King’s Cross Station.
Pedestrians clad in a vast assortment of clothing rushed past, all sharing the exact same look of hurried urgency on their faces.
Having just seen Harry and Ron off, Molly Weasley was about to lead Ginny through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten to send the boys off from the other side.
However, turning around, she caught sight of a frail-looking young boy wheeling a trolley in her direction.
Judging by the luggage piled atop it, he was likely a Hogwarts student as well.
For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, the moment her eyes fell upon this child, her heartstrings were inexplicably tugged.
Acting on impulse, she called out kindly: “Looking for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, are you, dear?” “Yes, ma’am,” Silan replied with a gentle smile.
“Oh, right this way then.” Molly guided Ginny to the side to clear a path, her eyes intently sizing up the boy.
He had deep brown hair and eyes that border on black, catching the faint morning sunlight to reveal a subtle hint of gold.
His frame was thin, and the clothes he wore were noticeably ill-fitting.
It was clear he didn’t come from a wealthy background.
Yet, for some inexplicable reason, his facial features struck a chord of familiar warmth deep within her.
The sensation defied all logic.
Though it wasn’t a violent rush of emotion, it was remarkably tenacious–as though it had sprouted from the very depths of her bloodline.
The moment it surfaced, it took root firmly in her heart, lingering there, entirely impossible to shake off.
This left Molly feeling thoroughly bewildered.
Why on earth did she feel this way toward a child she had never set eyes on before?
“Don’t worry about it, just walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten.
That’s the secret.
Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous,” Molly instructed, pointing toward the barrier.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Looking at the slightly plump woman standing before him with a young girl in tow, Silan gradually pieced things together.
This had to be Molly Weasley.
It was fortunate they were at King’s Cross Station on the first day of term–the narrative context made it obvious; otherwise, Silan wouldn’t have been able to recognize her.
By blood, Molly was his aunt.
From a social standpoint, however, Silan had never met this aunt of his, and it would be impossible to pick her out of a massive crowd, walk up, declare his surname, and stage a tearful family reunion right there on the platform.
Thus, Silan merely offered a polite thank you, pushed his trolley, and broke into a light jog, preparing to pass through the barrier.
As Molly stared at his face, the sense of familiarity grew sharper by the second, until a near-preposterous thought violently crashed into her mind.
*This child…
looks so much like my brother, Fabian!* Molly shook her head vigorously, desperate to banish the absurd notion from her mind, but it was entirely futile.
The more she resisted, the more overwhelming the thought became, until it utterly consumed her focus.
Guided by a strange, irresistible impulse, she blurted out: “What’s your name, dear?” “Silan Prewett, ma’am!” Silan turned back and offered a polite, respectful nod.
The moment the words left his mouth, he melted right through the barrier.
“Prewett?
Prewett?!” The moment that surname–one forever etched into the deepest recesses of Molly’s heart–slipped from Silan’s lips, it transformed into a runaway steam train, crashing into her mind with terrifying force.
It left her entirely frozen in her tracks.
*How could it be Prewett?* While that surname wasn’t entirely rare across the broader scope of London, the number of wizards carrying the Prewett name was tragically small!
The boy looked to be a first-year at Hogwarts, making him roughly eleven years old.
Didn’t that timeline align perfectly with the year Fabian had sacrificed his life?
Coupled with that deeply familiar face and the sudden letter from Professor McGonagall…
All the disparate pieces of information snapped together, violently exploding in Molly’s mind.
A daring conclusion forced its way to the forefront of her thoughts.
*Could he actually be my brother’s child?!
My nephew?!* Molly stood dazed for a long moment before snapping back to reality, realizing she desperately needed to find Silan.
If she could just track him down and ask for his father’s name, everything would be made clear!
“Ginny, hurry!” Molly gripped Ginny’s hand and hurried through the barrier, stepping onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Her eyes darted wildly through the dense sea of people, desperately searching for that slender figure, but after a thorough scan, he was nowhere to be found.
She couldn’t help but think: *If Silan truly is my nephew, doesn’t that mean the Prewett line hasn’t ended?* The mere thought filled her with an immense surge of joy, which just as quickly curdled into bitter remorse and guilt.
Judging by the rags he wore and school supplies that looked even shabbier than Ron’s hand-me-downs, his life up until now must have been filled with hardship.
As his aunt, she had allowed this child to suffer so much.
For an entire decade, she had been completely oblivious to his existence, failing to fulfill even a fraction of her duties as his family.
Recalling the gentle smile on Silan’s face and his impeccable manners, Molly’s heart ached even more.
The boy was so young, yet so polite and refined; it was a rarity that could only mean he had endured countless unspoken hardships.
The more she dwelled on it, the heavier the guilt weighed on her chest.
[I genuinely do not comprehend why you always leave women feeling overwrought with guilt.
Guilt Points +190] Silan was completely baffled.
*All I did was state my name!* He hadn’t stepped up to claim a relationship, nor had he declared himself her nephew to launch into a tearful, dramatic sob story about his tragic childhood.
How on earth did she spiral into such a massive wave of guilt?
Fabian had sacrificed his life shortly after Silan was born.
While Molly was technically his aunt, she had absolutely no knowledge of his existence and had never met him.
Even if his childhood had been less than luxurious, she had no reason to shoulder the blame and feel guilty over it.
After pondering it for a moment, Silan let out a helpless shake of his head.
The only plausible explanation was that Molly was an inherently kind and tender-hearted soul.
Her brother’s sacrifice and the tragic decline of her family house had always been a source of profound grief for her.
Over a span of ten long years, these emotions had aged like fine, bitter wine, growing heavier with each passing year.
Silan’s sudden appearance simply provided an outlet for these repressed feelings, causing a decade’s worth of built-up emotion to instantly project onto him, translating entirely into Guilt Points.
Having deciphered the cause and effect, Silan turned his focus toward boarding the train.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was packed to the brim with travelers, and the scarlet steam engine rested majestically alongside the platform.
Passengers of all sizes slowly filed into the carriages like ants disappearing into a hill.
Looking at the sign hanging on the train–Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock–Silan felt his pulse quicken with excitement.
Who hadn’t fantasized about this exact moment?
At the absolute lowest, most miserable point of your life, a door to a far-off world suddenly swings wide open for you, utterly shattering your mundane daily grind, your terrible social dynamics, and your hopeless future.
It reaches out, yanks you entirely from the stagnant swamp of an unchanging existence, and unreservedly unveils a breathtakingly brilliant world and an entirely new way of life right before your eyes.
Who could possibly resist falling in love with that?
Silan took a long, deep breath and stepped onto the train.
*Home was now behind him; the world lay directly ahead.* Hermione lugged her baggage through the bustling crowd, only to find that the first few carriages were already completely filled with students.
Left with no choice, she hauled her luggage further down toward the back of the train.
Along the way, she watched cats of all colors weaving through the passengers’ legs, while the constant chatter of the crowd blended with the hooting of owls into a thoroughly dizzying din.
After a lengthy struggle, Hermione finally spotted a compartment that was relatively empty.
She began the grueling task of hoisting her trunk up the train’s steps.
Reaching the doorway, she tried to lift the heavy trunk onto the footplate, but the sheer weight proved too much.
It slipped from her grip, threatening to plunge straight down onto her feet.
Suddenly, a hand darted into her field of vision, firmly catching the trunk from beneath.
“Thank goodness,” Hermione let out a heavy sigh of relief, offering her thanks.
“Thank you so much.” “Don’t mention it, Hermione.” — [Total Bonus Chapters Achieved: 0]