Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

The laughter in the Great Hall still rang loud in the air like a lingering enchantment. Percy Weasley was still fuming from the dwarven serenade, and Adrian Fawly had disappeared under the Slytherin table in disgrace, much to the delight of Cael and the twins.

But the mood shifted suddenly.

The enchanted doors of the Great Hall creaked open again, drawing everyone's attention. A cold breeze whispered in, and through it strode Fischer Frey.

Tall, dark-haired, with sharp cheekbones and colder eyes, he walked with the poise of a pure-blood prince. In his gloved hand, he held two roses—one red, one black.

Whispers trailed him as he moved toward the Slytherin table. The room grew quieter, curiosity thickening the air like fog.

At the far end of the table, Cassandra Vole sat, eating her lunch with calm detachment, elegantly poised as ever. She didn't notice him at first—until he came to a stop beside her, turned, and slowly dropped to one knee.

The room fell completely silent.

Gasps scattered from the students. All eyes were on the spectacle now unfolding.

Fischer looked up at her, his voice rich and rehearsed:

"Today is Valentine's Day. A day when lovers speak their truth.

And I am here, once again, to confess my heart to you."

He raised the red rose first.

"This is for the passion I hold for you, Cassandra."

Then the black rose. "And this—for the bond that transcends rejection, for love that refuses to fade."

Murmurs swelled across the tables.

"The last time I confessed, you turned me away," he continued. "But I believe, now, you know me better.

I believe you've come to see what I offer—not just love, but legacy.

The joining of the Frey and Vole families would be powerful, and pure.

Our children—our next generation—would inherit strength, tradition, and influence."

He paused for effect, smiling faintly, as if this was all unfolding exactly as he envisioned.

"So I ask you once more, Lady Cassandra:

Accept my heart.

Speak with your parents.

And let us be joined in bond, blood, and future."

The roses hovered before her, suspended in his outstretched hands.

Around the table, some girls sighed dreamily.

"He's so elegant…"

"She's lucky, really. A Frey heir? That's no small offer."

Further down, two Ravenclaw girls whispered urgently.

"Did you see the black rose?"

"That's not romance—that's obsession."

"He's not in love. He's possessive."

Cassandra hadn't spoken a word. Her expression was unreadable—eyes narrow, jaw tight.

She stared at Fischer. Slowly, she stood.

Then—without a word—she picked up her goblet of pumpkin juice.

And threw it directly into his face.

The hall gasped. Some students even stood in shock.

Fischer reeled back, drenched, stunned, face dripping amber liquid. Cassandra didn't blink.

Her voice was sharp, every word slicing the silence:

"I told you before, and I'll say it again:

I do not like you.

I do not want you.

And I will never marry you.

Stop these childish performances and leave me alone."

There was a pause, hanging thick and awkward in the air. Then she added, cold as frost:

"You don't love me. You're obsessed with owning me. That's not affection—that's delusion."

Then—without waiting for a reply—Cassandra turned. As she walked away, she looked briefly, purposefully, toward the Gryffindor table, toward where Cael sat watching, silent and still.

She swept out of the Great Hall like a storm cloaked in elegance.

Fischer remained on one knee, pumpkin juice clinging to his robes and dripping down his chin.

Laughter was slow to come—but when it did, it roared.

Fred was the first to snort. Lee Jordan nearly choked on his bread roll. Even some of the Slytherins couldn't hold back.

Fischer rose slowly. His lips were trembling—not from sadness, but rage. Yet he plastered on a twisted smile, the kind people wear when pretending they aren't utterly humiliated.

"Well… girls can be a bit shy," he said, trying to wave it off, though no one believed him.

"Sometimes, the best companions are the ones who resist at first.

It shows… strength. I admire that in Miss Vole."

His voice cracked slightly at the end.

He turned and walked stiffly from the hall, every step echoing with the sound of stifled giggles and muttered comments behind him.

Behind him, the whispers exploded:

"Did you see that?! She drenched him like a Flobberworm!"

"That black rose! I told you he was obsessed."

"First Percy, now this? This Valentine's is cursed!"

Fred leaned across the table, grinning at Cael.

"Best Valentine's Day ever."

George cackled. "Ten Sickles says Frey starts some delusional rumor by dinner."

Cael just smiled faintly, but inside, he couldn't help thinking:

That was the cleanest rejection I've ever seen… and the most dangerous kind of obsession I've ever felt.