-----
-----
Time flew by. As the memories of Christmas gradually faded, Easter arrived amidst the eager anticipation of the students at Hogwarts.
Unlike the laid-back Christmas holidays, Easter felt way more stressful—probably because final exams were just around the corner. Each teacher had piled on a mountain of homework, so instead of excitement, the holidays kicked off with collective groans of frustration.
It was a lazy afternoon in the Hogwarts library. Golden sunlight poured through the dark red wooden window frames, casting scattered beams that quietly landed on the old parchment-colored scroll in Augustus's hands. Leaning back into a soft, comfy camphorwood chair, he held the scroll in one hand, and the faint golden glow in his silvery eyes flickered quietly.
"Well, aren't you relaxed? Sitting here enjoying your rare peaceful library moment, while I'm about to lose my mind from all this ridiculous homework!" A faint floral scent drifted over.
Lillian walked up to the chair next to him and flopped down unceremoniously, totally ignoring any kind of ladylike image.
Ever since that party, she'd been pleasantly surprised to find that she and Augustus had grown a bit closer. After returning from Christmas break, they'd started talking more often.
"Honestly, if you can finish all your homework quickly, it's not a bad way to train yourself," Augustus said as he closed the scroll with a small smile. "After all, these assignments actually help a lot when it comes to mastering the core points of each subject.
So as long as you're doing them on your own without just copying from books, finals this year shouldn't be a problem for you."
"Easy for you to say," Lillian pouted. "You get double A's on everything. But for people like us—who can't even find the answers in the textbook—what you call 'training' is basically just the last straw that's gonna crush us."
Augustus shook his head, slightly exasperated. "Alright, give them here. How many this time?"
Lillian grinned in triumph and pulled out a few small notebooks from behind her back. They were filled with densely packed magic formulas, some of which trailed off awkwardly where she'd clearly gotten stuck.
Taking the notebooks, Augustus flipped through a few pages and began solving the problems. A gentle breeze drifted in from the window, and the warm sunlight bathed his long golden hair.
His hair fell in a neat middle part, framing broad shoulders far wider than most. His skin was clear and glowing, his nose sharp and well-defined, his eyes bright and crystal-clear, with an almost otherworldly charm. Lillian stared at him, dazed, as if in a dream. She didn't catch a single word of what he was saying.
"Mr. Augustus! There you are—we've been looking all over for you!"
A sudden voice snapped Lillian out of her dreamy daze. She turned, slightly annoyed, to see the unexpected guests: Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood a short distance away, looking a little awkward. Ron's hand was hanging stiffly behind him.
Augustus gave Lillian a few quick instructions. She nodded reluctantly, packed up her notes, and stood to leave. As she turned to go, she glanced at Hermione for no clear reason.
"Mr. Augustus, Ron's hand got injured—it was bitten by a dragon. We can't take him to the infirmary because Madam Pomfrey would immediately know something's up. Could you help us heal it?" Hermione asked with a hopeful tone. Honestly, they weren't sure if Augustus could heal it, but given his all-rounder reputation, he was their first thought after realizing the hospital wing wasn't an option.
"Dragon, huh? Judging by the wound, looks like a newborn one." Augustus smiled faintly. These kids really could run into anything. Even in other magical realms, dragons were still rare creatures.
Dragon bites were tricky to treat. Their saliva was highly corrosive and carried a unique magical resistance due to dragon blood. If the healer wasn't strong enough, the magic wouldn't work at all—sometimes not even to stop the bleeding. You'd have to rely on potions and time to wear down the effect on the wound.
Augustus pulled out his silver wand. With a flick, he cast a Level Five spell—Major Restoration—on Ron's injured left hand. Under the powerful effect of the advanced spell, the large gash began to heal visibly before their eyes. Ron stared in amazement as the wound pulled together like an invisible hand was stitching it up. In no time, it looked completely healed.
"That's incredible," Ron said, swinging his hand back and forth with surprise and delight. He'd figured a dragon bite like that would take ages to heal—not get fixed in seconds.
"The dragon that bit Ron hatched from an egg Hagrid won off a stranger. It's a Norwegian Ridgeback—Hagrid named him Norbert," Harry said, his green eyes flashing with a hint of admiration. How awesome would it be to just casually cast useful spells like that? In a way, a true wizard really was capable of anything.
"Norwegian Ridgeback? That's probably illegal. The International Confederation of Wizards passed a dragon-breeding ban back in 1709," Augustus said lightly, not seeming to care much about wizard laws.
"We know it's illegal," Hermione admitted. "That's why we've written to Ron's brother, Bill—he works at a dragon reserve. This Saturday at midnight, we're taking Norbert to the highest tower in Hogwarts. One of Bill's friends will meet us there and take Norbert to the reserve."
She laid out their whole plan without hesitation, clearly trusting Augustus completely. After all, this kind of thing could easily land someone in Azkaban—so the fewer people who knew, the better. But for Augustus, she was willing to make an exception.
"Good. Then I wish your plan goes smoothly," Augustus said with a nod.
Just like that, Harry, Hermione, and Ron rushed off the way they came, quickly disappearing like a gust of wind. The world of young adventurers was definitely full of excitement and energy.
Looking out the window, Augustus saw that dusk was falling. The deep red sunset clung stubbornly to the edge of the horizon, spilling its glow across the entire library. He picked up the scroll he'd set down earlier.
Alone again, he continued walking his own path. After all—until you reach the end, who's to say whether what lies ahead is breathtaking or bleak, grand or lonely?
"....."