September 1st dawned crisp and clear, the promise of a new adventure hanging in the air. Christopher Sterling stood on Platform 9 , the steam from the Hogwarts Express swirling around him like a magical mist. King's Cross Station bustled with activity, but the platform itself was a world apart, filled with witches and wizards bidding farewell to their families.
Christopher, dressed in a tailored black coat with silver accents over his dark jeans and boots, looked every bit the young warrior ready to embark on his journey. His two wands were concealed in custom-made holsters strapped to his thighs, easily accessible in case of trouble. The mithril blades, in their crisscrossed scabbards, rested comfortably against his back, the hilts gleaming in the morning light. He carried himself with an air of quiet confidence, his green eyes scanning the crowd.
Eleanor fussed over him, adjusting his collar and smoothing down his hair. "Now, Christopher, you be careful," she said, her voice laced with concern. "And write to us every week, alright?"
Julian clapped him on the shoulder. "Make us proud, son. Show them what a Sterling—and a Slytherin—is capable of."
Christopher smiled, touched by their unwavering support. "I will," he promised. He hugged them both tightly, then turned toward the Hogwarts Express, his heart pounding with anticipation.
As he walked along the platform, he noticed the mix of students—some excited and eager, others nervous and apprehensive. Many stared at him, drawn to his unusual attire and confident demeanor. He ignored them, focusing instead on finding a compartment.
He finally settled on a compartment near the back of the train. It was mostly empty, save for a lone figure sitting by the window. As Christopher got closer, he recognized Harry Potter.
Harry looked up, his green eyes widening in surprise. "Christopher!" he exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Christopher grinned and slid into the seat opposite him. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said. "Besides, I figured I'd keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived."
Harry chuckled. "I appreciate that," he said. "It's been pretty crazy since the Leaky Cauldron. Everyone wants to talk to me."
"I can imagine," Christopher said sympathetically. "Well, consider this a safe haven. No autographs allowed."
Just then, the compartment door slid open, and a bushy-haired girl with buck teeth peered inside. "Excuse me," she said. "Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost his."
Christopher raised an eyebrow, amused. "Can't say that I have," he said. "But good luck with your search."
The girl nodded and scurried off, continuing her quest for the missing amphibian.
"That was Hermione Granger," Harry said. "She's really smart. Reads all the textbooks before term starts."
Christopher nodded. "Sounds like my kind of student." He paused, then said, "So, Harry, what house do you think you'll be in?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Hagrid said there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. I just hope I don't end up in Slytherin. Everyone says they're all dark wizards."
Christopher frowned. "That's not true," he said. "Slytherin has produced some great wizards. It's about ambition, resourcefulness, and cunning. Not evil."
Harry looked at him skeptically. "But… Voldemort was in Slytherin."
Christopher sighed. "Yes, but that doesn't mean everyone in Slytherin is like Voldemort. Don't judge an entire house based on the actions of one person."
Just then, the train lurched forward, signaling their departure from the station. Christopher looked out the window, watching as the platform faded into the distance.
"Well, Harry," he said, turning back to his new friend. "Here we go. Time to see what Hogwarts has in store for us."
As the train picked up speed, the compartment door slid open once again. This time, it was Daphne Greengrass, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. She paused in the doorway, her eyes meeting Christopher's.
A small smile touched her lips. "Mind if I join you?" she asked.
Christopher's heart skipped a beat. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. "Of course," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Daphne stepped inside the compartment and slid into the seat beside Harry. "Hello," she said, offering a polite nod to both boys.
"Daphne Greengrass," she added, extending her hand toward Harry.
Harry shook her hand, his eyes wide with surprise. "Harry Potter," he replied.
Daphne then turned to Christopher, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you, Mr. Sterling," she said, her voice soft and teasing, "I believe we've already met."
Daphne's POV
The moment I stepped into the compartment, I felt it—the undeniable pull of familiarity. My eyes scanned the two boys seated inside, but they stopped on him. Christopher Sterling. Or perhaps Chinmay Samanta. My heart skipped a beat as recognition flooded through me. It was him. It had to be him.
