The soft purring of Lux was the only sound in the empty compartment. Virtus King stroked the back of the little orange cat dozing on his lap while, outside the window, the scene at Platform 9 ¾ unfolded: parents saying goodbye to their children, and young wizards and witches running to board the train. His own black curls, which fell to his shoulders, framed a face many had described as sweet, with those honey-colored eyes that now stared without seeing. To the world, he was an eleven-year-old boy, nervous on his first day at a school of magic. But behind that gaze, Virtus's mind was replaying the last two months over and over—a whirlwind that had completely upended his meticulous life plan.
Everything had changed with the flutter of an owl's wings against the kitchen window.
"A school of magic? Is this a joke, Virtus?"
The deep voice of his father, Alistair King, still echoed in his memory. A man of nearly six-foot-two, with wavy black hair and a seriousness in his dark eyes that softened only for his family, he had taken the scroll as if examining a dubious financial contract. His skepticism was a tangible wall.
In contrast, his mother, Eleanor, with her warm, rounded figure, straight chestnut hair that fell like a waterfall, and the same honey eyes as Virtus, had approached with curiosity. "Magic, darling! How intriguing!" she had said, her voice a balm of enthusiasm against his father's doubt.
But Virtus had felt an internal shock far deeper than that of his parents. It wasn't just the existence of magic. It was the confirmation that he wasn't simply in the past, but in a world of fiction. And knowing the future of that world was a heavy burden.
Professor Sprout's arrival had been the key that unlocked the situation. The woman who appeared at their door wasn't a stern, intimidating witch (like some cat lady), but a person of sturdy build, rosy cheeks, and a warmth that emanated from her like the scent of damp earth. She wore an overcoat with a small patch on the elbow, from which a tendril shyly peeked out.
"Don't you worry," she had said in a sincere, kind voice, directing her smile equally at the skeptical parents and the silent child. "Hogwarts is, first and foremost, a home. In my house, Hufflepuff, we value hard work, loyalty, and honesty. It's the safest place for any child."
Faced with Sprout's genuine kindness, Alistair King had lowered his guard. His businessman's gaze had given way to that of a father seeing a potentially safe place for his son.
The trip to Diagon Alley had been a fever dream. Virtus walked the cobblestones with a mixture of awe and recognition, mentally cataloging locations as Professor Sprout explained to his parents where to get everything he would need for his school years. They went to Gringotts bank, Flourish and Blotts bookstore, Madame Malkin's, and other shops that caught their attention.
At Ollivanders, the moment of truth arrived: an elder wand, long and elegant, with a dragon heartstring core. As he held it, a current of serene, controlled power ran up his arm. It was an instrument of power, and power was the only thing that guaranteed safety in the world to come.
The final step was the Magical Menagerie. It was there that Virtus saw Lux, a mischievous orange kitten playing with an owl feather. Its eyes, the color of liquid honey, seemed to shine with their own light. "Lux," Virtus had thought immediately. It was the perfect name. His parents, seeing the rare spark of genuine affection in their always-so-mature son's eyes, agreed instantly.
It was his father who, with a practical gesture that couldn't hide his own emotion, pointed to an owl with greyish plumage and large eyes that blinked with curiosity. "And you'll need one of those too, son. To write to us. Your mother wouldn't last a week without news." The worry and love behind that gesture filled Virtus with a quiet determination. This was for them, too. To protect the life they had given him.
A soft knock on the compartment door pulled him from his memories. Lux lifted its head, its golden eyes curious.
The door slid open, and a boy his own age appeared in the frame. He had tousled chestnut hair that suited him and a friendly, slightly nervous smile.
"Excuse me," the boy said. "Is there any free space? The other carriages are completely packed."
Virtus nodded, gesturing toward the seat opposite. "Sure. Have a seat."
The boy sat down, placing his suitcase to the side. His gaze fell on Lux, who was now stretching elegantly.
"Wow! He's beautiful," he commented with genuine admiration. "I'm Cedric. Cedric Diggory."
"Virtus King," Virtus replied. "And this is Lux."
"Lux? Like light," said Cedric, smiling. "A cool name. First year?"
"Yes. You too, right?"
"Exactly!" Cedric seemed relieved to find someone in the same situation. "I'm a bit nervous, to be honest. But more excited. My parents won't stop talking about Hogwarts."
The train whistle blew, sharp and clear, announcing their departure. The train began to move with a gentle lurch, pulling away from the station. Virtus looked out the window as Cedric chatted excitedly about what he'd heard of Flying lessons and the Great Hall.
For the first time in two months, as the train picked up speed toward the unknown, Virtus King did not feel overwhelmed by the weight of his knowledge. He felt the warmth of Lux on his lap, saw the potential for friendship in Cedric's smile, and remembered the promise in his parents' eyes as they said goodbye. Perhaps, in this world of magic and madness, he wouldn't have to face everything completely alone. Perhaps he could allow himself to have more than just a plan: perhaps he could allow himself to have a life.