"Seriously… was there no better place?" Celestia said, her tail slightly raised in disapproval as she squinted around the building before them.
It wasn't exactly a hotel. It looked more like an old country house—weathered wooden walls, uneven roof tiles, and a chimney lazily puffing smoke. Curtains were drawn in nearly every window, and the front yard—a messy mix of shrubs, stones, and overgrown weeds—gave the impression no one had touched it in years.
Nathael shrugged, offering a reassuring smile.
"It's a small town. We were lucky to find something with enough room for all of us. Besides," he added, pushing the door open with a gentle nudge, "it's not a hotel—it's more of a family inn. Though… yes, it does look more like a house."
Draco, his clothes slightly wrinkled after hours of travel, frowned as he stepped inside.
"This… suspiciously resembles Hagrid's hut," he muttered, eyeing the wooden beams, shelves filled with unrecognizable jars, and the faint smell of cabbage stew drifting from the kitchen. "Just as… primitive."
Hermione, walking behind him with a small backpack on her shoulder, shot him a reproachful look.
"Don't be mean about Hagrid, Draco. He's wonderful, and his home is warm, welcoming, and full of life."
Draco didn't reply. He only crossed his arms and looked away, brow still furrowed—but this time, he didn't argue. He was learning—albeit reluctantly—not to judge so quickly.
Kate, who'd been observing silently, sighed.
"I need to step out for a bit. We haven't eaten properly in hours, and if I don't buy something soon, I won't survive the hunger. I was thinking of getting meats," she said with a gentle smile. "Any preferences?"
"Yes," Nathael said instantly. "Celestia prefers beef. Well-cooked, with a touch of sea salt and wild rosemary."
Celestia, who'd been licking her paw in a corner, lifted her head.
"And don't forget the seasonings," she said clearly. "If it has no flavor, it has no soul."
Kate laughed.
"Understood. Beef with soul."
Carrie, who'd remained silent since entering, watched everything with wide, curious eyes. She'd never been in a place like this. She'd never seen people interact with such ease, such… intimacy. It was as if they'd all known each other forever. And though she wanted to speak, fear kept her mute—hidden behind her blonde hair and long skirt.
It was Nathael who approached her.
"Would you like to take a walk?" he asked softly—his voice not demanding, but inviting.
Carrie blinked, surprised. Then she gave an almost inaudible whisper:
"Yes…"
Nathael glanced at Draco and Hermione.
"I saw a grill in the backyard. Can you light it? I'll be back in a bit."
Draco nodded, and Hermione smiled.
"Of course. We'll get the grill ready so it's hot when Kate gets back."
Celestia leapt gracefully onto Nathael's shoulder and settled in, licking a paw with an air of superiority.
"Then let's go," Nathael said, smiling at Carrie.
They left the house-inn and walked along a path skirting a small, tranquil river whose waters reflected the cloudy sky like an imperfect mirror. Rain fell gently around them—but not on them. An invisible barrier shielded them, as if the world had decided to grant them peace.
Carrie noticed.
"Why aren't we getting wet?"
"A simple charm," Celestia said without opening her eyes. "I won't let my precious fur be ruined by a bit of water."
Carrie nodded, a mix of awe and shyness in her eyes.
Nathael stopped by the riverbank. Carrie followed, watching the calm water. Wind whispered through the trees, and rain fell around them like a sacred veil.
"Carrie," Nathael said, his voice soft but firm, "you are not a monster."
She tensed.
It was the first time anyone had said it aloud.
Tears welled in her eyes—but didn't fall.
Nathael continued.
"What you can do… isn't demonic. It's magic. And it's inside you—not because you're evil, but because you were born with a gift rare in this world, yet not unique. There are hundreds of thousands like you, all over the planet. I'm one. Draco and Hermione are too. Kate isn't… but she's a friend. And you… you're one of us."
Carrie looked at him, eyes wide.
"Magic?"
"Yes," Nathael said. "And there's an entire world behind what you see—a world where people like you study, live together, form bonds, and learn to channel their magic without fear… without guilt."
He paused.
"When you were a child… you should've gone to magical school. Here in America, it's called Ilvermorny. MACUSA—America's magical government—or an Ilvermorny professor should've come for you. But they didn't."
Carrie lowered her gaze.
"My mother… would never have let them take me."
Nathael nodded.
"That's one of my theories. The other is that, since this town is off the magical radar—MACUSA doesn't intervene here—they simply never knew about you. Either way… they left you alone. And that harmed you. Because without guidance, without training, magic becomes unstable. And sometimes… dangerous."
Celestia opened her eyes.
"That's why you deserve recognition, Carrie," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been holding back your magic for years. That… isn't common. There are cases where untrained people end up… consumed by their own power. They become Obscurials. And the Obscurus… kills them."
Carrie swallowed hard.
"I… felt something pushing from inside me. Like a scream I couldn't release."
"Exactly," Nathael said. "And yet… you held it back. That shows immense willpower."
He paused, looking at her with respect.
"Now that you're with us… I offer you two choices."
Carrie looked at him, heart racing.
"First: I can take you into the American magical world. There, you'll start from scratch. You'll meet others like you. They'll teach you rules, history, ethics. It'll be a fresh start."
He took a breath.
"Second: you can come with me—to Europe. And I… will be your teacher."
Carrie blinked. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said:
"I want… to go with you. Please… don't leave me."
Nathael smiled—not with pity, but with pride.
"Then… you'll be my third student."
Inside, Nathael had already made his decision. Carrie was an extremely rare case. Any wizard with her level of repression, with that much magical pressure built up, would have collapsed by now—destroyed by their own power. But she hadn't. She'd endured.
And not only that: Nathael had felt her magic from the moment they neared Forks. It was colossal. Immense. Almost as vast as his own—and he'd been born with magical reserves considered extraordinary even among the Grauheims.
Carrie—untrained, unguided, not even knowing she was a witch—had magical reserves only slightly less than his.
That wasn't just willpower. It was an ancestral gift. Pure. Primordial.
And now… it was his responsibility.
"Let's go back," Nathael said softly. "Kate must be back by now. And I'm hungry."
Carrie nodded—and this time, a small smile touched her lips.