A few quiet weeks had passed since Cael's return from France. Summer was drifting toward its end, and the scent of new parchment and old spellbooks lingered in the air. That morning, two letters arrived by owl. One bore the official crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, listing the fourth-year book requirements; the other was neatly written in familiar, looping script—Hermione's handwriting.
She wrote that she would be going to Diagon Alley the next day and invited him to join. Cael, without a moment's hesitation, penned his reply, charmed the parchment to seal, and sent it flying back with the waiting owl.
The next morning, dressed in simple wizarding robes, Cael stood in front of the fireplace in his home and tossed a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames.
"Leaky Cauldron," he said clearly.
With a whoosh and a flicker of green fire, he stepped into the bustling, soot-smudged pub. At once, the sound of clinking mugs and low conversations filled his ears. It was more crowded than usual, and Aurors—armed and alert—stood posted near the walls.
Cael dusted off his cloak and approached the bar. Tom, the toothless, ever-thinning innkeeper, spotted him immediately.
"Look who's finally crawled back," Tom said with a grin. "Been a while, Cael. Where've you been hiding?"
Cael smiled faintly. "Just busy with… stuff. Getting ready for fourth year. Needed some air and space."
Tom chuckled. "Yeah, you and half the world. Place has been crawling with tension ever since that mess in Hogwarts —and now this."
He gestured behind Cael, toward the far wall. There, pinned beneath a charm, was a Daily Prophet front page, the moving image of Sirius Black snarling behind prison bars. His eyes wild, hair matted, the headline screamed:
Azkaban Fugitive at Large: Sirius Black Escapes!
Cael turned back to Tom. "So that's why the Aurors are here?"
Tom's face darkened. "Minister himself came and ordered it. Said Black might try to use the Floo here—try to sneak into Diagon Alley. Forced my hand, didn't give me much choice."
Cael exhaled. "So it's real, then."
"Oh, it's real," Tom muttered. "Rumor is, he's after Harry Potter—wants to finish what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named couldn't. Mad bastard."
Cael shook his head. "If he's really after Harry, going to Hogwarts would be suicide. Dumbledore's there. No one could touch Harry under his nose."
Tom gave a knowing grunt. "That's what I say too."
Just then, the front door creaked open, and Hermione stepped in, her brown hair still damp from the morning mist. She smiled as her eyes landed on him.
"Cael!" she called.
He smiled and turned to Tom. "Thanks. See you around."
The two friends met near the fireplace.
"You made it," she said. "Hi."
"Hey," Cael replied. "When'd you get back from France?"
"Just two days ago," Hermione said. "Came back with Mum and Dad. They've got a mountain of appointments, so I'm coming solo today."
Cael nodded. "Dentists, right? Yeah, they must be swamped after being away."
Hermione glanced over at the newspaper on the wall. "So… who is Sirius Black, and why does it say he's after Harry?"
Cael hesitated, then spoke quietly. "He… he was the one who betrayed the Potters. Told You-Know-Who where they were hiding. That's how The Dark Lord found them and killed Lily Potter."
Hermione gasped. "He escaped from Azkaban?"
He nodded. "Yeah. See those Aurors? All here to find him. Ministry's in a panic."
"But if he's after Harry…" Hermione whispered. "He'll go to Hogwarts."
"He might," Cael admitted. "But Hogwarts is still the safest place for Harry. Plus…" He paused. "You know, James Potter and Sirius Black were like brothers. And Sirius was—is—Harry's godfather."
Hermione's eyes widened. "He betrayed his best friend? His godson?"
Cael flashed a sly grin. "The Black family? Let's just say they're a tad unhinged—you never know what they'll do."
Just then, his system's voice whispered inside his mind: "Host, are you forgetting something? Aren't you a Black, too?"
Oops, Cael thought, suppressing a laugh. My bad.
They began strolling through Diagon Alley, past windows filled with fluttering spellbooks and polished cauldrons.
"So," Cael asked, "ready for the new school year?"
Hermione exhaled. "I guess. I already finished all last year's textbooks. Today I'm getting everything for the next year. Want to start early."
Cael smirked. "As serious and hard-working as ever, Hermione."
She smiled, brushing a curl behind her ear.
But the lightness of the moment vanished as they rounded a corner and nearly collided with Lucius Malfoy and his son, Draco. The older wizard walked with slow elegance, his cane tapping against the cobblestones. When he saw Hermione, his lips curled into a cruel smile. Draco mimicked him, stepping forward.
"Finally seeing you again, Mudblood," Lucius sneered.
He reached out, his hand dangerously close to Hermione's face.
Without hesitation, Cael stepped between them. In a flash, his wand was in hand.
"Stupefy!"
Lucius was blasted back several feet, hitting the wall with a thud. Draco's eyes widened, but he barely had time to draw his wand before Cael flicked his again.
Stupefy!
And Draco knocked out fell to the ground full of mud.
Lucius was still in the mud, crashed into the mud. His pristine robes were soaked and caked with filth. Groaning, he struggled to lift himself. Cael approached, placed his boot on Lucius's head, and leaned down.
"You're in the mud now," he said softly, "under the foot of the Mudblood you hate most."
Lucius spat and roared, "You filthy bastard!"
Cael pressed harder, pushing Lucius's face deeper into the muck.
Draco, finally recovering, staggered to his feet and screamed, "I'll kill you!"
But Cal spun and knocked him out with another sharp spell. Draco collapsed beside his father, robes dripping and face bruised.
A crowd had gathered—witches, wizards, shopkeepers. Whispers flew in every direction. Some looked horrified, but many looked quietly pleased.
Lucius fumbled for his wand, fury trembling in his fingers. He raised it and hissed, "Avada—"
But before he could finish the curse, a loud crack echoed, and a wand flew from his hand.
"Enough."
Arthur Weasley stepped forward, his expression deadly calm.
"You were about to use the Killing Curse on a student, Malfoy?"
Just then, a squad of Aurors appeared.
"What's going on here?" a senior Auror barked.
Lucius staggered up, mud dripping from his face. "That… that filthy boy assaulted me! He tried to kill me and my son!"
The Aurors moved toward Cael.
But Cael raised both hands and said loudly, "He tried to touch me inappropriately. I was defending myself."
Gasps spread through the crowd like wildfire. Several witches murmured in outrage. Even the Aurors hesitated.
Cael added, "I didn't want to say it, but he's clearly into… strange things. I defended my dignity."
Mr. Weasley was visibly trying not to laugh. Hermione stepped beside Cal, glaring at Lucius.
The Auror turned to the onlookers. "Is this true?"
Some nodded. No one defended Lucius.
Lucius's face was crimson with humiliation.
"I'll remember this," he growled. He gathered his son, retrieved his wand, and stormed away with his dignity in ruins.
The Aurors followed.
Arthur Weasley turned to Cael, patting his shoulder.
"Brilliant, truly," he said. "But you'll need to be careful. Lucius Malfoy doesn't forget a slight. Especially not from a Muggle-born."
Cael nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I appreciate you stepping in."
Arthur smiled. "After what you did for Ginny last year? It's the least I could do. Now go on. Enjoy your shopping. I've got to get some gold—Molly's waiting to buy Ginny's new robes."
He waved and disappeared into the crowd.
Cael turned to Hermione. She looked at him, eyes still wide, and then reached out and took his hand.
"Thank you, Cael," she said softly. "For everything."
Cal gave her a small smile. "One day," he said, "you will take your revenge on him yourself."
And with that, they stepped forward into the golden bustle of Diagon Alley—hand in hand.