Leo was watering his garden when a voice called out.
"Hey."
He looked up, surprised, to see the little girl from next door standing at his gate, her schoolbag bouncing against her back. She couldn't have been more than his age—eleven, maybe twelve—but her tone carried the confidence of someone who always knew what she wanted.
"That's not very polite," Leo replied, setting down his watering can and walking over. "If you don't know my name, you should say 'excuse me,' not 'hey.'"
The girl pouted, clearly unimpressed by his lecture. Yet before she could argue, she glanced around cautiously, as if checking for spies, then pulled a small packet of dried fish from her bag.
With pursed lips, she offered it to him.
Leo raised an eyebrow. "What, are you trying to bribe me with this? If you want me to play with you, you've chosen the wrong thing. I like candy, not dried fish."
The girl huffed, kicked at his fence, and made a face.
"This isn't for you! It's for the stray cats that wander around here every day. Mom won't let me feed them—she says they're full of germs. But I really want to adopt a cat. Dad promised if I keep my grades up, he'll get me a proper one when I'm older.
Still… it isn't fair, is it? They're all cats, but some get homes while others go hungry. Yesterday I saw you feeding them broken biscuits, so I bought dried fish with my pocket money. I want you to take care of them for me."
Leo blinked. For such a small girl, her sense of responsibility startled him. He had assumed she was simply mischievous; instead, she was earnest, perhaps even kinder than most adults he knew.
"Well then," he said, taking the packet from her. "I don't have much to do every day. I can help with that."
He plucked a blooming lily from his garden and handed it to her. "Consider this their thank-you gift."
The girl accepted it without hesitation, her smile lighting up her face. "My name is Hermione Granger. What's yours?"
"Leo Turner. Just moved here. Nice to meet you."
The name "Hermione" rang strangely familiar, but Leo brushed the thought aside.
Their introductions melted away any distance between them. Hermione leaned against the fence, tiptoeing to peek into his house. "Are you living alone?"
"More or less. My parents passed away when I was young. I stay here with my adoptive father, but he isn't around much." Leo's voice was calm, almost practiced.
Hermione's expression fell. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's fine," he said gently. "It was a long time ago. My life's good now."
She brightened again when he asked about her family. "Both my parents are dentists," she said proudly. "If your teeth ever hurt, you can visit them."
Dentists. Respectable, middle-class, well-connected—Leo filed that away with a thoughtful smile.
"You should come in sometime," he offered, his tone light. "I made mung bean soup earlier. It's perfect for summer."
Hermione hesitated, tempted, but glanced back at her house. "Thank you, but I should go. Mom will worry."
"Next time, then."
She waved, her hair bouncing like spun sugar as she skipped away. "Goodbye, Leo!"
Leo watched her go, humming as he slipped his gloves back on and returned to his flowers. Meeting Hermione had been an unexpected interlude, nothing more.
Yet fate was rarely so simple.
High above, an owl circled through the hazy London sky, its silhouette shrinking against the setting sun. Leo barely noticed, too preoccupied with thoughts of lilies, stray cats, and his curious new neighbour.
He didn't see the thick envelope drop silently into his garden.
And so, the boy who carried the soul of a drowned schoolteacher from another life continued his quiet, ordinary afternoon—unaware that nothing about his future would remain ordinary for long.