My parents, ever concerned with my well-being, had gifted me a magic trunk to carry all my books and personal items. I suspected they feared I might be bullied due to my age and wanted to ensure I had everything I needed to ward off trouble. Though I doubted theft would be tolerated at Hogwarts, they clearly thought differently. After all, it would take only a simple spell to identify an item’s owner. Yet I’d read that Hogwarts preferred students to settle their own matters—a folly, in my opinion, bound to breed grudges and rivalries that could span generations. Still, it wasn’t my concern. I wasn’t here to play savior for every bullied child. I was here to stop a war.

  At King’s Cross Station, Cedric pointed out the hidden entrance to Platform 9 ?. The illusion spellwork was impressive. My eyes, attuned as they were to seeing beyond the mortal veil, could decipher the matrix of magic, the intricate layering, and weaving that made it both a solid passageway and an invisible portal to those without the sight. An intriguing enchantment, though I had no time to study or unravel it.

  After lugging our trunks onto the train, Cedric gave me a quick hug before heading off to find his friends. “Try to get to know some kids in your year, Ben,” he encouraged. “Maybe you’ll make some new friends. But don’t stress it too much; I’ll always be your buddy.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, almost groaning. Still, there was an unexpected warmth in Cedric’s words. The bond I shared with him, simple as it was, was unlike any I’d experienced before. How could something as mundane as a hug or a pat on the head carry such a strange comfort? Cedric was kind in a way that even my twin, Life, had never been. Life’s a cruel joke at best, I thought with a hint of bitterness. She and I had always been two sides of the same coin, and though we shared knowledge, we could not wield each other’s power. I knew every spell for healing and restoration, yet I’d never be able to cast one. She, in turn, was forbidden from harnessing spells of death. Some might see this limitation and brand me “dark,” but dark didn’t always mean evil.

  Settling into a compartment, I pulled out The Invisible Book of Invisibility and began reading, losing myself in its pages until a voice interrupted.

  “Excuse me. Do ya mind? Everywhere else is full.”

  I looked up to see a red-haired boy standing in the doorway, looking hopeful and a bit desperate. I sensed an aura around him and instinctively called on an ability I rarely used—one that let me see true names, so I could guide souls to their rightful afterlife. It was risky to use in my current state, as powerful wizards could detect it, but my curiosity got the better of me. Ron Weasley, his true name gleamed, unmistakable. I knew he would be one of the four heroes who would shape the outcome of the war against Voldemort. Though I lacked full details, causality had assured me I would need Ron, Hermione Granger, and even Neville Longbottom’s help in the battles to come.

  “Ah, sure. Have a seat,” I offered, gesturing to the spot across from me.

  “Thanks,” he said, settling in with a grateful smile. “I’m Ron, by the way.”

  “Benjamin Diggory,” I replied.

  Ron’s eyes widened. “Diggory? Like, Cedric Diggory’s brother?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Your brother’s really popular at Hogwarts,” Ron explained, leaning in, clearly intrigued.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Yes, I know. He’s something of a favorite, especially among the girls.”

  Ron made a face of disgust. “Ew, why would you want that?” he asked, and I realized he was still in that stage where girls seemed gross.

  “Huh?”

  “I meant he’s popular for being an amazing Quidditch player,” Ron clarified.

  “Right…” I replied, nodding and hoping the topic would change soon. Ron’s enthusiasm for trivial school gossip was… amusing, if a bit distracting.

  He looked at my hands, frowning slightly. “Why are your hands positioned like you’re holding a book?”

  “Oh, I’m reading The Invisible Book of Invisibility,” I answered, raising the invisible tome slightly.

  Ron reached out, his eyes wide, and gingerly poked the book. His face lit up as his fingers touched something solid. “That’s amazing!” he exclaimed, as though I’d just performed a miracle.

  “It’s certainly not your average book,” I replied, entertained by his excitement.

  “But how do you read it?” he asked, intrigued. “I mean, if it’s invisible and all?”

  “I was born with a magical ability that allows me to see hidden things,” I explained with a shrug, giving him a half-truth. There was some honesty in it—I didn’t know how others read such books, and I’d never needed spells to see the invisible.

  “Lucky,” he muttered, looking slightly disappointed. I noticed his gaze drift toward Nyx, who lay curled beside me, her dark fur blending almost perfectly with the shadows in the compartment.

  “Oh, you’ve got a cat. I thought that was a black pillow,” Ron said, peering at her with interest.

  “Not just a cat,” I replied, pointing to Fidell, who was perched on the luggage rack above us, his head tucked beneath his wings. To an untrained eye, he might have looked like a statue or decoration, blending in seamlessly with his surroundings.

  “A black owl?” Ron guessed, tilting his head.

  “No, a Raven,” I corrected, sensing his confusion.

  Ron blinked, then grinned. “Mate, you’re going to look like a right Slytherin with pets like that.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “People will assume you’re, you know… a dark wizard,” he said, shifting awkwardly.

  I sighed. “Just because my pets have black fur and feathers doesn’t make them evil. People rely too much on appearances.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Ron quickly apologized.

  I softened my tone. “No harm done. I just get tired of people making assumptions.”

  “Anything off the trolley, dears?” A gray-haired witch appeared at the door, pushing a cart brimming with sweets.

  “No, I’m all set,” Ron replied, holding up a crushed, cling-wrapped sandwich. I shook my head as well, letting her pass.

  Once she was gone, I pulled out some of my mother’s homemade shortbread and snickerdoodles, offering them to Ron.

  “What’s this?” he asked, wide-eyed.

  “Just take them. My mother made them, and I’m not too fond of sweets,” I replied, gesturing for him to help himself.

  He took a bite, his eyes widening in delight. “These are amazing!” he mumbled through a mouthful, crumbs spilling everywhere.

  At that moment, a rat crawled out of his pocket, drawn by the crumbs. My senses prickled. Scabbers, I’d known of the pet in passing, but now, seeing him in person, I saw the truth. Peter Pettigrew, the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant, disguised as a rat. My fingers itched with the urge to act, but I restrained myself. Perhaps Nyx and Fidell could handle this, at the right moment when no one would suspect a thing. I almost smiled at the thought of Ron merely assuming his “pet” had scampered off.

  Ron sighed. “This is Scabbers. Pathetic, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” I replied simply, holding back the full truth. A man reduced to the life of a rodent—a fitting punishment, though it didn’t go nearly far enough.

  “Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow. Wanna see?” Ron asked eagerly, clearly hoping to impress.

  “Sure,” I replied, amused by the idea of Pettigrew cursed with a garish yellow coat.

  Ron pulled out a battered wand, one that clearly wasn’t his own. If he managed the spell at all, it would show he had a rare gift for magic.

  But before he could attempt it, a girl’s voice interrupted, “Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.”

  In the doorway stood a bushy-haired girl, her expression earnest and slightly exasperated. Hermione Granger, my mind supplied. Another future ally, one I would need to learn to work with. And with her, perhaps the final piece of this puzzle was falling into place.

  How could a hug or pat on the head make a person feel better? I cannot fathom it but still, Cedric is much better than my original sibling. My twin sister known as life is a real piece of work... Ever heard the saying, "Life's a bitch and then you die?". Let's just say I take no pleasure in making others suffer.

  Wouldnt want Ron to get upset that my pets were hunting his now would I? Best that he just thinks his pet ran away.