The platform at King's Cross Station buzzed with the chaotic energy of departure, a cacophony of voices, owl hoots, and the hiss of steam from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. The air was thick with the scent of coal and anticipation, the platform awash in a sea of black robes, tearful farewells, and excited chatter. Alexander Potter stood near the edge of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, his posture impeccable, his dark brown hair catching the dim light filtering through the station's arched roof, his ring gleamed faintly on his right hand. Beside him, James slouched with a practiced nonchalance, his wand tucked into his pocket, his grin as bright as the chaos around them.
Euphemia Potter fussed over both sons, her hands smoothing Alexander's tailored coat and then ruffling James's already-disheveled hair. "You'll write, both of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Every week, Alexander. No excuses."
"Of course, Mother," Alexander replied, his tone smooth and melodious, a velvet promise. His hazel eyes, flecked with green and gold, held hers with a quiet intensity that reassured and unnerved in equal measure. He allowed her to pull him into a brief, fierce embrace, his own hands resting lightly on her shoulders, measured but warm.
Charles Potter stood a step behind, his broad frame a steady anchor. "Keep an eye on each other," he said, his gaze shifting between his sons. "Hogwarts is… different, Alexander. Be mindful."
"I always am," Alexander said, a faint smile curving his lips. The words were polite, but there was a depth to them, a hint of the calculations that churned beneath his composed exterior.
James snorted, clapping Alexander on the back with a touch more force than necessary. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll make sure Alex doesn't scare off the entire school with his creepy staring."
Alexander's smile didn't waver, though his eyes flicked to James, sharp and assessing. "And I'll ensure James doesn't burn the castle down with his… enthusiasm."
Euphemia laughed, though her eyes glistened. "Oh, you two. Be good. Or at least be clever about it."
The whistle blew, a sharp, impatient sound, and the crowd surged toward the train. James hoisted his trunk with ease, his athletic frame making light work of the load. Alexander, by contrast, moved with deliberate grace, his trunk levitating slightly with a subtle gesture of his hand. The motion was effortless, a testament to his wandless mastery.
As they approached the train, James's grin widened, his eyes scanning the platform. "Right, time to find the lads," he said, already half-turning. "You coming, Alex?"
"In a moment," Alexander replied, his voice calm but firm. "I'll find my own way."
James hesitated, a flicker of something—disappointment, perhaps, or unease—crossing his face. Then he shrugged, his grin returning. "Suit yourself. Don't get lost in a book or something." With a mock salute, he vanished into the crowd, his laughter trailing behind him.
Alexander watched him go, his expression unreadable. The platform was a study in human behavior, a tapestry of emotions laid bare—parents clinging to their children, friends reuniting with shouts, younger students wide-eyed with nerves. He cataloged it all, his hyper-observant mind noting microexpressions, gestures, the subtle shifts in tone. This was his arena now, and he intended to master it.
Euphemia touched his arm, drawing his attention back. "You'll look after him, won't you?" she said softly, her eyes searching his. "He's… reckless, sometimes."
Alexander's gaze softened, though it remained guarded. "He's my brother," he said simply. "I'll do what's necessary."
She nodded, squeezing his arm before stepping back to join Charles. "Safe travels, my love."
Alexander inclined his head, a gesture both elegant and final, before turning to board the train. The Hogwarts Express loomed before him, its scarlet bulk a symbol of the world he was re-entering—a world of wands, houses, and rivalries, so different from the stark, gesture-driven magic of Uagadou.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Inside, the train was a labyrinth of noise and movement. Students crowded the corridors, dragging trunks, calling out to friends, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony. Alexander moved through them with the same deliberate grace he'd shown on the platform, his presence parting the crowd like a blade through silk. He found an empty compartment near the back, its worn velvet seats and polished wood a quiet contrast to the bustle outside. He settled by the window, his trunk stowed with a flick of his hand, and opened a book—The Principles of Ancient Runes—though his eyes strayed often to the corridor, observing the passing faces.
James, meanwhile, had found his pack—the Marauders, as they called themselves. Alexander had heard the stories in James's letters: Sirius Black, the charming rebel; Remus Lupin, the quiet scholar with secrets in his eyes; Peter Pettigrew, the eager follower. They were sprawled across a compartment a few cars down, their laughter loud enough to carry through the walls.
"Prongs, you didn't tell us your brother was back!" Sirius's voice boomed, rich with mischief. "What's he like? Another troublemaker?"
James snorted, kicking his feet onto the seat opposite. "Alex? Trouble's not his style. He's more… intense. Thinks he's above wands, if you can believe it."
Remus, who was leafing through a battered copy of Hogwarts, A History, looked up. "Wandless magic? That's rare. Uagadou's known for it though, casting magic through gestures but it takes serious discipline and is often said to be less stronger than magic cast with a wand."
"Yeah, well, Alex has discipline coming out his ears," James said, his tone caught between pride and irritation. "He's probably sitting alone right now, reading some dusty book and staring at people like he's solving a puzzle."
Peter giggled, his round face bright with curiosity. "Is he joining Gryffindor, then? Like you?"
James shrugged, his grin faltering. "Dunno. He's… tricky to pin down. Might end up in Ravenclaw or something. Or bloody Slytherin, for all I know."
Sirius barked a laugh. "Slytherin? Your twin? That'd be a laugh."James's eyes darkened, but he forced a smile. "Yeah, well, he's still a Potter. He'll be fine."
