After weaving through a few streets, Caelan expertly took a shortcut and soon arrived back at the orphanage where he lived.
The orphanage was run by the kindhearted Mrs.
Hazel, who had taken in several children with no relatives to rely on.
Mrs.
Hazel was a devout believer who had devoted her youth to charity.
In her later years, she used her life savings to open this refuge.
Because of its age, the plaster on the orphanage’s exterior walls was peeling away in places.
“Oh, little Prewett, you’re back.
Hungry, aren’t you?” Mrs.
Hazel greeted Caelan before turning to fetch half a piece of bread from inside, topped with a thin layer of meat floss.
In this orphanage, that was considered a rare luxury.
After all, Mrs.
Hazel was elderly, her savings were limited, and with so many children to feed, living conditions had always been modest.
Normally, the meat floss on a loaf of bread would be scraped off and distributed evenly among all the kids.
“This is for you.
Go on, eat up.” Mrs.
Hazel gave him a quick wink, a touch of fond favoritism showing on her face.
Though she treated every child fairly, Caelan was the sole exception to whom she gave an extra bit of partiality.
It wasn’t just because he went out early every day to earn money to help support the orphanage; it was also because he was polite, sensible, and constantly helped her care for the younger children.
Caelan didn’t refuse her kindness.
Taking the bread, he said, “Thank you, Mrs.
Hazel.” “Here is ten pounds and seventeen pence.
I earned it from fortune-telling.” Caelan pulled out half the money from his pocket, took a few steps, and then turned back to pull out a sandwich.
“This sandwich is from Miss Granger.
Please remember to eat it.” “Where are James and Keeney?” “They’re waiting for you in the dormitory.” Watching Caelan walk away, Mrs.
Hazel felt a wave of heartache.
The boy was so young, his slender shoulders barely able to hold up his hand-me-down clothes, yet his heart shone like gold, always looking out for others.
Thinking of Mr.
Prewett, who had heartlessly abandoned him, Mrs.
Hazel felt a surge of anger.
How could anyone bear to abandon such a wonderful child?
As Caelan approached the dormitory door, before he could push it open, it swung open on its own.
Tall, heavy-set James shouted out, “Caelan’s back!” The seven or eight children in the room immediately swarmed toward the door, yet they lined up neatly on both sides to avoid blocking his way.
“This sandwich is from Miss Granger.
Share it amongst yourselves.” Caelan set the sandwich down.
The children stared at the sandwich in his hand, a rare delicacy to their eyes.
None of them dared to fight over it, however.
They simply swallowed hard as their gazes remained glued to the food.
James, the tallest and heaviest of the group, carefully broke the sandwiches apart and handed a piece to everyone.
He always handled things like this.
Naturally, he reserved the largest piece with the most filling for Caelan.
Skinny, bright-eyed Keeney didn’t rush to eat his portion.
Instead, he poured a glass of water and handed it to Caelan.
“Thanks for your hard work at the stall today, Caelan.” “Thank you, Keeney.
Thanks, James.
Go ahead and eat.” Only after Caelan spoke did the other children begin devouring their food.
James swallowed his piece in two bites, using his tongue to scrape the remnants from his teeth.
Most of the children did the same.
Keeney, on the other hand, only ate half, planning to save the rest to pair with the orphanage’s stale bread tomorrow.
It went down much easier that way.
“We did well today.
Made a good bit of money.
Divide this up and buy yourselves something you want.” Seeing that they had finished eating, Caelan pulled another five pounds from his pocket and handed it to James to distribute.
“Mrs.
Hazel doesn’t know, right?” “Don’t worry, Caelan.
We’re used to this.” “Good.
Now tell me what happened on the street today.” Having eaten the sandwich and received the money, the children perked up considerably.
One after another, they began reporting the various pieces of news they had gathered throughout the day.
This was their daily routine.
A rule set by Caelan.
They were a team.
Or perhaps…
a gang?
The other children ran errands and gathered intelligence, while Caelan crafted the plans and stepped forward to deal directly with their targets.
The man from today had been their target for a while.
One day, Caelan had heard news from the other kids that the man’s wife was cheating.
Building on that core information, he lured the man to his fortune-telling stall, revealed the news under the guise of divination, and offered a plan to catch the adulterers in the act.
Today’s success was the payoff.
When these children had first made money, they had all shouted about pulling off a grand scheme, but Caelan had held them back.
Making a little money through minor tricks was harmless enough, but if they let it go to their heads and dreamed of striking it rich overnight, they’d likely end up dead first.
After listening to today’s reports, Caelan went to bed.
