Hello, Hermione

The office door clicked shut behind him.

The smile on Caesar's face slowly faded.

He lowered his head and looked at Grindelwald's eyes in the photograph, burning with fervent conviction. Then he recalled the meaningful warning Dumbledore had given him.

"Keep your distance?" he murmured. His fingertip lightly tapped Grindelwald's portrait. "Unfortunately, I've never studied history to keep my distance."

[Your quick wit had temporarily eased Dumbledore's suspicions and concerns. At last, you had time to learn the secrets and spells you needed. But if you wanted these "treasures," buried deep in history, to shine again, you would need to pair them with some exceptionally rare magical materials.]

[Some of these materials could be gathered easily at Hogwarts. Others couldn't be found there, or even in England. Even wizards would have to spend a great deal of time tracking them down.]

[So, at the end of a certain term, you went to Dumbledore and requested six months away from school, explaining that you needed to travel and exchange ideas with other scholars.]

[Dumbledore said he fully supported your academic pursuits, but thought six months was rather a long time to be away. He hoped you would think it over carefully, since finding a substitute teacher would be troublesome.]

[This time, you stood your ground and refused to give way. You said you had received word that an ancient magical ruin was about to be discovered. But when Dumbledore asked for more details, you were evasive.]

[Three days later, Muggles unearthed a Roman-era ruin in Exeter, England. The news appeared in both the Muggle world's Times and the wizarding world's Daily Prophet.]

[The ruins held research materials coveted by nearly every scholar of ancient magical history. You made sure the entire school knew that you could have been the first on the scene, but were now being kept here.]

[After hearing you complain on purpose, Dumbledore finally understood. He stopped making excuses to deny your request and apologized, realizing his suspicions had led him astray.]

1990, England.

On the train from Exeter to London.

Exeter was an ancient city with a history stretching back a thousand years. Its Roman walls still quietly guarded the medieval streets.

Now, the train was picking up speed, leaving the city's outline behind.

Caesar sat by the window.

Outside, the damp fields and pastures of southern England swept past in the twilight, like green velvet being hurriedly rolled away.

His gaze fell on the neatly folded copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

[Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes Briefing]

An unusual magical disturbance occurred yesterday in the outskirts of Exeter. It is suspected to be connected to an unregistered magical creature.

The relevant departments have begun an investigation. Initial assessments indicate that the incident was accidental and had no effect on Muggle society.

Members of the public are advised not to be unduly concerned.

An accidental incident?

Only Caesar knew that the so-called "unregistered magical creature" was nothing more than an aftereffect of the ancient magic sleeping in the earth's ley lines, stirred when he took an ancient magical material from the ruins.

The Ministry's bureaucrats, however, were as eager as ever to paint a rosy picture.

That saved Caesar a great deal of trouble.

He folded the newspaper and turned toward the window.

The glass reflected his youthful yet unnaturally calm face, along with a family approaching from the carriage connection.

There were three of them: a father carrying a briefcase, a gentle-looking mother, and a girl bent over a thick book, her bushy brown hair swaying lightly as she walked.

Caesar's gaze paused, fixed on their reflections.

The girl was slight, about eleven or twelve years old. She wore neat clothes, so immaculate they seemed almost fussy, as if she were about to attend an important interview.

Hermione Granger?

At that moment, Hermione was still just a child. She was so absorbed in the world of her book that she remained immersed in its pages even as she walked, unaware that her fate was about to change.

The gold lettering on the book's cover was clear even in the wavering reflection: Selected Important Historical Events of the 20th Century.

Screee—

The train jolted violently and came to an abrupt halt with a shrill screech of brakes.

The lights in the carriage flickered. Passengers lurched forward with the sudden stop, and complaints and confused whispers quickly filled the air.

"Due to an unexpected strike, service to our final stop, Victoria Station, has been suspended. The time service will resume is yet to be determined..." The announcement was drowned out by the commotion.

Caesar stood up and looked past the chaos, his gaze settling precisely on the Grangers.

In the brief confusion caused by the stop, a gaunt figure swiftly slipped up beside Mr. Granger, who was comforting Hermione.

A long, slender pair of tweezers silently reached toward the open pocket of his waistcoat and gripped the chain of his elegant pocket watch.

"Sir, I believe you've taken something that doesn't belong to you."

A calm voice sounded behind the thief.

Caesar's hand had already clamped around the filthy wrist like an iron vise.

He had moved so quickly that the passengers nearby hadn't even seen him cross the crowded aisle.

The thief whipped around and met a pair of unfathomable eyes.

There was no anger in that gaze, no alarm—only a cold scrutiny that sent a chill down his spine.

"Mind your own business!" The thief tried to wrench himself free, but the young man's grip didn't budge.

"Dad! Your watch!" Hermione cried, immediately realizing what had happened.

Only then did Mr. Granger react. He hurriedly felt for his pocket, shocked and furious. The other passengers turned to look, and the thief began to panic under their scrutiny.

Ignoring the thief's struggles, Caesar tightened his grip just enough to force him to open his fingers. With a click, the old silver pocket watch fell back into his palm.

Without even looking at it, he handed it to the shaken Mr. Granger.

"I believe this is yours."

"Th-thank you, young man!" Mr. Granger took the watch and gripped it tightly. "Good heavens, it belonged to my grandfather..."

In the confusion, the restrained thief seized an opening, wrenched himself free, and vanished into the jostling crowd.

Caesar didn't chase after him. Instead, he turned around and found Hermione staring straight at him.

Her gaze was full of curiosity and wonder, with a trace of lingering shock.

"H-how did you do that?" Hermione finally gave in to her curiosity and asked. "You moved so fast, like a gust of wind."

Caesar's lips curved slightly. His voice was far more composed than his age suggested. "I just happened to be nearby."