Another trait prompt triggered?
Caelan looked at the small virtual screen floating in front of him and realized that this time, it was a time-limited trait exchange task.
To put it simply, Caelan needed to gather guilt points from others within a specified time limit, then use those guilt points to redeem trait tags and permanently lock them in.
If he failed to accumulate enough guilt points or redeem a trait before time ran out, the task would count as a failure.
While there was no penalty, there naturally wouldn’t be any reward either.
More work, more reward; no work, no gain.
Caelan thought it was fair enough.
This anomaly had first appeared a few months ago.
Caelan still hadn’t figured out the cause, knowing only that certain actions he took would occasionally trigger trait prompts.
These traits were highly random.
Sometimes he had to choose one out of several traits to become a permanent ability, which he could then level up by completing tasks—much like [Silver Tongue].
Another type was like the one before him now: complete tasks to earn rewards, then use those rewards to exchange for desired traits.
He glanced at it briefly, saw that his current guilt points weren’t even enough for the cheapest trait, and stopped paying attention, stepping casually into Ollivanders Wand Shop.
The light inside was very dim.
Upon entering, what caught the eye were countless narrow boxes stacked almost to the ceiling, containing what were likely wands.
Outside, Professor McGonagall rested against the wall for quite a while before barely regaining her composure.
Even with her calm and stern demeanor, facing the series of shocks earlier made it hard to keep her feelings from churning.
She turned to look into the shop and saw Mr.
Ollivander picking out a wand for Caelan.
He seemed to be running into some trouble, having Caelan try several in a row without finding a match.
“Tricky, tricky…” Mr.
Ollivander muttered to himself, oblivious to anyone else.
“How marvelous—two picky customers in a single day!
I haven’t encountered that in all my years.” “Oh, try this one.
Twelve inches, very rigid.
Go on, try it.” After quite a while, Caelan finally walked out of Ollivanders Wand Shop.
“You certainly took your time.” McGonagall’s gaze fell on the wand in Caelan’s hand.
“It appears to be a good wand indeed.” “Yes, Professor McGonagall.
Twelve inches, ebony, with a dragon heartstring core.
Mr.
Ollivander said I should be careful when using it.” “Then you must study hard to master this wand.” “I will, Professor.” “Very good, very good.
I can hardly wait to see you wave it.
But for now, you had better put it away.” McGonagall patted Caelan’s shoulder.
“Hogwarts begins on September first.
Remember to go to King’s Cross Station and board at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.” “Oh, and apart from Mrs.
Hazel, do not reveal anything about Hogwarts to anyone.” McGonagall gave a stern reminder.
After taking Caelan back to the orphanage, McGonagall returned to Hogwarts.
Days of investigation and traveling had left her slightly weary, yet her expression grew increasingly solemn.
Caelan’s surname, Mrs.
Hazel’s evaluation of Fabian Prewett, Hagrid’s awe…
These thoughts whirled and collided in her mind repeatedly, as if desperately trying to confirm a certain truth.
Yet after tangling together for half a day, those thoughts yielded no final conclusion, giving her a headache instead.
McGonagall vaguely felt she was on the verge of touching the truth, but was always one step away.
“Perhaps I should write a letter to Mrs.
Weasley to ask if Fabian had a Muggle girlfriend back then?” That was the best plan she could think of for now.
Molly Weasley, formerly Molly Prewett, was Fabian Prewett’s younger sister.
Biologically speaking, she should be Caelan’s aunt.
Perhaps she would know something about Fabian’s past.
Having made up her mind, McGonagall flicked her wand.
The quill on her desk moved on its own, writing a short letter on parchment according to her thoughts.
Once written, McGonagall handed the letter to an owl, instructing it to deliver it to the Burrow.
Watching the direction the owl flew away in, McGonagall fell into deep thought.
*** Back at the orphanage, Caelan was examining the things he had just bought.
Although they looked tattered and old, they were novel gadgets to him.
After fiddling with them for a while, he opened *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1*, a required textbook, intending to study it.
This introductory textbook recorded some simple, practical spells.
Before he could look closer, he heard someone calling him outside.
“Caelan, Miss Granger is here to see you!” Packing up his things, Caelan walked out of the dormitory.
Sure enough, Hermione was standing outside the orphanage gate, craning her neck to look inside.
Seeing him come out, she raised her arm high and waved to him.
“Caelan, over here!” Caelan jogged up to Hermione and asked, “Why are you here?” “I wanted to apologize for last time.
I promised to treat you to dinner, but…” “It’s fine.
Your studies come first.
Besides, I should thank you for the sandwich—it tasted great.” Hearing his words, the little girl felt even more guilty.
Caelan was always considering others.
He was simply too kind.
[Oh, sir.
I admire your eloquence.
Guilt Points +17.] Caelan looked at the snarky screen floating before him, feeling a bit surprised.
He just wanted to comfort the little girl in front of him; what did he do wrong?
It was all the world’s fault.
“Besides apologizing, I wanted to invite you to my house for cake.
My parents aren’t home today, so we can eat a bit more.” “You know how they used to forbid me from eating too much.
Every time, they’d say, ‘Watch your teeth.’ In their eyes, it seems everything in the world can be linked to teeth.” Hermione finished in one breath, looking nervously into Caelan’s eyes.
“Would you like to come?” “Of course, thanks, Hermione.” Perhaps because Caelan agreed, or perhaps because after her repeated insistence, he finally stopped calling her “Miss Granger.” The little girl let out a bright smile.
“Then let me show you the way!”