As Aster stepped out of the shop, a small enchanted bag slung at his side, the waiting group turned toward him. Lily raised an eyebrow. Harry leaned forward curiously. Hermione was still gently petting her new cat, who now purred contentedly in her arms.
Mr. Granger blinked. "Did you… Buy a handbag?"
"It's a magic pouch," Aster explained, holding it up. "I had to buy it. Otherwise, Nyx would've stolen all her food."
At the sound of her name, the raven perched on his shoulder gave a low, almost amused caw, and in his head, Aster heard her voice again, a dry murmur of challenge:
"It can't stop me for long..."
Aster chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He was sure no one else heard her, only Hermione might suspect.
Lily smiled faintly, hands on her hips. "Looks like you've made a friend."
"Something like that," Aster said, glancing at Nyx, who had already begun grooming a wing with casual elegance.
Hermione stepped beside him, cat still in her arms. "They'll need names too, I suppose," she said, nudging him lightly.
"She's Nyx," Aster said simply, and the raven ruffled her feathers proudly. "Goddess of the night."
Mr. Granger leaned in to his wife and muttered, "Why do I feel like that bird is judging me?"
Mrs. Granger grinned. "Because she is."
The group laughed, even Aster, quietly. For a moment, it felt like a family outing. Not perfect, but real.
————————————————————————————
A year had passed quickly.
Aster was a bit taller now, not by much, but enough to notice. Still, Hermione remained just a fraction taller, something she never failed to remind him of.
"I guess that means no more spells at home…" Aster muttered as they made their way through King's Cross Station. His voice was tinged with quiet disappointment. He had come to enjoy practicing spells in the safety of their home, though he was always careful never to cast anything near Muggles. One warning letter from the Ministry had been enough.
"I suppose so," Hermione replied, a touch of regret in her voice. She had mastered a wide variety of utility spells over the year. More than once, she had barged into Aster's room under the pretense of needing a book, only to flip through his notebooks and check whether he was still "accidentally" ahead of her.
He usually was. Not because he was trying to be. Just… because.
While Hermione honed her precision, Aster had split his time between magic and history, specifically the Black family history. He'd found names that were disowned, cursed, even imprisoned in Azkaban. It didn't matter. They were part of him. His name now bore the full weight of that legacy: Aster Evans Black.
He had visited Lily several times that year. Harry had become something of a little brother to him, and Lily a quiet, watchful presence who never asked questions he didn't want to answer. Their house was one of the few places where Aster felt safe enough to use magic freely, or to laugh.
Yes, he laughed more now. Quietly, sparingly. But when he did, it was real.
He'd changed in other ways too. He now wore gloves, always. Hogwarts uniforms required them, but his were different: enchanted to suppress the life-draining effect his touch could sometimes produce when his emotions ran too wild. It wasn't perfect, but it gave him control. Control mattered.
And now, ahead, was Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Aster's eyes landed on a familiar figure, red hair like fire, standing beside a boy with messy black hair and green eyes just like hers.
Lily and Harry were waiting.
Aster slowed his pace, letting Hermione pull a little ahead as she pushed her trolley with focused energy.
Lily spotted them first. She smiled and raised a hand. Harry turned, immediately beaming and waving at them both.
Aster's heart lifted. Just slightly.
It was time.
The scarlet steam engine hissed and puffed, its towering chimney belching smoke into the enchanted, open sky above Platform 9¾. Hogwarts Express stood gleaming and proud, a symbol of a world Aster had only recently stepped into, and yet already felt too familiar with.
He stepped forward behind Hermione, the whispers slithering through the crowd like stray spells.
"Is that Harry Potter?"
"That's Lily Potter with him! I thought she—"
"He's the one who defeated You-Know-Who…"
Aster looked at the boy walking ahead, excited and unaware. He'd forgotten how the world saw Harry, the boy who lived. The one who "defeated" someone no one dared to name.
The locket around his neck hissed again, bitterly.
"Defeated? They celebrate victory by accident."
Aster didn't flinch. He was used to the locket's voice by now. The constant commentary. The mockery.
"Still hanging from my neck," Aster thought dryly. "You're just upset you lost to a child."
The locket shivered slightly in protest but had no clever retort.
He tugged at the fingers of his gloves, making sure they were snug. He didn't need any accidents today.
Up ahead, Hermione had already stepped through the barrier and turned to wait for him. She looked over her shoulder as he stepped onto the platform.
"Come on, Aster," she said, "Harry already ran off, and if we don't find a compartment soon, we'll be stuck with someone loud."
He gave her a nod. The train looked… warm. Alive. Like it had stories of its own.
As they walked along the corridor, they passed compartments packed with students, some talking, some waving goodbye. One was already filled with red-haired twins tossing sweets back and forth like spells. Aster didn't even look twice.
