After saying goodbye to Aberforth Dumbledore, Vizet and the others left the Hog's Head.
The heavy rain had finally stopped, but damp moisture still filled the air, and the distant mountains were veiled in a thin mist, blurred like silhouettes.
Just as the pedestrians had breathed a sigh of relief at the rain stopping, a wet, cold wind quietly swept in.
The sign of the Hog's Head swayed in the wind, letting out a grating creak, while a dull rumble of thunder came from the distant mountains, as though mocking the shivers the pedestrians gave in that gust.
Vizet and Luna strolled through the hills and fields, and they felt that chill too.
In truth, they both had their wands on them. All it would take was a light wave of a wand to drive away the biting cold in the wind.
But neither of them did.
They simply nestled closer together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Even with the cold wind pressing in, the warmth woven from each other's body heat was enough to dissolve the chill that came with it.
For Vizet, studying magic sometimes felt like a climb.
As his knowledge of magic accumulated, he kept moving upward, and his view grew ever broader, as though if he only took one more step, then one more, he could use this great mountain called "magic" to touch the boundary of the ethereal and unreal.
It was precisely at moments like this that he instead needed to quiet his heart, to stop leafing through magic books and stop waving the wand in his hand, simply feeling with his body, then letting that feeling reach his soul.
He felt the chill carried by the cold wind lightly brush his skin, and also felt the