Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

Hogwarts was quiet on Christmas morning, blanketed in snow and hushed by the absence of most of its students. Inside the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackled gently and cast a warm glow across the stone walls, where stockings hung and presents were stacked beneath a small, enchanted Christmas tree.

Cael was already awake.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, ran a hand through his messy dark hair, and wandered over to the tree in his slippers. Sitting cross-legged on the thick rug, he began to open his gifts. As expected, a handful of students had sent chocolate frogs and magical sweets. The twins—Fred and George—had, of course, included some ridiculous joke props, including a firework that sang the Hogwarts school anthem backward when lit.

He smiled, setting those aside. Ron had gifted him a tin of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, tied with string and a crooked note saying: "Eat at your own risk. I nearly died from a spinach-flavored one."

Then came Hermione's gift: a hand-knitted red scarf, clearly homemade, adorned with subtle golden threading at the edges. Gryffindor colors. Cael ran his fingers over the material, a soft grin spreading across his face.

"Typical Hermione," he murmured fondly.

Next, he unwrapped a neatly wrapped box bearing a label with elegant green handwriting. Cassandra. Inside were deep emerald gloves, made from fine dragonhide, practical yet stylish. He raised a brow—green, of course—and chuckled. A Slytherin's version of holiday cheer.

And finally, he found a small package from Harry, packed with sweets and a note: "Thanks for sticking around this year. Hope this sugar helps."

As he sifted through the pile, footsteps padded down the girls' staircase. Hermione appeared, dressed in a cozy jumper and fuzzy slippers, her bushy hair tied in a loose braid.

"Merry Christmas," Cael said, glancing up.

Hermione sat beside him, smiling. "Merry Christmas to you too."

She began sorting through her own gifts. There weren't many—just a few from her parents, Harry, Ron, Neville… and Cael. Her fingers paused over a small square box with her name in Cael's sharp script. Curiously, she opened it.

Inside was a silver locket with a delicate design: the crest of Gryffindor engraved in fine detail, alongside a small blooming lily, etched in such a way it seemed to shimmer with enchantment.

She gasped quietly. "Cael… this is beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, trying not to look too pleased. "I added a rune enchantment. It's a protective charm—nothing too powerful, but if you're ever in trouble, it'll shield you. Once."

Hermione stared at it for a moment longer before putting it around her neck. "Thank you. It's… wonderful."

After a few moments, Cael stood and stretched. "Fancy breakfast?"

She nodded, and the two made their way down to the Great Hall, which had been decorated with glimmering icicles, floating wreaths, and a dozen shimmering Christmas trees. Only a handful of students were seated at the tables.

As they sat and ordered food from the waiting house-elves, Cael cut into a sausage and asked, "So what've you been up to? Ron said you've been busy all term."

Hermione paused, then answered quietly, "I've been trying to figure out what's been petrifying the students."

Cael's fork paused mid-air. "You're investigating the attacks?"

"I know it's dangerous," she admitted, "but no one else seems to be doing anything. I've come across a few clues, though. There's a monster—definitely something ancient—left behind by Salazar Slytherin. But I still don't know what kind of monster it is."

Cael's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "There was an incident in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, wasn't there?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Someone was attacked. But I still don't know who."

Cael leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Hermione… why do you think Myrtle haunts that bathroom?"

She blinked. "What?"

He gave her a look. "Ghosts stay in places they're connected to. Usually where they died. Maybe that bathroom isn't random."

Her mouth slowly fell open. "Oh… why didn't I think of that? Of course…"

Seeing her so lost in thought, Cael chuckled and instinctively reached over to pat her on the head.

She slapped his hand away immediately. "Don't pat my head! I'm not a kid anymore!"

He laughed harder. "Last year, you didn't mind."

"Last year was last year. This year I'm older. And taller," she huffed, crossing her arms.

Cael snorted. "Fine, fine. I'll ask for permission next time."

