worse."
Sirius.
He walked up beside us, folding his arms, the sleeves of his jacket pushed to the elbows. "Let me guess. You're Draco. Draco Malfoy." Draco paled slightly. "You're… Sirius Black." "The one and only. Though I hear some still call me the 'Dark Wizard,'" Sirius said with a sarcastic flourish. "Good thing I was cleared."
"You betrayed the dark lord and your family"
" I never working for the dark lord that was your aunt but I did betray them for not agreeing with their views or did your mother not tell you that either Didn't she?" Sirius smirked. "I'm your cousin, Draco. Your mother's cousin. Didn't she mention?"
Draco reeled slightly. "That's not—what?" And then, as if summoned by the plot itself, Narcissa Malfoy arrived. Cool, regal, and commanding in silver robes, she stepped in with perfect grace.
"Watch your tone and volume, Draco," she said sharply. "You are standing among dignified company." Draco fell silent immediately. Narcissa turned to Sirius, and her expression softened—just slightly. "I wasn't aware you'd… returned to society so soon."
Sirius gave a lazy salute. "I tend to do that. Freedom and I are old friends. I see you're still as icy as ever, Cissy."
She ignored the barb, turned to Harry and me, and gave a formal nod of greeting. "Harry Potter," she said, tone careful but courteous. "And Callum Tesfaye. I've heard the name with… interest."
Then, she glanced at Hermione a small nod. Not warm but not hostile either. Just an simple acknowledgment. That was all she gave before turning to her son.
"Let's go, Draco. Your robes are finished." Draco gave Harry and me one last glance—this time… more cautious. More curious than condescending.
And they left.
Hermione stared at Sirius. "You're related to them?" Sirius exhaled. "Yes. The Black family is… complicated. Narcissa is the she's the most balanced, ironically. She'll do anything to protect her son and family—but she's not like Bellatrix."
"Bellatrix Lestrange?" Hermione asked. "Full-blown lunatic," Sirius said. "She's why I can't stand family dinners. Andromeda—the youngest—is the kindest of us. Married a Muggle-born. Got cast out."
I said nothing. But mentally, I took notes. Tonks. Nymphadora. Andromeda's daughter. I'll reach out to her at some point. We collected our robes without trouble. Harry got the standard Hogwarts set—plus a traveling cloak Sirius insisted on buying for him/
Afterward, we made our way down a side alley to retrieve creature supplies for the year. That's when it happened. We passed a narrow corridor between a herbalist and a parchment shop, and I felt it. A pull from a hum of energy.
"Give me five minutes," I said quickly, slipping away before anyone could stop me. The alley was dim and crooked—but at the end stood a small stall, half-hidden in shadow.
And seated there was a woman. Tall. Slim. Dressed in a woven black cloak. Her face partially hidden by long strands of black hair, but what I could see was sharp, green eyes like polished emeralds. Her milky skin glowed faintly under the low light.
She was surrounded by black animals. Cats, ravens, hens, even a snake curling around her arm like jewelry. "You have a good eye, little one," she said, her voice curling into my bones with a soft Scottish accent. "You've already seen her, haven't you?"
I looked down—and there she was a black cat. Midnight fur, so dark it seemed to absorb light, and eyes like twin blue sapphires. I knelt slowly. She stepped into my hands and curled close to me while purring. "She's a rare breed," the woman said. I said "She just looks like a regular black cat."
"Oh but she I guarantee it". I activated Mind's Eye. Her aura flickered—truth and falsehood overlapping. She wasn't lying—but she was hiding something. A puzzle of intent . "Does she have a name?" "You can name her," she added. I looked into the cat's eyes. "…Nyx," I whispered.
The woman smiled. "A strong name. A goddess name." How much for her i asked. The lady smiled "No money is needed for this child, consider it an investment. My eyes widened. "Wait… do I know you?"
When I looked up she was gone no stall our animals nothing. But in my arms… Nyx purred softly, curling against my chest. At my feet, an entire starter set of magical creature supplies lay perfectly packed.
"Where did you find her?" Mom asked when I returned. I told her everything. Her face darkened, just a little. "Stay close from now on," she said, voice firm. "That was no ordinary shop." Sirius, behind her, crossed his arms. "The world of mystery's got its eyes on you, pup. Eyes older than you realize."
I looked down at Nyx—who licked my hand, then blinked once. The rest of the day passed in a montage. Books—done. Cauldrons—secured. Potions kit—purchased. Pets—checked. Wands- Not yet.
We stood now at the foot of Ollivander's Wand Shop, the crooked sign creaking gently in the breeze Harry looked at me. "You ready?" I nodded.
Nyx jumped up onto my shoulder, tail curling like a question mark. And the door creaked open—
The bell above Ollivander's Wand Shop rang with a soft chime as the door creaked open.
