Caelan didn’t like noise.
So ever since he turned ten, he no longer lived in the dormitory with James, Keeney, and the others.
Mrs.
Hazel gave him the dusty attic, letting him clean it up and live there himself.
Of course, cleaning up the attic wasn’t something he had to do personally.
After all, the other kids were more than willing to do it for him.
He walked all the way back to the attic, unpacked the things he had bought from Diagon Alley, and pulled out his spellbooks.
*The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1* Written by Miranda Goshawk, this book was a required textbook for Hogwarts first-years before starting school, containing some simple and practical spells.
For example, minor spells like [Alohomora], [Incendio], [Lumos], [Reparo], and [Wingardium Leviosa].
Magic itself was a word full of fantasy and energy, inherently possessing immense appeal.
As soon as Caelan opened the spellbook, he became utterly absorbed.
With the support of his trait [Spell Inspiration], he learned these simple spells very quickly.
Theory guides practice.
After Caelan memorized the incantations and key points of these spells, he took out his wand, preparing to practice.
A wand was extremely important to a wizard—one could even call it a wizard’s second life.
Even the most accomplished wizard would find it difficult to use someone else’s wand comfortably, which was why McGonagall had said, “There’s no such thing as a second-hand wand.” Apart from a certain poor family with too many children and Neville Longbottom, who did so to honor his father, very few wizarding families would pass down wands.
The wand in Caelan’s hand was made of ebony, twelve inches long, with a dragon heartstring core, and extremely rigid overall.
The wandmaker Ollivander had searched for quite a while before pulling this wand from near the ceiling.
In his words, this wand was quite peculiar—quiet on the outside, dark and steady in appearance, but once it cast magic, it would erupt with immense power.
He had been somewhat surprised that Caelan, a pale, rather frail-looking little fellow, would be chosen by this wand.
In the end, Ollivander could only urge him to use it well.
To be safe, Caelan first tried some non-dangerous spells, such as [Lumos] and [Reparo].
Thus, over the next few days, light constantly flickered in the attic where Caelan lived, and the sound of breaking objects echoed frequently.
[You have completed a spell practice session] [Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] [Spell Inspiration: Proficiency +1] …
“James, how much stuff did you collect?” “Not much.
A few radios, a broken iron.
Oh, and a busted TV.
What about you?” “Keeney and I collected quite a few broken toys.
These things are valuable and easy to sell.” “Clever Keeney!” Several kids from the orphanage carried the junk they had bought at ultra-low prices up to Caelan’s attic.
Caelan hadn’t been doing fortune-telling lately; he had sent them out with money to wander the streets and alleys, buying up broken items—radios, irons, TVs, toys, and even tattered clothes.
When brought back, these things were all broken and battered, completely unusable.
But on the second day after being hauled to the attic, they would become as good as new.
Then they would take these items back out to sell at prices much cheaper than in shops, so they never lacked buyers.
In just a few short days, they had made a tidy fortune.
James directed the others to carry down the freshly restored goods from the attic, while he walked over to Caelan.
“Caelan, this is the money we made over the past few days.” “You keep it.
I’ll leave the money in your care.
Remember to take half out for Mrs.
Hazel so she can buy more bread for everyone.
As for the rest, you and Keeney take one-fifth each, and distribute the rest to the others according to their effort—just as I taught you.” “Got it.” “Right, don’t give it all to them at once.
Pay them out slowly.” “Understood.
Caelan…
will you come back?” The tall, heavy-set James wasn’t good with words and asked hesitantly.
“Don’t worry, James.
I’ll come back,” Caelan said.
Getting this answer, James breathed a sigh of relief, scratched his head awkwardly, and went downstairs.
Ever since Caelan learned [Reparo], he had thought of this money-making method: buying damaged goods, repairing them, and reselling them.
Normally speaking, this violated school rules.
However…
he hadn’t officially enrolled yet, so school rules couldn’t control him.
Besides, he acted discreetly, operating a small-scale business only in the surrounding few blocks, so it hadn’t attracted any attention for the time being.
The clever little Keeney had long been waiting below the attic.
Seeing James come down, his eyes quickly darted to the money in James’s hands, a hidden flash of greed passing swiftly through his pupils.