Their conversation shifted to pranks and Quidditch, the easy camaraderie of friends who'd spent years building their own world. But James's glances toward the corridor betrayed a restlessness, a need to know where Alexander was, what he was doing.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
In his compartment, Alexander's solitude was short-lived. The door slid open, and a girl with striking red hair and vivid green eyes stepped in, followed by a lanky boy with greasy black hair and a guarded expression. The girl—Lily Evans, Alexander deduced, recalling James's letters—carried herself with a quiet confidence, her robes neat but not ostentatious. The boy, undoubtedly Severus Snape, had a sallow complexion and eyes that darted like a cornered animal's.
"Mind if we sit here?" Lily asked, her voice polite but direct. "Most of the compartments are full."
Alexander closed his book with a soft snap, his gaze lifting to meet hers. His hazel eyes were calm, piercing, and for a moment, Lily felt as though he were looking through her, cataloging her thoughts. "Not at all," he said, his voice smooth and accented, a melody wrapped in steel. "Please."
Lily hesitated, then sat across from him, Snape settling beside her with a stiffness that spoke of unease. Alexander noted the dynamic instantly—the tension in Snape's shoulders, the way Lily's smile was warm but guarded, the faint protectiveness in her posture. A complex friendship, he thought, one fraying at the edges.
"I'm Lily Evans," she said, offering a small smile. "And this is Severus."
"Alexander Potter," he replied, inclining his head. "A pleasure."
Lily's eyes widened slightly. "Potter? As in… James Potter?"
"My twin," Alexander confirmed, his tone neutral but with a hint of amusement. "Though I assure you, we're quite different."
Snape's lip curled, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. "That's a relief," he muttered, barely audible.
Lily shot him a sharp look, but Alexander's expression remained unchanged, his smile subtle and unreadable. "James has a… reputation, I gather," he said, his voice light but probing. "He's spirited, I'll grant you that."
"Spirited's one word for it," Lily said, her tone dry. "He's… well, he can be a bit much. Him and his friends.""The Marauders," Alexander supplied, his eyes flicking to Snape, who stiffened at the name. "Yes, James mentioned them. They seem… lively."
"That's one way to put it," Lily said, her smile tightening. "They've got a knack for picking on people who don't deserve it."
Snape's eyes flashed, but he said nothing, his fingers twitching as if itching for his wand. Alexander noted the movement, his mind cataloging the boy's defensiveness, the anger simmering beneath his sallow exterior. He knew of Snape's fascination with the Dark Arts—James's letters had been vivid on that point—and the pureblood supremacist circles he was beginning to orbit. Lily's loyalty to him, despite that, was intriguing. A puzzle worth solving."
I'm not here to defend James," Alexander said, his voice calm but deliberate. "He's his own man, and I'm mine. But I'd be curious to hear your perspective, Mrs Evans. You strike me as someone who sees things clearly."
Lily blinked, caught off guard by the compliment and the intensity of his gaze. "I… well, I just think people should be judged for who they are, not who they run with. Or what they're capable of, and please call me Lily." Her eyes flicked to Snape, a silent plea for him to stay calm.
Snape's jaw tightened, but he spoke, his voice low and bitter. "Some people make that difficult. Your brother and his lot—they think they own the school."
Alexander tilted his head, his expression one of polite curiosity. "Power attracts attention, Mr Snape. And attention breeds conflict. James thrives on it, I suspect. But you…" He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if peeling back layers. "You prefer the shadows, don't you?"
Snape's face flushed, a mix of anger and unease. "You don't know me," he snapped.
"Not yet," Alexander said, his tone soft but unyielding. "But I'm an excellent study."
Lily's lips twitched, a spark of amusement breaking through her wariness. "You're not like James at all, are you?" she said, almost to herself.
Alexander's smile deepened, a glimmer of warmth in his otherwise controlled demeanor. "We share blood, not souls. Tell me, Lily, what house are you in?"
"Gryffindor," she said, a note of pride in her voice. "Severus is in Slytherin.""An interesting divide," Alexander mused, his eyes flicking between them. "And yet, here you are, together. That speaks to something… rare."
Lily's expression softened, though her eyes held a flicker of pain. "We've been friends for a long time," she said simply.
Snape said nothing, but his gaze lingered on Alexander, wary and assessing. Alexander met it without flinching, his own eyes a calm storm of observation. He saw the cracks in their bond—the pull of Snape's darker inclinations, the strain of Lily's loyalty. He filed it away, a piece of the intricate mosaic that was Hogwarts.The conversation shifted to lighter topics—classes, professors, the upcoming term. Lily was bright, articulate, her passion for Charms and Potions evident in her animated gestures. Snape spoke less, his contributions sharp and precise, revealing a keen mind despite his guarded demeanor. Alexander listened, his responses measured but engaging, each word chosen to draw them out, to reveal more of who they were.
As the train rattled on, the landscape outside shifting from city to rolling hills, Alexander felt the weight of his return settle into place. Hogwarts was no mere school; it was a crucible, a stage for ambition, loyalty, and betrayal. James was out there, carving his own path with reckless charisma. Lily and Snape, bound by a fragile thread, were players in a drama Alexander was only beginning to understand. And he, with his wandless magic and calculated elegance, was ready to shape the narrative in ways none of them could yet foresee.The whistle sounded again, distant now, as the Hogwarts Express carried them closer to their destinies. Alexander leaned back, his book open but unread, his mind alive with possibilities. The game had begun.