Harry Potter: I Cast

"Felice, who was that?"

Dad's voice rang out again, sharp and impatient.

"A guest, honey!" Mum called back, her tone light and cheerful, as if she hadn't just invited utter chaos into our home.

I stood frozen in the hallway, half-wondering if I could somehow make myself invisible without magic. The weight inside my robes shifted uncomfortably, and I felt the sharp little claws of the unwelcome visitor tug at the lining of my pocket.

Out of the kitchen strode Dad, still wearing his cooking apron, his greasy blond hair sticking to his forehead. He looked around, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room.

"Where is the guest?" he asked, suspiciously.

I pointed wordlessly at the wriggling head of Jarvey poking out of my robes. His whiskered snout twitched as he surveyed the room with clear disdain.

Dad's reaction was… not what I expected. Instead of shouting or lecturing me about the No Pets in the House rule—which I knew was still etched into the very soul of this house—he sighed. A long, tired sigh, followed by a faint, exasperated smile.

"Of course. A Jarvey," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as though the mere sight of the creature had triggered a migraine. He crossed the room with a deliberate slowness, his hair falling in greasy strands as he knelt in front of me.

Jarvey, naturally, took offense.

"Get your grubby, oily hands off me, you pathetic excuse for a man!" He snapped in his high-pitched voice, baring its tiny teeth.

Dad raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Without a word, he reached forward and plucked Jarvey from my robe with a firm but gentle grip.

"Watch it, greaseball!" Jarvey shrieked, writhing in his hands. "I'll report you to the Magical Menagerie for abuse! You hear me? You—"

Ignoring the tirade, Dad placed the creature on the floor with all the ceremony of setting down a bag of groceries. Then he turned to me and wrapped me in a tight hug.

"Missed you, kiddo," he said, his voice softer now.

"Missed you too, Dad," I mumbled into his shoulder, feeling a warmth I hadn't realized I needed.

Jarvey, meanwhile, was still hurling insults at Dad's feet. Dad didn't seem to hear them—or he was doing an excellent job of pretending not to.

The kitchen was as warm and inviting as ever, the air thick with the smell of Dad's latest culinary experiment. He'd been attempting French cuisine lately—Coq au Vin, specifically—but judging by the slightly charred aroma wafting from the oven, I suspected this attempt was as much a disaster as the last.

Steam rose from the stovetop, curling around the edges of mismatched pots and pans. Dad was a Muggle, but he cooked like a wizard: chaotic, unpredictable, and occasionally brilliant.

"Don't look at me like that," Dad said as he caught my dubious glance toward the oven. "I've improved."

"Zero times zero is still zero," Mum quipped as she breezed into the kitchen, earning herself a playful glare from Dad. "Kidding, kidding! You've gotten much better, darling."

Jarvey, who had taken up a seat at the edge of the table despite Dad's protests about manners, sniffed the air critically.

"Smells better than it looks," he declared, his nose twitching. "Not saying much, though, you grease-headed chef."

To my amazement, Dad didn't even flinch.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, you—"

"Not now," Dad said firmly, before Jarvey could finish whatever insult he had been about to unleash. He turned to me with an exasperated smile. "How do you live with that thing?"

"Silencing charms help," I replied with a shrug.

Jarvey's mouth kept moving, but no sound came out. A moment later, he realized what had happened and began gesticulating wildly, his tiny paws waving in outrage.

"Wandless?" Mum asked, her golden eyes narrowing in curiosity. "And that was a silencing charm, wasn't it? You've been practicing."

"Got to keep up with the Hogwarts crowd," I said with a grin, pulling a folded piece of parchment from my pocket. "Actually, I've been meaning to show you this."

I spread the parchment on the table and tapped it with my wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," I whispered.

The parchment shimmered, ink spreading across its surface like water over a dry sponge. Lines appeared, forming the intricate map of Hogwarts in all its glory. Tiny dots moved across the parchment, each labeled with a name.

Dad leaned in, his eyes wide. Mum's reaction was more measured, though I caught the faintest flicker of recognition in her expression.

"That's… interesting," Mum said slowly. "Where did you get this?"

"A friend," I said casually, though I could tell she wasn't buying it. "It shows every secret passage, every room, and every person in Hogwarts. Even the passwords to the house dorms!"

Mum's gaze lingered on the map, her brow furrowing.

"Marauders' Map," she murmured, almost to herself. "Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot, Prongs… That sounds familiar."

She frowned deeper, her fingers brushing the edge of the table.

"The Marauders…" she muttered. "That couldn't be… the dog's group, could it?"

"Dog?" I asked, confused.

"A group of troublemakers," Mum explained, still staring at the map. "They were a year or so younger than me at Hogwarts. Clever, but reckless. And one of them… well, let's just say they didn't all end up on the right side of history."

Wait for a second she was a year older than Snape, I thought back to my vision of Snape, death eaters, Snape was a Slytherin. I looked at my mother's forearm I didn't know why I couldn't remember if she had a tattoo there or not even with my memory but as I looked I felt a sigh of relief course through me.

There was no tattoo.

"Felix, kiddo?" My mother asked. "No way to meet them now," Mum continued, her tone brisk. "One's in Azkaban, two are dead, and the fourth… well, I have no idea where the wolf is."

"So there really is no way I could meet whoever this wolf is?"

 "Sorry Felix, no."

"Well that's disappointing?" I replied, my itchiness for answers trembling through my body though it could be residue from the potion that the twins had thrown a week ago.

"That's enough of that," Dad interjected, clearly sensing the shift in mood. "Let's eat before the Coq au Vin gets any colder—or before it decides to grow legs and walk off the plate."

We settled around the table, though not without a minor dispute over the Jarvey, who insisted on having his own plate. Dad eventually solved the issue by tying the creature to a chair leg with a poll in the middle of the house, much to its silent outrage.

Dinner was, surprisingly, not a complete disaster. The chicken was slightly overcooked, but the sauce was rich and flavorful, and the roasted potatoes were a definite win.

"This is Hogwarts, huh?" Dad said, holding the map up to the light as he chewed thoughtfully. "Architecture's a bit dodgy, isn't it? Some of these towers are in completely impractical places."

Mum and I exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

"What?" Dad demanded, looking genuinely baffled. "I didn't say anything weird. It's basic structural design—completely inefficient for defense."

I laughed so hard I nearly choked on my potato, earning myself a concerned pat on the back from Mum. Dad rolled his eyes, muttering something about "wizards and their nonsense," but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

As the evening wore on, the warmth of home wrapped around me like a well-worn cloak. Between Dad's terrible cooking, Mum's dry humor, and even the Jarvey's incessant antics, I couldn't help but feel a deep, bone-deep sense of comfort.

Merlin, it was good to be back.

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