The Best Birthday Present

Knock, knock, knock—!

"Dear?"

As Hermione was getting carried away, Mr. Granger, who had just arrived outside the room, finally couldn't hold back and came in.

Behind his glasses, his eyes shone with kind, affectionate amusement as he said:

"Sorry to interrupt your 'adventure story,' but it's time to eat. Come on out."

"Caesar was injured fighting a Fantastic Beast. He should go to the hospital first."

Hermione retorted urgently without turning around, not noticing that she was overstepping a little. "Besides, they're not adventure stories, Dad!"

"All right, all right. They're not adventure stories."

Mr. Granger smiled helplessly and looked at Caesar, as if to say, You can handle this.

Whenever Caesar came back, Hermione would pester him to tell her stories about Fantastic Beasts.

Children that age couldn't resist stories about Fantastic Beasts. They listened avidly every time and believed every word, which amused the Grangers greatly.

But they never argued that the stories were made up. After all, childhood innocence was one of the most precious things a child could have.

They wanted Hermione to spend her childhood surrounded by beautiful fantasies, too. Adults shouldn't ruin children's dreams.

"Don't worry, little Hermione. I've been on plenty of adventures, and that bird didn't hurt me."

Caesar gave Mr. Granger a reassuring look, then glanced down at his chest and finished getting dressed.

He covered up the scar that would have shown if he'd undone one more button, then casually patted his chest to show that he was fine.

"Are you really okay?" Hermione asked, feeling a little reassured.

"Of course I am. You've seen what Caesar can do. And why not talk about such an exciting story at the table? Heroes have to eat breakfast, too, don't they?"

As Mr. Granger spoke, he picked Hermione up and continued, "Besides, your mother and I have spent ages preparing this breakfast. And there are your favorite chocolate bars, little Hermione."

After breakfast, the sadness of parting spread through the Granger family.

Caesar quickly packed his things. He only had one suitcase, and the train didn't leave until that evening.

Perhaps he didn't want to wait around in such a mood. Caesar opened the door and looked at Hermione. "Little Hermione, the rest of the day is yours?"

He said it so casually, as if he were only going to the next street corner.

Hermione had been bottling up her anger because he'd left without a word for days. She'd prepared to say at least a few cutting things.

But as she looked at the smile in his eyes and heard him say, "The rest of the day is yours," every word she'd prepared caught in her throat.

"Let's go."

She just nodded, then ran back to grab her coat.

Just like the afternoon Caesar had knocked on the Grangers' door, London was shrouded in a thin veil of gray rain. The two of them stepped outside.

It was as if he carried a warm, dry glow around him. He had no umbrella, and tiny raindrops clung to his hair, sparkling like crushed diamonds.

Caesar took her to a red double-decker bus and led her straight to the front seats on the upper deck.

The bus rumbled into motion and rolled through the rain-slick streets. Outside the windows, London looked like a flowing oil painting, washed clean by the rain.

Hermione sat up straight, her eyes shining as she watched familiar streets unfold before her from a new angle.

Caesar didn't say anything. Now and then, when a turn made her lean sideways, he reached out to steady her shoulder.

The bus stopped near the London Eye.

Caesar bought tickets, then led her into a transparent capsule. It rose slowly, and all of London spread out beneath them.

The River Thames looked like a gray ribbon, while the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben were hazy in the rain.

Hermione leaned against the glass, entranced.

Caesar stood behind her, as quiet as a shadow.

Though they had the rare chance to spend the day together, the joy that had filled them when they left the house slowly gave way to another feeling, weighed down by their impending separation.

It was as if every raindrop was counting down the time they had left together.

"Caesar, those stories were all true, weren't they?"

Hermione watched Caesar's reflection in the window, then added, "The One-Winged Bird with only one wing and one eye, the Fire Dragon that could destroy a city with its breath, the dangerous and terrifying Mad Poison Leopard—you weren't making any of them up."

"I'd never lie to you, little Hermione." Caesar gently closed his hand around the necklace, then stepped forward, took Hermione's hand, and carefully placed it in her palm.

The jade felt warm and smooth. The feather embedded in it seemed to carry a faint warmth of its own.

"I made two necklaces from the One-Winged Bird. You should be able to feel it. This necklace represents an 'absolute'—an absolute that means no matter how far apart we are or what we face, we can never truly be separated."

Hermione felt her palm grow hot. The warmth traveled through her blood, spreading to her cheeks and then her heart.

She looked at the gift in her palm, a token of thrilling legends and deep affection. All her resentment, hurt, and sulking vanished in that moment.

In their place came a feeling that was both bittersweet and overwhelming.

She clutched the necklace tightly and looked up. Her eyes were a little red, but they shone brightly. "Promise? Promise it'll let you know when I need you?"

"I'm only leaving for a little while." Caesar looked at her, his gaze deep. "Wear it.

"Then no matter where I am, I'll sense it if you need me. And it'll protect you, just like the male bird protected his... family."

Caesar thought of Hermione as family. For the past six months, the Grangers had treated him like one of their own, never excluding him from any part of their lives.

After they left the London Eye, Caesar took her to a street stall for hot dogs. He piled on too much ketchup and yellow mustard, leaving a little sauce on the tip of Hermione's nose.

He also won a shooting game at a street stall and got a goofy-looking, long-eared rabbit plushie that could record messages. He shoved it into Hermione's arms.

Hermione hugged the rabbit, which was almost half as big as she was and made of coarse fabric.

Normally, she would have complained that it wasn't refined enough, but now she held it tight.

The rain had stopped at some point, and a golden glow peeked through the clouds where the sun was setting.

Caesar walked her home and stopped at the front door.

"This is far enough," he said.

Hermione looked up at him.

She knew they really were saying goodbye this time.

She didn't ask whether he'd come back, or say anything sad.

She just hugged the rabbit tighter, then held up the necklace and said very seriously:

"For my birthday six months ago, Mum and Dad gave me a ticket to Exeter. It was the best birthday present I'd had in my ten years."

For a proud girl like Hermione, those words were almost the highest praise she could give.

They had nothing to do with magic. They were all about how she felt in that moment.

Caesar froze for a moment. Then a very, very genuine smile, without a trace of teasing or solemnity, slowly spread across his face.

He reached out and gently, quickly ruffled her fluffy hair.

"Little Hermione, I left you a present under your bed. Think of it as compensation for introducing you to Butterbeer."

Then Caesar turned around, put his hands in his coat pockets, and walked into the fading twilight without looking back. His voice was calm.

Hermione stood in the doorway, watching him disappear. She hugged the goofy rabbit and clutched the necklace in her hand.

She felt a warm, wistful feeling fill some place in her heart.

That afternoon, that motionless moment, had been forever fixed in her memories by something even more wonderful than a magical story.