Adam's grandparents were nothing if not efficient. After learning he had received his Hogwarts letter, they used the Floo Network's international channels—courtesy of the Ministry of Magic—and arrived at the Lee household before lunchtime. The familiar emerald flames in the living room fireplace flared briefly, and moments later, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Reed stepped out, brushing soot from their robes.
Ms. Li, who had only just been introduced to the wizarding world by the elder Reeds, was fuming as she waited for her own parents to arrive. It wasn't just the secrecy that upset her—it was the realization that, for all these years, her son had grown up without knowing he was a wizard.
"How is it," she snapped at her father as soon as he entered, "that my own husband didn't know about magic, yet you, a man who considers himself so wise, knew and never said a word?!"
"We thought it unnecessary," replied her father, Li Ziquan, with a sigh, brushing off the sleeves of his long, travel-worn robes. "The way we test magical potential in our tradition is different from the British method. During a child's first birthday celebration—the zhuāzhōu—we place spiritually imbued objects among the toys. A child with cultivation potential will be drawn to those items. When you ignored the copper coins, the jade talisman, and even the enchanted calligraphy brush, and clung instead to that golden abacus, we assumed you lacked magical affinity."
Ms. Li's eyes twitched. "So because I liked numbers, I was magically written off?"
"Not written off. Redirected. You've done beautifully in business, haven't you?" Ziquan smiled. "Even your name—'Li Ziqiàn'—suggests wealth. Not power. Unlike your younger cousin, who nearly blew up the family altar with a misfired fireball."
"But what about Adam? He's half British. Didn't you do the same test?"
"We did," Ziquan said. "He grabbed an old English picture book. Nothing enchanted, just 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard,' ironically. We thought he just liked stories."
Ms. Li's face froze.
"That book wasn't enchanted?"
"No," her mother added, "but he was the first toddler I've seen try to pronounce 'Babbity Rabbity.' Still, no signs of magic manifested."
"Which," Old Reed interjected, "is exactly why Hogwarts is so special. Here in Britain, we rely on the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance. Very ancient magic. The book records the birth of magical children; the quill writes the name only if the child performs some act of underage magic."
"And that quill," Emma Reed added proudly, "must have seen something in little Adam. Likely years ago. He wouldn't have gotten the letter otherwise."
Old Reed beamed. "It means he's officially recognized by the British magical system. You've got raw talent, my boy. Tomorrow, Grandpa's taking you to Diagon Alley for your school supplies!"
"Tomorrow's still—"
"Grandpa, Grandma, wait."
Adam raised his voice above the buzz in the living room. The excitement and chaos faded, and all eyes turned to him.
"I'm not going to Hogwarts."
A stunned silence followed.
"What?!" his mother and father said in unison.
Old Reed sat down, clearly shaken. "You don't want to learn magic? You want to stay a Muggle?"
"There's nothing wrong with Muggles," Adam said, glancing at his father.
"Then why not Hogwarts?" Emma asked gently, taking his hand. "There are other schools—yes—but Hogwarts is one of the best. Is it… the distance? Homesickness?"
"No, it's not that," Adam said slowly. "I just… have a bad feeling about it. Like it's not safe."
Old Reed bristled. "With Albus Dumbledore as headmaster? It's the safest place in magical Europe!"
Emma promptly hexed his scarf. It snaked around his face and muffled any further praise of Dumbledore.
"If Dumbledore were all-powerful," Emma said coolly, "we wouldn't have had to flee France during the Grindelwald years. Don't romanticize him."
She turned back to Adam. "Child, premonitions are not uncommon among wizards. Grindelwald himself had the Sight. And you've always been… insightful. But we should still weigh our options."
"I thought," Adam said cautiously, "that if I didn't enroll, I could just apply to another school—maybe Beauxbatons in France, or Mahoutokoro in Japan, or the Chinese academy in Mount Emei."
Emma's expression turned solemn.
"It's not that simple," she said. "The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance are ancient artifacts. Once your name is recorded, it's magically bound to the school unless formally released. And Hogwarts… rarely releases students without enrollment."
"So even if I don't go, I'm… still theirs?"
"More or less," said Shen Derong, Adam's maternal grandmother, who had remained silent until now. "You could refuse to attend, but it might result in the suppression or instability of your magic. Magic, when ignored, tends to lash out. There's a reason Muggle-borns are recruited before adolescence."
"I could… just take a year off?" Adam suggested. "Say I'm ill?"
"That's riskier," said Derong. "Magic builds with age. Without guidance, it might erupt in harmful ways—what wizards call a 'magical outburst.' Think accidental vanishings, levitation, or even explosions."
Emma nodded. "Unless you're trained to use a wand and focus your power, you'll be vulnerable—not just to yourself, but to others. And some things… sense magic."
That last part sent a chill down Adam's spine. He recalled the creatures that had plagued Hogwarts year after year. Trolls. Dementors. Death Eaters.
"Then… can I just go for one year?" he asked. "Just to learn the basics. Then maybe transfer or… take a leave?"
"That could work," Emma said after a pause. "If you're strong enough after one year to control your magic… perhaps. The first year is relatively uneventful."
"Exactly," Adam nodded quickly. "Just avoid the third-floor corridor and don't follow suspicious Defense professors."
Old Reed pulled off the scarf with a pop. "Who told you about the third-floor corridor?"
"Lucky guess."
Emma studied her grandson carefully. "You've been dreaming, haven't you?"
Adam didn't reply. She didn't press.
"In that case," she said, "we won't contact Dumbledore. No need to draw attention. We'll just reply to Hogwarts, collect your supplies tomorrow, and go from there. There's plenty to see in Diagon Alley—wands, owls, robes, books."
She ruffled Adam's hair and smiled softly.
And though she didn't say it aloud, Emma had already made a silent vow: she would find out what her grandson feared—and protect him from it, no matter what.