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Conan Edogawa and The Philosopher's Stone

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Kudo Shinichi - no, wait - Edogawa Conan stared up in shock, mouth agape while large, blue eyes tried to comprehend what the hell was going on. Conan Edogawa is a boy who strictly follows the laws of logic. He knows that magic and things like ghosts and monsters aren't real. He knows that wizard spells and potions don’t exist.

So why the hell is everything floating around him?


It was just a normal day for the shrunken teen. He walked to school with the Shounen Tantei-dan, did the classwork and finished homework assignments as he got them, followed the kids around with Haibara and made sure they didn’t run into a hostage situation again, and then went back to the Mouri Detective Agency around the evening to have dinner with Ran and Kogoro-jisan.

Well, he would’ve if his parents didn’t kidnap him off the street on the way. He’s pretty sure Haibara’s heart died, was brought back to life, and then dunked in ice cold water twice when the black van just swept him off of the sidewalk and into the vehicle.

Conan should’ve expected it though, seeing as it wasn’t the first time and probably was suspicious they didn’t do it any sooner.

(“Oba-chan, Otousan, can’t you just pick me up like normal parents?”

(“Oh but that wouldn’t be any fun Shin-chan~! And what was that, brat?!”


So that led to his parents dragging him onto a 12 hour flight to Britain and getting his ear chewed off by Haibara and Ran. At least they couldn’t call him again from half-way across the world..

(“Oo~ Shin-chan, Yuu-kun! Look, look, that girl was watching one of my movies!”

(“Honey, I love you very much and your acting is superb, but could you please focus on the suspects and not the victim’s obvious obsession with your movies and shows?”)

They dropped off their luggage at the hotel they were staying at - the detours were absolutely horrific, but he silently thanked whatever God out there his mother wasn’t the one driving - and they were just settling in. His mother was on the phone with her friends, lounging on one of the beds as she chirped into her phone, twirling her hair like a teenager discussing her crush at school. His father sat at the oak desk, the lamp turned on and facing towards his papers while he stared blankly down at the empty pages, tapping his pen while he tried to find inspiration in his own little world. The poor man looked one minute away from banging his head against the wooden surface.

Conan sighed, his attention turned back towards the Holmes book-- “The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes”; he already read “A Study in Scarlet” enough times to recite the entire thing-- in his hands. He was comfortably sitting upon the burgundy fabric sofa, legs crossed and glasses hooked on the collar of his shirt.

“Shinichi, can you grab me a cup of coffee please? I’m having some trouble with this last chapter.” Yusaku hummed, not bothering to look over at him as he furiously rubbed at his eyes.

“Oh, Yuu-kun, just say you can’t think!” Yukiko giggled, flopping onto her stomach, legs swinging in the air.

Conan only chuckled, exasperated. He gently dog-eared the page and hopped onto his feet. His nose unconsciously scrunched up in disgust, the feeling of the hotel’s carpet felt weird against his sock-covered feet. It wasn’t the first time he didn’t wear indoor slippers, he’s been to European countries before, but it still felt unnervingly strange. He quickly shoved his thoughts aside and quietly continued on his way, padding over to the connected kitchen.

Ok, so that he still wasn’t fully used to.

His small hands reached up to the half-filled coffee pot-- made earlier to stop Conan from snapping at them every two minutes. Almost immediately after his fingers touched the handle, his mother burst out into a loud scream.

Reacting on instincts alone, Conan whipped around to assess the situation-

Except he couldn’t exactly...comprehend the sight that greeted him.

Conan stared at his floating parents apathetically, their equally shocked faces staring back. He was faintly aware of his father’s papers scattered across in the air, pillows joining in the uncoordinated-- mocking-- dance.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

“Y-yuu-kun, Shin-chan, what’s going on?!” Yukiko yelped, flailing her arms and making a grab for the bed’s headboard, or the lamp. Conan couldn’t tell really since her efforts seemed to make her float further away into the air. If his mother was in shock though, his father was absolutely speechless. Yusaku’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but nothing came out of his mouth. His eyes were wide, gawking at something yet at absolutely nothing. Conan would’ve laughed at his father’s voiceless confusion if it weren’t for the current situation at hand.

“Mom, what did you do?” Conan hissed. Although he highly doubted his mother had anything to do with the sudden phenomenon. He ignored her indignant squawk of denial and tried to focus on seeing through the trick.

Yes. Trick.

Because no way in hell were his parents and their stuff actually floating. Laws of logic said that it would be impossible. So that led him to touching everything and investigating, attempting to find a logical reason for this insanity.

That then led to everything else he touched joining his parents, the pillows, and the blank pieces of paper in the air. Which finally led him back into the present, standing in the middle of the room while blankly staring at the now crowded ceiling. In his slightly dazed state, he barely registered his father yelling at him from beneath the white mattress to stop touching things.

Conan just felt numb because this, this was absolutely not possible. Things don’t just suddenly float everytime you touch something. Except it just happened. He knew he probably looked ridiculous. His eyes were the size of saucers, eyebrows furrowed while his mouth formed a small ‘o’. At least he wasn’t openly screaming like his mother was.

The sound of a near-silent ‘pop’ from behind him made Conan stagger forwards, whirling around to face whatever had decided to explode instead of float this time. He let out a yell when rather finding an exploded lamp or something, he came face to face with two men. Complete opposites of each other, Conan instantly noticed.

The man in front of him was tall, lanky, and had a clean shaven face while his partner behind him was short,-- taller than the average Japanese male though-- was quite chubby, and had stubble all over his lower face. Both were dressed in strange, black robes and were clearly gaping down at Conan with unrestrained shock.

Wait- hold up, where the hell did these people come from?

“U-um...hello?” Conan stuttered out awkwardly in English, as if his parents and everything that wasn’t bolted to the floor weren’t currently stranded stuck to the ceiling.

The taller one snapped out of his stupor first-- albeit still giving Conan astonished glances-- and stepped up beside Conan, reaching into his robe and pulling out a-- stick…?

Conan couldn’t help the intensely confused look he directed towards him.

“Obcido!” the man yelled, ignoring the child’s unimpressed glare and continued with the spell, raising his arm to finish the its motions.

As if a switch was flicked, the couch slowly descended back onto the ground along with the bed, desk, and his parents. It was slightly disappointing that the papers and pillows just flopped onto the carpet but Conan could care less, gaping at his also alarmed parents. When Yukiko’s feet were firmly planted onto solid ground, she darted over to Conan and enveloped him in her arms, fussing over him despite the fact that she was the one who was laying on the ceiling for half an hour.

Yusaku blinked, leaning against the wooden chair by his desk to balance himself. His legs were trembling as he muttered under his breath rapidly, his eyebrows furrowed quizzically.

The shorter man cleared his throat and the confused family startled, remembering the strangers standing in their hotel room and their mood changed faster than the snap of a finger, narrowing their eyes at the two men.

“Good morning, I’m Derek Brooks and this is my partner, Edmund Sidebottom.” he introduced, holding a hand out towards Yukiko. The taller, Edmund, chose to instead eye Conan with an unreadable face, looking him up and down as Conan tried not to fidget under the scrutinizing gaze.

Yukiko plastered on a smile-- obviously fake but they didn't need to know that-- and shook Derek’s hand, albeit with a stronger grip than necessary.

“I would say pleasure to meet you except for the teensy-tiny little fact that you’re strangers who have broken into our room without explanation. Along with the fact that Yuu-kun and I were floating for who knows how long in the air.” she said bubbly, adding on a tiny little giggle at the end.

It was uncalled for, but then again they were all on edge.

Conan tried to shove away the small flicker of satisfaction upon seeing Edmund and Derek stiffen up, their eyes darted towards each other warily but said nothing at his mother’s passive aggressiveness.

Derek once again cleared his throat-- probably to pretend as if he regained some control back-- and continued, “We are from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and only came to fix it. We also have orders to give you a warning about the use of underage magic and advise you not to do it again.”

His gray eyes, large and worried, were aimed at Yukiko as he wringed his short fingers together, the too small glasses perched on his nose sliding down the bridge a bit but was hurriedly pushed back up. Conan observed the nervous way the man carried himself, yet was still somehow put together. He blatantly tried not to look Edmund's direction though, feeling his unnerving gaze fixated on his tiny form. In all honesty, it was starting to scare and piss him off.


