The morning was bright when Victor stood with his trunk at King's Cross, his parents beside him. John looked proud, though there was a nervous edge beneath his smile. Naomie adjusted his cloak for the fifth time, fussing as though he were still a toddler.
"You'll do wonderfully," John said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Remember, Hogwarts is not just about books. It's about the people you meet. Choose your friends carefully, Victor."
Naomie kissed his forehead, whispering, "Write to us often. Promise."
Victor promised, though his eyes were fixed on the great scarlet train. The Hogwarts Express. Steam billowed around it, children laughed and shouted, owls hooted from cages.
For all his discipline, all his training, Victor's heart thudded with excitement. He had read about the train, but to see it alive with magic was something else. Still, a part of him wondered why it was necessary. Apparition, Floo, even enchanted carriages could deliver students far faster.
Then he realized. The train wasn't just transport — it was a crucible. Hours of sitting together, strangers forced into shared space, talking, laughing, quarrelling. Friendships and rivalries would be born before the Sorting Hat ever touched their heads. It was brilliant in its own way.
Victor carried that thought as he climbed aboard, found a compartment with Albus, and settled in.
The train lurched forward, the platform sliding away. Albus leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, the usual gleam in his eyes dulled by a flicker of apprehension.
"Strange, isn't it?" Albus said. "We've dreamed of Hogwarts for years, and now that we're on our way… I keep wondering if I'll live up to the stories. To expectations."
Victor nodded. "We've trained, studied, prepared. But this is the first test with no Cassian waiting in the shadows, no quiet pasture to argue theories. It's the unknown."
"Do you ever worry?" Albus asked.
"Of course," Victor said softly. "But I remind myself — fear is useful. It sharpens the edges. Just don't let it rule you."
Albus gave him a crooked smile. "You always make it sound so simple."
Victor smirked. "It isn't. That's why we keep pushing."
The door slid open, and both boys glanced up.
A girl stepped inside. Her hair was a pale gold that caught the afternoon light, her features sharp but warm, startlingly familiar to Victor in a way that froze him. She looked exactly like Sabrina Carpenter from his old world — younger, but unmistakable.
"I'm sorry," she said with a faint French accent, glancing around. "Everywhere else is full. May I sit here?"
Albus gestured at the empty seat. "Of course."
She smiled in thanks, setting her bag down. "My name is Madison Dupres. My family moved here from France five years ago."
Victor blinked, still staring, struggling to mask his surprise. She wasn't supposed to exist here. And yet she did.
Madison looked between the two boys. "And you are?"
Victor found his voice. "Victor Sinclair. This is Albus Dumbledore."
Her smile widened. "Ah. Then I am in good company."
Victor leaned back slowly, his mind racing behind his calm expression. Another anomaly. First me. Now her. What else in this world isn't as it should be?
The compartment settled into a comfortable rhythm as the train sped north. The countryside blurred past, green fields giving way to rolling hills. The hum of chatter from other compartments filled the air, punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl or the clatter of sweets being sold by the trolley witch.
Madison leaned back in her seat, studying the two boys across from her. "So… Victor Sinclair and Albus Dumbledore. Tell me about yourselves. What sort of families do you come from?"
Albus hesitated, his gaze flickering to the window. "Ordinary enough, I suppose. My father works at the Ministry, my mother stays home with my sister. And my brother Aberforth—he's two years younger, so he'll be along in a couple of years. He spends more time with goats than people."
Madison laughed lightly. "I like goats. They are stubborn, but honest."
Victor smirked. "That's one way to describe a younger brother."
Albus rolled his eyes, but there was fondness in his voice. "And what about you, Victor? I've never asked, not properly."
Victor considered, then answered with calm simplicity. "My parents both work at the Ministry. My mother's family… well, they're pure-bloods, but she chose differently. My father is Muggle-born. So you might say I stand between two worlds."
Madison's eyes softened. "That must be difficult."
Victor shook his head. "It gave me perspective. Both sides fear what they don't understand. I want to change that."
Albus nodded approvingly, recognizing the echo of their shared dreams.
"And you, Madison?" Victor asked.
She smiled. "My family moved here from France five years ago. My father works with magical trade, importing enchanted goods. My mother teaches piano. She tried to teach me as well, but…" Madison laughed, shaking her head. "Let's just say I prefer reading to practicing scales."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "Books over music? Then you and I will get along."
"Perhaps," Madison said slyly. Then, with a playful smile, she added in French, "Mais tu ne comprendrais pas, n'est-ce pas ?"
(But you wouldn't understand, would you?)
Victor replied smoothly in the same language, "Au contraire. Ton accent trahit la Normandie, mais ton français est impeccable."
(On the contrary. Your accent betrays Normandy, but your French is impeccable.)
Madison's eyes widened, her mouth falling open. "You—! You speak French?"
Albus nearly choked. "You never mentioned that, Victor!"
Victor allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "I never needed to. Until now."
Madison laughed, clapping her hands together. "Incroyable ! Finally, someone who can keep up with me. I thought I'd have to go back to France to find anyone like that."
Victor leaned back, enjoying her surprise. "I speak more than French. Languages are keys, Madison. The more you have, the more doors open."
Albus shook his head, though a grin tugged at his lips. "You're full of secrets, Sinclair. I'll have to keep a closer eye on you."
"Try," Victor teased.
The teasing shifted subtly as the conversation went on. Madison described the gardens behind her home, her voice animated, her hands moving with excitement. Victor tilted his head, studying her, his smirk turning faintly mischievous.
"You know," he said lightly, "the way you talk about books and gardens… one might almost think you're trying to impress me."
Her cheeks flushed, though she tried to laugh it off. He is teasing me but he is handsome… The thought was quick, unguarded, and Victor caught it effortlessly. Her Occlumency was paper-thin, practically nonexistent.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Merci… tu es très belle, toi aussi."
(Thank you… you are very beautiful too.)
Madison froze, stunned, her mouth parting slightly. Albus glanced between them, confused by her sudden silence.
Victor only leaned back, as if nothing had happened, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
The rest of the ride was filled with laughter and playful jabs. Madison teased Albus about his serious frown — "You look like an old professor already" — while Victor needled her about her disastrous piano lessons.
By the time the train neared its destination, the three of them were leaning together in easy camaraderie.
Victor looked at the two beside him and thought, not for the first time, that perhaps this journey truly was designed for bonds to form.
To Be Continued…