In the days that followed, Arthur spent most of his time browsing the school materials.
Of all the subjects he found Transfiguration and Charms to be among the most confusing.
They were both in opposite extremes of a spectrum.
Transfiguration asked for precise calculations while Charms felt very ideal.
Arthur theorized that he was missing some basic explanations the authors of the textbook assumed everyone was already familiar with.
The other books held up very well though.
History of magic made for a great read.
Since Arthur was not from a wizarding family, he truly did not know how to cast spells in a safe and responsible manner.
He did not want to worry his mother after Professor McGonagall’s warnings about the dangers of misuse.
The fact that just mispronouncing the spells could alter their results drastically put a huge damper on his excitement.
To clarify, he would have, but he knew that a novice with a gun was much more likely your hurt themself than others.
He did not want to ‘shoot himself in the foot’, especially since he didn’t know where to find a magical hospital or if there even was one.
It was not all bad.
Arthur did manage to have some fun with his wand.
It was hard and took a lot of effort but he finally figured out how he did the honey smell trick in the wand shop.
Initially, he tried holding and waving his wand in random ways, which did not work at all.
He would have continued to try doing so in increasingly bizarre ways if he hadn’t tripped on the carpet and almost broke his neck.
That scared him more than he would like to admit.
It would make for a very bad joke, that if after all his caution in casting spells what finally finished the job was a slippery carpet.
After removing the physical aspect of wand wielding he tried the ideal one.
The textbooks did mention words like belief, imagination and willpower.
Of all the things he tried what ended up working was holding the wand and thinking that he and the wand belonged together, while remembering the initial reaction of the wand.
Arthur assumed that was it, because it worked and he did not want to mess with his own success.
Arthur was very excited to finally be able to do something magical in a reliable manner.
His parents were very impressed when he showed them what he could do.
Due to their encouragement, he would make every room smell like honey everyday he woke up.
It got old in about a week.
Everyone in the house avoid consuming anything remotely related to the smell of honey after that.
Arthur had never thought that he would ever get tired of magic.
Guess everyone learns something new everyday.
Arthur also liked to play with his owl, which he had named ‘Sir Newton’.
While ‘Merlin’ was right there for the taking, Arthur insisted it was much more of a ‘Sir’ and the physicist was just a given.
The bird was already trained to hunt for itself and deliver letters from the shop.
Arthur came to experience its expertise in both: the hunting in the form of dead rat blood all over his bedroom floor after which Helen scolded both of them and made HIM clean it up, and the letter delivery by passing notes to the kitchen about what he wanted for dinner after which Helen dragged him from bed and made him prepare dinner.
Arthur found what the owl liked pretty easily.
He would bundle it tightly in his grip and toss it high up into the air.
The owl seemed to truly enjoy gliding down aiming at his general area.
It never bothered to aim at Arthur.
Arthur assumed that it enjoyed stretching its wings but was too lazy to actually fly because it would always go right to sleep after every session.
It was pretty fun, almost like throwing a boomerang.
The only thing other thing he could try before school was using the cauldron to experience even a bit of magic.
He did that by trying to cook a batch of hotpot in his cauldron, emphasis on the trying part.
He had almost finished preparing all his ingredients and spices, through asking his dad to fetch some daily.
His mom found out, when he brought the cauldron to the kitchen.
He had not stopped to consider the fact that there was only one source of fire in the entire house.
Both Arthur and John were on kitchen duty that night, John apparently because ‘A father should really be more on top of things.’ For anyone wondering, they made hotpot because what else would they make?
…
The first of September arrived in the blink of an eye.
Helen checked Arthur’s suitcase again, making sure he had packed everything he needed—from nail clippers and ear picks to autumn and winter clothes.
Arthur was already ready to challenge anything the magical world threw at him, so much so that he had already packed the night before.
He was pretty sure that he had packed everything right, but he would never tell a mother when not to worry.
That job was for braver and stupider men, like his dad who was trying to cover a bruise on his arm, courtesy of a truly devastating pinch.
It was after and only after Helen was satisfied that they all got on a bus and rode it to King’s Cross Station.
Arthur had not seen fit to question the location given to him.
He assumed that Professor McGonagall, with how competent she looked, would have explained everything.
That belief lasted till they got to the station, because as far as he could see there was no Platform 9¾.
They searched the entire station and found no labels pointing to it.
Just when Arthur was starting to worry that it was all a massive, elaborate prank he saw a large number of redheads going through a wall.
Thinking it was somewhat like the wall at the Diagon Alley he dragged his parents to it.
Following the example of the family he had just seen he told his parents to hold onto him tightly and started pushing the cart containing his suitcase and the owl cage directly towards it.
They jogged slightly and dashed straight at the wall.
Arthur was almost worried that they would crash and hurt themselves when the wall gave in.
One moment they dove into the wall. the next they were in front of a large train.
It was a huge, deep red train, its tracks winding into the distance with no end in sight, its sign reading: Hogwarts Express.
Arthur had to admit- wizards knew how to do secret walls.
Both of his experiences with magical walls had presented him with an exciting experience.
The platform was filled with parents saying their last goodbyes to their children so Arthur assumed that his journey with is parents ended here.
Turning around he hugged both his parents and said his goodbyes.
After making a promise to send letters as much as possible he was finally ready to board the train.
He didn’t look back, he knew he would cry if he did.
…
Arthur boarded the train with as much enthusiasm as he could muster and was immediately stumped by the fact that his ticket did not mention his seat number.
He stood in the middle of the walkway and stared at the children going about their way.
He was not sure whether this problem was just that rampant in the past or it was just a weird magical world thing.
Catching sight of some redheads walk straight into an empty cabin and shut the door behind them, he followed their example and looked at the nearest open cabin he could find.
They had not yet steered him wrong before.
As someone wise probably said ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ He peeked into the cabin to find a boy already sitting there looking out the window.
The open door must have been an invitation.
The commotion Arthur made caused the boy to look at him.
Arthur was very surprised that he had found a familiar face.
On second thought, this world was based on fiction.
“Hello!” said the boy, “Are you a first year?”
As polite as the boy was Arthur couldn’t ignore any possibility of a crossover.
Trying to test the boy he asked, “You a vampire?”
The boy appeared slightly taken aback by the line of questioning but still politely shook his head and answered, “No, I’m just naturally pale.”
Nodding Arthur asked his second question, “Do you like fighting crime?”
“When I feel like it.”
That was good enough for Arthur who extended his hand, “I’m Arthur Smith. First Year.”
“Cedric Diggory. I’m a first year too.” said the boy shaking the hand.
“This is Sir Newton.”
“Sir Isaac Newton?”
“Sir Newton. Isaac would be too much.”
The train started moving as they made light conversation.