Did he just say magic?

On a lighter note, his mother seemed pleasantly delighted that Derek thought she was young enough to pass off as underaged. Wait, he was straying off topic again.

“What do you mean ‘magical accidents’ and ‘underage magic’? I’m sorry, if this is supposed to be a prank, frankly, it isn’t very funny.”

For the first time in a while, Conan found himself respecting his father again.

The two men simultaneously blinked. Their eyes once again met the others as they had a silent conversation with each other. Conan almost snorted at how obvious the two were as their eyes darted from his mother, to him, and then to his father in a repeated, annoying, loop. The feeling of something tugging at his arm had Conan’s attention snapping towards his mother’s pale limb and her concerned expression, carefully hidden by that expertly crafted poker face.

Conan wanted to yank his arm away and tell her that he could take care of himself-- but seeing the pleading look in her eyes made him sigh. He allowed her to pull him into a hug, feeling his cheeks warm as she picked him up like a child-- well, he currently was but that’s not the point. Conan suppressed a drawn out groan, deciding to instead bury his face into her shoulder and hide from the world.

“This isn’t exactly our area of, er, expertise.. Dealing with muggles, that is.” Derek said, his voice slow as if he himself were still comprehending the words.

Deciding he had enough of his timid partner’s hesitation, Edmund sighed and spoke above him.

“Please wait patiently while we contact the Ministry about your...situation.”

“What in the world are you talking about? You can give up the joke now, or do you really expect us to believe the excuse that ‘magic exists’ because I know for a fact that it doesn’t! And what are ‘muggles’?!” Yusaku interjected, his usually calm voice tinted with an underlying frustration that Conan had never heard from his father.

Except for that one time KID decided to prank their home on April Fool’s day when he was actually seven but that’s neither here nor now..

Abruptly, Derek disappeared with a soft ‘pop’. Conan would’ve started on a questioning spree, interrogating his partner for logical answers.

But he was just so done with all this bullshit.

“What I don’t understand is how we detected underage magic? We gave you the benefit of doubt by assuming you, young madam, were at least seventeen. And your child doesn’t appear to be anything near eleven years old!” Edmund wondered, two fingers rested beneath his chin.

“Oh, but he is eleven!”


Conan blankly stared at his mother. She returned it with a wink, her lips quirking up into a smile.

Well, it was probably better that way, Conan realized. It wasn’t like he could tell them “Oh in reality, I’m a seventeen year old teen but got shrunk into a seven year old boy.”

Actually, that sounded more plausible than fucking magic.

Edmund squinted, giving him a once over. “But he’s so...small! Are you absolutely sure?”

“Of course we are! Isn’t that right, Yuu-kun~?” Yukiko looked to Yusaku, her face angled carefully so that Edmund couldn’t see her pleading expression, wordlessly asking him to play along.

Yusaku caught Conan’s eye, both unsure how they wanted to proceed with...whatever the hell this was. Finally, he let out a strangled sigh, rubbing his temple furiously.

“Yes, Conan is just unusually small for his age.”

That one really wasn’t a lie. Whatever God out there just really hates him. Like, it’s ok to drop dead bodies on top of him on an almost daily basis, shrink him into a child, and then decide to almost kill him on more than one occasion (and that was just last year), but they didn’t bother at least making Conan’s height somewhat average for a first grader?

Edmund nodded slowly, still eyeing Conan but seemed to buy the excuse. His mother tightened her grip on him while his father moved in closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. It seemed like Conan wasn’t the only one to notice Edmund’s borderline-creepy staring.

It wasn’t long until the room was filled with a series of ‘pops’ and on reflex alone, Conan flicked up his watch and aimed it towards the source--

There stood a tall, old man. His beard long and white like a stream of silver and half-moon spectacles sat on his crooked nose, face wrinkled with age and wisdom. Derek popped out from behind the mystery elder, giving them a shy wave.

“Dumbledore-!” Edmund startled. Conan noted the respect in his eyes as he realized who the new presence was. Must be someone important if he was able to get him to stop eyeing Conan.

“Oh please, don’t mind me. I was just stopping by the Ministry when I overheard Mr. Brooks' conversation and decided to come along.” Dumbledore hummed, a strange twinkle in his eyes as his gaze landed on the small child, almost completely covered by his mother’s arms.

Shaking himself out of his temporary daze, Edmund cleared his throat, “Anyways, Mr. and Mrs…?”

“Kudou,” Yusaku answered, dragging it out as he peered at the three men with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, “Yusaku Kudou, and this is my wife Yukiko Kudou.”

“And I’m Conan Edogawa!”, he smiled childishly, albeit strained.

“You two aren’t his parents?” Derek commented, sharing a look with his partner.

Conan silently wondered if they were more than coworkers but didn’t bother to point it out. Maybe later if Edmund continued annoying him with that uncomfortable staring.

“Nope! Conan-kun is my distant nephew! His parents are currently too busy to visit the poor child~.” Yukiko chirped, snuggling Conan firmly against her, earning a protesting whine from him.

“Well, um, Mrs. and Mr. Kudou, have you noticed anything...strange with Conan?” Edmund said.

Yukiko nodded rapidly, curls bouncing up and down as she smushed her cheek against Conan’s. “Oh of course! He always manages to get himself into serious danger nowadays! Yuu-kun, remember that time he got thrown out of a blimp and didn’t even bother telling us? Mou, Conan-kun, we had to hear it from Ran-chan!”

The Kudou family ignored the way the self-proclaimed wizards shot the boy a bewildered look. Thankfully- for Conan- they didn’t comment. He really didn’t want to explain how and why he was thrown off a blimp.

“Um, anything besides that?”

It was Yusaku’s turn to think, rubbing his chin as he thought deeply. “Now that I think about it, people seem to die around you quite a lot, don’t they Conan?”

“Oi oi, don’t phrase it like that!” Conan snapped, his eyebrow twitched.

If they weren’t speechless before, they were now. Edmund and Derek openly gaped at Conan and his parents- Derek in terror while Edmund was unreadable. Dumbledore had a small smile on his wizened face, standing behind the two men with a relaxed posture. Conan almost thought he looked amused.

“Well, to put this simply, it’s more than likely that young Mr. Edogawa is a- er, a wizard.” Derek explained, his voice was shaky despite the confident front he put up.

“Yes that much was gathered.” Yusaku deadpanned, “What we want is concrete evidence to your claims.”

Dumbledore’s mouth stretched up into a playful grin and he reached into his long robe’s sleeve, pulling out a stick, like Edmund’s. Now that he thought about it, they were probably going to claim that those sticks were wands, weren’t they?

The old man’s eyes seemed to laugh, watching Conan and Yusaku with evident mirth. For some reason, it didn’t annoy Conan as much as it usually would’ve.

He raised the polished wood into the air and moved it in a sideways figure eight. A soft, blue light emerged from the tip of the wand, circling a fallen pen on the carpet floor. Conan observed in astonishment as the pen began to morph into a small, white bird. It shouldn’t be possible, but there was solid proof right there.

Jumping out of his mother’s arms, he scrambled towards the tiny creature, frantically trying to see if it were just a trick. Maybe misdirection? An illusion?

But he couldn’t see anything. He saw the pen turn into a bird, right in front of his eyes. Conan faintly acknowledged the bird’s insistent pecking against his knuckles, preferring to turn around and searched his parents’ faces for an explanation. Their reactions were as good as his, though, his mother shook a finger at the pen-turned-bird while gripping onto Yusaku. Taking off his glasses, Yusaku closed his eyes. Conan could vaguely make out his chest breathing in deeply and letting out slow breaths.

“Do you believe us now?” Edmund’s toneless voice broke their flabbergasted silence.

Yusaku nodded sluggishly, dropping onto the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped in mild defeat with his hands clasped loosely together, hanging limply in between his legs. His mother seemed to be more composed, although Conan bet it was probably just her years of a practiced mask sliding into place.

Derek knelt down to Conan’s level and tried offering him a kind smile- it just reminded him of his puny height.

“Conan, do you know what a wizard and witch is?”

“Uh huh, a power or influence seemingly from a supernatural source.” Conan explained flatly.

Noting the blank gazes, Conan put on an innocent grin, nervously scratching the back of his head. “That’s what daddy told me!”

