Magical Creature: The One-Winged Bird

[Your actions during the train strike earned the trust of the Granger family. From there, you made this your base, frequently traveling around the world to gather the materials needed for that spell.]

[Your trips were short—three to five days—or long—a month or two. Each time you returned, you brought gifts from various places for Hermione, increasing her affection. This clever little girl completely let down her guard around you, immersed in the persona you had crafted.]

[Working at a tight pace, you finally completed your original goal just before the half-year holiday ended. At the same time, you informed the Grangers in advance of your departure date.]

[The whole Granger family was reluctant to see you go. These six months together had been joyful for them; your presence brought more laughter and cheer into their home.]

[But the wise and understanding Grangers still offered you their blessings. They returned the rent you had paid over these days untouched, hoping that when you next came to Britain, you would stay with them again, allowing them to play host.]

Hermione hid in the shadow of the doorway, like a sulking kitten, her cheeks puffed out, her toes tapping impatiently against the carpet.

She hadn't seen Caesar in three days. She only knew he had locked himself in his room, making clattering noises, tinkering with something or other.

Tomorrow, Caesar was leaving Britain. Could it be that in these final days, he didn't want to see her at all?

Hermione could no longer hold back. She crept quietly to his door.

The door was ajar, left with a crack, spilling warm light and the faint sound of friction. Like a little thief, she glanced left and right, then held her breath and pressed her eye to the gap.

Inside the room, Caesar sat with his back to the door at an old wooden table by the window.

The afternoon sun streamed through the latticed panes, casting dappled light and shadow across his shoulders. He bowed his head slightly, so focused it was as if the whole world had nothing to do with him.

Hermione's gaze slipped past his shoulder, fixed directly on his hands.

In his hands was a small knife of peculiar shape, its blade occasionally catching a glint of cold starlight in the sunlight.

Between his fingertips, he held a silver chain, still unfinished, with the pendant part already taking rough shape.

It was a piece of dark jade, carefully carved into an irregular form, the material looking ancient and warm.

Caesar's movements were slow, carrying a nearly reverent delicacy.

The small knife scraped lightly across the jade, each motion extremely steady and precise.

Jade dust fell like tiny snowflakes, piling up into a small heap beside his hand.

This wasn't rough cutting or chiseling—it was guiding, as if the soul within the jade had always existed, and Caesar was merely patiently, bit by bit, releasing it from its confinement.

Hermione couldn't make out the specific shape of the pendant.

But she could see Caesar's fingertips turning slightly white from the pressure, see him occasionally pause to gently rub the carved lines with his thumb, feeling their curves and depths, then continue.

His breathing was steady and long, merging into the rhythm of the carving knife in his hand.

She watched, mesmerized, even her initial displeasure washed away by this quiet, focused scene.

She had never seen Caesar like this—stripped of his usual lazy or teasing demeanor, left with nothing but pure, immersed stillness in the act of creation.

His entire aura had changed. He was like a silent mountain, or a deep, vast sea.

Just then, Caesar's movements stopped.

He didn't turn around, but his voice came through clearly, carrying a faint, barely perceptible warmth, breaking the silence of the room:

"Seen enough, little Hermione?"

Hermione startled, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She jerked upright, her cheeks instantly burning.

She bit her lip in annoyance, knowing she had been caught.

But since she was already discovered, she decided not to hide anymore. With a touch of reckless abandon, she pushed the door open.

"You... this is what you've been working on these past few days?" She stepped into the room, her eyes still glued to the necklace in his hand, her voice a mix of curiosity and lingering grievance.

"What is this?"

Caesar finally turned around slowly, the unfinished necklace still pinched between his fingertips.

He looked at her, a trace of weariness in his eyes, but more than that, a deep, unfathomable emotion that Hermione couldn't read.

Caesar didn't answer her question. Instead, he raised his hand holding the necklace slightly, letting the dark jade pendant catch the light more clearly.

"A necklace," he said. "Remember the last time I came back and told you about the two strange giant birds I found atop the world's peak in the distant East?"

Hermione recalled the stories Caesar always told her when he returned. "You mean those two birds that looked like owls, but each had only one wing and one eye, and had to pair up to fly—the One-Winged Birds? You made this necklace from them?"

Caesar nodded, his hand tightening around the necklace, his gaze carrying a hint of reminiscence. "It was very dangerous back then. That male bird's wing was sharper than any blade in this world. I almost—if I had been even a tenth of a second slower, what you'd be seeing now might be a beautiful scar running from my left shoulder all the way to my ribs."

Then, Caesar paused, as if savoring that perilous moment, before looking up at Hermione, a light in his eyes that was hard to describe: "But it was also at that moment, when that feather grazed just above my heart, that I caught its body. Not with a wand, not with any spell—just in that thin line between life and death, I felt the unbreakable bond between them..."

Caesar opened his palm again. The dark jade pendant lay quietly in his hand, the previously unclear patterns now sharp under the light.

It wasn't simple carving. A long, slender, resilient feather, shimmering with a faint iridescence, had been embedded into the jade with extraordinary skill.

The base of the feather was also adorned with a deep red crystal, smaller than a grain of rice yet shimmering brilliantly, like a single drop of congealed blood.

"This is the feather of a One-Winged Bird,"

Caesar's voice was very soft, carrying a solemnity as if recounting a legend. "Not just any single feather, but the one and only Symbiotic Feather that falls when that pair of birds flies together, their breaths mingling and their magic resonating."

He pointed again at the red crystal. "And this beside it is the heart's blood that the male bird spat out in desperation to protect his mate, imbued with the purest protective intent."

Hermione held her breath, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the tiny necklace.

She could sense the faint yet solid magical fluctuation emanating from the object—warm, harmonious, carrying an undeniable power of connection.

This also proved that she possessed talents those Muggles lacked; this was the aptitude of a witch.

"Right!"

Hermione suddenly shot to her feet, all color draining from her face. Those eyes that had just sparkled with intelligence now held only pure panic.

"You said you were injured just now? Where? Let me see!"

With that, she reached out without a second thought to touch the buttons of Caesar's shirt, her movements urgent and carrying an air that brooked no refusal.

In her mind, any minor wound from a battle with a legendary magical creature could harbor unknown dangers.

Caesar seemed not to have anticipated such a fierce reaction. He paused for a moment, then somewhat helplessly allowed her to undo the top two buttons, revealing a stretch of firm chest skin just below his collarbone.