The letter from Hogwarts was sitting on my desk, folded neatly beside my wand — a slender blackthorn wood with a dragon heartstring core. It had been fitted to me by Ollivander just last week.
Well, fitted was a generous term. In truth, the wand had practically sung in my hand the moment I touched it. But I wasn't going to let anyone know that the Crit System had quietly multiplied its quality a hundredfold the moment I decided I wanted it.
The wand that left Ollivander's shop wasn't the same wand he handed me. It was faster, more responsive, and far more compatible with my magic than any wand had a right to be. In the wrong hands, it could have been a disaster. In mine… it was simply perfect.
---
My trunk was packed with all the necessities: robes, books, potion supplies… and a few "extras" my parents thought were normal but I'd secretly enhanced.
A simple brass compass? Now tuned to point toward concentrations of magic instead of north.
A quill? Now self-inking and capable of writing in perfect calligraphy even if my hand was moving lazily.
A silver pocket watch? Its ticking now synchronized with magical leyline fluctuations.
Small touches, nothing flashy — just quiet advantages.
---
King's Cross Station was crowded that morning, a mix of bustling Muggles and confident wizarding families. My parents flanked me like subtle bodyguards, chatting idly while scanning the crowd for anyone they knew.
I spotted the entrance to Platform 9¾ immediately. Not because I'd been told where it was, but because my magic could feel the ripple of the barrier — a soft shiver in the air. I casually ran my hand along the trolley handle and nudged the Crit System to enhance the quality of my awareness.
The ripple in the air became a glowing archway in my mind's eye, every strand of magic perfectly visible.
---
"Ready?" my father asked.
"Always," I said, and we walked straight through.
---
The Hogwarts Express was exactly as I remembered it from faint memories of the books — polished red paint, brass fittings gleaming, steam curling into the morning sky. But here, it wasn't fiction. The air smelled faintly of oil, hot metal, and pumpkin pastries drifting from a trolley further down.
Students bustled about, laughing, hugging parents, wrestling trunks into compartments. I climbed aboard, offering my parents a casual wave before slipping into a half-empty carriage.
---
I wasn't looking for friends yet, but fate — or maybe just the inconvenient reality of travel — put me across from two other first-years.
One was a brown-haired boy with a nose buried in a book titled 101 Charms for Beginners. The other was a girl with long black hair and sharp eyes, quietly examining everyone who walked past.
I smiled politely. "Mind if I sit?"
The boy shrugged without looking up. The girl gave me a slow nod.
---
The train lurched into motion, and conversation eventually sparked.
"I'm Edmund," the boy said finally, glancing up from his book.
"Lila," the girl added. "From the MacNair family."
"Aarav Blackthorne," I replied. "Pleasure."
They didn't react much — yet. I wasn't a famous name like Malfoy or Potter, just another pure-blood with an old family line. Which was fine by me.
---
We talked about the usual: family backgrounds, excitement about Hogwarts, favorite subjects we thought we'd enjoy. I kept my answers mild and friendly, deliberately underplaying my knowledge.
It worked — until the trolley witch arrived.
---
She rolled up with her cart of sweets, and I spotted something that made my eyebrow twitch — a wrapped chocolate frog that was off. Not bad, just… stale.
I didn't even think about it. I reached into my pocket for a few Sickles, brushed the frog's wrapper with my fingers, and quietly told the Crit System to enhance quality.
---
The magic snapped into place instantly. That single chocolate frog transformed from a slightly dry, last-week's batch into something bordering on divine. The cocoa was richer, the enchantment on the frog livelier — its little chocolate legs twitched in impatience to be eaten.
I bought it along with a few other snacks, thanked the trolley witch, and sat back.
---
"You like those?" Edmund asked, eyeing the frog.
"Best way to travel," I said lightly, snapping the wrapper open.
The frog sprang to life, leaping onto my hand with a vitality that made both of my compartment companions blink.
"That's… energetic," Lila murmured.
I bit into it, the chocolate melting on my tongue in a wave of flavor so perfect I almost closed my eyes. If there was one thing worth abusing the Crit System for, it was good food.
---
The rest of the ride passed pleasantly. I didn't show off, didn't cast any spells, didn't do anything that might draw suspicion. But every so often, I caught Lila watching me like she was trying to work something out.
When the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station, I stepped out into the crisp air, excitement humming beneath my calm exterior.
---
Hogwarts loomed in the distance, lit by lanterns, its towers and turrets outlined against the twilight sky.
Somewhere inside was a life I'd been quietly preparing for since birth.
And I was going to enjoy every second of it.
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