Chapter 6: The Letter and the Choice

Years passed in the orphanage, and Percy grew into a sharp, observant boy. The whispers of the wizarding world had never left his mind, but he had little to go on. He continued to practice his abilities in secret, honing his control, pushing his limits without drawing attention to himself.

Then, on his eleventh birthday, everything changed.

A knock echoed through the quiet halls of the orphanage. The matron, a stern but kind woman named Ms. Hartford, walked to the door and opened it. A tall figure stood in the entrance, dressed in long, emerald-green robes. Her severe expression and sharp gaze took in the surroundings before settling on the matron.

"Good evening," the woman said crisply. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I am here for one of your children—Perseus Jackson."

The matron frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "Perseus? What is this about?"

McGonagall gave a small, knowing smile before producing a parchment envelope, sealed with red wax. "This is for him. It is time he learned the truth."

Ms. Hartford hesitated before nodding. "He's in the study room. I'll fetch him."

Percy, who had been eavesdropping from behind a corner, felt his heartbeat quicken. He took a deep breath and stepped forward before the matron could call for him.

"No need," he said, his voice steady. "I'm here."

McGonagall's gaze met his, and for a moment, Percy saw the same calculating assessment he had seen years ago in that park.

She held out the letter.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Jackson."

Percy took the letter from McGonagall's hand, his fingers tracing over the embossed Hogwarts crest. His heart pounded in his chest as he carefully broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment inside. His eyes scanned the words, confirming everything he had dared to hope.

He was a wizard.

Ms. Hartford watched the exchange with a wary expression. "Professor McGonagall, forgive me, but… what exactly does this mean for Percy?"

McGonagall turned her sharp gaze toward the matron. "It means, Ms. Hartford, that he is invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he will learn to harness his abilities. He belongs to our world."

Percy barely registered the rest of the conversation. His mind raced with possibilities, with the reality of what was happening. This was real. No more doubts, no more wondering. He had a place where he truly belonged.

"We have much to discuss, Mr. Jackson," McGonagall said, drawing his attention back to her. "If you would gather your things, I will take you to Diagon Alley to acquire your school supplies."

Percy blinked, then nodded. "Right. Give me a minute." He turned and dashed up the stairs to his small room. He didn't have much, just a few worn clothes and a book or two, but he shoved them into an old backpack before slinging it over his shoulder.

When he returned, McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Come along, then."

Percy followed her out the door, stepping into the unknown with determination in his heart. His new life was about to begin.

The journey to Diagon Alley was unlike anything Percy had ever experienced. Professor McGonagall led him to a small, tucked-away pub called the Leaky Cauldron. It was unassuming from the outside, just another dingy building on the crowded streets of London. But as soon as they stepped inside, Percy knew it was anything but ordinary.

Witches and wizards bustled about, chatting animatedly over frothy mugs of Butterbeer, and the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meat filled the air. Percy's eyes widened as he took in the sight of people dressed in long robes, some with peculiar hats, others with pets tucked under their arms—owls, cats, even a large toad resting on the counter.

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron," McGonagall said as they navigated through the pub. The bartender, a bald man with a kind smile, nodded at McGonagall as they passed.

"Good evening, Professor," he greeted. "New student, I presume?"

"Yes, Tom," McGonagall replied, glancing at Percy. "This is Mr. Jackson. He'll be starting at Hogwarts this year."

Tom gave Percy an appraising look and grinned. "First time in Diagon Alley, lad?"

Percy nodded, still taking in the magical atmosphere around him. "Yeah… this is incredible."

McGonagall led him to the back of the pub, where a brick wall stood seemingly unremarkable. She pulled out her wand and tapped a few bricks in a specific pattern. With a soft rumble, the wall began to shift, bricks folding away to reveal a passageway into what lay beyond.

Percy's breath caught in his throat as Diagon Alley unfolded before him. The street was bustling with energy, lined with colorful shops displaying everything from potion ingredients to enchanted brooms. Owls hooted from cages, cauldrons of every size sat stacked outside an apothecary, and towering over everything was the grand white building of Gringotts Bank.

"Stick close," McGonagall instructed, and Percy obeyed, unable to tear his eyes away from the wonders around him.

Their first stop was Gringotts, where McGonagall helped him exchange some of the money provided by the school for wizarding currency. Percy had to admit, the goblins running the place were intimidating, but the sight of the underground vaults filled with piles of gold was something he wouldn't forget anytime soon.

With his new pouch of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts jingling at his side, Percy followed McGonagall to gather the rest of his supplies. They visited Madam Malkin's for his school robes, where he was fitted alongside a pale, blond-haired boy who sneered at the common-looking robes Percy was handed.

"I suppose you're Muggle-born?" the boy asked condescendingly.

Percy frowned. "Not really."

The boy raised an eyebrow but didn't press further before sauntering off. Percy rolled his eyes, already knowing he wouldn't like that kid.

Next was Flourish and Blotts, where Percy picked up his textbooks, including A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration and Magical Drafts and Potions. He was particularly interested in The Standard Book of Spells—he had always wanted to learn how to cast spells properly.

At the apothecary, he stocked up on ingredients for Potions class, though he wasn't too thrilled about the pickled slug entrails. Then came his favorite stop—Ollivanders.

McGonagall led him into the narrow wand shop, where an old man with wild silver hair emerged from behind a stack of wand boxes.

"Ah, another new student," Ollivander murmured, his sharp eyes studying Percy. "Let's find you a wand, shall we?"

Percy spent the next several minutes trying out different wands, each one rejected with a flick or a burst of sparks. Finally, after what felt like a dozen attempts, Ollivander handed him a simple-looking wand made of deep, polished wood.

"Try this—12 inches, cypress wood, core of hippocampus hair," he said with a glint of curiosity in his eye. "A rare core, most unusual."

The moment Percy wrapped his fingers around the wand, a surge of warmth spread up his arm, and a cool breeze seemed to swirl around him. A faint glow pulsed from the wand's tip, and Ollivander's eyebrows lifted in interest.

"Fascinating," the wandmaker murmured. "That wand… it will serve you well. But remember, Mr. Jackson—the wand chooses the wizard."

Percy paid for the wand, still marveling at how natural it felt in his grip. He flexed his fingers, feeling the magic thrumming just beneath the surface.

As they left the shop, Percy turned to McGonagall, excitement coursing through him. "So… what's next?"

McGonagall gave him a rare smile. "Now, Mr. Jackson, you prepare for Hogwarts."

Percy couldn't help but grin. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.