“Well, yes that’s….somewhat correct”, Derek continued, apprehensive as he fixated a worried eye on Conan, “Magic is an essential part of a witch and wizard. It allows them to cast spells, brew potions, and see things that muggles can’t.”

“What are...muggles?” Yusaku piped in, shock for the most part dissolved.

“Muggles are what we refer to as non-magical people.” Edmund checked his pocket watch, face scrunching up as he looked at it.

“So, um, long story short, the wizarding world is a hidden society where we wizards and witches live in, separate from muggles. The magical community is able to be kept secret because of charms, spells, and secrecy. It is forbidden to reveal anything about magic to muggle society due to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Each country…”

Conan’s attention drifted, only catching onto information here and there. He got the basics of it though, like how magic is a constant in the wizarding world to the point where it’s used for basic chores. There was a magical government in every country to oversee magical affairs and telling anyone non-magical about the hidden community was absolutely banned.

“-onan-kun? Conan-kun, what do you think?”

His mother’s voice snapped him out of his haze and he flashed his parents a curious peek.

“Oh, uh, sorry I wasn’t listening. What was that?” he asked, voice feeling thick in his throat.

A beard of silver appeared in front of him and Conan blinked. His attention turned to Dumbledore as the old man held out an envelope to him. Its cover was worn with age and was closed shut with a red wax seal engraved with what he assumed to be the school’s emblem. Darting a confused glance up at Dumbledore, Conan carefully opened the envelope, pulling out an equally old piece of parchment.


Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Conan Edogawa ,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September.
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress”

“Wait- I can’t- !” Conan choked out, wide eyes whipping up, “I-I-!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Edogawa but it really isn’t a choice..” Derek put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort the growing panic in the child. It only served to make it worse, jerking out of his touch.

He whirled around, “Oka- Aunt Yukiko, Uncle Yusaku, I can’t stay here! I still have that- thing!”

Both Yukiko and Yusaku held onto each other, biting their lips. Conan felt his heart drop into his stomach at the helpless look in their eyes.

“Don’t they have schools in Japan? Can’t I go there?!” Conan cried frantically, his heart thrumming in his chest, fingers digging into the palm of his hand.

Dumbledore shook his head, pitifully staring down at him. “I’m sorry, but from what I’ve heard your magic is too unstable to be allowed to leave the country right now.”

Thin arms wrapped around Conan’s small frame and he felt his mother’s curls against the back of his neck. He didn’t feel any better, but appreciated that she tried.

"Is it alright if my wife and I have a few words with our nephew." Yusaku sent the three a pleading glimpse, tone solemn and low.

Edmund grimaced, his lips parted, seemingly about to refuse when Dumbledore held a hand out. Clamping his mouth together tightly, he popped out of the room, followed by Derek and then Dumbledore.

"Okaasan, otousan, I can't- ! I still have to take care of the Black Organization and- and Ran- !"


Conan stopped his rambling, peering up at his parents, eyes covered with a thin sheet of hysteric tears. Yukiko's arms tightened comfortably around him as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

"Shin-chan, we don't want you to stay either, but they're not really giving us much of a choice." Yukiko hummed into his skin. He felt something wet drip into the crevice of his neck and bit his lip.

"I know. I just- what if they strike when I'm gone?" Conan whispered, voice tight and small.

His father knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder, dragging his eyes away from the floor and into identical blue eyes, somber yet sympathetic.

"I think Haibara-san can take care of herself. She still has Agasa-hakase and Akai-san, or Okiya now, doesn't she? And you do remember that Haibara-san is still older than you?"

Conan chuckled, soft and shaky. Yusaku cracked a small smirk, ruffling his son's hair fondly. He tried to scowl like usual- a breathless laugh escaped instead. He felt his mother's face leave it's hiding place and they were face to face, close enough that he could see traces of her waterproof mascara smudged beneath her eyes.

"Shin-chan, you've grown so much. I'm so sorry for not being there for you when you needed it the most." Yukiko laughed bitterly, watery and cracked.

Conan grinned lopsidedly, straining to maintain a calm smile. "It's okay, 'kaasan."

"This might be for the better, anyways." he murmured, ignoring the confused, wide eyed inquiries.

Slipping his glasses off of his shirt collar, Conan slid them back on his face. Deep down he knew that there was the possibility he could never go back to his old life- to Kudou Shinichi. He grimly beamed up at his parents, pain crinkling around the edges, begging to crack through his false face.

"If magic actually does exist, what stops the possibility that the Black Organization isn't somewhat involved with the wizarding world?"

Conan brushed off the looks of horrified realization, choosing to pull out his phone - the Shinichi phone - and flipped it open. He stared blankly at the lit screen while he punched in his passcode. Ran's last conversation with him glared back at Conan, as if it were making fun of him.

"Shinichi, are you sure you want to do this?" he heard his mother breathe out shakily, her voice trembled with each word. Conan forlornly noticed the use of his actual name and not the nickname he used to dislike so much. "Wouldn't Haibara-san have told you if they were involved with magic?"

Shaking his head, his gaze didn't waver as he continued to vacantly riffle through old text messages. He didn't remember what the messages were though- it didn't matter.

"Haibara wouldn't want to drag us any deeper into what she thinks is her mess. She's just like that." Conan pointed out, not even blinking when all he could hear was his mother's stifled sobs and his fingers mashing against the phone's buttons.

Before his parents could start up another argument, the three wizards appeared once again.

Their time was up.

"Mr. Edogawa?" Edmund raised an expecting eyebrow at him, tilting his head slightly.

Conan read over the acceptance letter again, ignorant to his parents' silent, grudging acceptance. He regarded Edmund with a sharp stare.

"Where do I get my supplies?"

Chapter Text

To say Conan was in denial is an understatement.

Despite watching the brick wall slowly move and rearrange itself, an archway around fifteen feet appearing-- Conan was still in denial. Well, maybe not full-blown denial. At this point it was more of a...passive acceptance. Trying to comprehend any of this would probably just tire him out again.

“Mister Edogawa, come along now!”

His attention snapped back towards the unusually short man-- wizard. Filius Flitwick, one of his future professors if he remembered correctly. His green robes draped onto the ground and his eyes gleamed with patient kindness. It didn’t soothe his spiked up nerves but it did comfort him in the new, strange, unreal environment.

“Conan-kun! Look look, they actually sell cauldrons! Oh, let’s get the small one!” Yukiko gushed over the displayed cauldrons outside of the nearest shop. Yusaku stood beside her with an equally amused-- albeit muted-- grin. Conan rolled his eyes, repressing the urge to scoff at the hit towards his height.

He quickly caught up with their mini group, gripping his backpack. Probably the only thing keeping him from whipping his head here and there, trying not to dissect the floating books behind that one man and his child or the group of preteens grabbing jumping brown frogs and nibbling at them.

What-- ok.

Yusaku scanned the requirements letter, humming thoughtfully. “I don’t think we can. He’s supposed to get a...pewter, standard size 2?”

Flitwick waved his hand with a chuckle, but motioned for them to keep walking. Conan tilted his head quizzically and looked up at the wooden sign. Was this not a cauldron shop..?

As if reading his mind, Flitwick chuckled, “I doubt you already have a bag of galleons or sickles on hand already, do you?”

Ah. Right. Wizarding currency. Of course.

They continued following Flitwick, his parents darting between conversations with the professor and openly squealing (his mother) at every new discovery. Conan couldn’t blame her though. He was about five seconds away from yanking at his hair, catching sight of a man openly stuffing a gilded cage into a small suitcase. And then proceeded to stuff more overly large items into it.

It seemed like they weren’t the only ones gawking at everything though. There were children running around the busy streets, parents desperately trying not to lose track of them while another person stood by their side. It was quite obvious to see they were also probably “muggles” too. One pair in particular stood out to him-- a very, very large man led a boy (short and scrawny) past them. Conan noticed the child drinking in everything, openly fascinated while the man continued leading the young boy, never glancing at the wizards and witches waving their wands or casting magic.

“Co-chan, are you ok?” his mother’s worried voice drifted back into reality. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking up at his parents.

“Um, yeah, sorry just got distracted.” Conan plastered on a fake smile. Flitwick nodded, gently grinning ear to ear, almost hidden beneath his large, white beard. Yusaku and Yukiko didn’t buy it though, staring down at him with unreadable looks-- but he kind of expected it since his mother was a famous actress and his father was, well, his father.

