McGonagall’s Letter Silan disliked noise.
Consequently, ever since he turned ten, he had stopped living in the communal dormitory with James, Keeny, and the others.
Mrs.
Hazel had given him the dusty old attic instead, letting him move in after he cleaned it out himself.
Of course, cleaning the attic wasn’t something he had to do with his own hands.
The other children were more than willing to do the manual labor for him.
Returning to the attic, he organized the items he had purchased from Diagon Alley and pulled out his spellbook: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
Written by Miranda Goshawk, this book was a mandatory text for first-year Hogwarts students before starting term, outlining several simple yet practical minor spells.
It included charms such as [Alohomora], [Incendio], [Lumos], [Reparo], and [Wingardium Leviosa].
“Magic” itself was a word brimming with fantasy and energy, possessing an inherent, immense allure.
The moment Silan flipped the book open, he found himself utterly engrossed.
Bolstered by his trait attribute, [Spell Inspiration], he picked up these simple spells at an incredibly rapid pace.
Theory guided practice.
Once Silan memorized the incantations and key technical points of the spells, he drew his wand, ready to practice.
A wand was of paramount importance to a wizard, practically considered their second life.
Even the most skilled wizards found it difficult to comfortably wield someone else’s wand, which was exactly why McGonagall had noted that “a wand is the one thing you absolutely cannot buy second-hand.” Presumably, outside of a certain family that was impoverished and bursting with children, or Neville Longbottom using his father’s wand out of sentimentality, very few wizarding families chose to “inherit” wands.
The wand in Silan’s hand was made of ebony, twelve inches long, with a dragon heartstring core, and it was exceptionally unyielding.
The wandmaker, Ollivander, had searched for a long time before pulling this particular box down from a spot near the ceiling.
In Ollivander’s own words, the wand was highly peculiar–tranquil on the outside, appearing dark and steady, but once it cast a spell, it would erupt with immense power.
The wandmaker had found it quite strange that a thin, slightly pale little fellow like Silan would be chosen by such a wand.
In the end, Ollivander could only urge him to wield it with care.
For safety’s sake, Silan began by practicing harmless spells like [Lumos] and [Reparo].
Consequently, over the next few days, the attic where Silan stayed was constantly illuminated by bursts of light, accompanied by the frequent sound of breaking objects.
[You have completed a round of spell practice] [Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] [Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] …
“James, how many items did you get?” “Not many.
A few radios, a broken iron.
Oh, and a busted television.
What about you?” “Keeny and I managed to collect a whole lot of broken toys.
These things are worth a lot, and they sell fast.” “Clever Keeny!” Several children from the orphanage hauled the junk they had purchased at dirt-cheap prices up to Silan’s attic.
Silan had stopped running his fortune-telling stall recently.
Instead, he had the children take the cash to scour the local streets and alleys, buying up anything broken–radios, irons, televisions, toys, and even tattered clothes.
When these items were brought in, they were completely broken and unusable, but by the day after they were carried into the attic, they would miraculously become as shiny as new.
The children would then take these restored items out to sell.
Since their prices were far cheaper than retail shops, they never had to worry about finding buyers.
In just a few short days, their pockets were overflowing.
James directed the others to carry the refurbished items back downstairs, then walked over to Silan.
“Silan, here is the money we made over the past few days.” “Keep it.
I’m leaving you in charge of managing this cash.
Remember to hand half over to Mrs.
Hazel so she can buy more bread for everyone.
As for the rest, you and Keeny take one-fifth each, and distribute the remainder to the others based on their effort.
Just like I taught you.” “Yes, sir.” “And remember, don’t give them all the money at once.
Dispense it gradually.” “Understood.
Silan…
will you be coming back?” James, tall and heavily built, wasn’t a boy of many words.
He hesitated before asking the question.
“Don’t worry, James.
I’ll be back,” Silan said smoothly.
Hearing this answer, James let out a sigh of relief, scratched his head tightly like a big, simple ox, and headed downstairs.
Ever since Silan mastered [Reparo], he had immediately thought of this business model–buying junk, repairing it, and selling it for a profit.
Technically speaking, this violated school regulations.
However…
he hadn’t officially enrolled yet, so school rules had no jurisdiction over him.
Furthermore, he operated with absolute secrecy, maintaining a small-scale “entrepreneurship” restricted to a few surrounding blocks, so it hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention for the time being.
The clever Keeny was already waiting at the bottom of the attic stairs.
Seeing James descend, his eyes quickly darted to the cash in James’s hands, a subtle and swift flash of greed flickering across his pupils.
“How did it go?” “Silan said he’ll be coming back.” Hearing those words, Keeny cast a glance toward the attic, firmly suppressing the rogue thoughts rising in his mind.
