*Another trait triggered?* Silan stared at the floating virtual screen in front of him, noting that this was a time-limited exchange event.
To put it simply, Silan needed to acquire Guilt Points from others within the specified timeframe, and then use those points to exchange for permanent trait attributes.
If he failed to accumulate enough Guilt Points or couldn’t afford a single trait before the timer ran out, the task would be considered a failure.
While there was no penalty for failing, there would naturally be no reward either.
More work, more reward; no work, no gain.
Silan found the setup perfectly fair.
This anomaly had first manifested a few months ago.
Silan still hadn’t figured out its origin; he only knew that certain actions of his would occasionally trigger these traits.
They were highly randomized.
Sometimes, he was given a choice between multiple options to claim a permanent ability, which he could then level up by fulfilling specific requirements.
His [Silver-Tongued] trait worked exactly like that.
The other type was like the one currently hovering before him–completing tasks to earn rewards, then spending those rewards to redeem the traits he desired.
He gave the screen a brief scan.
Realizing his current Guilt Points weren’t even enough to afford the cheapest option, he brushed it aside for the moment and stepped into Ollivanders Wand Shop.
The interior of the shop was dimly lit.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he was greeted by countless narrow, long boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling.
Inside those boxes, presumably, lay the wands.
Outside the shop, McGonagall leaned against the wall to rest for a good while before she finally managed to steady her emotions.
Even with her characteristically poised and stern temperament, the successive revelations from earlier had left her mind in a state of turbulent unrest.
Turning her gaze back toward the shop’s interior, she saw Mr.
Ollivander meticulously selecting wands for Silan.
The wizard seemed to be running into some trouble, having Silan try several wands in a row, none of which proved to be a match.
“Tricky, tricky…” Mr.
Ollivander muttered to himself, completely oblivious to his surroundings.
“How extraordinary.
To encounter two such selective customers in a single day…
I haven’t run into a situation like this in years.” “Oh, try this one.
Twelve inches long, exceptionally unyielding.
Go on, give it a wave.” It took quite a while before Silan finally emerged from Ollivanders Wand Shop.
“You certainly took your time.” McGonagall’s gaze landed on the wand in Silan’s hand.
“It appears to be a fine wand indeed.” “Yes, Professor McGonagall.
Twelve inches, ebony, with a dragon heartstring core.
Mr.
Ollivander mentioned it’s best to be careful when using it.” “Then you must study diligently to properly master it.” “I will, Professor.” “Very good, very good.
I look forward to seeing you wield it.
But for now, you had best keep it tucked away safely.” As McGonagall spoke, she handed him the Hogwarts acceptance letter she had prepared earlier.
“Hogwarts term begins on September the first.
Here are your train ticket and acceptance letter.
Remember to head to King’s Cross Station and board the train at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.” “Oh, and one more thing.
Do not reveal anything regarding Hogwarts to anyone,” McGonagall instructed with a stern expression.
After escorting Silan back to the orphanage, McGonagall returned to Hogwarts.
The consecutive days of investigation and travel had left her slightly fatigued, rendering her severe countenance even more intense than usual.
Silan’s surname, Mrs.
Hazel’s remarks about Fabian Prewett, Hagrid’s stunned exclamation…
these thoughts swirled and collided relentlessly in her mind, as if desperate to validate a certain truth.
Yet, after a long period of wrestling with these thoughts, she failed to reach a definitive conclusion, giving herself a slight headache instead.
McGonagall felt a nagging sensation that she was hovering on the very precipice of the truth, yet she was missing that crucial final step.
*Perhaps I ought to write a letter to Mrs.
Weasley, and ask if Fabian ever dated a Muggle girl back then?* This was the best course of action she could think of at the moment.
Molly Weasley, formerly Molly Prewett, was Fabian Prewett’s younger sister.
By blood relation, she would be Silan’s aunt.
Perhaps she would know something of Fabian’s past.
Having made up her mind, McGonagall gave her wand a brief flick.
The quill on her desk sprang to life on its own, darting across a sheet of parchment to pen a concise letter according to her wishes.
Once it was finished, McGonagall handed the letter to an owl, instructing the bird to deliver it to the Burrow.
Watching the owl fade into the distance, McGonagall lapsed into deep, silent contemplation.
Back at the orphanage, Silan was busy inspecting his newly acquired belongings.
Though these items looked thoroughly tattered, they were entirely novel concepts to him.
After tinkering with them for a while, he flipped open The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1–a mandatory textbook on the supply list–intending to study it.
This introductory text outlined several simple yet practical basic spells.
However, before he could examine it closely, he heard someone calling out from the courtyard.
“Silan!
Miss Granger is here looking for you!” Quickly packing his things away, Silan walked out of the dormitory.
Sure enough, Hermione was standing just outside the orphanage gates, craning her neck to look inside.
Seeing him emerge, she raised her arm high and waved at him enthusiastically.
“Silan, over here!” Silan jogged over to Hermione and asked, “What brings you here?” “I wanted to apologize to you for what happened last time.
We had agreed to host you for dinner, but then…” “It’s completely fine.
Your schooling takes priority.
Besides, I should be thanking you for the sandwiches; they tasted wonderful.” Hearing his words, the young girl felt an even greater surge of guilt.
Silan was always so considerate of others.
He was truly too kind.
[Oh, sir.
I marvel at your linguistic artistry.
Guilt Points +17.] Silan looked at the snarky screen materializing before his eyes, feeling slightly amused.
He was merely offering a bit of comfort to the young girl in front of him.
What wrong had he committed?
It was the world’s fault.
“Aside from apologizing, I also wanted to invite you over to my house for cake.
My parents aren’t home today, so we can eat as much as we like.” “You know how they are–they usually never let me eat too many sweets.
Every single time, they say, ‘Mind your teeth.’ In their eyes, it feels like every single thing in the world can somehow be linked back to teeth.” Hermione rambled out the entire explanation in one breath, looking into Silan’s eyes with a hint of nervousness.
“Would you like to come?” “Of course.
Thank you, Hermione.” Perhaps because Silan had readily agreed, or perhaps because, after her repeated insistence, he had finally stopped addressing her as “Miss Granger,” a radiant smile blossomed across the young girl’s face.
“Then let’s hurry up!” — [Total Bonus Chapters Achieved: 0]