Shrugging it off, Conan stared up at the golden emblem, “Gringotts” was engraved into the elegant sign. In his opinion, it felt a little over the top for a bank. But then again he supposed it made sense, since everything designed here was medieval themed.

He followed Flitwick into the large, marble white building. He tried not to stare at the short man by the entrance-- just a foot taller than him. Conan played with the inside of his jean pocket, noting the abnormal amount of people with dwarfism walking around. Were all wizards like this? No, if he assumed half of the people outside were wizards and/or witches then why just here-?

“You have quite an energetic mind, Mister Edogawa.” Flitwick commented, dragging Conan out of his muddled thinking.

He vaguely heard his mother’s stifled giggling as he felt his face warm up, chuckling nervously and scratching the back of his head.

“Oh don’t get me wrong! It’s a wonderful trait to have.” Flitwick grinned, the silver doors creaked shut behind them and a pair of wizards, placed on each side of them, stood up from a bow. Now that he thought about it, didn’t the one outside bow as well?

“You would do well in Ravenclaw.” Flitwick continued.

Before Conan could ask what was a “Ravenclaw” Flitwick had already moved on.

“Good morning,” he greeted the equally squat man behind the counter, “We’d like to exchange muggle currency for wizarding please.”

It was a quick interaction. Yusaku handed over a few pounds and the man (who Conan at some point learned was a goblin) counted it, muttering underneath his breath. In all honesty, it reminded Conan when regular banks converted regular international money.

They ended up leaving the bank with two small pouches, the coins inside clinking together. Conan thought of large pennies each time they jingled in his pocket. His mother was back to jumping from display window to display window. Sometimes he envied her boundless energy. Right now was one of those times.

Yusaku only shook his head at his wife’s eccentric hyperness, like a child in a candy store. He unfolded the letter again, seemingly deciding to get back on track.

“Should we get your robes next?” Yusaku asked, glancing away from the paper. Conan chuckled and simply pointed towards Yukiko. His mother gave them a short wave, a light giggle, and slipped into the shop.

“I guess so.” Yusaku shook his head with miffed amusement. Flitwick seemed to be in the same state, albeit more interested in the woman’s boundless energy.

Or, that’s what Conan thinks the man is thinking. That or he’s smiling for pleasantries.

Upon entering (“Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions” he remembered seeing) he was immediately knocked to the ground with a thump, barely catching himself before his head hit the floor.

“Watch it!” he heard a young voice shout.

“A-ah, sorry!” Conan laughed embarrassedly. The boy (blonde hair, pointed face, eleven or so) sneered at him, scrambling back onto his feet and dusting off his black robes. Conan discreetly eyed the thing, confused as to how these wizards could wear them and not trip over their own feet. The boy gave Conan a once over, his eyes widening a little in shock at Conan’s tiny body before quickly recovering and plastering on a snooty mask.

He didn’t bother to respond to Conan, stiffly lifting his chin up and made his way out--

Yukiko stood in front of the boy’s escape, hands on her hips while leaning over him intimidatingly. Despite the obvious threatening stance, her usual pleasant expression didn’t waver.

“Hello bouya! You seem to be forgetting something.” she said.

The boy scowled, crossing his arms while glaring at Yukiko. Conan prayed for his sanity.

“Do you know who I am?” the boy snarled, and Conan sighed. The boy whipped around, opening his mouth to insult him but once again, his mother interrupted him.
“Unless you’ve really forgotten about your own identity I don’t think that’s what you’re truly forgetting.” Yukiko giggled, kneeling down to the boy’s level.

Confusion flashed across his face but it left as soon as it appeared.

“My father is--!”



“Don’t think so!”


“Oh dear, I don’t think that’s it either!”

The boy’s lips tightened into a thin line, finally realizing the woman wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted. Conan watched him frown, his eyes looking at everything but Conan. The boy looked reluctant to say a simple “sorry”, looking like a kicked puppy.

“It’s alright.” Conan said, breaking the boy out of his internal war. The boy twitched, his face breaking into another seething scowl. Well that didn’t help. Whoops.

Yukiko pouted down at her (son) nephew. Conan scoffed, regarding her pointedly. He noticed the boy’s angry face transform into one of bewilderment. Conan stored that piece of information into the back of his head and resumed berating his mother.

“Aunt Yukiko, stop taking your aggressions out on him.” he huffed.

“But Co-chan!” she whined. Abruptly, Yukiko wrapped her arms around the startled boy. “He reminds me of a little you!”

Conan narrowed his eyes, subtly nudging his head towards Flitwick (surprisingly the man was holding back laughs instead of openly gaping at his odd mother). Yukiko blinked, realizing her mistake but her grin only widened.

“Unhand me woman!” the boy hissed, struggling in Yukiko’s grasp. Her bright smile didn’t shake and her grip on him almost tightened, if it weren’t for the stern gaze Conan directed her way. She let go of him, standing up again and bouncing off. Probably to browse whatever clothing they had in the shop.

The boy instantly lashed out at Conan, tidying up his slicked back head of hair while throwing grimaces his way.

“My father will hear about this!”

Before he could ask who the boy’s father was, he had already stormed out of the establishment, slamming the door shut behind him. Conan blankly stared at the closed door, breathing in, and out.

You know what. If all the children at the so-called wizarding school acted like this, he’d rather deal with the constant murderers thank you very much.

He looked around, walking over to a woman waving around her wand, fabrics and measuring tapes floating around her. “Pardon me? I’m here for school robes?”

The woman giggled, kneeling down to his height and her hand began ruffling his hair. “Oh, aren’t you an adorable child~! Maybe in a few years.”

“Sorry miss, but our nephew is actually heading to Hogwarts this year.” Yusaku interjected, amused to no end at his son’s predicament. Conan shot him an annoyed glare.

The woman stared up at Yuusaku, then at Conan, and then immediately flushed. She shot up, hands covering her mouth in embarrassment.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, it’s just he’s so small!”

Maybe he should start wearing platform shoes, Conan thought to himself. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time someone commented on his height and if he didn’t do something about it quick-- he honestly didn’t know if he could keep his calm.

She frantically dragged Conan to the back of the shop, practically shoving him upon the footstool and darting into her work. A long robe was slipped over his shoulders and he watched as the woman pinned it up to the right length.

“If I may ask, who was that boy? The one with pale hair.” Yusaku asked.

The woman’s face scrunched up in distaste and sighed, “Muggles I assume? It might be best if you strayed far from the Malfoy family. They’re blood-purists and a wealthy pureblood family. It would do you well not to insult or even converse with them.”

Conan tilted his head, glancing back at the doorway. He felt a little bad for the kid, since he’s dealt with those kinds before. It reminded him of the time the Shounen Tantei-dan, Ran, and him were stuck in that virtual reality game.

The thought of Ran and the children sent a stinging pain through him and he clenched his fists. It wouldn’t be the first time he would be away from Ran, but with the threat of the Black Org. he felt uncomfortable. If Ran or the kids got into trouble he couldn’t be there to protect them. And what about Haibara? What if the Black Org. figure out her identity while he was gone?

“All done sweetie!” the woman’s cheery voice snapped him out of his internal panic. Conan quietly thanked her as Yuusaku paid the woman.

“You seem to be troubled.” Flitwick said. Conan shrugged, not feeling up to play pretend. He’d rather stare at the brown frog hopping past them. Surprisingly, it smelled like chocolate.

Yukiko slid up to him, grabbing him by the hand and skipping out of the shop. He paid little mind to his mother’s excited chatter, Yusaku and Flitwick following behind them.

“Co-chan! We should get your wand now, how does a pink one sound~?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you”, Flitwick exclaimed, “Choosing your wand is mostly not possible. The bond between a wand and its owner is strongest when the wand chooses the wizard.”

Conan wasn’t really sure how to react, knowing that he was going to be using a sentient being for his own gain. Was it technically sentient though? Well, if it could think for itself then yeah but it wasn’t a breathing creature…? So kind of like Noah’s Ark?

“Will the wand be like a companion of sorts?” Conan asked as they stopped in front of a shabby looking building. Its large windows were dusty and foggy. The words reading “Ollivanders” were old and chipped, sprawled above the entrance.

Flitwick paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “Somewhat yes. A wand is quasi-sentient and we wizards and witches use it to channel our magic for more detailed and complex results. Since wandless magic is an extremely hard feat to accomplish.”

