Snow never followed Aditya home.
Winter in India was quieter, warmer, filled with sunlight instead of frost. When he stepped off the portkey, the air felt heavier—not with magic, but with memory.
The system noticed immediately.
[Environmental Shift Detected]
High-Magic Density: Reduced
Passive Training Efficiency: Lowered
Recommendation: Mental Rest
For once, Aditya accepted it.His parents' home was simple. No enchanted staircases. No whispering portraits. Just shelves of old books, the smell of spices, and the steady comfort of routine. His mother, Ananya, fussed over him within minutes of arrival.
"You're thinner," she said, already setting food on the table.
"I'm not," Aditya replied, but sat anyway.
His father, Edmund, watched from the doorway, eyes sharp but warm.That evening, as rain tapped softly against the windows, the story came—unprompted.
"It was during the first war," Edmund said quietly. "I was an Auror then. Overconfident. Thought preparation was enough."
Ananya's fingers tightened around her teacup.
"There was an ambush," Edmund continued. "Dark curses. I took one meant for another. Magic kept me alive—but barely."
He looked at his hands. "I was smuggled out of Britain. Too many enemies. Too weak to fight."
"I found him unconscious outside my clinic," Ananya said, her voice calm but distant. "He spoke nonsense about magic. I ignored that and treated the wounds I could see."
Recovery took months.
Edmund spoke of helplessness, of relying on someone who didn't believe in his world. Ananya spoke of frustration—scars that didn't behave like normal injuries, pain that medicine couldn't explain.
Somewhere between arguments and shared exhaustion, affection grew.
"When I healed," Edmund said softly, "I was meant to return to the war."
He didn't.
"I chose life," Ananya said simply.
Aditya understood more than either of them realized.
A few days later, his mother took him to her old neighborhood.
That was where he met Padma and Parvati Patil.
They were visiting relatives, much like him—familiar faces in a place that felt like home rather than history. The recognition was immediate, unspoken.
"You go to Hogwarts too?" Parvati asked, eyes bright.
Ravenclaw blue edged Padma's posture, observant and calm. "Different houses?"
Aditya nodded. "Yes."
They talked—about magic, about culture, about the strange distance between where they lived and where they belonged. It wasn't dramatic. It didn't need to be.
It felt… easy.
When they parted, Parvati smiled. "See you next year."
Aditya watched them leave, something quiet settling into place.
Back at Hogwarts, winter crept into the stones once more.
Classes resumed, steady and demanding. Defense Against the Dark Arts remained theoretical that year—no Dementors, no dramatics. But Aditya found himself practicing control rather than power.
One night, alone, he raised his wand.
Not for happiness.
For balance.Silver mist flickered—thin, unstable, but real.
[New Spell Interaction: Patronus Charm — Preliminary Response]
Form: Undefined
Stability: Low
The mist vanished seconds later.
Aditya exhaled.
That was enough.
The system updated quietly
Milestone Achieved: Emotional Foundation Established]
Training Slots Increased: 3 Available
Roots did not grow quickly.
But once they took hold, they did not break.