The air around Platform shimmered with a peculiar blend of farewells, laughter, and the loud screech of steam hissing from the Hogwarts Express. Students bustled about in clumps—hugging friends, tossing luggage into compartments, and yelling last-minute goodbyes to family.
James moved along the platform quietly, trailing just behind the Gryffindor lot. His trunk rolled behind him, charmed to levitate slightly off the ground with a flick of casual wandwork. He wore a simple black jacket over his school uniform—neat, unremarkable, but unmistakably crisp in presentation.
His eyes scanned the crowd with idle sharpness, watching.
That's when he saw her.
Daphne Greengrass was stepping into the train, her posture as elegant and composed as ever. Her platinum-blonde hair was tied neatly at the nape, and her school robes hung with that effortless Slytherin grace. As she reached the doorway of her carriage, she turned slightly and caught his gaze.
James gave her a small nod—nothing flashy, just an acknowledgment.
She smiled faintly. And nodded back.
Brief. Wordless. But it said enough.
Things had gone smoothly this year.
Too smoothly, in fact. The kind of smooth that made you suspicious.
There had been no catastrophic attacks. No bodies. No spectacle. No shadow stretching out from dark. Just school—mundane, demanding, strangely peaceful school.
And yet...
That was the point, wasn't it? The calm before a deeper storm.
Daphne had achieved her goal. Second in class. She'd surpassed even him in the final duel practicals, a narrow victory that she earned through dedication A win he'd helped sculpt in the background—one part training, one part mentorship and calculated intent.
A person with drive, when given proper direction, can rewrite their place in the story.
She was living proof.
Cedric had taken the Triwizard Cup. Rightfully so. A noble soul with talent, charisma, and the right kind of heart.
And James? His aims had mostly been met.
Harry had survived the year untouched. Whatever plan the Death Eaters were brewing—whatever ritual, kidnapping, or possession they'd intended—hadn't materialised.
Why?
Was Voldemort spooked?
Could he have been rattled by the World Cup massacre I orchestrated?
James doubted it.
More likely: the butterfly effect.
Small changes. Ripples. His actions had start twisting timeline .
This year proved something important.
He could no longer rely on the "pseudo-knowledge" of his old world. His memories of the books and films were fading—not from time, but from irrelevance. This world was diverging.
And next year, that divergence could become dangerous.
He would need to prepare accordingly.
As he climbed aboard the train, the low murmur of students talking and laughing filled the air like a constant tide. He glanced toward the corridor, ears pricking at familiar voices.
"Guys, let's play some cards, yeah?. i am nackerd " Ron's voice was loud and enthusiastic as always, already dropping his bag with a thud into one of the compartments.
Hermione sighed sharply. "If you'd studied when I told you to, instead of spending every evening gossiping about victor and tournament, you wouldn't need to destress. You barely passed Transfiguration."
Ron flopped into his seat with a dramatic groan. "Well, thanks for reminding me, Hermione."
Harry laughed, sliding into the seat opposite. "Don't be like that. He did alright."
Hermione snapped her gaze to him. "You're not off the hook either. You barely passed Potions. If you want to become an Auror, Harry, you'll need N.E.W.T. level scores. That includes Potions."
Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! You're right. I'll do better next term, I promise. But for now—cards?"
James leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as he observed the trio. There was something grounding about their banter. A sense of normalcy. Of a story that hadn't yet broken its spine.
He stepped in with a lopsided grin. "Honestly, if I weren't here to hear it myself, I'd think you three rehearsed that exchange."
Ron blinked. "Where've you been, mate? Haven't seen you since breakfast."
James shrugged, slipping into the seat next to Harry. "Just tying up a few things. Saying goodbye to the year. It's been... productive."
His eyes flicked toward the window. Somewhere behind them, Daphne's compartment was gliding into view as the train slowly lurched forward.
He smirked faintly to himself.
The pieces were moving.
And the board had changed.