The shop was practically empty, a spindly chair sitting in the corner of the room. Conan blinked at the thousands of boxes, neatly stacked away. It made him feel cramped, despite the fact that he stood on the other side of the counter.

“Good afternoon.”

An old man appeared from behind a pile of boxes, wide eyes landing on Conan.

“Good afternoon.” Conan replied, refraining from bowing out of habit. He heard his mother and father whispering to Flitwick from behind him, barely catching the words “who” and “Ollivander”.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around, miss. Are you perhaps looking for a replacement wand or browsing for your son?” the old man-- Ollivander, Conan noted-- said.

Yukiko giggled, waving a hand daintily. This wizarding community was going to inflate his mother’s ego enormously, Conan thought to himself with a silent groan.

“Yes, we’re taking our nephew to get his wand.” Yusaku said instead.

“Ah, I understand the need to pick out a wand when the children are still young but I do recommend--”

“I’m eleven.” Conan interrupted quickly. The idea of wearing platform shoes was really looking good right now. Curse his small body.

Ollivander frowned, examining the tiny child in front of him. He didn’t look too convinced but went along with it, motioning for Conan to step up.

“Which is your wand arm?”

“Um, right?”

The man disappeared behind the pile again, mumbling to himself as he looked through boxes and boxes. He rushed back to Conan, handing him a stick (wand, he reluctantly corrected himself).

“Try this one. Maple and phoenix tail feather, just shy of nine inches. Go on-- give it a nice wave.”

Conan tried to hide his skepticism, hesitantly flicking his wrist. Ollivander’s hand darted out, snatching the wand back without warning before holding out another one.

“No no, that won’t do. Here, fir and dragons heartstring. About twelve inches, quite springy.”

Again, he held up the wand but even faster than before that one was taken back.

This would go on for what felt like half an hour, although it was probably just around ten minutes. Conan chanced a glance back at his parents, sighing exasperatedly at their obvious entertainment from his suffering. He could see hints of concern in his mother’s posture though, his father holding her hand tenderly.

Ollivander stood still, staring at a dusty box. His eyes flickered over to Conan, one hand rubbing his chin while the other wrapped around his thin torso. Conan wondered why the man was so worried. Just minutes ago the man seemed to be enjoying his predicament-- to his great annoyance and confusion. Did it have something to do with their little wand problem? Maybe the reason why he wasn’t “bonding” with any was because of his disbelief…?

The old man gave in to whatever internal war was going on inside his head, slowly pulling out the box and drew a pale wand from its wooden coffin. Thin branches whirled around the stick like vines, an indent where the wood curved which created a makeshift handle for its user. Despite the elegant design, something about the wand seemed familiar-- as if he were meeting an old friend.

Ollivander passed the wand over to Conan, uncertainty written across his features. It made Conan stand on edge at the man’s drastic change in attitude and he warily gave the wand a little wave. A sense of warmth washed through him, his fingers tingled with a spark and a cool, blue mist encircled the tip of his wand.

“Vine, eight and a half inches. Fierce and adaptable,” he stared at Conan with an unreadable look, “And thestral hair. Curious, curious indeed..”

Flitwick’s gasp of surprise made Conan feel as if he just committed some sort of crime.

“What’s a thestral?” Conan asked cautiously, sounding out the word in his rusty English.

“A thestral is known as an omen of misfortune and aggression-- I’ve only ever known one other wand who dared to use their tail hair as a wand core.” Ollivander said. If Conan squinted, he could probably hear the awe in his voice. But since the wand was literally calling out his terrible luck, he wasn’t entirely amused at it.

“This was one of my great grandfather’s old creations. A customer had brought in the tail hair for their wand but never returned for it. I wonder..” Ollivander continued before diving back into his swarming thoughts.

It didn’t look like the man was ready for more questions, already piling up his own. Conan quickly paid him seven galleons before following his parents and Flitwick out the door.

“Interesting man.” Yusaku hummed, falling into step with Conan. He didn’t say anything.

For a few hours the trio trailed behind Yukiko. Yusaku wanted to explore just as much as his wife and Flitwick felt comforted by the Kudos’ eccentricities. Conan just wanted to go home and pretend the whole magic thing didn’t exist and never happened. But since he couldn’t really run away, he might as well just go along with it.

Visiting the apothecary wasn’t too eventful. It was at least a break from his hyperactive mother’s energy as she waited outside. The smell and her ideas of whatever sat in those glass tubes drove her from exploring the shop’s contents. He squashed the feeling of relief down. As elegant as his mother was, he had no doubt they’d end up breaking something. Most likely an employee’s patience.

It took much convincing for her not to buy the mini cauldron-- how many times were people going to make him feel bad about his height dang it-- and they had to drag a sulking Yukiko out of the cauldrons shop. At least she fit right in with every other person here, Conan thought exhaustedly.

They were sitting in an ice cream parlor. Yukiko was busy licking at her mountainous sundae while Yuusaku struck a conversation with Flitwick.

“So spells can really be created just like that?”

“With the correct incantation, wand movement, and magical affinity!” Flitwick gladly answered.

Conan groaned, refraining from slamming his head onto the table. At the rate they were going they would have to come back tomorrow to get his books. After all, just because his parents may be internationally famous doesn’t mean that their train was going to wait for them.

At least the time to himself let him just soak in exactly what was happening. Ever since he was a child he never believed in the supernatural. Everything was explainable scientifically and logically. Hell, every case where the murderer-- stupidly-- tried to frame a ghost or demon, he always managed to debunk it!

But staring outside the window, at the man across the street, playfully levitating his bags in a circle in the air made him rethink his unwavering belief in the non-supernatural. Oh kami, if Ran ever found out about this she would never let him live it down.


“A-ah?” he whipped around, his attention ripped away from a gaggle of children that have started to surround the tiny performance.

“Ready to get your school books?” Yusaku said, leaving a few sickles on the table before standing up. Yukiko was already up, a pep in her step after her little snack. Thank kami they were almost done here.

Walking into Flourish and Blotts he wondered if all wizard buildings were cramped and crowded. There were bookshelves and bookshelves lined up upon the wall, books piled atop each other from the wooden floor to the surprisingly not dusty ceiling.

His hand brushed upon the spine of a leather cover, pulling out the book. Tucking it under his arm, Conan continued to grab one of each book. He left home for a reason and was going to try and get as many answers as possible. If the Black Org. really had anything to do with “magic”.

They spent an hour there, browsing each shelf and picking out textbooks and journals of all kinds. Conan spotted a girl-- bushy hair, around eleven years old-- also carrying a pile of books. He wondered how she was able to see behind the stack in her arms, let alone carry them herself. The staff at least seemed to be happy, looking like they were about to jump out of their skin and do a little jig. Guess it was their lucky day.

Yukiko practically cheered in joy as they left the bookstore. They made their way back out of Diagon Alley, out of the Leaky Cauldron. The sun hung low in the sky as they bid farewell to Flitwick. The walk to the station and train ride was silent, each person lost in their own thoughts.


Conan flinched, akin to touching boiling water. “Okaa-san, please don’t call me that anymore.” he replied in Japanese. Using his rusty English all day was wearing out on him.

Yukiko opened her mouth, seeming like she wanted to argue but Yusaku subtly shook his head. She dropped it, but gave Conan a look, as if saying they would talk about it at home.

He sighed, the sound barely audible beneath the rumbling engine. He wondered if he would ever go back to the days where bodies would drop like flies 24/7-- at least those were explainable. Unlike….whatever he witnessed in Diagon Alley. And really? A wand powered off of hair? In all fairness it was from a magical creature but still.

Conan’s gaze drifted down towards his feet and he frowned. He still had to do something about his height. Conan wondered if there were any shoe stores nearby selling platform shoes.

Chapter Text




“How long are you planning to stay in England with your parents? Ran-san is getting worried-”

“I’m not coming back.”

A pause.

“Edogawa-kun, what are you talking about?”

“I...I found a lead here. In England. I need to stay.”

“Think about this rationally. You can’t just pack up and leave with Ran-san and the- them at large. And what about Okiya-san? You can’t possibly leave a stranger in your own home unwatched.”

“Sorry Haibara, but I can’t. Not now.”

“Then when are you coming home?”

Another pause.

“Edogawa-kun. When are you coming home?’