They finished their breakfast amid light teasing, and afterward Hermione excused herself, eager to return to the library. Cael, on the other hand, made his way back to the seventh floor.

The Room of Requirement shifted before him, as always, to become exactly what he needed—a quiet study chamber filled with flickering candlelight, parchment, and rows of reference books.

He sat cross-legged on a cushion in front of a pile of open tomes. His notebook lay open beside him, runes scribbled across every page.

He had deciphered 105 runes on the strange object he'd stolen —a powerful, ancient portkey-like artifact he simply called the door key. But he had hit a dead end.

"I've gone through every rune book in Ravenclaw's collection," he muttered aloud. "Nothing new. I've searched for days…"

Then ask elsewhere, a voice echoed in his mind.

His system.

[Why not try the Black Family Library? Ancient as they are, their archives go back centuries—maybe even to the Founding era. There's knowledge there even your mother didn't fully explore.]

Cael frowned. "If anything was there, she would've found it."

[But she wasn't allowed in], the system replied smugly. [You are.]

Cael hesitated—then nodded. "You're right. Thanks."

[Finally, the system said with mock drama. If I didn't remind you, you'd be stuck doodling protective charms on napkins].

Chuckling to himself, Cael left the castle quietly and headed toward the edge of the forest—far from the eyes of students, professors, and even Dumbledore. There, under the snowy branches, he called:

"Kreacher!"

With a soft crack, the old House Elf appeared, bowing deeply. "What is it that young master requires?"

"Take me to the Black Family manor."

"As you wish, young master."

And with a second crack, they vanished.

⸻

The Black Manor

When they arrived, the Black Manor was just as Cael remembered—gloomy, cold, and heavy with old magic. Dust clung to every surface.

"Where's the library?" Cael asked.

"Follow me, master," Kreacher said with another bow.

They carefully bypassed the screaming portrait of Walburga Black and climbed the creaking stairs to the highest floor, where Kreacher opened a door thick with cobwebs. Inside was a sprawling library filled with leather-bound books, many untouched for centuries.

"Did my mother ever come here?" Cael asked.

Kreacher shook his head. "Mistress forbade her. She was not allowed to read from the family archives."

"Then why am I?"

"You are the last male heir, young master. The only one who can revive this family. You hold authority here—until a rightful lord returns."

Cael was silent for a moment. "Clean the whole house. Everything. It's about time people returned."

"As you command."

Once alone, Cael dug into the ancient library, hunting for anything related to runes. He scoured every shelf until finally, after hours of searching, he found four promising books. One by one, he studied them, wiping away the thick dust and translating forgotten scripts.

Three were fascinating—but useless.

The fourth book contained a smaller, hidden volume tucked inside, wrapped in silver cloth. A faded note accompanied it:

"Presented to the First Head of the House of Black by the High Seat of Magic, in recognition of loyalty to the Crown of Britain."

Cael frowned. "The Crown? A thousand years ago? That makes no sense…"

Still, he opened the book. Inside were countless runes—dozens he had already seen on the door key. He pulled out his notebook and the old parchment he had copied from the artifact.

One by one, they matched.

For the next twelve hours, Cael copied, translated, and annotated more than 500 ancient runes. By the time he was finished, his fingers were sore, his back ached, and his ink had nearly run dry.

But he was smiling.

He had finally found the key.

⸻

When he stepped out of the library, the manor looked completely transformed. Kreacher had cleaned every floor, polished every lamp, and even lit a few enchanted torches along the staircases.

"Take me back," Cael said softly.

"As you wish," the elf replied, and with a flash of light, they apparated near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

It was night now. Hogwarts glowed faintly in the distance.

Cael trudged up the snowy path, heart pounding with anticipation. He passed through the castle's corridors, silent and empty, and reached the seventh floor once more.

The Room of Requirement welcomed him.

Inside, with parchment and ink at the ready, Cael placed the door key on the pedestal, laid out his notes, and began to inscribe the final runes.