Hermione and Caelan were so deeply immersed in their study grind that dinner time arrived before they knew it.
The two packed up their things and headed toward the Great Hall.
The rumor from that morning about the apology was still brewing, growing more absurd by the minute.
Caelan didn’t pay it any mind, however.
Students at this age had boundless energy and wild imaginations.
A passing whisper could easily transform into an earth-shattering drama once it reached their lips.
Even Lockhart’s storytelling skills would probably pale in comparison to theirs.
As soon as Caelan and Hermione walked into the Great Hall, scores of eyes turned toward them, and whispers began to ripple through the room.
“What are they saying?” Hermione asked.
“Ignore them,” Caelan said, looking over the food on the tables.
“Where should we sit?” Hermione felt uncomfortable under all the stares.
“How about we grab some food and eat outside?
By the Black Lake—the view at dusk should be quite nice.” “Sounds good.” The two of them grabbed some food from their respective house tables and walked out of the Great Hall.
“A Gryffindor hanging around with a Slytherin…” Ron scoffed, watching Hermione’s retreating back.
“Maybe the Sorting Hat made a mistake with her.” “Slytherin students aren’t all that bad,” Harry said, looking up from his plate.
Ron nudged his chin toward Malfoy, who was shoving someone out of his way.
“I really wish you’d take a look at Malfoy before saying that.” “Don’t you think Caelan is different?” “Since when were you two close enough to be on a first-name basis?” With an easygoing indifference to what anyone else thought, Caelan and Hermione carried their food down to the edge of the Black Lake and began assembling sandwiches.
Hogwarts was situated in the Scottish Highlands, where the weather was free from London’s perpetual fog.
Right now, as dusk fell, the evening glow outlined the gentle slopes of the surrounding hills, and the Black Lake lay as still as a sheet of dark glass.
The two picked a spot with a clear view, sat down, and made sandwiches for each other.
Then, framed by the green hills, the sunset glow, and the calm lake, they enjoyed their meal at a leisurely pace.
A gentle breeze rolled over the hills and swept down across the surface of the Black Lake, raising delicate ripples before running through the grass in green, undulating waves.
After finishing their sandwiches, Caelan and Hermione were in no hurry to leave.
Instead, they lay side by side on the grassy bank, chatting comfortably.
“You know, Caelan?
I’m really glad I came to Hogwarts with you.” “Me too.” “We take classes together, do homework together, eat meals, and chat—just like before.” “It’ll be like this in the future, too.” “So…
you’ll stay by my side forever, right?” “Of course.” The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sunset glow slowly faded away.
*** Mr.
Arthur Weasley returned home after finishing his day’s work.
He was a thin man.
Though somewhat balding, what little hair he had left was as red as his children’s.
He habitually wore a rather threadbare set of green robes and looked somewhat travel-worn.
Arthur carried his briefcase in one hand while cradling a paper bag against his chest with the other.
Inside were Muggle items he had brought back from the Ministry.
Supposedly meant for disposal, he had actually brought them home to study himself.
Although Arthur was the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, he was a huge Muggle enthusiast who loved studying Muggles and their inventions.
Pushing the door open, Arthur noticed the house was dimly lit.
His wife, Molly, sat silently at the table.
No lamps were turned on, only a few weakly flickering candles.
A quiet, heavy atmosphere pressed into the room—so suffocating it felt almost thick enough to touch.
“What’s wrong, Molly-wobbly?” This was Arthur’s private pet name for Molly, known only to the two of them.
Normally, hearing this nickname would make Molly blush, but today she offered no reaction, merely sitting in her chair holding a letter.
The candlelight lit only half of her face and frame, preventing Arthur from clearly seeing her expression.
“Oh…
you’re back, Arthur.” Molly snapped out of her daze, tugging at the hem of her clothes and using the back of the hand holding the letter to wipe the corner of her eyes.
“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?
I’ll go make dinner.” “No, no, I’m more concerned about you.
What happened?
Can you tell me?” Arthur sat down beside her.
Molly handed him the letter from Professor McGonagall.
Arthur took it, glanced at it, and his wrist gave a subtle tremble.
The contents were simple: asking Molly whether her brother, Fabian Prewett, had ever dated a Muggle girl.
Inquiring out of nowhere about someone who had passed away more than ten years ago was strange enough on its own.
To ask such a deeply personal, private question made it even more puzzling.
Arthur knew Professor McGonagall was a stern and serious woman; she would never ask something like this without good reason.
“It’s my nephew…” Molly finally spoke, her raspy voice laced with suppressed pain.
“Yesterday, when I took the kids to Hogwarts, I met a boy at the station named Silas Prewett.” “Oh God, Arthur.
You don’t know…
you really don’t know…” At this point, Molly could no longer hold back her emotions, tears and sobs forcing their way past her teeth.
“That boy…
he looks so much like my brother Fabian…” “I never imagined…
I never thought I could still have a nephew alive!
Dear Lord…
a Prewett…
I saw a Prewett again!” By now, Molly was gripping Arthur’s hand tightly.
Her tear-filled eyes shimmered in the flickering candlelight.
A wave of shock surged through Arthur’s heart, followed by disbelief.
Fabian Prewett and Gideon Prewett had sacrificed their lives during the First Wizarding War fighting against Voldemort.
To other wizards, the two of them might have been heroes.
But to Arthur, they were not just his brothers-in-law, but also his comrades-in-arms in the Order of the Phoenix.
Yet he had never heard a word about Fabian having a child.
Arthur pulled Molly into a hug, gently patting her back to soothe her.
“If that boy really is your nephew, that’s wonderful news.
You should be happy.” “It’s not entirely confirmed yet.
I’ve asked someone to look into it.
But I feel in my heart there’s a good chance he’s my nephew.
I could never forget what my brother looked like.” “He looks so much like him.” “There, there, Molly-wobbly, don’t cry.
Once it’s verified, we’ll bring him home.” Arthur was genuinely happy for Molly.
“Our family will expand again.” “But that’ll put even more pressure on you,” Molly sobbed.
Arthur put on a casual face.
“We already have so many kids; one more won’t hurt.
At least this time, we don’t have to raise him from infancy!” He ended with a lighthearted joke.
Though he worked at the Ministry of Magic and was even a department head, their family had far too many children.
Stretching his modest salary to cover everything was always a struggle.
Still, this was not only his wife’s kin, but also the lone orphan of his fallen comrade.
Arthur would never allow the boy to wander alone out in the world.
Molly lightly nudged his shoulder with her fist, then waved her wand to begin preparing dinner.
*** After finishing dinner, Caelan and Hermione headed back to their respective house common rooms.
Taking out *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3* which he had borrowed from the library, Caelan flipped through its pages and began practicing new spells according to the instructions.
Although the spells recorded in *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3* were not particularly advanced, there was a vast variety of them, covering many different magic types.
It could be considered the book with the largest collection of spells in the series, enough to keep him busy for quite some time.
[Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] [Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] [Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] …
Caelan didn’t stop until he was utterly exhausted.
Looking around at his wrecked dormitory room, he waved his wand.
“Reparo.” In the blink of an eye, all the damaged items were restored to their original condition.
Although he had tried his best to control the spell power during practice, it had still made noise—so much so that the angry young wizard next door had started banging on the wall.
“This won’t do.
I need to find a proper place to practice.” “Where should I go?
The Room of Requirement?” “That’s the place.
I’ll search for it next time.” After mulling it over, Caelan cast a newly learned [Scourgify] on himself to clear away the grime before climbing into bed.
Friday would bring Professor Snape’s Potions class.
It was about time for his [Potion Genius] trait to come into play.