I had spent years wondering if Chinmay had survived the accident, if he too had been reborn into this strange, magical world. And now, here he was, sitting across from Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived—looking every bit the warrior he had become. His black coat with silver accents fit him perfectly, emphasizing his lean, muscular frame. His emerald-green eyes shone like gems, even in the dim light of the train compartment, and his angular face carried an air of maturity that belied his age. The hilts of his swords peeked out over his shoulders, their craftsmanship exquisite and intimidating. He looked like someone out of a legend—a hero destined for greatness.
But it wasn't just his appearance that struck me; it was the way he carried himself. Confident yet composed, powerful yet restrained. He seemed entirely in control of the space around him, as if he could command the very air to bend to his will. It was both awe-inspiring and deeply familiar.
"Mind if I join you?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within me.
Christopher's eyes met mine, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. There was something in his gaze—recognition, perhaps? Relief? Whatever it was, it mirrored my own feelings perfectly.
"Of course," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
I stepped inside and slid into the seat beside Harry Potter, offering him a polite nod. "Hello," I said. "I'm Daphne Greengrass."
Harry looked surprised but quickly recovered and shook my hand. "Harry Potter," he replied.
I turned back to Christopher, allowing a small smile to touch my lips. "And you, Mr. Sterling," I said teasingly, "I believe we've already met."
His expression shifted slightly—an almost imperceptible flicker of emotion crossed his face before he smiled back at me. "Yes," he said simply.
I wanted to say more, to ask him if he remembered me as Diya, but propriety held me back. We were surrounded by strangers, and this wasn't the time or place for such a deeply personal conversation.
Instead, I leaned back in my seat and observed him quietly as Harry asked about Hogwarts houses and classes. Christopher answered with ease, his voice calm and assured as he explained the qualities of Slytherin and debunked some of Harry's misconceptions about the house.
As they spoke, I couldn't help but marvel at how much Christopher had changed since our past life together—and yet how much he remained the same. He was still fiercely intelligent and ambitious but now carried an edge of power and mystery that made him even more captivating.
The conversation eventually turned to Hogwarts itself—its traditions, its history—and I found myself chiming in with my own insights about the school's political dynamics. My upbringing as a Greengrass had prepared me well for navigating such discussions; our family's influence extended far beyond Slytherin House or even Hogwarts itself. My father's businesses in both magical and non-magical worlds had made us one of the most powerful families in Britain—more so than even the Malfoys—and I had been trained from a young age to represent that legacy with grace and intelligence.
Draco Malfoy's incessant attempts at securing a betrothal contract were proof enough of our status; he saw our family as a prize worth winning at any cost. But I had no interest in Draco—or anyone else who sought to use me as a pawn in their ambitions.
Christopher was different. He didn't look at me like a prize or a conquest; he looked at me like… an equal.
As the train sped toward Hogwarts, I allowed myself to relax slightly, enjoying the easy flow of conversation between Christopher and Harry while occasionally adding my own thoughts. But beneath my calm exterior, my mind raced with questions: Did Christopher remember our past life? Did he miss me as much as I missed him? And most importantly… what did our reunion mean for us?
I glanced at him again and caught him watching me out of the corner of his eye. There was something unspoken between us—a connection that neither of us could deny but neither of us dared to address openly.
For now, it was enough to know that he was here—that fate had brought us back together after all these years. Whatever lay ahead at Hogwarts—friendships, rivalries, challenges—I knew one thing for certain: Christopher Sterling would be part of my journey, just as Chinmay Samanta had been part of my past.
And this time… I wouldn't let him go so easily.
Chris's POV
The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily toward its destination, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks filling the air. Christopher Sterling sat in his compartment, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The closer they got to Hogwarts, the more desperate he became to speak to Daphne. He had been waiting for years—years spent wondering if Diya had been reborn into this world, years spent longing for her presence. And now, she was here, sitting just a few compartments away. But every time he thought about approaching her, something held him back—fear, uncertainty, perhaps even disbelief that fate had truly brought them together again.
