HP: The Son of Tom

During the month leading up to September, Aurelian divided his time with surgical precision between two worlds: the rigid and routine San Emerico Orphanage and Gaunt Manor, a sanctuary hidden from the world's gaze that was slowly becoming a physical reflection of his magic.

At the orphanage, he maintained his usual facade: reserved, polite, distant. Nothing in his behavior betrayed the wizard in training that he really was. He responded politely, lost himself in his books, and returned punctually every time he left on the pretext of visiting the public library. No one suspected the secret he harbored.

The Gaunt Mansion was the opposite of the oppressive routine of the orphanage. It stood elegantly atop a hill surrounded by fog, hidden among twisted trees, its entrance flanked by two imposing statues of stone basilisks, guardians who welcomed visitors with silent majesty. Its exterior, although restored, retained an ancestral air. Dark tiles, small towers, and a reinforced magical fence surrounding the property made even the most daring wizards hesitate before approaching.

But the truly extraordinary part was inside.

The main halls, now renovated, had been decorated to Aurelian's taste: black and gold tapestries, endless shelves filled day by day with antique books that he selected with meticulous precision. Manuscripts on forgotten magic, writings on alchemy, lost rituals, grimoires of invocation, and even tomes on non-European magical cultures adorned the walls. Many of them were difficult to obtain, but Kravix took care of finding them... for the right price. Floating lamps gave off a soft light, and enchanted carpets muffled footsteps. In the dining room, a long oak table was crowned by a chandelier that emitted a warm blue light. In the personal library he was organizing himself, the books floated from shelf to shelf according to his preferred magical order: by subject, usefulness, and danger.

In his daily life, Aurelian followed a meticulously established routine. He ate breakfast early in a kitchen renovated by magic. Then he spent the first hours of the morning reading or studying complex texts, taking notes, correcting theories. In the afternoons, he walked the corridors practicing basic spells, illusions, and slight adaptations of Muggle ideas that he tried to turn into functional magic spells.

However, the core of his training was underground.

The underground mourning room, reinforced with containment runes and magical insulation, was his combat sanctuary. There, Aurelian practiced his original spells, perfected advanced shields, and trained with physical and magical intensity. The floor was marked by energy impacts. The walls, protected by regenerative barriers, bore witness to the growth of a self-taught wizard with unusual talent. It was there that his "Infinity" was finally consolidated, now behaving like a real barrier that slowed down or even completely stopped any object or spell that tried to touch it. A defense as imposing as it was elegant, as magical as it was intuitive.

In addition to training, Aurelian devoted time to the aesthetics and functionality of the mansion. He enchanted the portraits, designed the symbols that would decorate his personal spaces, and even began to draw a hidden map of the place for secret magical uses. Everything was being adapted not only as a home, but as the future headquarters of something much bigger.

When he needed a break, he would return briefly to Diagon Alley, buy an ice cream, or sit and watch the wizards go about their business with a serene expression. He enjoyed the simple moments, not because they distracted him from his mission, but because they reminded him of his humanity, that delicate balance he had promised more than once never to break.

That's how the last month before Hogwarts passed. Between spells, books, calculations, and silence... Aurelian Gaunt awaited his first step into a world that would soon know his name.

September 1 dawned gray, with a sky covered in clouds that threatened lazy rain. Aurelian woke up before the old pendulum clock in the orphanage hall chimed. He dressed quietly, without haste or nostalgia, and prepared his magically expanded trunk, the same one Dumbledore had given him, with all his school supplies, new robes, books, pens, and parchments.

He also packed a couple of extra books: one on magical history and another on intermediate spells that he had begun to annotate with his own corrections. When he closed the trunk with a soft click, he allowed himself one last look at the room he had occupied for years. It was simple. White walls, a hard bed, a small table, and a window that barely opened. A space he had never felt was his... but which, somehow, had shaped his discipline and patience.

When he went down to the dining room, some of the caregivers were already serving breakfast. They offered him a condescending smile and kind words that didn't feel entirely sincere. He returned a nod.

"Take care, Aurelian," said one of them. "Don't forget us when you become famous."

He gave an enigmatic smile, neither cold nor warm, and walked out the front door carrying his trunk with the ease of someone who knows that his destiny lies beyond those walls.

He walked to the nearest bus stop, where he waited among sleepy old people, mothers with impatient children, and yawning workers. The bus arrived on time. Aurelian got on, paid for his ticket in silence, and settled down by the window, with the trunk between his legs.

The journey to King's Cross station was long, noisy, and mundane. Just the way he liked it. It reminded him that, although his goals were grand, his journey had to start from the bottom among ordinary people, without privileges.