“I’m not sure. Next July at the latest, probably.”

“What?! Why can’t you leave this lead to the FBI or your parents?! We already have issues here! Are you just going to let the FBI and me deal with it?!”

“It’s not like I want to!”

Haibara went quiet. Conan held his breath.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

The silence lasted for what felt like hours. Haibara could hear Conan moving around on the other line, as if he were packing.


He cut himself off. A shaky breath in and-

“Do you believe in magic?”

There was a beat of momentary shock.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Came Haibara’s reply. Whispered and low, trembling with every word.

“Fine. Do what you want, but just know that it won’t be my fault if you get too ahead of yourself.”




“Moshi moshi?”

“Hi Ran-neechan!”

“Conan-kun! How are you? The Shounen Tantei-Dan miss you a lot!”

“Um, I’m doing ok. Ran-neechan, I don’t think I’ll be able to come back until around July. I have to catch up with my studies here in America after all!”

“I thought your parents took you to London to catch up?”

“W-we went back after a few days.”

“Ah, I understand. Well, we’ll still have your futon ready whenever you need to come back.”

Conan didn’t answer.

“Conan-kun, are you still there?”

“Uh, yeah! Thanks Ran-neechan!”



Bringing his phone away from his ear, Conan could only stare at it silently. The conversations weren’t...pleasant, but they needed to be made sooner or later. Preferably later but Haibara would kill him if he left without a word and Ran would most likely fly to England for him. In any other situation it would be endearing, but it would be a pain to explain the whole “magic is real and you were right” thing. At least ghosts weren’t real.


Yukiko’s voice snapped him out of his daze. Conan sighed, only dropping his phone onto the couch. Tomorrow was when they-- he had to leave for “Hogwarts”. His books were still pretty unpacked and his father still hadn’t come back with the platform boots. Maybe he should pack his power-enhancing shoes. Just in case.

He wondered what the Shounen Tantei-dan would do without him. Well, they’d probably end up trying to look for some kind of crime scene or inevitably run into trouble. At least Haibara and Agasa would keep them in line. Although Haibara may or may not just go with their antics. It’s really a 50-50 at this point. She’s gotten so attached to the children she ends up going soft on them.

Conan chuckled to himself, plopping his phone down on the mattress. Yukiko was quiet during his thinking, only watching as her son sorted out his thoughts. She watched as his knees gave out on him, as if his bones just disappeared. Conan slid down the side of the bed, hand grasping and tugging at his hair, face hidden in his knees. Yukiko sunk down beside him, an arm around his shoulders in a gentle embrace.

“You haven’t called Ran-san yet.”

He opened his mouth.

“As you. As Shinichi.”

His lips pressed together in a tight line. He didn’t respond.

“Shin-chan, are you absolutely sure you want to--?”


Conan took in a shaky breath but didn’t look up at his mother. He didn’t want to see her pity.

“Even if this has nothing to do with Black Org.-- I need this advantage.” he whispered, fists squeezed together and nails digging into his palm. “But I don’t want-- I don’t want to leave Ran.”

Yukiko frowned, brushing a lock of hair out Conan’s face. She didn’t want to admit those were tears in her son’s eyes. Her Shin-chan was strong, he never cried.

“But you can’t leave and not tell her.” Yukiko said.

The silence dragged on. Yukiko stayed patient, ignoring the soft shaking coming from his small form, ignoring the quiet sniffles from him, ignoring the tiny hand clutching her shirt.

“I know.”

“And I’m sure Haibara-san will underst--”

“No she won’t.” Conan bit out, standing up and out of Yukiko’s grip.

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’s kept a secret, but it frustrated him that Haibara didn’t believe him. He trusted his parents, he did, but Haibara was-- well, Haibara. It shouldn’t have hurt him as much as it did.

“Shin-chan. You may be Conan now, but you’ll always be Shinichi--”

“But I’m not!”

Yukiko stared, mouth agape at Conan’s seething figure, head bowed and muscles tight.

“If this, this magic can’t help me and Haibara can’t find a cure,” his nails clawed into his coat’s sleeves as his voice stuttered, “Ran can’t wait forever. I don’t want her to suffer because of me. How much longer until I’m her Shinichi again? How much longer are we both going to wait?”

He heard his mother stand up and pad over to him, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her arms wrapped around him from behind, clutching onto him like he was going to disappear. Conan didn’t want to admit that it helped calm his rapidly beating heart.

“Honey, you’ll get through this. You’re a strong young man and I am so, so proud of you. You can get through this. Even if Ran-san doesn’t know about your Conan situation, she’ll always support you, no matter what. And you still have Agasa and us, your parents. You know we’ll support you no matter what.” Yukiko buried her face in the crook of his neck, “You may be Edogawa Conan now, but you’ll always be our Kudo Shinichi: snarky, over-confident, insensitive--”
“Okaa-san is this going anywhere?”

“--great detective.”

Conan chuckled, slowly taking off his glasses and wiping away the wetness at his eyes with his sleeves. Yukiko let go and let him compose himself.

“Thanks, okaa-san.” Conan said, a small smile on his chubby face.

The sound of the hotel door opening snapped the two out of their emotional stupor. Yuusaku appeared from behind the corridor, holding up a shoe box. Conan didn’t like that sheepish smile on his face.

“I'm back and I’ve got the platform boots!” he called out, a cheery tone that would full most people. Except Conan was his son and Yukiko was…Yukiko.

“And the problem?” Conan raised an eyebrow.

Yuusaku laughed nervously, only handing over the box before resorting to scratching the back of his head. Conan was now rightfully worried. And also annoyed that his mother was the same.

He couldn’t help the loud groan that left him upon looking inside at the shoes. The boots were a decent height, acceptably five inches tall. It was the design that scared him. There were thin, leather straps acting like ribbons made to weave around the wearer’s legs, reaching just below the knee. They were closed-toe shoes but revealed the top of his foot. There were tiny spikes aligning the ribbon-like straps and a decorative, silver buckle near the heels.

Conan looked up at Yuusaku.

Yuusaku stared back.

Yukiko looked like she was about to burst.

Conan pointedly stuffed his sneakers into his suitcase.

Chapter Text

The train station bustled with people heading to work or off on their own adventures. The trains themselves puffed steam from their chimneys, either beginning to pull out of the station, or waiting for the conductor. Conan stood off to the side, his baggage clutched in his tiny hands as he stared up at the platform numbers, eyebrows scrunched up as he reread the number.

“Platform 9 and 10….but where’s 9 ¾?” Conan muttered.

Perhaps he just couldn’t see the platform number because of his height? If only his parents hadn’t left so quickly… He thought back to the crowd of fans and editors alike chasing after his parents the second they got into the station.

“Have fun Co-chan!” Yukiko had cheered from behind the crowd, tiptoeing to wave above the crowd. Conan had heard his father yell something as well, but the outcries from the editors were too loud for him to hear.

He scratched his head, a tiny, lopsided grin on his face. They might not be around much, but they were still his parents. He would always miss their antics.

“Hello boy, are you lost?”

Conan looked up and faced a tall man. By the looks of it, he was probably a security guard. His bushy mustache wiggled as he talked and his hairy brows furrowed, yet his eyes were gentle and looked at Conan almost kindly.

“Mm! Um, I can’t find Platform 9 ¾?”

The man frowned.

“Platform 9 ¾? No such thing here, are you sure you aren’t lost?”

Oh, right. Muggles.

His eyes darted through the crowd, face beginning to sweat at the predicament he’d landed himself in, and then he saw the boy with broken glasses and-- is that an owl?

“N-no nevermind, I found my friend.” Conan threw on a quick, shaky smile before he darted off towards the boy, ignoring the man’s attempts to continue the conversation.

The closer he got to the boy though, he noticed the ancy way his head swiveled around, thin form hunched in itself as his grip on the cart he held tightened, knuckles bonewhite. The way his clothes seemed to sag against his bony body, and how thin his wrists were. The most peculiar thing about him though, was the lightning scar on his forehead.


The boy practically jumped out of his skin as he let out a yelp. His wide, green eyes seemed to shake as they finally landed on him. Conan tilted his head and blinked. Did Conan startle him that much or was he really out of it?

“Um, what did you say?”

“Oh, sorry, just a habit.” Conan said, “Are you going to Platform 9 ¾ too?”