As the train slowed slightly, signaling their imminent arrival at Hogsmeade Station, Harry Potter stood and stretched. "We should probably change into our robes," he said casually.
Christopher nodded, his movements stiff as he tried to push his thoughts aside. He reached for his trunk and pulled out his neatly folded Hogwarts robes. The tailored black fabric felt smooth under his fingers, a reminder of the meticulous preparation he had undertaken for this day.
Harry stepped out to find an empty changing room, leaving Christopher alone in the compartment. He changed quickly, slipping into his robes and adjusting the silver accents on his collar. His swords remained strapped to his back in their crisscrossed scabbards, their mithril hilts gleaming faintly in the dim light. His wands were secured in their holsters at his thighs, hidden but ready for use if needed.
Christopher caught his reflection in the window and paused for a moment. He looked every bit the warrior—a far cry from the carefree boy he had been in his past life. His angular face was framed by jet-black hair streaked with faint red highlights, and his emerald-green eyes shone with determination. For an eleven-year-old, he carried himself with a maturity and presence that drew attention wherever he went.
The compartment door slid open suddenly, and Daphne Greengrass stepped inside. She was already dressed in her robes, which fit her perfectly and accentuated her graceful posture. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her piercing green eyes locked onto Christopher's immediately.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was charged with unspoken words and shared memories.
"Christopher," she said finally, her voice steady but soft.
"Daphne," he replied, his heart pounding.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an intensity that made him feel as though she could see straight into his soul. "You've changed," she said simply.
"So have you," he replied, unable to keep the warmth from his voice.
Before either of them could say more, Harry returned to the compartment with Ron Weasley trailing behind him. "Ready?" Harry asked cheerfully.
Christopher nodded reluctantly and turned back to Daphne. "We'll talk later," he promised quietly.
Daphne's lips curved into a faint smile. "I'll hold you to that."
The train came to a halt at Hogsmeade Station, and the students began filing out onto the platform. Christopher followed Harry and Ron as they joined the throng of first-years being shepherded toward Hagrid's booming voice.
"Firs'-years! Over here!" Hagrid called out, waving his massive hand.
Christopher glanced back briefly and caught sight of Daphne walking gracefully among the crowd. She seemed completely at ease despite the chaos around her—a testament to her upbringing as a Greengrass heir.
The first-years were led toward a fleet of small boats waiting by the edge of the lake. Christopher climbed into one with Harry and Ron while Daphne boarded another nearby. As the boats glided across the glassy water, Hogwarts Castle came into view, its towering spires illuminated by the setting sun. The sight was breathtaking—a magical fortress that seemed both welcoming and intimidating.
Christopher's gaze drifted back to Daphne as she sat quietly in her boat, her eyes fixed on the castle ahead. He couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking—if she remembered their past life together as vividly as he did or if she saw him merely as another student among many.
When they reached the shore, Professor McGonagall was waiting to greet them. Her stern expression softened slightly as she addressed the group of wide-eyed first-years.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said crisply. "Follow me."
The students followed her up a winding path toward the castle's entrance. Christopher stayed close to Harry and Ron but kept an eye on Daphne as they walked through the massive doors into Hogwarts' grand foyer.
The Great Hall awaited them just beyond another set of doors—its magical ceiling reflecting the night sky above and its long tables set for the Sorting Ceremony feast. Christopher felt a surge of anticipation as they approached; this was where it would all begin—the friendships he would form, the challenges he would face, and perhaps even the answers he sought about Daphne.
As they stood outside the Great Hall waiting for Professor McGonagall's instructions, Christopher stole one last glance at Daphne. She met his gaze briefly before turning away, her expression unreadable.
But even without words or confirmation, Christopher knew one thing for certain: their story wasn't over yet—it was only just beginning.