The Bones family home in Wiltshire smelled faintly of roasted lamb and warm treacle tart. Candles floated lazily over the dining table, and a dozen balloons bumped against the ceiling beams with every movement of the air.
At the head of the table sat Alvin Black, grinning as his younger cousin Susan Bones blew a streamer into his ear.
"Happy birthday, Alvin!" she laughed, nearly spilling her pumpkin juice.
"Careful, Susan," Amelia Bones said in her usual firm tone, though the sharpness of her voice softened as she turned to her son. She slid a carefully wrapped package across the table. "This is for you."
Alvin's eyes lit up as he tore through the paper. Inside lay a collection of advanced spell primers—Charming Charms for Young Wizards. He traced the gilt letters with a finger, already imagining how quickly he would master every page.
"Thank you, Mum," he said warmly, though his mind seemed elsewhere.
Amelia's keen eyes narrowed. "Something's troubling you."
Alvin hesitated. Then, in a lower voice, he said, "I've been having that dream again."
"What dream?" Susan asked eagerly, leaning closer.
Alvin swallowed. "The one with the wolf. A huge black wolf—larger than a man. It runs with me through the woods. Sometimes it plays with me, like it's protecting me. And there's always another boy… but I never see his face."
For a moment, the room grew heavy. Susan's smile faltered, and Amelia's expression went blank, almost guarded. Then Amelia forced a small smile and reached over to ruffle Alvin's dark hair.
"Dreams are only dreams, Alvin. Your imagination runs faster than most."
But Alvin wasn't convinced. The wolf felt real—too real.
That night, when he blew out his candles, Alvin didn't wish for toys or sweets. He wished for answers.
---
They came sooner than he expected. A few weeks later, an owl tapped against his bedroom window, carrying the parchment envelope stamped with the crimson crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Alvin had expected it, of course—he'd been performing accidental spells for years and learning magic at twice the speed of anyone his age. Still, when the letter came, his chest swelled with a thrill he couldn't contain.
Amelia hugged him tightly. "Your father would have been proud," she whispered before she caught herself, pressing her lips into a thin line.
"My… father?" Alvin asked, but she turned away.
---
September arrived, and with it, Alvin's first glimpse of Hogwarts. The enchanted boats drifted across the black lake, carrying the first-years to the towering castle. Its many windows blazed with golden light, like a hundred watchful eyes.
When the great doors opened and Alvin stepped inside, his breath caught. The Great Hall stretched before him, vast and magnificent, its ceiling bewitched to mirror the night sky. Thousands of candles floated high above, their flames flickering like stars. The four long House tables gleamed with polished goblets and golden plates.
Ghosts drifted through the air, their pale forms gliding effortlessly among the living. The Fat Friar waved cheerily at a cluster of nervous Hufflepuffs, while the Bloody Baron watched the Slytherin hopefuls with cold, silvery eyes. Nearly Headless Nick floated past Alvin, muttering, "Ah, another year, another Sorting… I do hope Gryffindor gains some promising talent this time."
Alvin swallowed hard. He had never felt so small, yet so certain that this place would change everything.
At last, Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll and called, "Black, Alvin."
A hush fell. Whispers rippled across the older students. A Black?
Alvin forced his legs to move and sat upon the stool. The Sorting Hat descended over his head.
"Well, well," it purred in his mind. "What a sharp mind. You'd thrive in Ravenclaw—knowledge comes to you as easily as breath. But I see more: a hunger to prove yourself… a thirst for justice… even ambition enough for Slytherin."
Not Slytherin, Alvin thought fiercely.
The Hat chuckled. "Oh, how like another Black I once knew. Yes—you are his son, though you do not yet know it."
Alvin's heart stopped. His son?
"Ah, but that secret is not mine to tell. Very well, if courage is what you value most…"
The Hat shouted: "GRYFFINDOR!"
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table. Alvin slid onto the bench, his cousin Susan beaming from the Hufflepuff table nearby. He smiled back, but his thoughts churned.
The Hat's words echoed like a curse:
You are his son.