King’s Cross Station.
Pedestrians dressed in various clothes all wore the exact same rushed expressions.
After seeing Harry and Ron off, Molly was about to lead Ginny through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 to see the children onto the platform, only to turn around and see a thin, frail boy pushing a trolley toward her.
Judging by the things on the trolley, he was likely a Hogwarts student as well.
Moreover, for some unknown reason, the moment Molly saw this child, she felt her heart tugged by him, so she took the initiative to ask: “Dear, are you looking for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters too?” “Yes, ma’am,” Caelan replied with a gentle smile.
“Oh, right this way.” Molly stepped aside with Ginny, her eyes carefully studying the boy.
His hair and eyes were a dark brown so deep they were nearly black, yet under the thin sunlight, they showed hints of gold.
His frame was slight, and the clothes he wore didn’t fit him well.
His life was likely far from prosperous.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, his face gave her a strange sense of familiarity and warmth.
This feeling made no sense.
Though not violent, it was incredibly persistent, as if sprouted from the depths of her bloodline.
Once it appeared, it took root in her heart, lingering and impossible to dispel.
This made Molly feel quite bewildered.
Why would she have such a feeling toward a child she had never met before?
“Don’t worry, walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten.
That’s very important.
Don’t stop and don’t be afraid you’ll crash into it, that’s very important.
Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.” Molly pointed at the barrier wall.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Looking at the slightly plump woman with a little girl before him, Caelan gradually realized who she was.
She was likely Molly Weasley.
Fortunately, they were at King’s Cross Station on the first day of school—a very clear plot node; otherwise, Caelan wouldn’t have recognized Molly either.
Biologically speaking, Molly was Caelan’s aunt.
However, from a social perspective, Caelan had never met this aunt of his, nor could he possibly recognize her in a vast crowd, walk up to state his surname, and have a tearful station “reunion.” Thus, Caelan merely thanked her politely, pushed his trolley at a jog, and prepared to pass through the barrier.
Looking at Caelan’s face, Molly felt the sense of familiarity grow stronger the more she looked, until an almost absurd thought suddenly popped into her mind.
This child looked so much like her brother Fabian!
Molly shook her head, trying to shake the absurd thought out of her head, but it was useless.
The more she resisted, the stronger the thought grew, until it occupied her entire mind.
This led her to ask almost involuntarily: “Child, what’s your name?” “Caelan Prewett, ma’am!” Caelan turned back, bowed slightly in respect, and after speaking, passed through the barrier.
“Prewett?
Prewett?!” The moment this surname—deeply engraved in Molly’s heart—spoke from Caelan’s lips, it turned into a runaway steam train, slamming into her mind with terrifying force.
It left her frozen in place.
How could it be Prewett?!
Although the surname wasn’t uncommon in London, wizards with the surname Prewett were exceedingly rare!
This child looked like a Hogwarts first-year, which meant his age was around eleven.
Didn’t that coincide perfectly with the time Fabian passed away?!
Add to that his face, which felt so familiar to her, and Professor McGonagall’s letter…
All the pieces of information came together, then violently exploded in Molly’s mind.
A bold thought forcefully sprang up in Molly’s heart.
Could he be her brother’s child?!
Her nephew?!
Molly stood frozen in place for a good while before realizing she needed to go find Caelan.
As long as she found him and asked for his father’s name, wouldn’t she know for sure?!
“Ginny, hurry!” Molly grabbed Ginny’s hand and quickly passed through the barrier, arriving at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Her eyes widened, sweeping rapidly through the crowd to find that figure, but after searching for a long time, she couldn’t spot him.
She couldn’t help but think: if Caelan really was her nephew, wouldn’t that mean the Prewett family had an heir after all?
This thought made her feel immense joy, yet it quickly turned into bitterness and guilt.
Judging by his clothes and school supplies, which were even worse than Ron’s, his life had likely been far from easy.
As his aunt, she had let this child suffer so much, knowing nothing about his existence for all these years, never fulfilling even a shred of her responsibility as an aunt.
Recalling the gentle smile and polite manners on Caelan’s face, Molly felt even guiltier.
The child was so young, yet so gentle and polite—it was truly rare.
He must have endured so much hidden hardship.
At the thought of this, Molly felt her heart ache with even greater remorse.
[I don’t get it.
Why do you always make women feel guilty?
Guilt +190] Caelan was baffled.
Hadn’t he just stated his name?
He hadn’t even gone up to claim kinship, saying he was her nephew, nor had he broken down crying about his miserable fate.
How did she end up feeling so guilty?
Shortly after he was born, Fabian had sacrificed his life.
Although Molly was his aunt, she had no idea he existed and had never seen him, so even if he lived a hard life, she didn’t need to take the blame onto herself and feel guilty about it.
After pondering for a moment, Caelan shook his head helplessly.
The only explanation was that Molly was naturally a gentle, kindhearted person.
Her brother’s sacrifice and the end of her family line had been a source of deep heartache for her.
These emotions were like fine wine aged over the years, becoming heavier over the span of a decade.
Caelan’s sudden appearance provided an outlet for these suppressed feelings, and the heavy emotions built up over years were all projected onto Caelan, turning into intense guilt.
Understanding the cause and effect, Caelan prepared to board the train.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was packed with travelers, with a red steam engine parked near the platform.
Travelers of all ages slowly squeezed into the train like ants crawling into a nest.
Looking at the sign hanging on the train that read *Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock*, Caelan felt a surge of excitement.
Who hadn’t fantasized about this moment?
At the lowest, unluckiest moment of your life, a door to a far-off world suddenly opens for you, shattering all your trivial chores, terrible relationships, and hopeless future prospects.
Then someone reaches out to tell you: *We don’t have much time left.
Do you still want to participate in these boring activities?* And with a pull of your hand, lifts you out of the mire of your unchanging life, laying out a splendid, marvelous world you’ve never seen before along with an entirely new way of life right before your eyes.
Who wouldn’t be captivated by it?
Caelan took a deep breath and took that step forward.
Home was behind, the world ahead.
…
Hermione pushed through the crowd while carrying her luggage, only to find the first few carriages already packed with students.
Left with no choice, she carried her luggage toward the back of the train.
Along the way, she saw cats of all patterns weaving through people’s feet, the hum of the crowd mixing with the hooting of owls, creating a headache-inducing racket.
After squeezing through for a while, Hermione finally found a compartment with almost no one inside.
She struggled to lug her leather trunk toward the train door.
Reaching the door, Hermione tried to lift the trunk onto the step, but as soon as she picked it up, it felt far too heavy.
It almost slipped from her hands to crush her feet, when her vision blurred as a hand suddenly reached out to hold up the trunk.
“Thank you,” Hermione said with a sigh of relief.
“You’re welcome, Hermione.”