The farmhouse stood alone in the countryside, surrounded by fields that stretched toward the horizon. It was a quiet place, far removed from the world of magic and conflict, yet shadows of the past lingered within its walls.
Tom Nelson had always found comfort in its isolation. The creaking wooden floors, the scent of freshly baked bread in the mornings, and the distant cawing of birds in the fields—these were the sounds of home. His mother, Merula Nelson, worked tirelessly in Diagon Alley, leaving him alone for long hours. He didn't mind. Solitude had become his companion, and in it, he found clarity.
He was not an ordinary boy, and anyone who looked at him could tell. His reflective, dark, neck-long hair fell messily around his pale face, contrasting with the sharpness of his features. His thin, sharp nose, plum-colored full lips, and far-set eyes gave him an almost ethereal quality, yet his gaze was calculating—always watching, always learning. There was a quiet intensity to him, one that made people take a second glance, even if they couldn't quite explain why.
His father, Median Nelson, had passed away when Tom was too young to remember his face. He only knew the man through stories—whispers of a devoted father, a skilled wizard, and a farmer who had chosen a simple life over ambition. But there were gaps in those stories, moments where his mother would fall silent, her gaze lost in memories she refused to share.
His older brother, Jacob, had been his guide to the world of magic. Jacob had been everything Tom admired—fearless, ambitious, and brilliant. He had gone to Hogwarts, trained to become an Auror, and then… disappeared. His mother never spoke of him anymore. Tom knew something had happened, something that had stolen his brother away just as surely as death would have.
But Hogwarts was calling for Tom now.
Diagon Alley had been his first true step into the world that had always felt just out of reach.
He had walked through the streets alone, his sharp eyes scanning every detail. While other first-years gawked at the towering shops and bustling crowds, Tom focused on what mattered—his future. He visited Ollivanders, where the old wandmaker studied him with interest before handing him a Blackthorn wand with a dragon heartstring core. The moment it touched his fingers, a surge of energy ran through him. A perfect match.
At Flourish and Blotts, he purchased his books without distraction. At the apothecary, he studied potion ingredients with interest, his mind already piecing together their uses. He knew that knowledge was power, and he intended to wield it.
Money had been an issue. His mother could not afford luxuries, and a pet was out of the question. Yet, fate had other plans.
By the roadside, near the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, a raven sat, staring at him. Its dark feathers gleamed under the light, and its eyes reflected something familiar—a quiet intelligence, an understanding.
Tom knelt, extending his hand. The raven did not fly away.
"You're not afraid," he murmured.
The bird tilted its head before letting out a soft caw.
A smirk tugged at Tom's lips. "Mingle."
The name felt right, as if it had always belonged to the creature before him.
A storm was coming. Not the kind that swept through the fields, bending trees and shaking rooftops, but something deeper. Tom could feel it, a pull toward something greater than the quiet life he had known.
Hogwarts.
His mother had told him it would change his life. He believed her. But what she didn't say—what she couldn't say—was that Hogwarts would also reveal the truths she had spent years trying to bury.
And Tom Nelson was ready to uncover them all.