Two days after their Diagon Alley adventure, the Andersson family piled into their car and drove to Charlie Street, where Albert's grandparents lived at number 21.
The annual visit to Luke and Sansa was a cherished tradition, especially during the summer holidays when Albert would spend a few days basking in his grandparents' warm, cluttered home, filled with the scent of lavender and old books.
"Dad, we're here!" Herbert called as they stepped out of the car, arms laden with bags and Tom's cat carrier.
"Albert, my boy!" Luke exclaimed, bypassing his son to envelop his grandson in a bear hug. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he studied Albert. "Herb told me you got a Hogwarts letter! That's fantastic! Anything you still need to buy, just say the word."
"Dad, I've already taken Albert to Diagon Alley," Herbert said, shaking his head with a wry smile. "I brought you a gift, though." He held up a small package wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine.
"I'm not a child, Herb. I don't need gifts," Luke said, waving dismissively before taking Albert's hand. "Come inside, tell me about the magic you've learned!"
Sansa, Luke's wife, chuckled as she greeted the family. "Luke's been like a kid these past few days," she said to Herbert. "He never told me about this wizarding business until just recently. Nia, sweetheart, it's been too long—did you miss your grandma?" She ruffled Nia's hair affectionately.
"Grandma, Albert won't let me touch his wand!" Nia blurted, crossing her arms. "He acts like I'm going to steal it or something."
"Herb, keep an eye on Tom," Daisy instructed, handing her husband the cat carrier. "We don't want him sprinting off the moment he's free." She hefted a bag of groceries and gifts, her expression softening as she glanced at her daughter.
"Can Albert really do magic?" Sansa asked, her curiosity piqued. The idea of her grandson being a wizard felt like something out of a fairy tale.
"Oh, yes," Nia said, her voice brimming with indignation. "He makes his wand glow every night, sneaking around in his room. He says if I touch it, I'll blow up the house!"
Sansa laughed, guiding Nia inside. "Is that so?"
"Mom, it's true—the wand is dangerous," Herbert said, following with the cat carrier. "Let me tell you what we saw in Diagon Alley…" He launched into a vivid recounting of the bustling magical street, from the transforming brick wall to the peculiar shops.
"Albert's right to be cautious," Daisy added, her tone firm. She'd spent the last two nights poring over A History of Magic, piecing together the rules and dangers of the wizarding world. "Even in their world, children aren't allowed to use wands outside school."
Herbert raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"
"I read the books," Daisy said, giving him a pointed look. "You should too, Herb. Albert's our son—we need to understand what he's getting into."
Herbert sighed, knowing she was right. "Albert's never been one to worry us. He's always handled things well."
"Even so, we need to stay involved," Daisy insisted, closing the door behind them as they entered the house.
Tom, freed from his carrier, immediately darted around the living room, sniffing corners and batting at a stray ribbon. Sansa and Daisy headed to the kitchen to prepare tea and a tray of homemade scones, their voices mingling with the clink of china.
Meanwhile, Luke settled into his favorite armchair, listening eagerly as Albert and Herbert recounted their Diagon Alley experience, filling in each other's gaps with animated gestures.
Luke, who had grown up on the fringes of the wizarding world, nodded knowingly when they mentioned moving portraits. He'd kept a chocolate frog card from Herbert's gift, displaying it in a large glass jar on the living room mantel like a prized relic.
"I wrote to Dumbledore years ago," he said, his voice tinged with old sorrow. "I wanted to know why I never got a Hogwarts letter. Turns out, I lacked the magical gift. They call people like me Squibs. At eleven, my family sent me to live with distant Muggle relatives, as if I were an embarrassment."
Herbert's face darkened. "That's awful, Dad. How could they do that?"
Luke shrugged, a wistful smile on his lips. "In wizarding families, being a Squib is a shame they hide. They act like you don't exist. I've long since cut ties with them."
He lifted Nia onto his lap, his mood brightening. "But Albert being a wizard? That's a surprise I never dared hope for. When you didn't get a letter, Herb, I thought that was the end of it."
As they talked, Albert decided to demonstrate his progress. Thanks to his Level 2 Wizard Bloodline, he'd mastered four spells: Lumos (Illumination), Reparo (Restoration), Scourgify (Cleansing), and Alohomora (Lockpicking).
He raised his wand, focusing on a cracked teacup on the coffee table. "Reparo," he said softly, and the cup mended itself, the cracks sealing seamlessly. Next, he pointed at a tea stain on the tablecloth. "Scourgify." The stain vanished, leaving the fabric pristine. Finally, he cast Lumos, filling the room with a steady glow.
Luke's eyes shone with pride, while Herbert and Nia clapped in delight. "That's incredible, Albert," Luke said. "You've got a knack for this."
"I want to try!" Nia said, her voice brimming with envy. She turned to Luke, batting her eyelashes. "Grandpa, tell him to let me!"
Luke glanced at Albert, deferring to his judgment. He knew his grandson was cautious and thoughtful, not one to act impulsively.
Albert sighed, looking at Nia. "You can try, but only if you follow my rules exactly."
"I promise!" Nia said, nodding eagerly, her eyes wide like a chick pecking at grain.
"You agreed awfully fast," Albert said, narrowing his eyes. "Listen carefully. No poking the wand around, no pointing it at people, and no random spellcasting. Even if you can't do magic, no tantrums."
"Got it," Nia said, though her impatience was clear.
"What did I just say?" Albert tested, folding his arms.
"Don't poke the wand, don't point it at people, don't cast randomly," Nia recited, then faltered. "And… uh… no tantrums?"
Albert shook his head. "Close enough. Say it again."
Nia groaned but repeated the rules correctly this time. Satisfied, Albert handed her his redwood wand, its phoenix feather core glinting faintly in the lamplight. Nia gripped it tightly, her excitement barely contained, but a stern look from Albert made her settle down.
"Try the Illumination Spell," Albert said. "Say 'Lumos' clearly and wave the wand like this." He demonstrated the gentle flick.
"Lumos," Nia said, mimicking the motion. Nothing happened. She tried again, her brow furrowing. "Lumos!"
Still nothing. Albert placed a hand on her shoulder. "Take a deep breath, focus, and try again."
Nia repeated the spell several times, her voice growing more frustrated with each attempt. The wand remained inert, no spark or glow.
Albert exchanged a glance with Luke, who shook his head slightly, his expression somber. They both understood what it meant—Lumos was the simplest spell, and failure likely indicated Nia lacked magical ability.
"Do I not have the talent?" Nia asked, her voice small and her face falling. The wand felt heavy in her hand, a lifeless stick.
"We don't know yet," Albert said gently, stroking her hair. "You're still young. Magic might show up later."
"You're just saying that," Nia muttered, tears welling. She tossed the wand onto the table and ran from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Albert picked up the wand, his heart sinking. He glanced at the doorway, torn between chasing her and giving her space. "Kids," he muttered, shaking his head. But he knew Nia's disappointment ran deep, and he resolved to find a way to cheer her up—magic or no magic.