The lottery experiment was, by all accounts, a resounding success. Albert hadn't cracked the jackpot—that would have drawn the kind of attention he was desperately trying to avoid—but a few hundred pounds was the perfect "lucky break" to keep his family happy without triggering any Ministry red flags. The celebratory dinner for Nia's acceptance into Casterton Middle School was the perfect cover, though Daisy's gaze toward him had become increasingly suspicious, as if she were trying to figure out if her son had developed a supernatural gambling addiction.
Herbert had been visibly let down that the "luck" hadn't extended to a few million, but he was a pragmatic man who valued his legal career far too much to push his luck. For the rest of the summer, the house returned to a comfortable, predictable rhythm. Albert filled his days with holiday homework and the quiet, incremental grind of leveling up his skills.
On the final night of August, as he was packing his trunk, the doorbell rang. Nia stood there, clutching a bag of sweets. She didn't say much at first, just set the candy near his suitcase and watched him with that quiet, pensive look siblings get when they realize the house is about to get a lot emptier.
"You're going to be at Casterton soon," Albert said, not looking up from his trunk. "Make sure you surround yourself with people who aren't idiots. And for heaven's sake, don't let anyone walk all over you."
"I took that karate class, remember?" Nia replied, her tone a mix of pride and defiance.
"Learning to throw a punch isn't an invitation to start a fight," Albert shot back, gently nudging Tom—who was attempting to sharpen his claws on his suitcase—out of the way. "Girls shouldn't be magnets for chaos. People are a lot more inclined to be rational when they realize you're capable of breaking their nose, but that's a last resort, not a hobby."
Nia frowned. "You learned karate, too. And I recall you ending up in the principal's office for knocking out half the rugby team in middle school."
"Exactly," Albert said, popping a sweet into his mouth and grinning. "Because once they were on the floor, they were much more interested in talking about their feelings and reaching a calm, rational settlement. Never underestimate the persuasive power of a well-placed kick."
He turned serious then, his voice dropping. "Listen, Nia. I mean it. Keep the things I've given you hidden. Most people are terrified of anything they can't explain, and fear makes them do incredibly stupid, irrational things. Protect yourself first."
Nia rolled her eyes, though she looked touched. "You nag worse than Mum."
"Someone has to." Albert reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside rested a ruby pendant, shaped like a phoenix mid-flight. It was an amulet he'd spent the better part of the week crafting with Nicolas Flamel's guidance. The garnet was a gift from Nicolas himself, and the enchantments they'd layered into the metal were designed to be both subtle and remarkably potent.
Nia gasped as she held it up. "Is this... did you make this?"
"I did. And it's not just jewelry. Think of it as a very sophisticated, very durable shield. The old ones I gave you have served their purpose, but this one is meant to last."
Nia ran her fingers over the intricate carving of the phoenix. It was elegant, almost pulsing with a warmth that felt like a low, steady heartbeat against her skin. She didn't wait for another word, instead bolting downstairs to show Daisy, leaving Albert to finish his packing in the quiet of his room.
The next morning came far too early. Getting Tom into his travel cage was a tactical operation that required more patience than Albert currently possessed. The fat cat clearly remembered every previous trip and was determined to make his protest known, his yowls echoing through the house like a siren.
By ten o'clock, the Anderson family was standing on the platform at King's Cross. The station was already beginning to fill with the usual frantic energy of families saying their goodbyes.
"Don't you dare go silent on me," Nia said, throwing her arms around Albert for a fierce hug. "Text me, or I'm sending Mum to Hogwarts to hunt you down."
"Once you make your own group of friends, you'll forget all about your boring older brother," Albert teased.
"I will not!" she protested, her face turning a defiant shade of pink.
Herbert and Daisy hugged him next, both looking a bit misty-eyed. Daisy kissed his forehead—a gesture that had always made him feel like he was five again—before they finally let him go.
Albert pushed his trunk through the barrier, stepping onto Platform 9 ¾. It was still early enough that the platform was shrouded in a thin, ethereal mist. The scarlet steam engine was already hissing, venting plumes of white smoke that swirled into the vaulted ceiling. He found an empty compartment in the middle of the train, shoved his trunk onto the rack, and released Tom from his cage.
The cat immediately began to patrol the seat, sniffing the upholstery with a skeptical look on his face, as if he expected a sudden ambush. In the corner, Sheila the owl blinked at him from her own cage, her head turning slowly as she tracked the fat cat's every move.
Tom, sensing the attention, let out a soft, mocking meow. He hopped onto the table and began to pace, deliberately ignoring the owl.
"Don't start," Albert warned, settling into his seat with a book.
But Tom was feeling particularly bold today. He crept closer to Sheila's cage, tapping a paw against the wire as if to say, Look at you, locked up.
Sheila ruffled her feathers, her sharp eyes narrowing. She had a reputation for being remarkably intelligent, and she clearly didn't appreciate the cat's sudden ego trip.
Albert sighed, turning a page. "Tom, leave her alone. She's had a long morning, and she doesn't like being teased by a cat who can barely climb a scratching post."
Tom ignored him, leaning in to deliver one more defiant swat at the cage.
That was the fatal error.
Whether it was a sudden realization of her own physical capabilities or just a surge of righteous indignation, Sheila acted. With a precision that would have made a predator proud, she hooked her beak through the latch of the cage, flicked it upward with a sharp clack, and burst through the door before the metal had even finished vibrating.
Tom's eyes widened, his ears pinning back in genuine shock. He'd expected the cat-and-bird power dynamic to remain unchanged, but Sheila had rewritten the rules in a heartbeat.
Before the cat could even scramble backward, Sheila swooped down, a blur of white feathers and sharp talons. She landed a decisive, sharp peck right on the top of Tom's ginger head, followed by a flurry of wings that sent the cat spiraling off the table in a heap of tangled limbs and offended yowls.
The compartment instantly descended into absolute pandemonium. Tom was careening off the walls, scrambling for purchase on the fabric seats, while Sheila circled the ceiling, screeching a victory war cry. Books were flying, the tea thermos was knocked over, and Albert found himself ducking to avoid a wayward owl talon.
"Alright, enough!" Albert shouted, though he was already laughing despite himself. He cast a quick Immobulus, locking the chaos in place.
Tom froze in mid-air, a look of pure, unadulterated betrayal on his face. Sheila hung suspended near the luggage rack, her wings flared in a regal, triumphant pose.