The scent of old parchment, cedar dust, and magic clung to the air like incense. Thousands of narrow boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling, organized in a method only Garrick Ollivander understood.
He stepped forward from the shadows, pale eyes gleaming beneath white brows. "Ah… new students." His gaze swept over us as we introduced ourselves. "Mr. Potter… Miss Granger… and—ah—Mr. Dawn."
His eyes lingered on me just a second longer than the others, as if measuring something that hadn't quite formed yet. Then his expression warmed as he saw the man behind us. "Sirius Black," he said softly. "A pleasure… to see you again. Welcome back."
Sirius smiled crookedly. "Still making wands like no tomorrow, Garrick?" "Always," Ollivander replied. "And I've been saving something for you." He disappeared briefly into the back, returning with a sleek black wand box. "I believe this will suit your magic better than your old one—custom, of course. Reinforced yew and phoenix ash. You'll find it more balanced in dueling."
Sirius took the wand in silence and gave it a test flick. A soft violet spark spiraled outward.
"…Feels good." Ollivander gave a satisfied nod. "Now then—who's first?" Hermione stepped forward. She was eager. Ollivander barely needed to try. A single box, a single wand—vine wood, dragon heartstring, 10¾ inches. The moment it touched her hand, a shimmer of light twirled upward, dancing like ink in water.
"Impressive," Ollivander muttered. "Rare for a wand to bond on the first attempt." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Vine wood. Sensitive, intelligent, often attracted to those with a deep thirst for knowledge and a desire to grow… fitting." Hermione beamed.
Then Harry stepped forward. His turn took two tries. But on the third, Ollivander's eyes narrowed. "Curious…"
He brought out a dark, almost charcoal-gray wand, with a slight twist in the grain—like a spiral staircase etched into the wood. Snakewood. Thestral hair core. 7 inches and 3 centimeters. Harry took it—and the shop shook with a low pulse. His eyes glowed emerald green for a brief second, the wand humming as if alive in his grasp.
Everyone including me stared even Ollivander seemed rattled. "…I must confess," he said slowly, "this is a rare configuration. One I wasn't expecting." "What does it mean?" Harry asked.
Ollivander looked between the wand and the boy. "Snakewood is rare. Flexible, reactive, connected to instinct, transformation… hidden power. Often drawn to those whose paths are unclear—but who shape fate simply by existing."
"And the core?" I asked quietly. "Thestral tail hair," he said. "Highly unstable in the wrong hands. But in the right ones… truth, sacrifice, clarity of death—and mastery of it. Only 3 wands have been know to have the same core one was lost time but the other was also the Elder wand."
Harry looked at me. I knew this wasn't the same wand he received in the books. My influence is starting to show and this is big.
And now… it was my turn I stepped forward. The first wand was actually the wand Harry was supposed to get in the books it buzzed in my hand like a wasp nest. Rejected me instantly. The second? Refused to light at all. The third cracked slightly at the hilt.
Ollivander raised his eyebrows. "Fascinating. Wait here…" He walked deep into the shop's back chamber. I heard him whispering. A few moments later, he returned—carrying a long, rune-sealed black box, covered in dust and locked with a single silver clasp.
"This wand," he said reverently, "has refused every witch and wizard who's touched it. I'd nearly locked it away for good. But I remember your family now. The Tesfaye name… and the flames."
He undid the clasp. Inside… rested a wand that looked forged from shadow. Rare Ebony Snakewood, dark and smooth, carved with faint spiral grooves to the tip. Its grain shimmered faintly like obsidian glass under starlight. "The wood is one of a kind," Ollivander said. "From the last living Ebony Snakewood tree, struck by Thunderbird lightning during a storm. It carries a Thunderbird tail feather at its core. 7 and ¼ inches."
It has a Sister tree over in Kyoto called the Snow snake tree it leaf's are red while the Ebony are said to be amethyst but both trees are impossible to find because they only allow certain people to find them. It carries a
I reached forward The moment I touched it A pulse exploded outward. Light shimmered. Shelves shook. Gold flooded my eyes. and then, just as quickly, it stilled—like thunder in reverse. Ollivander exhaled in awe. "…You're the one," he whispered. "The wand has chosen."
I turned it gently in my hand. It felt Fierce and powerful. "I've read about Thunderbird cores," Hermione said. "They're supposed to sense danger, even before it happens." Ollivander nodded. "And they often favor adventurers. Guardians. Those who walk between storms."
He turned toward me solemnly. "This wand… is meant for a power, intelligence, independence, and a connection to the mystic world. He paused. "…Be careful, Mr. Tesfaye. Your path may be glorious—but it will never be easy."
I looked at my wand and saw hints of electricity flowing on it. Hogwarts hear I come.