The heavy courtroom doors creaked open as the audience began to pour out into the marbled corridor of the Ministry. Cael exhaled, finally feeling the pressure leave his chest as the buzz of conversation surged behind him like a fading tide.
Arthur Weasley clapped him on the back with a wide grin. "That was incredible, Cael. You were a real Gryffindor in there — standing up to the likes of Lucius Malfoy, defending Hagrid like that. Brave doesn't even begin to cover it."
Cael managed a small, sheepish smile. "Thanks, Mr. Weasley. I was nervous too, honestly. I've never spoken in front of so many… intimidating people. Half of them looked like they wanted to hex me the moment I opened my mouth."
Arthur chuckled. "You did more than speak. You turned the whole room. I daresay even Fudge didn't expect that kind of storm."
Behind them, Hagrid lumbered out of the chamber, head low at first. Then he approached Cael and bent down, his booming voice reduced to a whisper.
"Cael… you weren't even there when it happened. That class. Why'd you say you were?"
Cael turned toward him, voice soft but unwavering. "Don't worry. They won't investigate that detail — and what I said was true, every word. Maybe I wasn't physically there, but I've spoken to enough people who were. It was the truth that mattered."
Hagrid looked at him a moment longer, then gave a single, gruff nod. "Well… thanks, Cael. I owe yeh more'n I can say."
They began to walk down the corridor toward the lifts, weaving through the dispersing crowd of Ministry employees and attendees. Cael was replaying the hearing in his head, trying to ignore the rapid patter of his heartbeat finally catching up to him — when he collided gently with someone coming around a column.
"Oh—sorry," Cael said quickly, stepping back.
The man he'd bumped into stood tall, his appearance striking — handsome in a detached, almost austere way, with neat blonde hair and pale grey eyes that seemed to scan more than see. He wore sleek, dark robes with a barely noticeable sigil pinned to the collar.
The man gave Cael a slight nod. "Quite alright… Mr. Vale, isn't it?"
Cael blinked. "Yes… sorry, have we met?"
"No," the man said smoothly, voice polite but distant. "Just keeping track. Well spoken, in there." He held Cael's gaze for a moment longer than was comfortable. Then, with a final nod, he walked away, his steps silent despite the stone floor.
Cael turned to watch him disappear down a corridor cloaked in shadows.
"Mr. Weasley," Cael said slowly, "do you know who that was?"
Arthur frowned, following Cael's gaze. "Hmm. I don't know his name, but I've seen him around. Works in the Department of Mysteries, if I'm not mistaken. Been there for years. One of the more… senior minds, if you catch my drift."
Cael narrowed his eyes slightly, unease prickling at the back of his neck. "He seemed… odd."
Arthur nodded grimly. "They all are, those Unspeakables. Bit like talking to a Pensieve with a wand. Just… let it go. They don't like being looked into."
Cael nodded slowly, but the strange glint in the man's grey eyes lingered in his mind like mist that refused to clear.
Outside, the chill of the afternoon air broke the tension somewhat as they exited the Ministry. The trio headed toward the Three Broomsticks, which now served as their temporary Floo point.
Inside, Madam Rosmerta raised an eyebrow as the three of them emerged from the grate in a rush of green flame. She offered them a mug of hot cider before ushering them out, giving Cael a warm smile and whispering, "I heard what you did in the ministry, You did well, dear. Gave old Lucius a proper rattle."
Hagrid and Cael went out of the Hogsmade village and made their way to the Hogwarts .
as Hagrid bent under the doorway of his hut, the familiar scent of damp earth and roasting something-or-other instantly wrapping around them. He stirred the fire with a poker before sinking into his massive chair, Fang immediately curling beside his boots.
"Yeh saved me, Cael," Hagrid muttered, his voice choked but soft. "If yeh hadn't stood up, I dunno what'd've happened. They were ready to tear me apart in there."
Cael sat on the edge of the hearth rug, brushing soot from his sleeves. "We bought time, Hagrid. That's what matters now. And we've got Madam Pomfrey's report. It's going to be alright."
Hagrid rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Buckbeak's still got a chance, then. A real chance. Thank Merlin… Thank yeh, lad."
The fire crackled gently as the late afternoon light turned amber through the windows. For the first time in what felt like hours, Cael let himself relax.
But his thoughts still flickered back to the man in the corridor — the one with the grey eyes and the perfect memory of Cael's name.