"Hermione! Grab my hand!"
Mr. Granger shouted hoarsely over the deafening clamor, straining to spread his arms wide in an attempt to shield his wife and daughter behind him.
However, the out-of-control human tide, like a breached flood, easily broke through his desperate defense. His tightly clenched fingers were forced apart amid the shoving.
"Dad! Mom!"
Hermione's terrified cry was instantly drowned out. A burly man staggering backwards slammed heavily into her shoulder, nearly knocking her off her feet.
When she looked up again, her parents' figures were completely separated from her by a surging wall of people, leaving only the faint echo of their voices within the din.
The copy of Selected Important Historical Events of the Twentieth Century she had been holding slipped from her grasp, its cover immediately stamped with chaotic shoe prints. The pages emitted a brittle, protesting crackle under trampling feet.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger frantically tried to push forward against the flow, but were forced further and further away by the panicked crowd flooding into the carriage.
"Hermione! Stay where you are! Don't move!"
Her mother's tearful cry reached her, but it was like a stone sinking into the sea.
In the chaos, Hermione was squeezed against the cold connecting joint of the carriage, her thin back pressed tightly against the metal wall.
All around were strange, agitated faces. The smell of sweat, the shouting, the raw panic swallowed her whole. Her mind went blank from fear.
At that moment, a strong hand steadied her shoulder, which had nearly gone limp.
It was Caesar.
Unnoticed, he had positioned himself like a reef at the center of the chaotic vortex, his presence seemingly creating a strangely calm space around him.
He pulled Hermione into a relatively stable corner of the carriage, turning sideways to shield her, his lean yet upright back forming a protective barrier.
Then, without hesitation, he threw a punch.
"Crash!"
The window glass shattered in response, crystalline fragments raining down.
"Watch your step, little Hermione."
Before the words fully landed, Hermione felt the collar of her dress tighten. She was lifted by Caesar and, with a light yet decisive motion, sent through the broken window out of the carriage.
The next second, Caesar propped himself on the window ledge with one hand, flipped out cleanly, and landed beside her.
Ignoring the pain from her fall, Hermione scrambled to her feet, shaken. She gripped Caesar's coat hem tightly, her fingertips white.
Caesar's gaze swept calmly over the scene.
The chaos on the platform was no less severe than inside the carriage. In the distance, the cavalrymen with plumed helmets were reforming ranks, horses stamping restlessly.
He looked down at the pale-faced little girl stubbornly staring up at him.
"This is not a place to linger."
"But my parents are still in there!"
Hermione shook her head vigorously, her brown curls swaying, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
Reason told her turning back would not help — it might only drag her back into danger.
But emotion rooted her to the spot.
Seeing her trying so hard to remain calm while clearly terrified, a flicker of softness passed through Caesar's eyes.
He suddenly reached out and gently ruffled her fluffy hair.
The unexpected gesture made Hermione freeze, her fear pausing momentarily.
"The cavalry will charge here any moment."
He bent down, bringing his gaze level with hers, looking directly into those brown eyes filled with alarm.
"I promise. Once we leave the station, I will get you safely home. Please trust me, little Hermione."
His voice was soft, yet carried bedrock certainty.
In those unfathomably deep eyes, Hermione saw no panic — only calmness that instinctively invited trust.
"Clop, clop, clop—"
The hoofbeats grew closer.
There was no time to hesitate.
Caesar decisively took her hand.
"Trust me."
He led her, weaving through the chaos as nimbly as a fish through current. His movements were clean and efficient — sidestepping collisions, ducking debris.
Several times Hermione was nearly knocked over by the tide of people, but Caesar protected her each time.
Looking up, she could only see his sharply defined jawline and unusually calm profile.
In a world where everyone else panicked, this incongruous composure radiated strange reassurance.
Her frantically beating heart gradually found rhythm.
At the same time, she vaguely noticed something odd:
Whenever someone was about to crash into them, they would unconsciously veer away — as if an invisible barrier separated them from the turmoil.
"Hold on tight," Caesar's voice pulled her back. "We must leave quickly."
Hermione tightened her grip instinctively.
In this moment of danger, this unfamiliar young man had become her only anchor.
And she had no idea how this "chance encounter," born from chaos, would completely alter her predetermined path.
Stepping beyond the boundaries of Victoria Station felt like stepping into another world.
The clamor behind them abruptly faded, replaced by the grey, hazy London streets and unaware pedestrians moving about their lives.
A sudden silence descended, almost unreal.
Caesar still held Hermione's hand, only letting go once he was sure they were clear of danger.
Hermione's cheeks felt slightly warm.
"Thank you," she whispered.
But her gaze kept darting back toward the station, worry shadowing her face.
"They'll be fine," Caesar said calmly.
"The station is under control. The chaos will subside quickly. The Royal Cavalry's goal is to disperse the crowd, not harm passengers. Your parents are likely already safe — perhaps trying to contact you, or heading home to call the police."
Hermione pursed her lips.
His analysis was clear, logical, reassuring.
She looked up at this boy who didn't seem much older than herself, yet radiated maturity beyond his years.
"Thank you for helping me… If it weren't for you, I might have…"
"It was nothing," Caesar interrupted flatly, unwilling to dwell on it.
He stopped beside an old red telephone booth and, from his suitcase, produced a half-finished bottle of cream soda.
"Thirsty after that?"
He offered it.
The golden liquid sloshed gently inside, foam clinging to the surface.
"A rather strong flavor. No alcohol. You can try it."
"Um… thank you."
Curious — and trusting him after everything — Hermione took a careful sip.
The next second, her little face scrunched up. It took real effort not to spit it out.
The flavor was intense.
Overly sweet, with a sharp fizz that burned slightly in her throat, mixed with a heavy caramel scent.
For an eleven-year-old used to water and juice, the impact was overwhelming.
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