Chapter Eight – Ghosts in the Wires

A week had passed since Harry visited Jonathan's house, and Jonathan had spent every spare moment analyzing the surveillance feeds he'd quietly tapped into.

While most kids his age were more concerned with coloring books or memorizing nursery rhymes, Jonathan was focused on London's busiest streets, searching for traces of magic with the keen eye of a digital detective.

He wasn't just watching casually. He'd hacked into traffic cams, storefront security systems, and government cameras with a combination of clever scripting and his slowly-growing magical intuition. His main targets were Charing Cross Road, Privet Drive, a few odd corners of central London, and a particularly busy zone near Whitehall.

The footage was neatly sorted and categorized in his mind palace, a magical space modeled after a cybersecurity command center. Floating runes shaped like code danced in his mental interface, filtering anomalies for manual review.

He leaned forward now, eyes locked on a particular clip from Charing Cross.

At first glance, it looked like an ordinary day: tourists bustling, taxis honking, pigeons doing their usual strut. But at timestamp 04:37:13, something flickered into view at the edge of the screen—a purple double-decker bus that hadn't been there a second before.

It shimmered, appeared with no transition, and then vanished just as suddenly.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"The Knight Bus," he muttered. "So you're real."

He logged it mentally and turned to the next feed—this time from a shadowy alley he'd noticed on a side street. Narrow, dark, and completely unlisted on digital maps. That alone made it suspicious.

But what made him pause was the man who stepped out of it: a hunched figure in layered clothing, including wizarding robes and, of all things, a bright Hawaiian shirt. Tucked behind his ear was what looked unmistakably like a wand.

Jonathan smirked.

"That's got to be the most wizard thing I've ever seen."

He turned his attention to the Leaky Cauldron—or rather, where it should have been. But no matter how many angles he reviewed, no matter what timestamp or camera lens he used, there was nothing but a stretch of forgettable brick wall.

He couldn't even focus on it. His eyes just… slid past.

"So that's how they hide it," he whispered. "Magical perception filters. Not just invisibility—subtle misdirection. Makes you ignore it without even realizing you're doing it."

It was clever. Frustrating, but clever.

Next, he checked the footage from the Dursleys' house. Mostly dull. Vernon bellowing, Dudley whining, Petunia fussing with the garden.

But then, as Harry crouched in the flowerbed pulling weeds, something small caught his eye. A garden gnome, made of glass, shifted on its own. Not a gust of wind, not a bump—it moved, visibly, on its own. Harry didn't notice, but Jonathan did.

A few clips later, he watched Harry accidentally cut through a bed of lilies. When he returned to that section of footage an hour later, fast-forwarding through the timeline, he saw them bloom again—petals reassembling with an eerie elegance.

"Lilies," he murmured. "Petunia planted lilies?"

That struck him as odd. Petunia had done everything she could to erase her sister's memory. But lilies were Lily Potter's namesake flower.

"It's almost like she did it on purpose," he said softly. "She'd never admit it. But maybe... she hasn't forgotten."

Then came the footage from Whitehall.

A man in a long trench coat approached a red telephone booth, carrying a suitcase. He stepped inside. The light inside flickered.

And then a completely different man stepped out—same trench coat, same suitcase, but a younger face, cleaner, faster stride.

Jonathan's heart raced.

"So that's where the Ministry is," he whispered. "A magical phone booth. Classic."

He leaned back in his chair and exhaled, eyes flickering over the mental notes he'd compiled.

There was magic all around them. Hidden, well-protected, but not impossible to find. He had only just begun, and already the edges of the magical world were showing themselves.

Later that morning, he joined the school crowd, slinging on his bag with practiced ease. As he approached the school gate, he saw Harry pacing, clearly agitated. The moment he spotted Jonathan, he ran over with wide eyes.

"John! You won't believe what happened!"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, already amused.

"What? Did Dudley spontaneously combust?"

Harry laughed but shook his head.

"No—listen. After you left yesterday, Dudley and his goons cornered me behind the school. I thought they were going to hit me. I was terrified, and then—suddenly—I was on the roof!"

Jonathan stopped walking. "Wait, what? The roof?"

Harry nodded furiously. "I didn't climb or anything. One second I was there, the next second I was just—up. On top of the school. No one else could see how I got there."

Jonathan stared at him, thoughtful.

'That's textbook accidental magic under stress,' he thought.

Out loud, he said, "That's… definitely not normal. But I don't think it's bad."

"You don't think I'm a freak?" Harry asked quietly.

Jonathan's response was immediate.

"Of course not. I think you're like me."

Harry tilted his head. "Like you?"

They sat together later during break, under the usual tree at the edge of the field. Jonathan hesitated for a moment, but finally decided Harry deserved the truth. If they were both magical, they'd need each other.

"I've had weird things happen too," he said. "Last week, I was in the attic. It was dark, and I couldn't find the old TV. I got frustrated and waved my hand—and it lit up. Like a torch. From my hand, Harry."

Harry's jaw dropped. "That's amazing!"

Jonathan nodded, voice lowering. "I think we might have powers. Like actual magic. Real stuff. And I think we need to figure it out before it starts happening when we can't control it."

Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "So… we're wizards?"

"Feels that way," Jonathan said with a grin. "Maybe not yet. But we're getting there."

Harry smiled slowly. "What do we do?"

Jonathan grinned wider. "We learn. We test. We experiment. And we stick together."

Harry nodded, excitement twinkling in his eyes. "Alright. Let's figure out what we can do."