Chapter 2 New start

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Jonathan Blackwood leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the Hogwarts Express, watching London blur into a smudge of gray and green. His new parents (and boy, wasn't that a weird thought) had vanished from sight minutes ago, but he kept staring, as if the city might suddenly spit out his old life – his cramped apartment, his microwave burritos, his half-finished magical experiments.

"This is nuts," he muttered, his high-pitched voice still catching him off-guard. "One minute I'm trying to out-wizard Doctor Strange, the next I'm in Harry Freakin' Potter."

A disgruntled "meow" came from the carrier at his feet. Jonathan looked down to see Mr. Whiskers, his ginger furball of a cat, glaring at him through the grate. "Oh, don't give me that look," Jonathan said, opening the carrier. "At least you get to keep your body. I've gone from struggling magician to boy wizard poster child."

Mr. Whiskers shot out of the carrier, stretched luxuriously, then hopped onto the seat, purring as he kneaded the plush fabric. "Sure, make yourself comfy," Jonathan grumbled, but he was smiling. Mr. Whiskers was the one familiar thing in this topsy-turvy situation.

He glanced around the compartment. It was nicer than his whole apartment had been, with polished wood paneling, plush seats, and a rack overhead that he'd stuffed with his trunk. His wand (not that you are thinking one, real-life magic wand!) was in his pocket, 10 inches of ash and phoenix feather that tingled pleasantly in his hand.

"Okay, Mr. Whiskers, let's review," Jonathan said, switching into what he liked to call 'nerd analysis mode.' "We're on the Hogwarts Express. That means other characters is probably on this train right now." He trailed off, his 11-year-old brain struggling to contain his 18-year-old excitement.

He took a deep breath. "But they're not characters anymore, they're real people. Kids, like me. Well, like this body. Man, puberty twice? That's just cruel." Mr. Whiskers meowed, which Jonathan chose to interpret as sympathy rather than mockery.

A commotion in the corridor interrupted his thoughts. He heard snippets of conversation: "Have you seen...?" "...a toad..." "Oh, Neville..." Jonathan perked up. He knew this part!

The compartment door slid open, revealing a round-faced boy with a worried expression. "Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad? Only I've lost mine. He keeps getting away from me."

"You're Neville, right?" Jonathan said, then mentally kicked himself. 'He doesn't know you know him, genius!' But Neville just nodded miserably. "I'm Jonathan. Jonathan Blackwood. And no, sorry, I haven't seen any toads. Just my cat, Mr. Whiskers."

Mr. Whiskers, upon hearing his name, looked up at Neville and gave a lazy meow. Neville managed a weak smile. "Thanks anyway. I'm Neville Longbottom. I don't suppose... you know any spells to find lost pets?"

Jonathan's heart sank. He knew a dozen locator spells, but they were all way beyond first-year level. "Sorry, Neville. I'm still learning. But hey, this is a magic train, right? I bet your toad can't have gotten too far."

Neville nodded, looking slightly less miserable. "Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Jonathan. See you at Hogwarts!" He left, continuing his search down the train.

"Poor Neville," Jonathan sighed. "I wish I could've... wait a minute!" He sat up straight, nearly dislodging Mr. Whiskers. "I might not know any spells, but I remember the books. Trevor's going to show up..." He trailed off, grinning. Sometimes being a Harry Potter books superfan had its perks.

Afew hours and several games of solitaire later (turns out Exploding Snap was a bit too explosive for Mr. Whiskers' liking), there was another knock at the door. This time, a girl with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth poked her head in.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," she said in a bossy sort of voice.

"I heard someone mention a Hermione helping look for a toad. I'm Jonathan Blackwood."

Hermione beamed. "Yes, that's me! Are you a first-year too? Have you tried any spells yet? I've tried a few simple ones just for practice and it's all worked for me."

"I, uh, turned a matchstick silver," Jonathan said, which was true. His mom (still weird) had been so proud. "But it didn't quite turn into a needle."

"Oh, partial transfiguration is still impressive for a first attempt!" Hermione said enthusiastically. "I've read all about it in 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.' Have you read your textbooks yet? I've learned all of ours by heart, of course."

Jonathan blinked. He'd forgotten how... intense Hermione was at this age. "I've skimmed them," he said honestly. His 22-year-old brain had retained a lot from his Potter binge-reads. "They're fascinating, aren't they? Especially the parts about how different types of magic interact."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! Like how Potions and Herbology are so interconnected. And did you read about how the phases of the moon can affect certain charms? It's all so complex and wonderful!"

"Yeah, it's like a big magical jigsaw puzzle," Jonathan said, warming to the conversation. He'd always been a nerd; now he was just a nerd in training pants. "And we're just starting to see the picture."

They chatted for a while about their favorite parts of the textbooks. Jonathan was careful not to sound too knowledgeable - he was supposed to be eleven, after all - but it was refreshing to discuss magic with someone who shared his enthusiasm.

Suddenly, Hermione jumped up. "Oh! I've got to get back to helping Neville. But it was lovely meeting you, Jonathan. I do hope we're in the same house!"

"You too, Hermione," Jonathan said, smiling. After she left, he turned to Mr. Whiskers. "Making friends already. Who says I don't have game?" Mr. Whiskers yawned and started cleaning his paws, unimpressed.

A while later, the door slid open again. This time, it was a young boy with messy black hair, startling green eyes behind round glasses, and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. Jonathan's heart did a little jig. Harry freaking Potter.

"Um, hi," Harry said tentatively. "Is it okay if we sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"Yeah, totally!" Jonathan said, then cringed internally. 'Totally?' He sounded like a surfer, not a wizard. "I mean, yes, please come in."

Harry smiled gratefully and stepped in, followed by a tall, gangly boy with flaming red hair, freckles, and a smudge of dirt on his nose. Ron Weasley, in the flesh. They settled in, Harry next to Jonathan, Ron across from them.

"I'm Jonathan Blackwood," Jonathan said, trying to sound friendly but not overeager. These weren't just characters anymore; they were kids, like him (sort of), probably just as nervous and excited as he was pretending to be.

"I'm Harry," said Harry. "Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry."

"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," the redhead added, eyeing Jonathan curiously. Then his stomach gave an impressive growl. "Er, sorry. Mum packed lunch, but it's all corned beef. I hate corned beef."

"Not a fan either," Jonathan commiserated. "Too salty. But, you know, food always tastes better when you're on an adventure, right?"

Ron perked up at that. "Yeah? You reckon Hogwarts is going to be an adventure?"

"Has to be," Jonathan said, grinning. "I mean, it's a castle full of magic. Anything could happen!"

Harry, who'd been quiet, spoke up. "I hope it's good things. I've had enough bad adventures to last a lifetime." He said it lightly, but Jonathan saw a flicker of something older, sadder in those green eyes.

"Hey," Jonathan said softly, "whatever happened before, it's a new start now. And you've got friends." He gestured to include Ron and, after a moment's hesitation, himself. Ron nodded vigorously in agreement.