Putting aside the fact that Silan was still here, even if Silan truly left, as long as he promised to return, Keeny wouldn’t dare pull any tricks.
In Keeny’s eyes, James was just a stubborn, muscle-brained brute with big limbs and no intellect, while the other children were clueless fools who only knew how to eat, drink, and sleep.
He, on the other hand, was a rare, intelligent individual.
As for Silan…
that was an unfathomable monster.
Keeny still vividly remembered the first time he met the guy.
Despite his handsome looks, Silan had appeared frail and sickly, leading Keeny to think to himself at the time: *Great, another idiot.* Yet, it took that exact “idiot” a mere half-month to completely dismantle Keeny’s established authority in the orphanage.
Silan had not only turned James into a fiercely loyal follower but had also turned all the other children to his side.
Despite his pride, Keeny had to admit that Silan was terrifyingly capable.
Once Silan established absolute authority in the orphanage, he didn’t hoard the already scarce resources.
Instead, by generating more income, he drastically improved everyone’s living conditions, forcing even Keeny to bow down in respect.
After all, nobody argues with financial security.
The Burrow.
Molly Weasley waved her wand, directing the freshly chopped ingredients to automatically hop into a bubbling pot, while simultaneously shouting upstairs.
“Arthur, Percy, Fred, George, Ginny, Ronald!
Out of bed, hurry up!
Today is the day term begins!” Fred and George scratched their heads in perfect unison, hesitating as they stepped up to the door side-by-side.
“Who went out first last time?” “Forgot.” “Then I’ll go first.” “Wait, hasn’t this conversation happened before?
No, it’s my turn to go first this time!” Ron looked at his equally groggy father, letting out a massive yawn.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were one of Mum’s kids too, Dad.” “Oh, of course I am your mother’s absolute darling.” “Please, Dad, our teeth are aching,” Fred and George groaned in stereo.
Percy stroked his chin in front of a mirror; as a newly appointed Prefect, he had to maintain a dignified, prefect-like composure at all times.
Ginny leaned her head against the doorframe, wondering why she had to wake up so early when she wasn’t even going to school yet.
The massive family noisily crowded around the dining table.
Arthur ate his sandwich while scanning the Daily Prophet, Fred and George teased Ron–who was sighing over his brothers’ hand-me-down school supplies–and then the twins simultaneously stroked their chins, mimicking Percy with ridiculous, exaggerated grimaces, mouthing, “Address me as Prefect Percy!” The youngest, Ginny, was busy brushing her hair.
Breakfast was served.
Before anyone could dig into their food, an owl crashed against the windowpane with a loud *thud*.
“Mebbe Errol wants breakfast too,” Percy mumbled helplessly, getting up to retrieve the letter and glancing at the envelope.
“Mum, it’s for you.” Molly wiped her hands, taking the letter with a curious look.
*A letter from Hogwarts?
But term hasn’t even started yet.* Feeling slightly puzzled, Molly tore open the envelope, her eyes scanning the signature first: Minerva McGonagall.
This made her even more bewildered.
“George, Fred!
Have you two gone and caused trouble at school already?” “Which particular incident are you referring to, Mum?” Fred and George asked in unison.
Molly shot them a sharp glare and began reading the contents of the letter.
Stripping away the polite opening pleasantries, the most critical piece of information in the letter was a direct question: *Did your older brother, Fabian Prewett, ever date a Muggle girl more than ten years ago?* The question was remarkably peculiar.
Professor McGonagall hadn’t asked “if he ever did,” but rather framed it as an inquiry into “whether she was a Muggle.” Compared to a vague, open-ended question, the latter phrasing sounded as though McGonagall had already uncovered specific information and was merely seeking confirmation.
But why on earth was Professor McGonagall digging into this matter after a whole decade had passed?
She was hardly the type of person to casually pry into others’ private affairs, let alone the personal secrets of someone long deceased.
It was entirely abnormal.
If she had a choice, Molly didn’t want to recall the events of ten years ago at all.
To her, that period was an absolute nightmare; both of her brothers had sacrificed their lives in the war without leaving any descendants behind, causing the Prewett surname to practically go extinct.
Every single time she thought about it, a sharp ache pierced her heart.
“What’s wrong, Mum?
Why are you crying?” “It’s nothing…
the wind in the house is just a bit too strong…” “Where would a draft come from indoors?” “Alright, eat your breakfast quickly.
You all need to head to the station in a moment.
You absolutely cannot be late on the first day of term.” Molly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and tucked the letter away, intending to deal with it after seeing the children off to school.
Yet, the contents of the letter continued to swirl relentlessly in her mind.
*Surely it couldn’t be…
that Fabian actually had a girlfriend back then, and left a child behind?* she thought.