A Stormy Night
Late at night, there was a stormy thunder and torrential rain pouring onto the streets.
"Driver, that's correct—just let me out at the entrance to the neighborhood," a fat young man in the taxi replied happily.
"Young fellow, it's raining so hard and you've been out all day. Why don't I let you out nearer the stairs?" the driver suggested with a look back sympathetically.
No need, sir. My package just came—I just have to retrieve it from the pickup lockers. It's not too far anyway."
The young man smiled, his face breaking into warmth. He always paid kindness with kindness.
Despite the lateness and exhaustion of his body, his eyes shone with exhilaration. He leaped from the car, captured the QR code, and opened one of the lockers with one fluid motion. There was a long box inside. He ripped it open impatiently and found an exquisite wooden box inside.
Blindly ignoring the rain pouring down, the young man snapped the box open—and there it was.
A fifteen-inch replica of the Elder Wand, shining in the faint streetlight.
"Heh, it's finally arrived! Fifteen inches, snake-patterned poplar wood, titanium-silver alloy core to enhance power, and even stamped with sealing runes. Bastard, this is truly the deluxe model. Worth every penny of a month's pay!"
He stroked his hands over the wand as if it were made of solid gold. The rain penetrated through his clothes, but nothing was going to spoil his state of mind.
And then he glanced back nervously over the deserted street. At twenty-five, he still adored Harry Potter like a child—but he'd die of shame if one of his neighbors saw him waving a wand in the dead of night.
Fortunately, everyone slept.
"This weather's perfect!" he breathed, eyes shining with mirthful craziness. He held the wand aloft and muttered, "Ossio Reparo!—The bones are back!"
BOOM!
As if the heavens themselves had overheard, a massive bolt of lightning hit the tip of the wand. The young man fell to the ground immediately.
"Damn—lightning's drawn to metal tips—physics does exist after all. But… hahahaha… it feels like I actually worked a spell… A once-in-a-lifetime hex… I'm… finally… not a Muggle…"
These were his last words before it all went black.
---
Across the Sea — Scotland
That same stormy evening, in a warm Highlands cottage, a young woman sat beside her husband by the fireplace.
Lisa, her wife, held a medical report in shaking hands, tears blurring her vision.
"No, William… no, this can't be. God wouldn't be so cruel…"
"It's alright, Lisa," said her husband gently, taking her in his arms. "We can adopt. It's not your fault."
Lisa was a cop—tough, quick-witted, and highly respected. But after being shot in the lower abdomen all those years ago, complications had rendered her childless.
Ironically, the doctor who had repaired her back then was the same man who now held her in his arms—William, a kind, committed physician who had fallen for the fearless cop in spite of it all.
"I'll love you no matter what," William murmured.
There was a crack of thunder outside, causing the fire to dance.
This storm never stops," he said. "Lisa, don't cry. We'll adopt, and love that child as our own. There's really no difference, is there?"
BOOM!
A blinding flash of lightning filled the room, causing them both to jump. The sound boomed across the valley like cannon fire.
"My God, that one was close," William muttered, his eyes directed toward the window.
"Wait—William," Lisa exclaimed, her voice shaking. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"A baby. crying.
"Impossible!" No one would take a baby outside in this weather!" he exclaimed—and then stopped. "Wait… for crying out loud—I can hear it too!"
They sped to the front door and yanked it open.
There, on their porch, was a baby boy, screaming in the rain. In his small hand, he clutched a wooden dowel with a singed tip and streams of molten metal running down it.
"Oh, poor you…" Lisa said softly, folding the child into her arms. "What sort of beast would abandon a baby out here in the storm?"
"Lisa," William told her slowly, "we have to report this. You're a policeman—you know we can't just take him in."
"But, William…" she gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes, "please. Can't we adopt him? Look at him—he's perfect."
William sighed, but smiled faintly. "All right. We'll take him in. We'll do it properly later. But tonight… he needs warmth and love."
Lisa smiled through her tears. "Charles," she whispered. "His name will be Charles."
"A fine name," William said softly, brushing the baby's damp hair aside. "Welcome home, Charles."
He attempted to slip the burned wand from the baby's hand. "We'll take good care of this for you, little one. Perhaps when you're older we'll tell you the tale."
As they brought the child into the house, the storm was disappearing. For two individuals who had lost all hope of ever having children, the boy was a gift from heaven itself.
---
Hogwarts Castle
Meanwhile, somewhere far away in a great castle high up in the Highlands, a quill went drifting upwards on its own, inscribing a new name into a great leather-bound volume.
Charles Williams.
"Oh, how marvelous," said a bearded old man with a beard as long as his arms were wide. "Another wee wizard is born. Isn't it lovely, Minerva?"
"Yes, Albus," said a stern-faced woman coming into the office. "But maybe, instead of sitting here watching the book add new names, you might assist me with the admission letters. Some of us do work around here."
"Now, now, Deputy Headmistress," said Dumbledore, smiling modestly. "The shadows have departed us for a little while. Surely an old man permitted a moment's peace?"
McGonagall gave him a pointed look. "Peace or not, we'll need all the assistance we can muster before young Potter arrives. Now, if you don't mind—back to work, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled as he stood. "The pleasures of old age are fleeting, it seems. But seeing a new life start… that never grows old."
And with a wink in his eye, he stepped out into the storm.