There was never any doubt. It was obvious Noah would receive his Hogwarts letter.
But when the morning of April first finally arrived—his eleventh birthday—and the envelope with its red wax seal rested on the breakfast table, a wave of emotions struck him like lightning.
Happiness. Anxiety. Genuine excitement, the kind that warms the chest.
It was strange to feel everything so intensely. Maybe it was a side effect of his recent studies on the human mind, or from the hours spent diving into other people's emotions. Since refining his Occlumency, Noah had learned not only to shield his thoughts but also to control his emotions with surgical precision—he could block feelings, dull pain, suppress impulses.
Most of the time, at least.
It was a lifelong practice, the kind of thing only time and experience could polish. But for now, it was enough. He could block out most feelings if he wanted.
But he didn't. Not now.
Controlling emotions could be useful… but also hollow. He had learned there was value in feeling, even when it hurt. Even when it made him vulnerable.
Maybe, in some distant past, another Noah—a colder, more cautious version of himself—would have chosen to erase anything painful. But that Noah was gone. Buried beneath experiences, bonds, and a growing understanding of the human soul.
Emotions, he realized, were tools of the mind. Happiness, sadness, fear… they all had their place. Even fear, so often seen as weakness, was in truth a vital warning, a catalyst for survival.
Adrenaline saves lives.
And now, he valued it all. Human emotions mattered.
Noah understood this more and more—not only from a human perspective, but also from the standpoint of ambition.
Reading memories, touching thoughts, noticing details invisible before—everything sharpened his sensitivity to the world around him. A simple smile carried weight. A subtle change in tone revealed secrets. A glance… could be more honest than a thousand words.
Strange. But beautiful.
It was with that sharpened awareness that he watched, amused, as his parents cheerfully bickered in the living room.
Laura, feigning stubbornness, insisted she should be the one to take him shopping in Diagon Alley. Adam, on the other hand, argued passionately that it was his turn. That he had never had a proper "father and son" moment like this. And to back up his case, he brought up the day Laura had taken Noah shopping before, and how Noah came back saying it had been so much fun.
Noah smiled, remembering the day with a silly look. In truth, he knew his mother had given up the argument from the very start—she was just teasing Adam for her own amusement.
And it worked.
The spring breeze in London played with Noah's brown hair as he and Adam crossed the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into the bustling Diagon Alley.
Despite living eleven years in the wizarding world, Noah had barely explored its public side. His childhood had been spent between silent libraries, alchemy labs, and intense magical training sessions. Which made everything here feel new.
Sharp eyes scanned everything: strange trinkets in shop windows, rushing witches and wizards, owls perched high above. Every detail was mapped and stored away, ready to be reconstructed later in his Mind Palace.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he should have lived a more playful, carefree childhood. Maybe he could have had different experiences. But he shook his head.
I can still have fun. In fact, maybe now is the perfect time. School will be the stage for that.
Of course, he knew the real reason he had pushed himself to study even as a child—his past weakness. He understood that in a world like this, without strength, one was nothing more than a lamb waiting for the will of wolves.
So far, nothing had truly threatened his life. But dangers he already knew of—and the countless unknown ones lurking in the shadows—were all lethal. When they came, if he wasn't ready, he would face his weakness again. And he would never allow that.
At his side, Adam walked with the impeccable posture of a true Gray—tall, elegant, hair neatly combed, radiating natural authority. Yet today there was a boyish spark in his eyes. This was his first time having Noah all to himself, and he didn't bother to hide his enthusiasm.
"Straight to Gringotts. We've got a lot to do today," he said, pointing to the grand white-marble building up ahead.
Noah nodded, though his mind was already elsewhere.
"Dad, I never asked… how does our family get along so well with goblins? I thought they hated wizards."
Adam chuckled, clearly happy to share a piece of family history.
"It wasn't always war between goblins and wizards, you know. There was once a time of harmony. Or something like it. Our ancestor saved the founder of Gringotts before the bank even existed. And since we were wealthy back then, we became patrons."
