Lewis and Ciri, wearing their medals, stood like puppets under Minister Fudge's arrangement, lined up beside him and Dumbledore while photographers snapped pictures.
After the ceremony, the two stepped down from the stage.
Dumbledore approached, patting Lewis on the shoulder with a warm smile. "Congratulations, Mr. Green. You've done splendidly. You may very well be the youngest recipient of a First Class Order of Merlin. And you as well, Miss Cirilla—your teamwork extends far beyond the Quidditch pitch."
"Thank you, Professor," Lewis replied politely, his tone modest. "It was simply a matter of circumstance. Anyone would have acted in such danger. Besides, Ciri helped me a great deal."
"I merely stepped in when I saw injustice," Ciri added calmly.
"How humble of you both. Sir Lewis Green, Miss Cirilla Reanlun… or should I say, Sir and Dame now," another elderly voice interjected warmly. "I've heard about you from Headmaster Dumbledore before, Sir Green. Your academic performance at school is quite outstanding, isn't it?"
Lewis turned, wondering who it was—just as Professor Flitwick arrived and exclaimed,
"That's Newt Scamander!"
The small professor then proudly began praising his student.
"That's right. Lewis is the most talented and hardworking student I've ever seen. In some areas of spellcasting, he's already comparable to an adult wizard."
"In fact, Mr. Green's accomplishments extend beyond that," Newt Scamander added with a nod. "I've read your anatomical study on the Chimera. It's a bold hypothesis, yet your reasoning is rigorous and compelling. You're naturally suited for research."
Flitwick stared at Lewis in shock, as if thinking, How many surprises are you hiding from me?
Just then, a sharp, overly theatrical voice cut in.
"Oh! Mr. Scamander, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick—hello! Might I trouble you for an interview with our heroes?"
Lewis turned to see a witch in a bright magenta robe. Her hair was styled into stiff, elaborate curls, paired awkwardly with her pronounced chin. She wore jeweled glasses, clutched a crocodile-skin handbag with thick fingers, and had long, vividly painted red nails.
"Ah, Miss Skeeter," Flitwick greeted her, then introduced her. "This is Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet, also a Ravenclaw. I only taught her for three years, but her writing left quite an impression."
"Thank you, Professor! I can't believe you still remember me!" Rita said, visibly touched.
Through his mental perception, Lewis could tell—she was genuinely moved.
Flitwick truly was a remarkable teacher.
Out of respect for him, Lewis nodded. "I hope the interview won't take too long."
He exchanged a glance with the professors before following Rita, with Ciri, to a quiet corner of the hall.
To his surprise, the infamous journalist—known for exaggeration and distortion—asked no sharp or leading questions. She recorded their answers faithfully.
Lewis almost thought she had changed.
He had originally planned to teach her a lesson if needed, but now it seemed unnecessary.
Flitwick's influence clearly extended beyond just him.
After the interview, Lewis was about to return when he saw Tonks and her mother, Andromeda, hurrying toward him.
"So here you are, Lewis," Tonks said, clearly pleased. "Come with me—Madam Proudmoore wants to meet you."
Jaina?
Why was she looking for him?
He hadn't even approached her yet.
Still, this aligned perfectly with one of his goals today—to meet her.
Andromeda led Ciri away to find Hermione, who had been with the Tonks family.
To Lewis's surprise, the meeting wasn't in the main hall, but in a private side chamber. It was just the two of them—even Tonks stayed outside the door.
Something about this felt deliberate.
Inside, they sat across from each other at a round table, with desserts and tea set between them.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Lewis Green," Jaina said with a smile, openly admiring him. "Tonks has spoken highly of you, but seeing you in person, I realize she didn't exaggerate."
"You flatter me," Lewis replied smoothly. "Tonks often speaks of you as well, full of admiration. I've long heard your name—and today I see you're even more impressive than she described."
Jaina covered her mouth as she laughed. "Oh, listen to you. I'm nearly forty—I could be your mother."
"Really?" Lewis said with mock surprise. "I was planning to call you Sister Jaina."
Anyone who knew him would immediately call him shameless for that line.
A twelve-year-old calling a thirty-six-year-old woman "sister"?
But judging by appearance alone, Jaina didn't look her age. Arcane mages had many ways to preserve their youth.
Besides, for Lewis, calling her "sister" was already restraint.
There was no way he was calling her "aunt."
More importantly—why waste high charm and passive charisma?
One sought to recruit, the other to charm.
Within moments, the two grew familiar, addressing each other as "sister" and "brother," their conversation flowing from Tonks to the Chimera.
Just as Lewis felt everything was going smoothly, Jaina suddenly asked:
"By the way, little brother Lewis, I heard from the Aurors at the scene that you suppressed the Chimera's regeneration by causing massive blood loss, leaving numerous wounds on its body."
"That's correct, Sister Jaina," Lewis replied sweetly.
Then she looked directly into his eyes, her gaze probing.
"I'm curious… what spell did you use to achieve that?"
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