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Before anyone realised, the year had turned to 1991. Aiden and Ron celebrated their eleventh birthdays together, the Burrow filled with laughter and the warmth of family. The days were long and golden, and the excitement of what was to come was almost tangible.
In May, an owl swooped through the open kitchen window, dropping two letters onto the breakfast table—one for Ron and one for Aiden. Both boys tore open their envelopes, hands trembling with anticipation.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(President of the International Confederation of Wizards, First Class Order of Merlin, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)
Dear Mr. Prewett,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment. The term begins on 1st September. We await your call by 31st July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
Aiden's heart skipped a beat as he read the words. The second page detailed the materials required for first-years, but unlike Ron, who received two sheets, Aiden found a third letter tucked inside—this one in Dumbledore's elegant hand.
Dear Aiden,
Congratulations on your upcoming journey to Hogwarts. I hope you will accompany Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, on 31st July to collect someone. Your abilities may prove helpful to your future classmate.
Aiden raised an eyebrow, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "The old bee is inviting me to join a special mission. Should I accept?" he mused.
"Ding. The host can participate," the system chimed in his mind.
Aiden blinked. Since the system had become a gem, its intelligence had grown more and more pronounced. "System?" he asked, surprised.
"Ding. Prophecy magic is a form of magic containing the operating rules of the world. The host can participate, observing the world by becoming a part of the prophecy. This will benefit both your spellcasting and sequence abilities. Ron Weasley will also be involved. Given your regard for family, you will inevitably be drawn into this storm."
"Wait, Ronny is part of the prophecy too? Why?" Aiden asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Ding. The July Prophecy arises from internal conflicts within the wizarding world. Wizards' souls are connected to the world, so its creation was inevitable. It is essentially the struggle between the pure-blood families, who hold most of the wealth and power, and the half-blood and Muggle-born wizards who aspire to those things.
The pure-bloods, unwilling to lose their dominance, created Lord Voldemort as their champion. However, Voldemort lost control in his pursuit of the Dark Arts—an outcome both unpredictable and yet somehow inevitable. The pure-blood families, deeply entwined with Voldemort, were dragged into the abyss. Bloodshed and ambition spread, and other wizards were forced to become involved.
But how could the pure-bloods, a minority, resist the majority of ordinary wizards? When the many prayed for peace, the collective unconscious resonated with magic, and the world was rewritten by their wishes. The prophecy was fulfilled, the Dark Lord fell, and the pure-bloods lost power. This follows the sociological rule that new things inevitably replace the old.
The host also knows the prophecy has not ended. As a member of the pro-Muggle Weasley family and being the same age as the destined one, Ron Weasley will inevitably be drawn to the center of the storm by the fluctuations of fate."
Aiden frowned. "Is there anything special about pure-blood families?"
"Ding. A long history, magic in their bloodline, and a deep connection with the Distorted Illusion."
"Distorted Illusion?"
"Ding..."
Aiden sighed. "Not enough data again, right?"
He had learned by now that when the system didn't want to answer, it would simply claim there was insufficient information. "One day, I'll pry open your mind, you know," he muttered.
"Ding. =ω="
Aiden glanced over at Ron, who was sprawled on the sofa playing wizard chess, and felt a pang of sympathy. He silently wished his brother luck.
*****
Meanwhile, far away at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Mr. Dursley was preparing for a family outing. He was the director of a drilling company called Grunnings, and he prided himself on having a happy family: a beautiful wife, a beloved son, and—though he'd never admit it—a nephew he detested. The Dursleys never spoke of magic. In fact, they never spoke of their nephew at all.
It was 23rd June—Dudley Dursley's birthday. The Dursleys had prepared gifts for their son and were driving to Surrey Zoo for a day of celebration. It was a perfect plan, but as Mr. Dursley sat behind the wheel, he couldn't help but think that there was one imperfect person in the car.
At the zoo, they made their way to the reptile house, eager to see the snakes. "MOVE!" barked Mr. Dursley and Dudley, banging on the glass. The snake inside the enclosure ignored them completely.
Aiden, meanwhile, stood a little way off, licking an ice cream and watching the Dursleys' antics with mild amusement. At eleven, Aiden had grown into a tall, strikingly handsome young man, though he preferred not to draw attention to himself.
"Wait, 'handsome young man'? You coding bastard, do you even hear what you're writing?" Aiden grumbled inwardly but let the thought pass.
(Translator's Note: If you're not a fan of the fourth wall breaks, let me know in the comments, and I'll edit them out from future chapters.)
The Dursleys soon lost interest and wandered away. A thin, dark-haired boy in ill-fitting clothes remained by the glass, hissing softly. The snake raised its head, and the two seemed to be having a conversation.
Aiden watched, his visionary abilities allowing him to see the blue light of loneliness radiating from the boy. But his magic was split into three colors—pink for love and protection ("So girlish," Aiden thought), and a faint purple, tinged with madness. "Ah, that must be the trace of the Dark Lord," he mused.
At that moment, Dudley came running back, pushing Harry aside and banging on the glass excitedly. Harry fell to the floor, glaring up at the window.
"Oh, anger," Aiden noted, still enjoying the spectacle.
Suddenly, the glass vanished, and Dudley tumbled into the enclosure. The snake slithered out, and chaos erupted in the reptile house.
"Interesting. When Harry cast the spell, the purple light expanded, and the magic flowed through Voldemort's soul first," Aiden marveled.
Worried that the python might harm someone, Aiden cast a subtle suggestion on the snake and, for good measure, performed a Restoration Charm on the glass. The snake thanked Harry and made a quick escape, leaving a trail of panic in its wake.
"Well done, kid," Aiden said to Harry. At that moment, the suggestion he'd placed on Harry faded.
Harry, still caught up in the excitement, turned at the sound of Aiden's voice. He was surprised to see a boy with mismatched eyes standing behind him—a face he was certain hadn't been there a moment ago.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"You'll find out soon enough. For now, you might want to deal with the person behind you," Aiden replied, offering a mysterious smile.
Harry turned to see Mr. Dursley glaring at him. The glass had somehow been restored, and Mrs Dursley was frantically knocking on the window, trying to reach Dudley, who was trapped inside.
The ride home was tense. Vernon Dursley was so furious he could barely speak. "Go—to—your—cupboard—stay—no—meals," he managed to spit out before collapsing onto the sofa. Petunia rushed to fetch him a large glass of brandy.
Harry didn't know how long he spent in the dark cupboard under the stairs. He wished he had a watch to check the time and see if the Dursleys were asleep. Only then could he sneak into the kitchen for something to eat.
The incident with the escaped python earned Harry the worst punishment yet. By the time he was finally allowed out, the summer holidays had already begun.
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