It was during that journey, with the engine rattling and automated announcements echoing every few minutes, that Aurelian made a silent but firm decision:

He would not run. He would not investigate. He would not lead. Not yet.

His first year at Hogwarts would be different. For once, he would live like a child his age. He would laugh when he wanted to, let himself be surprised by everyday things, answer questions in class as if he didn't know the answers in advance. He wanted to know what life was like without strategy, without calculation, without constant pressure. Not because he wanted to forget who he was... but because he knew that one day he would not be able to afford to live like that again.

When the bus stopped in front of King's Cross, Aurelian calmly got off. The world did not know him yet, and for now, that was how it should be.

He adjusted his coat, grabbed the handle of his trunk, and disappeared into the crowd of Muggles as naturally as a cat slips into the shadows. He smiled, as if sharing a secret that only he knew.

The hustle and bustle at King's Cross station was deafening. Aurelian, accustomed to the calculated silence of Gaunt Manor and the orderly murmur of the orphanage, immersed himself in the human mass with a neutral expression, as if everything around him were part of a scene he had already studied.

Most people did not notice the dark-haired boy with the deep gaze who was dragging a sturdy trunk with surprising ease. He avoided drawing attention to himself, but his eyes moved constantly, observing. Entire families said goodbye to their children, some crying, others laughing nervously. Aurelian walked straight to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, looked both ways, sighed softly... and crossed it.

As he crossed, a warm blast greeted him: steam from the train, youthful voices, the smell of sweets, a sky clearer than that of the city. Platform 9¾ was everything he had imagined in his readings and more. The Hogwarts Express, imposing and bright red, emitted a long whistle as if it too were celebrating the arrival of a new school year.

Aurelian didn't stop to look around too much. He made his way naturally through groups of students and parents. A couple of small children in knitted hats were arguing about the size of their owls. A tall girl, with a proud expression and a perfectly ironed robe, was already arranging her luggage with the help of a house elf.

When he boarded the train, a conductor greeted him distractedly, without paying much attention to him. Aurelian walked down the aisles looking for an empty compartment. It wasn't that he wanted to avoid the others, he just wanted to observe first.

The interior of the train smelled of leather, chocolate, and a hint of dampness. The wood creaked under his feet as the voices grew fainter. He passed by compartments that were full, others that were half-occupied, until he found an empty one at the back of the car. He opened it, stepped inside, and closed the door gently.

He placed his trunk in the luggage rack and sat down by the window. For a moment, he let his body relax. His heart was beating fast, not from nerves... but from anticipation.

He looked through the glass as steam began to rise around the train.

"Hogwarts," he thought, "the stage where it all will begin."

But for now, for a while, Aurelian Gaunt would just be another student.

The train whistle blew loudly and long, making the windows rattle. Aurelian watched with a neutral expression as the platform receded, shrouded in steam and murmurs. The Hogwarts Express had departed, marking the beginning of a new life.

He had already settled into his seat, alone, watching the landscape begin to unfold beyond the window, when he heard a knock on the compartment door.

"May I come in?" asked a voice on the other side.

Aurelian looked up. He opened the door with a slight spell without a wand, discreetly, as if it had moved by accident. On the other side was a boy with light brown hair, friendly features, and a sincere gleam in his eyes. He was dressed in simple robes, but the first-year label was visible on his trunk.

"My name is Cedric Diggory" he introduced himself with a smile. "I'm a first-year. All the compartments are full or too noisy, and I saw that this one was free. May I sit down?"

Aurelian nodded politely.

"Sure. I'm Aurelian."

Cedric put down his trunk and sat down across from him.

"Are you nervous?" he asked curiously.

"A little," Aurelian replied, carefully measuring his tone. "But also excited."

Cedric nodded vigorously.

"Me too! I wonder which house I'll be sorted into. My dad was a Hufflepuff, but he told me that the important thing is to enjoy yourself and learn, not which house you're in."

Aurelian watched silently for a second. There was something comforting about Cedric's honesty. Rarely in his short but intense life had he met someone so transparent.

"We'll see what the Sorting Hat decides," he said to himself in a whisper with a small smile.

For the rest of the journey, they talked casually. Cedric shared his enthusiasm for Hogwarts, his doubts, his fascination with flying lessons and duels. Aurelian, on the other hand, measured every word, but silently appreciated the company. It was nice to feel like a child for a few moments.

The train continued its journey, winding its way through meadows and hills, while two future students unknowingly forged the first bond of a friendship yet to be defined.