Your actions during the train strike earned the Granger family's trust. After that, you made frequent trips around the world, using this as your base while searching for the materials needed to cast your spells.
Your trips lasted anywhere from three or five days to a month or two. Each time you returned, you brought Hermione gifts from your travels to win her over. The clever, bright little girl completely let down her guard around you and became absorbed in the persona you had created.
After half a year of tireless work, you finally accomplished your original goal before the holiday ended. You also told the Grangers in advance when you would be leaving.
The Granger family was reluctant to see you go. The six months you had spent together had been a happy time for them, and your presence had brought even more laughter and joy into their home.
Still, the understanding Mr. and Mrs. Granger wished you well. They returned every penny you had paid in rent, hoping you would come back to stay with them the next time you visited England, so they could properly play host.
Hermione was hiding in the shadow of the porch like a sulking kitten, cheeks puffed out as her toes impatiently scuffed the carpet.
She hadn't seen Caesar in three days. All she knew was that he had shut himself in his room, making clanging noises as he tinkered with something.
Caesar was leaving England tomorrow. Did he really not want to see her at all during these last few days?
Hermione finally couldn't hold back any longer and quietly crept over to his door.
It was ajar, leaving a narrow gap through which warm lamplight and the faint sound of scraping escaped. She looked left and right like a thief, then held her breath and pressed her eye to the crack.
Inside, Caesar sat with his back to the door at an old wooden desk by the window.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the lattice window, casting dappled shadows across his shoulders. His head was slightly bowed, and he was so focused that the whole world seemed to have vanished around him.
Hermione's gaze passed over his shoulder and fixed on his hands.
He held a strange little knife, its blade occasionally catching the sunlight with a cold glint.
Between his fingertips was a silver chain, still unfinished, with the pendant beginning to take shape.
It was a dark piece of jade, carefully carved into an irregular shape. The material looked ancient and smooth.
Caesar's movements were slow, his care almost reverent.
The little knife scraped gently against the jade, each stroke steady and precise.
Jade dust fell like tiny snowflakes, gathering in a small pile beside his hand.
He wasn't cutting it crudely so much as coaxing it into shape, as if the soul of the jade pendant already existed and Caesar was patiently releasing it from its prison, bit by bit.
Hermione couldn't make out the pendant's exact shape.
But she could see his fingertips growing slightly pale from the pressure. Every so often, he paused to gently run a finger over the carved lines, feeling their curves and depth before continuing.
His breathing was steady and even, in time with the knife in his hand.
She watched, enthralled, and even her initial irritation faded amid the quiet, focused scene.
She had never seen Caesar like this before. Gone was his usual air of laziness or playful teasing; all that remained was a quiet stillness, wholly absorbed in something he was creating.
His entire presence had changed. He was like a silent mountain, or a deep and boundless sea.
Just then, Caesar's movements stopped.
He didn't turn around, but his voice carried clearly through the room, with a hint of warmth that broke the silence.
"Had enough of watching, little Hermione?"
Hermione jumped, straightening up as if someone had stepped on her tail. Her cheeks instantly burned.
She bit her lip in frustration, knowing she had been caught.
But since he had already spotted her, she decided to stop hiding. With a hint of reckless abandon, she pushed the door open.
"You... have you been working on this all these days?" She stepped into the room, her gaze still stuck to the necklace in his hand. Her voice held a mix of curiosity and lingering hurt.
"What is it?"
Caesar finally turned around slowly, still holding the unfinished necklace between his fingertips.
He looked at her. His eyes showed some fatigue, but more than that, there was a deep emotion Hermione couldn't understand.
Caesar didn't answer her question. He simply raised the hand holding the necklace a little, bringing the dark jade pendant into clearer view in the sunlight.
"A necklace," he said. "Do you remember the two strange, giant birds I told you about when I came back last time? The ones I found at the World's Peak in the distant East?"
Hermione recalled the stories Caesar told her whenever he returned and asked,
"You mean those two birds that looked like owls but each had only one wing and one eye, and could fly only as a pair? Is this necklace made from them?"
Caesar nodded, closing his hand around the necklace. His gaze was tinged with remembrance. "It was a close call. The male's wing was sharper than any blade in the world. It nearly—"
"If I had been a tenth of a second slower, what you'd be seeing now might have been a beautiful scar running from my left shoulder all the way to my ribs."
Caesar paused, as if reliving that perilous moment, then looked up at Hermione. His eyes held a light that was difficult to describe.
"But when that feather brushed the area just above my heart, I caught hold of its body. Not with a wand, and not with any spell. In that moment between life and death, I felt the unbreakable bond between them..."
Caesar opened his hand again. The dark jade pendant lay quietly in his palm, its previously indistinct patterns now clear in the light.
It wasn't a simple carving. A slender, sturdy feather that shimmered with a faint rainbow sheen had been embedded in the jade with exquisite craftsmanship.
At its base was a deep red crystal, smaller than a grain of rice but glittering brilliantly like a drop of congealed blood.
"This is a feather from a One-Winged Bird."
Caesar's voice was soft, solemn as if he were recounting a legend. "It's not a feather from either bird alone. It's the one and only Symbiotic Feather shed when the pair flew together, their breaths mingling and their magic resonating."
He pointed to the red crystal. "This is a drop of the male's heart's blood, spilled in his desperation to protect his mate. It holds the purest desire to protect."
Hermione held her breath, staring without blinking at the tiny necklace.
She could feel the faint yet solid magical energy emanating from it: warm, harmonious, and imbued with an undeniable power of connection.
This proved that she had a talent Muggles didn't possess. It was a gift belonging to witches and wizards.
"Wait!"
Hermione suddenly sprang to her feet. The color drained from her face, and the eyes that had just been sparkling with intelligence now held nothing but alarm.
"You said you were injured? Where? Let me see!"
With that, she reached for the buttons on Caesar's shirt without asking. Her movements were urgent and left no room for refusal.
As far as she was concerned, when fighting a legendary magical creature, even the smallest wound might pose an unknown danger.
Caesar seemed unprepared for her fierce reaction. He froze for a moment, then helplessly let her undo the top two buttons, revealing the solid skin of his chest beneath his collarbone.
Before you continue