Quirks in Wizarding World

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- Greenwood Amusement Park -

- July 20, 1991 – Evening -

The steam still hung thick in the air, curling in ghostly tendrils around the plaza. Shapes moved within it—figures in protective suits working swiftly, their movements precise and practiced. The burning man, now subdued, was hoisted onto a stretcher-like platform, the last embers of unnatural fire flickering before vanishing completely.

No words were exchanged in the open, but their efficiency spoke volumes. They weren't confused, nor did they hesitate. This wasn't their first time handling something like this.

The crowd, though restless, was held back by firm yet polite words. The agents—if that's what they were—wove a seamless web of explanations, shifting the panic into controlled concern.

"Everything is under control," one assured the onlookers. "The situation is being handled by the proper authorities."

Another spoke in hushed but authoritative tones to those who had seen the most, leaning in as if sharing confidential information. "A chemical accident," they claimed. "An experimental gas leak. Non-toxic but highly reactive to body heat." The words were calm, measured—carefully chosen to be just believable enough.

CCTV cameras were located and dismantled. Anyone who had taken photos or videos found themselves approached by an agent with a friendly but firm request. "For security reasons, we'll need to confiscate that footage." Some resisted, but the mention of national security made most comply. A few stubborn individuals found their devices subtly tampered with—corrupted files, missing recordings, technology manipulated in ways beyond ordinary explanation.

Soon, the traces of the event were erased, leaving behind only the confusion of those who had witnessed it firsthand. The steam began to thin, revealing an amusement park returning to normalcy—or at least the illusion of it.

Arthav's family, too, found themselves caught in the current of dispersing spectators. His Nana, Richard, lingered longer than the rest, his stance firm despite the casual air he tried to maintain. Even in retirement, his years as a police commissioner hadn't faded from him.

He approached one of the agents, his voice steady but laced with curiosity. "That man… what exactly happened here?"

The agent, taller than Richard by a few inches, didn't flinch. "A classified incident, sir."

Richard narrowed his eyes. "I may be retired, but I know when I'm being brushed off. That man wasn't on fire—he was fire. That wasn't any chemical reaction."

The agent didn't argue, but he also didn't concede. Instead, he smiled—a polite, practiced expression. "With all due respect, Commissioner Carter, you understand the importance of keeping certain matters contained. The authorities have the situation under control. We appreciate your cooperation."

It wasn't outright dismissal, but it left no room for further questioning. A subtle shift of stance, a glance toward the thinning steam, and it was clear—the conversation was over.

Richard exhaled through his nose, nodding once before stepping away. Arthav caught the slight frustration in his expression, but his grandfather didn't push further. He had been in this game long enough to know when a door wasn't going to open.

Without much choice, they left with the rest of the crowd. The last thing Arthav saw before they exited the park was the final group of agents vanishing into the mist—taking their secrets with them.

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- Carter Residence, Chelsea -

- July 20, 1991 – Night -

The ride home had been quiet. None of them spoke much, the weight of the evening settling over them like an unspoken agreement. Even Amelia, usually the one to break silences, seemed lost in thought.

Once they were inside, the familiar comfort of home did little to ease the unease in Arthav's mind. The amusement park, the laughter, the rush of rides—it all felt distant now, buried beneath a flood of questions he had no answers to.

Who were those agents?

They weren't ordinary law enforcement. They had moved too precisely, too efficiently. The way they had known exactly what to do, how to contain the event, how to erase evidence—it all suggested something far beyond the reach of standard authorities.

A secret division? A government agency designed specifically to handle these mutations? If so, did that mean other countries had their own versions?

And more importantly… what about India?

The thought lingered. He knew these mutations were happening everywhere, and could be happening back home too. But if so, who was watching over it? Who was controlling it? And more importantly what about his own mutation? Were they also detected by similar authorities or not?

The answers remained elusive. And for now, there was nothing he could do.

Exhaustion finally caught up with him, pulling at his limbs, dulling the sharp edges of his thoughts. With a sigh, he let himself fall onto his bed, the events of the day replaying in his mind one last time before sleep claimed him.

