Why Does Caesar Favor You So Much?

When Caesar returned to the Quidditch pitch, the sky was steeped in Gryffindor's gold-and-crimson sunset glow, and the announcer's hoarse shouts still echoed across the field:

"She's caught it! Hermione Granger has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins! The championship belongs to Gryffindor!"

Deafening cheers swept across the entire pitch like a tidal wave.

Hermione sat astride her broom, suspended midair, the still-struggling Golden Snitch clutched tightly in her hand, her chest heaving violently from excitement and lack of oxygen.

She had done it!

Not only had she defeated the technically skilled Ravenclaw, but she had also trampled the arrogant Malfoy and his Slytherin team beneath her heel!

A torrent of ecstasy washed away all exhaustion, and she wanted only to share this moment with one person.

Just then, her gaze, as if pulled by a magnet, snapped toward the entrance of the teachers' stands.

That familiar figure, having quietly returned at some unknown moment, stood there motionless, as if he had never left.

His dark robes fluttered slightly in the clamorous wind, and across the vast distance, she could almost see the rare, unmistakable approval in his eyes.

Acting almost on instinct, Hermione forgot even to guide her broom for a smooth landing.

Like a bird breaking free of all restraints, she vaulted cleanly off from several feet in the air.

The moment her feet landed steadily on the grass, she shot forward like an arrow loosed from a string, charging recklessly toward that figure.

All the sounds around her—

Cheers, applause, her teammates' calls—blurred into background noise in her ears.

Her world had narrowed to that single target.

Under countless gazes of shock, surprise, and understanding, under Ravenclaw's almost flaming eyes of jealousy, Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' newly crowned Quidditch champion, burst through the gaps in the crowd like a small cannonball.

And then, she slammed solidly into Caesar's arms!

The impact made him step back half a pace, but he almost instinctively opened his arms and caught the girl, who radiated sweat, grass clippings, and the joy of victory.

Her bushy hair brushed against his jaw, carrying the scent of sunlight and wind.

She could feel her own fierce heartbeat transmitting to him through their robes.

"Caesar! I won! Did you see? I beat Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, and Hufflepuff too!"

Hermione looked up, shouting incoherently, her face lit with an unreserved, dazzling smile.

Those eyes, always sparkling with intelligence, now held only pure longing for recognition and immense joy.

Caesar stiffened slightly. This overly intimate contact clearly crossed the boundary between teacher and student.

He could feel the various gazes directed at them from all around—teachers, students.

Especially the stunned, disapproving stares from Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

He could even glimpse Professor McGonagall raising an eyebrow slightly, as if questioning who exactly was Gryffindor's head of house.

Caesar subtly tried to push her back a little, to maintain basic decorum.

But Hermione held on too tightly, as if she wanted to press this victory, and herself, into his embrace.

In the end, he didn't force her away. He simply let her lean on him for a few seconds, feeling her body trembling from triumph.

Caesar lowered his head and said, in a voice clear and firm, only for her to hear: "Well done, Hermione. I am proud to have you as my student."

His tone was calm, but carried unmistakable sincerity.

That brief acknowledgment satisfied Hermione more than all the cheers and trophies combined.

She finally let go, satisfied, stepping back half a step with flushed cheeks, but the light in her eyes hadn't dimmed in the slightest.

If you can't find the book by title, try searching by author—maybe it just changed names!

She didn't care about the gossip, or Malfoy's livid face.

She only knew that the person she cared about most had witnessed and affirmed her moment of glory.

And this embrace was clear in her conscience—she and Caesar were the best of family!

Caesar looked at her eyes, bright enough to burn, and at the necklace pendant that had slipped out from her collar due to all the exertion, faintly shimmering with rainbow light in the sunset—the One-Winged Bird pendant.

A deeply complex glimmer flickered in the depths of his gaze.

He lightly raised a hand, casually brushing a blade of grass from her shoulder as naturally as an elder would.

"Go on," he said, his voice returning to its usual steadiness. "Your teammates are waiting to celebrate with you."

Hermione nodded vigorously, flashed him one last big smile, then turned and ran like a gust of wind back into the surging Gryffindor crowd, where she was lifted high by the cheering throng.

Caesar stood there, watching her disappear into the sea of red, feeling the fleeting warmth of victory and youth still lingering in his arms.

And beneath his robes, the faint resonance from the necklace on his own chest, matching hers.

This unplanned intimacy, like a pebble dropped into the still surface of a lake, stirred an almost imperceptible ripple across his calm, untroubled heart.

The lingering heat of the awards ceremony had yet to fade as the crowd began to trickle out of the pitch in twos and threes. Hermione was bent over, wiping down the handle of her Nimbus 2000.

This was what Caesar had bought for her yesterday.

Gryffindor teammates were laughing and messing around not far away.

A tall, slender figure blocked the light in front of her.

She looked up. It was Rojie Venus, captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, a fifth-year known for her calm tactics and pride.

At this moment, her usual proper smile was somewhat forced, her blue eyes barely suppressing obvious confusion and resentment.

"Congratulations, Granger. A brilliant performance."

Her opening was still polite enough, but the next words cut straight to the point. "However, as an opponent—especially one who just lost to you, and with Professor Caesar being our house's advisor—I have an impertinent question."

Hermione put down the cloth in her hand, stood up straight, and looked at her calmly. "Go ahead, Venus."

Rojie took a deep breath, as if trying to maintain Ravenclaw-style logic, but the sharpness in her tone still leaked through:

"Why? Why would Professor Caesar, a Ravenclaw professor, show such obvious... special attention to you, a Gryffindor? Even accepting that kind of... celebration that far exceeds teacher-student decorum in front of everyone?"

Her question was direct and aggressive.

It could also represent the collective confusion of some Ravenclaw students watching coldly from the sidelines.

This wasn't reasonable. This wasn't fair. This behavior broke the invisible barriers between houses.

After hearing this, Hermione neither blushed nor panicked.

She even lifted her chin slightly, that sharp, intelligent expression she wore during classroom debates instantly returning to her face.

"Special attention? Venus, I thought Ravenclaw valued wisdom and logic, not baseless gossip."

Then, Hermione's voice was clear, her speech fast and steady:

"Professor Caesar recognizes 'ability' and 'results.' Today, I anticipated your three attempts at flanking ambushes in tactics. I broke your double-Bludger interference formation targeting the Seeker. Finally, I completed a high-precision vertical dive of seven hundred feet to catch the Snitch within three seconds. Which chapter of Advanced Quidditch Strategy, which page of Competitive Flying Psychology has a detailed discussion of these? Do you need me to cite them on the spot?"

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