Before the holidays arrived, Loren had already prepared presents for everyone—but delivering them was a headache. He tossed the problem to the house-elves, trusting they'd handle the errand perfectly.
On the last day before break, Loren took Hermione's hand and wandered once more through Hogwarts in the snow. Along the way they lent a hand to the professors, helping decorate so the Christmas spirit reached every corner of the castle.
Looking at the festive halls, Loren almost wanted to stay and spend Christmas at Hogwarts. But he had to go home with his family—for one thing, he missed them; for another, there were reasons involving Dumbledore's timetable. Harry had realized there was something behind the trapdoor, but under Loren's influence he hadn't pushed too hard. Having drifted from the route Dumbledore had laid out for him, Harry was no longer following the White Wizard's script.
Loren shook off the thoughts and continued enjoying the rare quiet time with Hermione. Hogwarts's schedule matched Muggle schools in Britain: break started in the second half of December and lasted two weeks, with classes resuming in early January.
On the first morning of the holiday, at around ten, Loren and Hermione reached the platform outside the school—that same spot where they had first boarded the Hogwarts Express. They would take it back to King's Cross in London.
When they arrived the carriages were still mostly empty. They found an open compartment near the front with no trouble. Shortly after they sat down, Neville appeared at the door with his trunk, hesitating, unsure if he should come in.
Loren had sensed him at the door already. He traded a glance and a smile with Hermione—it felt like déjà vu. On the first day of term, Neville had stood there just like this.
As Neville hefted his trunk to go look for another compartment, the door swung open. Loren still had his wand raised. Hermione, seated at Loren's side, was beckoning him in.
Neville's eyes stung at the sight. Loren had been his first friend, helping him in both study and life. Hermione had been his first female friend at school, always looking out for him.
"Don't just stand there in the doorway, come in," Hermione said.
Startled to his senses, Neville lugged his trunk in. He no longer needed help; he could hoist it onto the rack himself. Watching him, Loren felt a pang of emotion. The sniffling little chubby boy from September—after half a year of Loren's training—had grown much stronger. You could hardly tell what he'd looked like three months ago.
Once Neville sat, Loren spoke first. "Neville, are you interested in Quidditch?"
The question puzzled Neville. Ever since things went wrong in the first flying lesson, he hadn't much wanted to talk about flying—but he still answered honestly. "I just like to watch. Especially your matches, Loren—you're brilliant out there."
"Then you may be disappointed. I've been benched as a substitute. Barring special circumstances, I probably won't be playing."
That floored Neville. Gryffindor had only played once so far and the team members wouldn't go around spreading such news, so word hadn't got out yet. In Neville's mind he was still nothing but a weak little first-year; he couldn't even put himself in the same frame as Loren.
(And to be fair, Neville's height was kind of Loren's fault. If you make a growing child wear weighted gear every day, how's he supposed to get taller?)
Reading Neville's face, Loren realized his mistake. If he didn't fix things, Neville might end up a squat block. He acted at once: he disengaged Neville's auto-training suit so it slid off on its own.
The sudden loss of pressure left Neville's muscles still braced against a load that was no longer there. He lost control and slumped into the seat. If the chair hadn't been behind him, he would've hit the floor.
A few minutes later, he forced himself upright. Loren noted a new flaw in the auto-training suit: while you wore it, its enchantments helped regulate your body; the moment you took it off, you were like Neville now—temporarily unable to control yourself.
Judging that Neville had also lost fine control over his strength, Loren pulled out a bottle of cola and set it in front of him. Neville thanked him and, out of habit, reached to pick it up—only for the whole thing to explode in his grip. Loren was ready: a Shield Charm stopped the spray mid-air, but Neville was doused anyway.
With a flick, Loren cleaned the mess and set a fresh bottle in front of Neville, gesturing for him to try again.
The sharp hiss had already drawn Hermione's attention from her book. She set it aside and stared, wide-eyed, to see how Neville would drink the cola this time.
Under their gaze, Neville was much more careful. He reached out and gripped very gently; the bottle crumpled, but didn't burst. Encouraged, he began to ease the cap open—too forcefully. The cap cracked in his fingers and a jet of cola geysered out.
Hermione laughed, clear and bright. Loren realized then what he'd forgotten—Hermione was still wearing her own auto-training suit. He removed it on the spot, and she promptly sagged into her seat just as Neville had.
Her laugh turned awkward, but seeing Hermione in the same boat, Neville's embarrassment faded. Hermione eyed the bottle, took the lesson to heart, and pinched very, very lightly—whereupon the cola burst again. Drenched once more, Neville sat there dripping.
Afraid she'd snap her wand if she tried to draw it, Hermione used wandless magic to clean up. Then she fixed her gaze on Loren's auto-training suit and said, "You take yours off and try."
"Gladly," Loren said. He shed the suit, drew a bottle from his robe, and popped the cap. Martial training is not for show: "lift the heavy as if light; lift the light as if heavy; and make light and heavy as one"—he had already mastered all three. Controlling his own strength was trivial.
Seeing Loren perform without a hitch, Hermione held out her hand for more. She refused to believe she wouldn't manage a proper sip today. Loren dumped his entire cola stash onto the table and waved for Hermione and Neville to keep practicing.
By the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross, Hermione and Neville had finally regained enough control to drink without spraying cola everywhere. Loren let out a long breath.
Neville stood up. His first step put a shallow footprint in the floor and shattered his shoe. He flailed and, on reflex, grabbed the table—the tabletop snapped in two—and then he met the floor face-first.
Hermione, halfway to her feet, froze at the sight and didn't dare move.
Loren realized he'd celebrated too soon. He repaired the damage with a few neat charms and helped them both back into their auto-training suits. He warned Neville to wait until he got home before taking it off again; with that raw strength, who knew how many bystanders he might accidentally hurt on the way.
After a short delay, they followed the tail end of the crowd off the train. Neville spotted his grandmother waiting on the platform and ran to her at once. No one had come for Loren and Hermione; that was Hermione's idea—she wanted to surprise her parents—so they hadn't written ahead.
Hand in hand, they joined the queue at the side, waiting for Ministry of Magic officials to guide them through the wall that divided the Muggle world from the wizarding one.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810