They reached an empty one.
"This okay?" Hermione asked.
He nodded again. They stepped inside and sat down, Hermione by the window, Aster opposite her. A moment later, Harry joined them, still smiling, a little breathless.
"I think people were talking about me," he said, like it was both confusing and exciting.
"They were," Hermione said, brushing hair behind her ear. "You're famous, Harry. You should expect it."
Harry frowned. "Oh."
Aster opened his eyes, voice calm. "Get used to it."
Hermione crossed her arms. "Fame isn't bad. But I'd rather be known for something I actually did."
Harry blinked at her. Aster agreed silently.
Then the whistle blew.
Steam hissed, and the train shuddered forward, slowly pulling away from the platform.
Hermione pressed her face to the window. "We're really going to Hogwarts."
Aster didn't smile, not fully. But his voice was soft.
"Finally."
The compartment door slid open again with a soft clatter. Another red-haired boy stood there, slightly breathless, looking like he had run half the length of the train to find a seat.
He glanced around the compartment and pointed toward the empty spot beside Harry.
"Is this seat taken?" he asked, voice timid but hopeful.
All three looked at him, but Harry answered first with an easy grin. "No, please sit."
The boy stepped in, but the moment he got a proper look at Harry's face, his eyes widened.
"So it's true," he muttered under his breath. Then he added quickly, "I'm Ronald Weasley. But you can call me Ron."
"I'm Harry. Harry Potter," Harry replied, still smiling. He didn't seem bothered by the boy's stare, not anymore. People always looked at his scar. He was starting to accept it as normal.
Then Aster spoke, his tone calm, almost amused. "I'm Aster Evans… Black. His adopted brother, though we don't live together." His smile was small but real, rare outside moments like this. He was with people he trusted, maybe even loved.
Hermione, for her part, didn't even lift her eyes from the book she was buried in. Her nose practically touched the pages, eyes scanning at lightning speed.
Aster waited a beat, watching her. Then, with a flick of mischief, he leaned over and tugged gently at her cheek.
"This one is Hermione Granger," he said, earning a soft glare from her as she swatted his hand away. "She's trying to beat me at academics. Don't mind the rudeness, she just thinks books speak louder than people."
Hermione finally looked up with a sigh. "I am going to beat you."
Ron blinked, looking between them, confused but amused. "Er… right, then."
Aster smiled again. It was going to be an interesting year.
Ron looked around at the three of them, curiosity lighting up his freckled face. "So… which house do you think you'll be sorted into?"
Harry answered first, his voice sure. "Gryffindor. That's where my mum and dad were. I want to be in their house."
There was a flicker of pride in his smile, not just for the house, but for his parents.
Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, same here. My whole family's been in Gryffindor for ages. I'd probably get disowned if I ended up anywhere else," he said with a half-laugh, only half-joking.
Hermione didn't say anything. She just tilted her head slightly, peering over the top of her book, not at Ron, but at Aster. She was waiting for his answer.
Aster, as usual, took his time. Then he said evenly, "Either house is fine."
His tone was unreadable, but Hermione could sense it, he meant it.
Ron looked like he didn't quite know what to make of that, so he turned his attention back to Harry, gaze flicking to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
"Well, as long as it's not Slytherin," he muttered. "You-Know-Who was from there. All the dark wizards were."
Aster's voice cut in quietly. "Most of them," he said. Not defensive, just precise. Correcting the record.
Ron blinked, a little thrown, but didn't argue. Aster's voice had that kind of weight.
A soft knock came at the compartment door, followed by a friendly voice.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" asked a smiling witch, pushing a cart stacked with sweets and magical treats.
Aster glanced at the cart. He had money, more than he needed, honestly, but nothing there appealed to him. Chocolates, sugar quills, cauldron cakes… it was all fluff. He'd built running and control into his daily routine, and he wasn't about to throw that off. Quietly, he shook his head.
Harry, on the other hand, lit up. He'd never seen so many wizarding sweets in one place. With a grin, he bought nearly everything: Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Licorice Wands, the lot. It felt like a dream, and part of him still thought Aster had covered most of his things back in Diagon Alley because he didn't have much. He'd never realized Aster actually had money.
Ron's eyes widened at the growing pile of treats. "Wow," he muttered, clearly overwhelmed and a little envious. After a pause, he asked shyly, "Do you mind if I take the cards? I'm trying to complete my collection."
Aster and Harry exchanged a look, then both shrugged. Neither of them cared much for chocolate frog cards. They didn't mind.
"Sure," said Harry, pushing one toward Ron.
Ron lit up, already peeling open the box. Aster leaned back in his seat, watching the way the excitement made Ron's face brighter. He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked, just a bit.