Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

After saying goodbye to Cassandra, Cael made his way back to the Gryffindor common room.

The tower was quiet, the only light coming from the dying fire in the hearth. Shadows stretched long across the floor, and somewhere above, the castle slept.

He should've been sleeping too. But instead, he sat cross-legged by the fire, his heart tight with nerves, excitement — and, if he was being honest, a decent dose of terror.

He turned the Mandrake leaf over between his fingers, the pale green edges trembling slightly, almost like the thing knew how much weight it carried tonight.

Thirty days. Constantly in your mouth. No exceptions.

The books had been very clear about that part.

He turned the leaf over once more, then set it gently on his tongue, the bitter, earthy taste hitting him at once. It was like chewing on soil mixed with old roots — and something faintly electric, as though the leaf carried its own quiet magic.

"Ugh—brilliant, that's disgusting," he muttered, his voice muffled by the leaf.

Still, no backing out now.

He took a steadying breath, wand in one hand, and spoke the words every Animagus before him had whispered:

"Amato Animo Animato Animagus."

The ancient phrase rolled awkwardly off his tongue, unfamiliar, clumsy — but as soon as the words left his mouth, the air seemed to hum faintly, like the castle itself had heard.

Step one: done. Leaf secure. Words spoken.

Now came the real challenge: thirty days of keeping the leaf tucked under his tongue — through meals, classes, drinking— and somehow not swallowing it in his sleep.

"Piece of cake," Cael told himself, though doubt gnawed at the edges of his bravado.

He got to his feet, trudged up to the dormitory, and flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. His stomach was tight with nerves, but beneath it all, excitement buzzed like static under his skin.

As sleep finally pulled him under, the faintest shimmer of magic thrummed in his mouth.

—

The first thing Cael did the next morning was sit bolt upright and check.

He carefully prodded at the inside of his mouth. The Mandrake leaf — slightly wilted but still intact — was still there. Relief flooded through him. He hadn't swallowed it. Yet.

Shaking off the nerves, he grabbed his things and headed for the showers, then down to the Great Hall for breakfast, stomach grumbling despite the faint, awful taste lingering under his tongue.

The Hall was alive with the usual morning chatter — owls swooping overhead, letters dropping onto plates, toast and pumpkin juice passed along the benches.

Cael slid onto the Gryffindor table, doing his best to look casual, even as the Mandrake leaf made everything feel… off.

The taste hadn't improved overnight. If anything, it was worse — like soggy spinach laced with electricity. He gnawed cautiously at a piece of toast, trying not to shift the leaf, chewing around it as awkwardly as possible.

Fred and George Weasley dropped onto the bench across from him, both wearing identical, mischievous grins. Lee Jordan trailed behind them, already laughing about something.

"Mornin', Cael," Fred greeted, piling scrambled eggs onto his plate.

"Merlin , you look rough," George added, eyeing Cael's pale complexion.

Cael waved them off, mouth full of toast, leaf tucked awkwardly beneath his tongue.

"Ahh'm fime," he mumbled, crumbs spraying the table.

Lee nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

"What was that? You sound like you've got a sock stuffed in your mouth."

Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Or McGonagall hexed your tongue."

Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell slid onto the bench nearby, mid-laugh, but their conversation halted as they picked up on the teasing.

"What's wrong with him?" Angelina asked, grinning.

"Did he lose a bet?" Katie leaned in, inspecting Cael like he was some rare magical creature.

Cael's face flushed. He scrambled for an excuse, but with the leaf tucked under his tongue, his options were limited.

"Ah'm puh'felly fime," he protested weakly.

Lee doubled over laughing, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Merlin's beard, it's worse than I thought."

"Someone fetch Pomfrey," George declared, patting Cael's back like he was on death's door. "Kid's cursed."

Katie giggled behind her hand.

"Or he tried one of their tongue-growing toffees and forgot the antidote."

Fred leaned in, voice low and theatrical, "Blink twice if you've been kidnapped and replaced by a troll."

Cael groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a soft thunk, the leaf shifting uncomfortably.

Angelina snorted, nudging him.

"Come on, Cael — what's really going on?"

He peeked up at them. Their faces were full of teasing, but there was no real malice, just the usual Gryffindor banter.

He couldn't tell them the truth — not yet. Animagus training was secret, dangerous, maybe even technically against school rules.

But his friends were relentless.

"Loff me 'lone," he muttered into the table.

The group howled with laughter, George ruffling his hair.

"Don't worry, mate, your secret's safe with us," Fred promised solemnly. "We're professionals."

"Yeah," Lee chimed in, "Professional pains in the arse."

As the teasing faded and breakfast resumed, Cael managed another cautious bite of toast, the bitter taste of Mandrake still lingering.

But despite the awkwardness, a crooked grin crept across his face. First day down. Only twenty-nine more to go.