Butterbeer

"Hermione! Grab my hand!" Mr. Granger shouted hoarsely above the deafening din, spreading his arms wide as he desperately tried to shield his wife and daughter.

But the out-of-control crowd surged like a flood bursting through a dam, easily breaking through his desperate defense. His clenched fingers were forced apart in the crush.

"Dad! Mom!" Hermione's terrified cries were swallowed at once. A burly man stumbling backward slammed into her shoulder, nearly knocking her down.

When she looked up again, her parents had vanished behind a surging wall of people. Only faint echoes of their voices reached her through the din.

The book in her arms, Selected Important Historical Events of the 20th Century, slipped from her grasp. Scattered shoeprints immediately trampled its cover, and its pages crackled underfoot.

The Grangers fought their way forward like mad, but the panicked crowd pouring into the carriage pushed them farther and farther away.

"Hermione! Stay right where you are!" her mother cried out, her voice breaking, but her words vanished into the chaos.

In the crush, Hermione was pushed into the cold junction between carriages, her small back pressed against the metal wall.

Surrounded by strange, agitated faces, she was swallowed by the smell of sweat, the shouting, and sheer panic. Her mind went blank under the weight of her fear.

Just then, a strong hand steadied her shoulder as it nearly gave way.

It was Caesar. Somehow, he had already planted himself like a rock at the heart of the chaotic whirlpool, surrounded by an uncanny calm.

He pulled Hermione into the more secure space in the corner of the carriage and stepped in front of her, forming a shield with his lean but upright frame.

Then he punched without hesitation.

"Crash!"

The carriage window shattered, glittering shards raining down.

"Watch your step, little Hermione."

Before he had even finished speaking, Hermione felt a sharp tug at the back of her collar. Caesar lifted her up and swiftly, decisively sent her through the broken window.

The next second, Caesar braced one hand on the windowsill and vaulted out neatly, landing beside her.

Ignoring the pain of her fall, Hermione scrambled up and clutched Caesar's coat, her fingertips turning white with the force of her grip.

Caesar calmly surveyed the scene. The chaos on the platform was no less severe than inside the carriage. In the distance, the cavalrymen in plumed helmets were regrouping, their horses restlessly trampling the ground.

He looked down at the pale-faced little girl, who stubbornly tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "We can't stay here."

"But my mom and dad are still inside!" Hermione shook her head fiercely, her brown curls bouncing. Her voice trembled despite her efforts to hold it steady.

Reason told her that going back now wouldn't help her find her parents and might put her in danger again, but her feelings wouldn't let her move.

Caesar watched her try to look calm despite her obvious fear, and a trace of softness flickered in his eyes.

He suddenly reached out and gently ruffled her fluffy hair. The unexpected gesture left Hermione stunned, and for a moment, even her fear paused.

"The cavalry will be here any moment."

He bent down to meet her gaze, looking straight into her wide brown eyes, filled with alarm.

"I promise I'll get you home safely once we leave the station. Please trust me, little Hermione."

His voice was soft, yet as steadfast as a rock. In those unfathomable eyes, Hermione saw not the slightest trace of panic, only a calm that made her instinctively want to lean on him.

"Clip, clop, clip, clop—"

The hoofbeats drew closer, like a drumbeat counting down to doom.

There was no time to hesitate. Caesar decisively took her hand and said only, "Trust me."

He led her through the chaotic crowd with the agility of a fish. His movements were quick and precise, turning sideways to dodge brutal collisions and ducking to avoid flying debris.

Several times, Hermione nearly lost her footing in the surging crowd, but Caesar steadied her each time.

Hermione followed close behind, able to see only his sharply defined jawline and remarkably calm profile as she looked up at him.

In a world where everyone else was panicking, his composure seemed to radiate a strange power, and her racing heart gradually found its rhythm.

At the same time, she dimly noticed something strange: whenever someone was about to collide with them, they would unconsciously veer aside, as if an invisible barrier were quietly keeping the chaos at bay.

"Hold on to me." Caesar's voice brought her back to the present. "We have to get out of here as quickly as possible."

Hermione instinctively tightened her grip on his hand. In this moment of danger and uncertainty, this young stranger had become her only lifeline.

She had no way of knowing how this "chance encounter," born in chaos, would completely alter the course of her destiny.

The moment they stepped beyond the bounds of Victoria Station, it was as if they had entered another world.

The noise and commotion behind them abruptly faded away, replaced by London's usual gray skies and hurried passersby, who knew nothing of the turmoil that had just taken place.

Silence descended so suddenly that it felt almost unreal.

Caesar kept holding Hermione's hand until he was certain they were well out of danger, then let go naturally.

Hermione's cheeks warmed. She murmured, "Thank you," but still kept glancing back toward the station, worry following her like a shadow.

"They'll be all right," Caesar said, breaking the silence in a calm, assured voice.

"The station is under control, and the chaos will soon die down. The Royal Cavalry's main objective is to disperse the crowd, not hurt ordinary passengers. Your parents are probably somewhere safe, trying to contact you—or they may have gone straight home to call the police."

Hermione pressed her lips together.

Caesar's reasoning was clear and logical, and it eased the knot of worry in her chest a little.

She looked up at the boy, who seemed young but carried himself with an unusual maturity. "Thank you for helping me... If you hadn't been there, I might have—"

"It was nothing." Caesar cut her off gently, as if he didn't want to say more about it.

He stopped beside an old-fashioned red telephone box and took the unfinished bottle of Butterbeer out of the seemingly limited-capacity suitcase again.

"We've walked a bit. Are you thirsty?"

He held the bottle out to her. The golden liquid swayed gently inside the glass, with a fine layer of foam still clinging to the top.

"It's a drink with a rather unusual flavor. There's no alcohol in it, so you can try some."

"Uh... Thank you."

Hermione took it curiously. Out of politeness and the trust she had begun to feel in him, she took a careful sip.

The next moment, her little face scrunched up. She had to exercise all her self-control not to spit it out.

The flavor was incredibly complex and intense.

It was cloyingly sweet, mixed with a burning sensation like alcohol, though it wasn't alcohol, along with a rich, strange aroma reminiscent of toffee and roasted grains.

For an eleven-year-old girl whose palate was used to fruit juice and water, it was far too powerful.