He didn’t think it was possible, but the boy’s eyes widened even further. “Y-you’re a wizard too?”

“I guess,” he mentally rolled his eyes before continuing, “Do you know how to get to the platform?”

The boy bit his lip and shook his head. Conan sighed and ran a hand through his fringe. What now?

Then, his head snapped up. Conan tilted his head as the boy motioned for him to follow as he weaved through the crowd. Despite the boy going first, Conan managed to get himself beside the front of the cart, since he only had to carry his large suitcase (thank god it had wheels).

And then he saw them.

A family with fiery red hair, as if they had dyed it. But no, it wasn't their hair that caught his attention, it was the owl in their cart, with luggage similar to the boy beside him. So that’s what caught his attention, Conan’s eyes drew towards the boy, who’s attention was focused on the large family, green eyes unwavering.“’re not old enough Ginny, now be quiet.” The plump woman scolded the only girl in the group, who in turn crossed her arms and huffed. His attention turned towards the elder boys, who he assumed would probably be the ones who were heading to Hogwarts. How were they going to get to Platform 9 ¾ when it didn’t exist--

Conan watched, eyes large as small dinner plates, as what seemed to be the eldest of the children held his chin high and marched into the goddamn wall.

He blinked.

Perhaps he saw it wrong. After all, he was a foot shorter than the boy, not to mention passengers at that time had decided to swarm this particular area. So what if he saw through a gap between legs? It wasn’t as if--

Another red-haired boy jumped into the wall and disappeared, shortly followed by his twin. Conan let a slow breathe out of his nose. Right, magic. Although, he still wondered to himself. What if it was a hologram? Perhaps a trick of light? A magic trick?

The crowd thinned and he could once again see the mother. It seemed like the fourth boy had gone in while the crowd moved, and now there was only one left. The boy beside him decided that it was time to go, as he shuffled over to the woman, just before she could guide her last son into the nonexistent wall. Conan was still salty about that.

“Um, excuse me.” The boy said.

“Hello dear,” the plump woman’s eyes drifted towards his cart, then seemed to look the boy up and down before offering him a warm smile, “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new too.”

Conan looked up at the gangly boy. If he thought Harry was tall, then this boy must be a giant (he refused to admit it was because he was short).

“The thing is-- we don’t know how to, how to-- “

“Get on the platform?” The woman said, but paused. “Wait, we?”

Her gaze found Conan’s own, and she frowned. “You must be mistaken dear, only eleven year olds and up go to Hogwarts.”

“Um, I am eleven.” Conan said, his small face set in a small frown, verging on a pout.

The woman startled, her face set into a small frown as she took in his tiny stature.

“Deary, are you sure?”

“Uh huh.”

What a pain, this is the third time this has happened. He was this close to just strapping a sign on himself screaming “Eleven Year Old! Stop Asking”. The woman dropped it and instead gave him a soft pat on the head, as if she were reprimanding a child.

“Very sorry dear. Anyways, all you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a run if you’re nervous.”

The woman motioned her hand towards the barrier and smiled at Conan. He frowned, not sure why he was going first but might as well. He didn’t want the actual children to get hurt, in case the “magic” was faulty.
Conan took in a deep breath, held his suitcase in front of him, and practically sprang at the wall, his little feet sprinting as fast as he could. His eyes had shut at some point, waiting for the crash against hard brick and for a bruise to form on his body--

However, nothing came. He was only five feet from the wall, it should’ve stopped him ten seconds ago. His eyes flew open, and was greeted with a bustling platform. There were parents sending their children off onto the train, or saying their last farewells. Adults talked and gossiped, forming theories of what would happen to their children or how they would do in their classes. Conan took note of the abundant amount of cats, who were either cuddling up to the humans or were off to the side. One cat in particular had decided to lounge on a girl’s luggage, hungry eyes slitted as they stared at a small owl in the cage beside it. If he didn’t know any better, he thought the owl might have been frantically trying to get his owner’s attention before all that was left of him was bones and feathers.

A quiet gasp came from behind and he turned back towards the wall. The boy from before, with the broken glasses, had gotten past the barrier (probably just now) and was staring up at the sign that read "Hogwarts’ Express, 11 o’ clock" along with an iron arch behind them, where they had come from with "Platform 9 ¾" etched into it. The boy seemed to drink in everything he saw, continuously mesmerized by the steam train, painted a bright red. Not an obnoxious red, but one that seemed to come from those American Christmas movies. The steam from the engine wafted through the air. It smelled of charcoal, and yet there was something masking the scent, like a barrier.

Conan tugged at the boy’s pant leg. His gaze snapped from a woman talking to her grandson from a window back to Conan, as if he just realized he didn’t come alone.

“We should get on the train before there’s nowhere to sit,” He said.

“Oh, right.” Harry jerked his head, as if he were trying to nod but something held his head, trying to stop the movement.

The two made their way across the platform. It seemed like he was right, most of the compartments had already started to fill, some full to the brim. Conan knew firsthand how much trouble children could be, and how loud they were. (He was friends with the Detective Boys after all.) But the children here seemed so much...louder. There was one compartment where a couple of girls talked loudly and laughed, something about a boy and a recent beauty spell for a crooked nose. He’d rather live with Sonoko than be in that cart. A few carriages down there was a group of first years crying for their parents, while two other older children covered their red faces.

Fortunately, they found an empty room near the end of the train. The boy started to put his owl into the window, and Conan climbed onto the train. One problem though. He couldn’t get his baggage onto the train steps. There was no ramp for him to drag it up, and there was no way he was going to be able to lift it up higher than two inches. It seemed like the boy was also having trouble, Conan frowned as at that moment the boy dropped the cart onto his toe, again.

“You two want a hand?” It was one of the red-haired twins from earlier.

“Yes please,” they both said, the boy panting through labored breaths.

“Oi Fred, c’mere and help.” The twin yelled to the side.

With their help, their luggage was hefted into the carriage and into their respective compartments. Conan had just pushed his own suitcase beneath the seat when he heard one of the twins say, “What’s that?”
He stood up and looked close at where the twin was pointing. The lightning bolt. It was normal for them to be surprised, but he thought their reactions were a bit...much. They seemed speechless, mouths agape like fish out of water.

“Blimey, are you--?”

“--Harry Potter?” The twins finished each other’s sentences.

The boy stared. “Yes I’m him-- I mean, I am.”

If it was possible their jaws would’ve dropped to the ground, one of the twins pointed a finger at him as they looked at each other, astounded.

The boy-- er, Harry-- seemed to go red the longer they stood there, in deafening silence, until they were called away by their mother. Conan watched them go, a little frown on his chubby face.

Harry sat down at a window seat, his arms crossed as he watched the red-haired family continue to speak with each other.

“Are you a celebrity?” Conan asked and sat down in front of him.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Hagrid says it’s because I survived the killing curse or something.”


Oh, he’s someone who works at the school. Helped me get familiar with magic.”

Conan hummed in thought. “A teacher from Hogwarts came to help me as well. He said something about me being a “good Ravenclaw”. I’m not sure what he meant by that though.”

Then, there was a loud whistle and the train had begun to move. Both Harry and Conan looked out the window, watching the platform go by as they began to build up speed, but neither of them had someone to wave goodbye to.

“Where were your parents?” Conan turned back to Harry, who had stiffened at the question.

“I don’t have any.” He mumbled, his hands gripped at the cushions of his seat.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Conan muttered, before he could stop himself he continued, “How did they die?”

Harry’s lips pressed into a thin line, gaze determined to burn the carriage floor. “Voldemort killed them.”

His eyebrows furrowed, but Conan thought it was a bit much to ask anymore questions. He’ll have time to figure that out later.

They sat together for a bit, until there was a knock at the carriage entrance.

Ron, the youngest red-haired boy, stood with his limbs tangled together.

“Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” He said.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Conan gestured for him to take a seat.

He sat down beside Conan, but his eyes had kept darting towards Harry.

Their compartment door then slid open again. The twins’ heads popped in as they grinned wide.

“Hey Ron, Lee’s got a giant tarantula down the middle of the train. We’re gonna head there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

“Oh, right, Harry and uh…” The first twin trailed off as they looked at Conan.

“Edo-- Conan-- Conan Edogawa.”

“Right, Fred and George Weasley. And that one’s Ron. Alright, see you later.” And they left, sliding the compartment door back closed as they did.