“How did it go?” “Caelan said he’ll come back.” Hearing this, Keeney glanced up at the attic and suppressed the stray thought rising in his mind.
Forget the fact that Caelan was still here—even if he really left, as long as he was coming back, Keeney wouldn’t dare pull any tricks.
In Keeney’s eyes, James was just a stubborn big lug with plenty of brawn and no brains, while the other kids were fools who knew nothing except eating, drinking, sleeping, and using the loo.
He, on the other hand, was a rare smart person.
As for Caelan…
he was an unfathomable monster.
He still remembered the scene when he first met the guy.
Although handsome, he looked frail and sickly.
Keeney had thought at the time: *Just another fool.* Yet this “fool” took a mere half month to break Keeney’s hegemony over the orphanage.
Not only did he make James fiercely loyal, but he also turned all the other children to his side.
Yet Keeney had to admit that Caelan was indeed capable.
Once Caelan established absolute authority in the orphanage, he didn’t hoard the already scarce resources; instead, by earning more money, he improved everyone’s living conditions, which forced even Keeney to yield to him.
After all, no one argues with money.
…
The Burrow.
Molly Weasley flicked her wand, making the freshly chopped ingredients jump into the pot on their own, while shouting upstairs: “Arthur, Percy, Fred, George, Ginny, Ronald!
Get out of bed right now!
Today is the day school starts!” Fred and George scratched their heads in unison, hesitating briefly as they stood side by side in front of the door.
“Who went out first last time?” “Forgot.” “Then I’m going first.” “Haven’t we said that before?
No, it’s my turn to go first!” Ron looked at his father, who also seemed a bit dazed, and let out a yawn.
“Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were Mum’s kid too.” “Oh, I’m certainly your mum’s darling as well.” “Please, Dad, my teeth are setting on edge,” Fred and George said in unison.
Percy stroked his chin in front of a mirror; after all, he was a Prefect now, and he needed to maintain his prefect dignity.
Ginny tilted her head against the doorframe, wondering why she had to wake up so early when she didn’t even have to go to school yet.
The whole family sat down around the dining table amidst noisy chatter.
Arthur ate a sandwich while reading the Daily Prophet.
Fred and George teased Ron, who was sighing over the hand-me-down school supplies left behind by his older brothers, and then both mimicked Percy stroking his chin, saying in bizarre voices, “Call me Prefect Percy!” The youngest, Ginny, was combing her hair.
Breakfast was served.
Before anyone could start eating, they saw an owl crash into the window with a loud bang.
“Maybe Errol wants breakfast too,” Percy muttered, somewhat helplessly.
He stood up to take the letter and glanced at the envelope.
“Mum, it’s for you.” Molly wiped her hands, took the letter, and looked at it.
A letter from Hogwarts?
Isn’t school starting today anyway?
Feeling a bit puzzled, Molly opened the envelope and first glanced at the signature: Minerva McGonagall.
This made her even more confused.
“George, Fred, did you two get into trouble at school?” “Which time do you mean, Mum?” Fred and George asked in unison.
Molly glared at them and began reading the letter’s contents.
Apart from the introductory pleasantries, the most important piece of information in the letter was asking her whether her brother Fabian Prewett had dated a Muggle girlfriend more than ten years ago.
This question was quite strange.
Because Professor McGonagall didn’t ask “if he ever did,” but rather “whether he did.” Compared to the vague former phrasing, the latter sounded more like someone who possessed some information but was seeking confirmation due to uncertainty.
However, why would Professor McGonagall inquire about this after more than a decade?
She wasn’t someone who pried into other people’s privacy.
Let alone such personal privacy of a deceased person?
This was far too unusual.
If possible, Molly didn’t want to recall ten years ago at all.
To her, that period was a nightmare.
Both of her brothers had died in the war without leaving any descendants, bringing the Prewett name near extinction.
Every time she remembered this, her heart twisted in pain.
“What’s wrong, Mum?
Why are you crying?” “Nothing, the wind indoors is just too strong…” “How is there wind indoors?” “Alright, eat up quickly.
You have to get to the station soon; you can’t be late on the first day of school.” Molly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and put the letter away, planning to handle it after seeing the children off to school.
But the contents of the letter continued to linger in her mind for a long time.
It couldn’t be that her brother had dated a girlfriend back then and left behind a child…
could it?
she thought.