"That's it?" Noah raised a brow.
"Simple, isn't it?" Adam shrugged. "Maybe the true story was lost along the way. But that's the version we pass down through the generations. After all, centuries tend to twist any tale."
Noah laughed. "Saving the founder of the biggest wizarding bank and becoming a lifelong partner… now that's what I call hitting the jackpot."
I respect that ancestor, he thought with amusement. I wonder if Nick ever met him.
Whatever the case, that single act had placed the Gray family among the Ten most influential wizarding families in the world. A legacy built on tradition, wealth… and a certain conservatism: one heir per generation, nothing more.
Inside the bank, the scent of old parchment and freshly counted gold filled Noah's nose. Sharp-eyed goblins bustled about, weighing coins, appraising gemstones, and jotting numbers down with exotic quills.
They were soon greeted by a finely dressed goblin who recognized Adam instantly.
"Lord Gray. A pleasure to see you again," he said with a respectful bow. "And this must be young Master Noah. Welcome to Gringotts."
"Thank you," Noah replied politely.
"This young man wishes to open his own account," Adam said proudly.
"Of course. Please, follow me to a private chamber."
They were led into a richly furnished office, complete with a polished mahogany desk and enchanted quills already waiting. Hardly surprising—the Grays owned a share of the bank. They were the equivalent of diamond clients, with a red carpet always ready.
The process was swift. Noah listened carefully, asked sharp questions, and signed where needed. When it was done, a gleaming key was placed in his hand.
Vault number 88. A two-digit vault—an extreme rarity nowadays, most from that era long since taken. But… being a Gray had its perks.
As a starting gift, Adam deposited 10,000 galleons into the account.
Noah didn't complain. In truth, he had wanted the account for independence—and for the projects he already had in mind. A solid push forward was welcome. He wasn't above asking for more if necessary. Intelligence wasn't the same as foolish pride.
Even so, he noticed the gleam in Adam's eyes as he watched Noah take initiative. The man probably saw it as a sign of independence—maybe even imagining Noah wanted to build his fortune with his own hands.
And since that wasn't too far from the truth… Noah let the misunderstanding stand.
Shopping in Diagon Alley flowed like a stroll on a sunny morning. Adam was so cheerful he went for a second cone at Florean Fortescue's.
Noah was already on his third—strawberry, his favorite. Though he planned to try exotic flavors another time.
Walking beside his father as they left Madam Malkin's Robes, Noah couldn't help but notice how genuinely happy Adam was.
I should make more time for my family in the future, he decided, tucking the thought away.
Unaware of his son's reflection, Adam clapped his hands lightly before speaking with enthusiasm.
"We've nearly got everything. All that's left is a pet—and, of course, your wand."
Noah smiled. "You sound even more excited about the wand than you were about the ice cream."
"Wand?" Adam scoffed, shaking his head. "What does a wand even matter to you? With your magic, if you picked up a rotten branch with a dragon's cardiac muscle inside, you'd still wipe the floor with every student there."
He pointed toward the Magical Menagerie. "What I'm excited about is the pet. Damn, I remember I once had an owl that looked like it was asleep while flying. Every morning, it delivered the paper straight into my porridge bowl. Now that's a memory worth keeping."
Noah shook his head, not sharing his father's enthusiasm.
"Wand or pet first?" he asked, waiting for Adam to choose.
"We'll split up. You don't need me at the wand shop—old Ollivander's just going to say that line about the wand choosing the wizard…" Adam shrugged. "You head to the wand, I'll get the pet. It'll be a gift—I'll choose one that suits you."
Noah didn't mind and agreed with a nod. But before they separated, he froze when he heard Adam muttering to himself:
"Maybe a toad? One with horns or something…"
Noah shivered at the thought of going to school with some ugly, slimy toad.
"To hell with that. I'd turn it into socks and toss it to the bottom of my trunk."