“So you’re actually Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

Conan raised an eyebrow. “What’s so special about Harry Potter?”

Ron gaped.

“How could you not know who bloody Harry Potter is? He’s the Boy Who Lived, that's what he is! The only person to ever survive the killing curse.”

Harry’s face grew redder with each word Ron spouted.

“So the killing curse is usually potent?” Conan asked.

“The killing curse always works.” Ron harrumphed.

So that’s why everyone scrambled around the name and mark. Conan stared at Harry's scar, who shifted under his gaze. He quickly looked away.

The three stayed in silence for a few moments, neither of them sure what to do. Conan leaned against the glass, his thoughts drifted to the Detective Boys. Conversation had flowed so easily with the children, he wondered what they were doing now? Perhaps Genta was hungry for eel again, and Mitsuhiko was probably either scolding Genta or looking for a new mystery. The young boy was always so curious and bright. Ayumi most likely had made a new friend at this point, or was trying to drag Haibara into playing soccer with the three in Conan’s place.

“So, you’re a muggle?”

Conan’s head swiveled back to the children, who’s eyes were on him.

“Oh, yeah I guess.” He said.

“Well don’t worry, I can teach you everything about the wizarding world,” Ron’s chest puffed out, “Just follow my lead and you’ll do fine at Hogwarts.”

Both Harry and Conan locked gazes before bursting into laughter (Conan just chuckled).

“Hey I’m being serious here!”

The three ended up talking about Ron’s family (five brothers was quite extensive, not to mention a younger sister) and more about Harry. He felt bad for these children. Ron’s family seemed to be struggling financially while Harry had most likely been abused, or at least neglected. The way he talked about never being able to properly celebrate his birthday or unable to own new clothes spoke volumes. Conan never remembered his birthday either and never cared to celebrate, but perhaps he should start being more grateful to Ran for always remembering.

At some point they had grown quiet, just enjoying the silence of company as they all watched the city fade away and the countryside grow. The greenery in the UK was mostly pastures, and there was more livestock here then in Japan, less forestry.

Loud clattering outside the compartment door alerted Conan, and he jumped out of his seat, startling the other two (Ron had been playing with his rat, Scabbers while Harry was content with just staring out the window). He slid back the compartment door, just as a woman held out her own hand, as if to open it herself. The woman blinked owlishly at him, but regained face and smiled at him.

“Anything off the cart, dearies?” She motioned to said cart beside her.

Conan walked into the corridor, and saw mounds and mounds of organized, strange treats. There were things called "Every Flavor Beans" and "Drooble’s Best Blowing Gums", not to mention chocolate frogs (his mind wandered to the children at Diagon Alley).

“Wow, which ones are you getting, Conan?” At some point, Harry had stood behind him and was also gaping at the strange treats.

He decided just on a Pumpkin Pasty, Fizzing Whizzbees, and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. Conan paid the woman three silver sickles before going back inside and sitting down. He frowned when Ron had looked down at his lap and just stared at a lumpy package.

What’s that?” Harry asked as he sat down, spilling the pile of candy he bought beside him.

“Mum packed me lunch,” he shrugged before unwrapping it to reveal four sandwiches and picking one apart, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef…”

Harry and Ron proceeded to throw the sandwiches aside (Conan wrapped them back up and tucked it beside him) and bulldozed their way through Harry’s treats. Conan merely watched, chewing on his pasty every now and then as he let the boys talk about which treat tasted best or what chocolate frogs were.

It took a while before their carriage window went from fields and pastures to forestry and trees. Conan wondered whether they’d allow camping in the forestry, perhaps there was something in magic that dealt with herbs or plants? Over the summer he had read over some of the textbooks, although he had yet to finish "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection".

Ron had been (poorly) attempting to turn Scabbers yellow when a knock came on the door. A round-faced boy stumbled in, a bushy haired girl following.

“Have you two seen Neville’s toad at all?” The girl said. It reminded Conan of Sonoko, except this girl had more elegance than the other.

“No, we haven’t.” Harry said, but the girl seemed to zone in on the wand Ron held.

“Oh, are you practicing magic?” The girl sat herself down beside Harry (what happened to looking for the toad?), intent on butting in, “Let’s see it then. Go on.”

Ron looked nervously at Conan, who just gave him a reassuring pat on the back, before he uttered out, “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

As Conan expected, nothing happened.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well, it’s not very good, is it?” The girl said with a pleased smile. “Nobody in my family’s magic at all so it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter. I’ve learned all my books by heart, of course, I just hope it’ll be enough. Oh, I’m Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?”

Conan’s head spun as he listened to her rant. And he thought he was bad when he solved a case.

“Ron Weasley.”

“Conan Edogawa.”

“Harry Potter.”

He heard the girl take a quick, deep breath in, and he decided that perhaps he should help Neville, the round-faced boy.

“I’m going to go help Neville, I’ll see you guys later.” Conan said as he slipped off his seat. The girl’s eyes furrowed and turned to Neville, who only gave her a nod. Her eyes seemed to shine as she began to bombard Harry with questions.

The last thing he saw before he left the compartment was the boys’ betrayed faces as the door slid closed.

“So, Neville was it?” The boy nodded. “Where’d you last see your toad?”

“W-well, when I first got onto the train.” He said.

Conan rubbed his chin in thought. “It’s possible you could have left him at the train station. Can you take me to your compartment?”

Neville shuffled his feet, but led the way. They went through the compartments in mostly silence, besides the occasional loud chattering from students in their own rooms and the rumbling of the engine. Conan kept his eye out for any signs of a toad, any neutral colors on the gaudy carpets or slight movements beneath benches.

Then, a compartment door swung open with a slam. Neville jumped backwards, only to tumble into Conan which ended up with both of them on the floor. Conan rubbed at his head, sending the sheepish boy a deep frown.

“Well if it isn’t the mudblood.”

There stood the boy from the Madam Malkin’s, except this time there were two other boys flanking his sides. They reminded him of those grunts from those American cartoons, with their large exterior and ignorant faces.

“Malfoy-san?” Conan said, before standing and helping Neville up onto his shaking legs.

"And is that loon of a woman of yours here as well?" Draco said, all high and mighty. Conan could hardly believe this was the boy who begged for mercy when his mother forcefully glomped him into an embrace, which was only released because she was making a scene, again. Perhaps his confidence came from his two bodyguards? Most likely, but despite Conan's stature compared to them, his watch and sneakers would come in handy in a 3v1 (He didn't trust Neville not too faint at the sight of a fist.)

"Ah, my aunt was dragged away from her fans and husband's hunters." Conan stated with a shrug.

The four wizard children gave him a blank stare. He could see the way Draco was twisting the story in his head (Strange child.) while Neville looked as if, for lack of better words, a cat had caught his tongue.

"H-hunters?" Neville dared to ask. Conan was slightly impressed that he just didn't speak at all throughout this ordeal.

Draco’s eyes snapped towards Neville, who only withered under his gaze.

“Longbottom, thought you’d be associating with mudbloods throughout the year, but I guess I thought too high of you.” Draco sneered, before splitting into a smug grin, “Wouldn’t want you ending up like your parents, would we?”

Neville seemed like he was about to burst, tears already building up in his eyes as his hands clenched at his robes.

“Hey, leave him alone.” Conan said, his hand on Neville’s back as he stood between the two. He narrowed his eyes at the blonde.

He didn’t know what happened to Neville’s parents, but the way he reacted said nothing good. From the way Neville flinched and shook like a newborn doe, it didn’t sound like they were dead, but if they were and Malfoy was just rubbing it in his face….

“And what are you going to do about it?” The two boys at Draco’s side crossed their arms, “You going to fight us?”

“No,” Conan said, his face darkened, “But insulting someone for what happened to someone’s family is low. Their life might not be yours, but that doesn’t mean you should be using their hardships as something against them.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Draco stepped closer to him, their height difference painfully apparent, “You’re just a mudblood, and I’m a Malfoy.”

Conan just shook his head.

“I’m not telling you what to do. If anything, I don’t care.”

His hand wrapped around Neville’s wrist and he led the trembling boy with him, past the brutes. He could feel their gazes burning into his back.

He stopped and turned around, ignoring the way Malfoy flinched.

“You might be a Malfoy, but you’re just like the rest of us. Human.”

And with that, Conan and Neville continued down the hallway.