For now, the questions would have to wait.

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- London ,UK -

- August 31, 1991 – Evening -

The weeks had slipped by, each one carrying a steady rhythm of normalcy, but Arthav's mind had never fully let go of the incident at Greenwood Amusement Park. The image of the burning man, the mysterious agents, the carefully erased traces—it lingered like a puzzle missing too many pieces.

He had gone out more, convincing his family to visit different places across the city, always keeping an eye out for something similar. But no more awakenings happened in front of him, no more glimpses of the strange powers hidden beneath the surface of everyday life. Instead, these outings became something else—something lighter. He found himself enjoying the time with his family, laughing at his Nana's dramatic complaints about overpriced coffee, watching his Nani crush everyone at boardwalk games, and listening to his mother tell stories about her childhood as they walked through different parts of London.

It was a distraction, yes, but it was also something he had missed.

Meanwhile, he had reached out to his father, Rahul, back in India, asking him to keep an eye out for similar incidents. His father had listened, though with the same wariness he always had when it came to things outside his understanding and the safety of his family. "If something like that happens here," he had said, "I'll definitely hear about it." And Arthav had to be satisfied with that—for now.

But his father had been busy. India had just launched its Liberalisation, Privatisation, and Globalisation (LPG) reforms in late July, and Rahul had been constantly traveling for meetings, dealing with the ripple effects of the economic changes. He hadn't been able to visit London yet, but he had promised to come before August ended so he could see Arthav off to Hogwarts.

That wasn't the only thing keeping Rahul occupied, though.

Months ago, Arthav had carefully nudged his father toward investing in certain companies—businesses that, in his past life, had thrived due to liberalization. He had framed it as intuition, a gift from his 'special eyes,' knowing that his father, despite his initial reluctance, respected his magical abilities. Rahul had eventually caved, putting in some investments cautiously at first.

Then, the profits had started rolling in.

Small at first, but steadily growing. What began as a test run soon became a calculated strategy. His father, ever the businessman, had doubled down, carefully managing the risks while expanding the investments. Arthav knew they were still in the early days, but the way things were going, his family's financial position was only going to strengthen in the coming years.

And now, September 1st was here.

His father had arrived in London the day before, on August 30th, as promised. The reunion had been warm, though there was always a certain tension between Rahul and Richard, his grandfather. They had never fully seen eye to eye—different backgrounds, different ways of looking at the world—but there was no outright hostility. It was just a quiet, lingering stiffness that neither acknowledged but both felt.

Still, nothing overshadowed the excitement building in Arthav's chest.

Tomorrow, he was finally going to Hogwarts.

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- King's Cross Station, London -

- September 1, 1991 – Morning -

The station was alive with the usual morning rush—commuters hurrying to their trains, the hum of conversation filling the air, luggage wheels clicking against the stone floors. But among the ordinary travelers, there was a different kind of movement—families with trunks and owls, groups of children clutching ticket stubs with nervous excitement.

Arthav walked between his parents, his trunk rolling smoothly behind him. His heart pounded—not with fear, but with anticipation.

Rahul glanced around, taking in the bustling station with the critical eye of a businessman. "So, this Platform 9¾," he said, lowering his voice, "we just walk into a wall?"

Emily chuckled. "More like through it."

He frowned. "And that doesn't cause accidents?"

"Not for us," she said simply.

Richard and Amelia had wanted to come too, but Arthav had convinced them otherwise, saying it was better to keep things simple. His Nani had made him promise to write, though, and his Nana had given him one last, firm pat on the shoulder before they left the house.

Now, standing at the edge of the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, the reality of what was about to happen fully settled in. He was going to Hogwarts. The place he had read about, studied for, imagined.

Emily gave him an encouraging nod. "It's easy. Just walk forward at a steady pace. Don't hesitate."

Rahul exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "This still feels ridiculous."

Arthav grinned. "You get used to it."

And with that, he stepped forward, pushing his trolley straight toward the solid-looking wall. The noise of the station faded for a second, like stepping through a curtain of silence—

Then, he was through.

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