…
A few days later, while Caelan was still running his stall, Keeney came to retrieve him.
“I don’t know what it is, but Mrs.
Hazel seemed really anxious.
She insisted I bring you back right away,” Keeney said.
Hearing this, Caelan had a vague inkling of what was happening.
Returning to the orphanage, Caelan could see Mrs.
Hazel standing on tiptoe from a distance, looking around frantically.
“Oh, you’re finally back!” Mrs.
Hazel grabbed Caelan’s hand.
“A guest wants to see you.
Oh, a very important guest, Caelan.
You might be going away to school somewhere else.” Going away to school?
Hogwarts?
While he was thinking, Mrs.
Hazel had already led him into the house.
“Respected Professor McGonagall.
This is little Prewett.
He’s a good boy—truly, a wonderful child.” Perhaps due to excitement, Mrs.
Hazel sounded a bit incoherent.
“He’s a poor, sweet child.
His mother was a good woman, too.
She used to come help out here all the time, but she fell ill and passed away a few years ago.
That was when I adopted him.” “And his father?” “His father?
Don’t even mention that bastard!
I thought he was a good man at first, but he turned out to be a heartless scoundrel.
He abandoned mother and son and never came back.
Oh, I can still never forget his name.” The usually gentle Mrs.
Hazel trembled with rage, her gray hair shaking as she spoke in a terrifying tone.
“Fabian Prewett!” Upon hearing the name, McGonagall visibly froze.
Her gaze fell on Caelan, only to flinch away as if touching a red-hot iron.
“You’re saying…
this child’s father was named Fabian Prewett?” “Yes, yes.
I remember he left ten years ago, saying he had important business to attend to.
And then he never returned!” Ten years ago?
1981!
McGonagall felt her heart speed up dramatically, a rush of overwhelming emotion making her head throb.
She could never forget that year.
Too much had happened in 1981, but one event remained deeply etched in her memory: the Prewett brothers had given their lives that very year.
Could this be a coincidence?
“Mrs.
Hazel, could you give me a moment to speak with the child alone?” McGonagall forced out the request, striving to keep her voice calm, though even she could hear how raspy it sounded.
“Of course, Professor.
He’s very bright.
I’m sure he’ll do well in his studies.
Please, you must accept him.
I beg of you.” “I will, Mrs.
Hazel.” Once the two of them were left alone in the room, it grew instantly quiet.
Caelan Prewett.
McGonagall repeated the name silently in her mind.
Ever since she had spotted this child at Hermione Granger’s house, she had paid him some mind.
After all, the boy bore a striking resemblance to the Prewett brothers.
Furthermore, she had been surprised to find a child with the surname Prewett on this year’s admission list.
But was he truly Fabian Prewett’s son?
Why had she never heard of this before?
A flurry of chaotic thoughts left McGonagall dizzy, but the string of unbelievable coincidences had already convinced her six or seven times out of ten.
“Have some black tea, Professor McGonagall.
I hope you don’t mind—it’s the best tea we have here,” Caelan said, handing her a cup.
Taking the “black tea,” McGonagall saw only a murky brew.
She could easily guess that this so-called tea was made from cheap, leftover tea dust.
“Thank you, child.” McGonagall took a sip.
“Listen to me, Caelan.
The school you will be attending is Hogwarts.
It is a school of magic, and you are a wizard.” After giving a brief introduction to Hogwarts, McGonagall demonstrated a bit of magic for him.
A look of surprise appeared on Caelan’s face right on cue.
Though he had anticipated this all along, he still had to put on an act.
“So, if you are willing, you may come to Hogwarts to study magic.” Caelan knit his brows slightly, as if lost in thought.
“What is it, child?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“But Professor, I don’t have any money.” Caelan’s words made McGonagall’s heart ache.
Looking around at the dilapidated room, her heart ached even more.
Back then, the Prewett brothers had donated nearly all of their family fortune to the Order of the Phoenix to fight against Voldemort.
This child should have been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth, yet now…
Professor McGonagall suppressed her emotions and continued.
“You don’t need to worry, Mr.
Prewett.
Hogwarts has an educational fund that can cover your studies.” She added softly, “You won’t have to pay it back.” “Thank you, Professor McGonagall.” “So you agree?” Caelan offered a gentle smile and nodded.
McGonagall finally relaxed, her usually stern face softening into an unusually warm smile.
She handed Caelan a letter.
“This is your acceptance letter.
It was originally supposed to be delivered in a few days, but I was too anxious, so I brought it to you myself.” “Tomorrow…
it’s a bit late today.
Tomorrow, I will take you to Diagon Alley to buy everything you need for school.”