Another trigger?
Hylan studied the small screen floating before him.
This one was a limited-time exchange.
Simple enough.
He had to collect guilt from others within a set window, then spend that guilt value on trait keywords to lock them in permanently.
If he failed to accumulate enough guilt before the deadline, or couldn’t afford a single keyword, the task simply ended.
No penalty.
No reward either.
Fair enough.
You get what you earn.
The anomaly had started months ago.
Hylan still didn’t understand why.
Certain actions occasionally triggered keywords.
The randomness was strong.
Sometimes he chose one keyword from several, locked it as a permanent ability, and leveled it up by completing tasks.
Like Silver Tongue.
Other times, like now, he completed tasks for rewards and spent those rewards on the keywords he wanted.
He scanned the costs.
His current guilt value couldn’t afford even the cheapest option.
He dismissed the screen and walked into Ollivanders.
The shop was dim.
Narrow boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling.
Wands, presumably, resting inside.
Outside, McGonagall leaned against the wall for a long moment before her emotions steadied.
Even for someone as composed and severe as she was, the shocks of the day had stirred something deep.
She looked through the window.
Mr.
Ollivander was working through wands with Hylan.
He seemed to be having trouble.
One after another, none of them fit.
“Tricky, tricky…” Ollivander muttered to himself.
“Remarkable.
Two difficult customers in one day.
I haven’t seen that in years.”
“Ah, try this one.
Twelve inches, quite rigid.
Go on, give it a wave.”
A good while later, Hylan emerged.
“You took your time.” McGonagall’s eyes went to the wand in his hand.
“It looks like a fine one.”
“Yes, Professor.
Twelve inches, ebony, dragon heartstring core.
Mr.
Ollivander said I should be careful with it.”
“Then you’d best study hard enough to master it.”
“I will, Professor.”
“Good.
I look forward to seeing you wield it.
But for now, put it away.”
She patted his shoulder.
“Hogwarts starts September first.
King’s Cross Station.
Platform nine and three-quarters.”
“And remember.
Aside from Mrs.
Hazel, tell no one about Hogwarts.”
Her face was stern.
After escorting Hylan back to the orphanage, McGonagall returned to Hogwarts.
Days of investigation and travel had worn on her.
Fatigue showed in her face, but her expression had only grown more serious.
Hylan’s surname.
Mrs.
Hazel’s opinion of Fabian Prewett.
Hagrid’s outburst.
The thoughts circled and collided, straining toward a conclusion.
They tangled together, refusing to resolve.
Her head began to ache.
She felt she was nearly touching the truth.
One step short.
“Perhaps I should write to Mrs.
Weasley.
Ask whether Fabian ever had a Muggle girlfriend.”
It was the best idea she had.
Molly Weasley, born Molly Prewett, was Fabian Prewett’s younger sister.
By blood, she should be Hylan’s aunt.
She might know something of Fabian’s past.
Her mind made up, McGonagall flicked her wand.
The quill on her desk rose and scratched out a brief letter, following her thoughts.
She sealed it and handed it to an owl, instructing it to deliver the message to the Burrow.
She watched the owl vanish into the distance and sank into deep thought.
Hylan was back at the orphanage, examining his purchases.
They looked shabby, but to him they were fascinating.
After fiddling with them for a while, he opened The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
Required reading.
He meant to study it.
The book contained simple, practical charms.
Before he could get far, someone called his name.
“Hylan!
Miss Granger’s here to see you!”
He put his things away and stepped outside.
Hermione stood at the orphanage gate, craning her neck to look in.
The moment she spotted him, her arm shot up, waving.
“Hylan!
Over here!”
He jogged over.
“What brings you here?”
“I wanted to apologize for last time.
I promised you dinner, and then…”
“It’s fine.
Your studies come first.
And thank you for the sandwich.
It was really good.”
She felt worse.
He was always thinking of others.
He was too kind.
[Oh, sir.
I admire your way with words.
Guilt Value +17.]
Hylan glanced at the chatty screen, surprised.
He was only trying to comfort a girl.
What had he done wrong?
It was the world’s fault.
“I also wanted to invite you over for cake.
My parents are both out today.
We can have extra.”
“You know how they never let me.
‘Think of your teeth,’ they always say.
As if everything in the world comes back to teeth.”
She finished in a rush and looked at him, nervous.
“Will you come?”
“Of course.
Thank you, Hermione.”
Maybe it was because he’d said yes.
Or maybe because, after all her insistence, he’d finally stopped calling her Miss Granger.
She broke into a brilliant smile.
“Let’s go, then!”