Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Cale.”

An amused voice urged Cale Henituse from his slumber. Despite the tone of the mysterious caller, he came back to himself slowly, as if rising from deep waters - the waves pulling him back down with every little breath.

He could not recall when he fell asleep, his mind feeling as sluggish as the red quicksands of the Land of Death. But slowly, his senses came back one by one, each sense taking an immense effort to come back. He felt the trembling of his fingers first, then the air hitting the skin of his exposed cheek second. And last, the silencing sound of his heart beating up against his rib cage.

It was somewhat comforting, hearing the steady drum of his heart.

“Cale Henituse.”

The resonance roared in Cale’s ears, splitting his mind into two and destroying whatever stability hearing his heartbeat gave him before. But as quickly as it came, the sound disappeared like a hushed whisper, and he relished what comfort the silence brought.

The silence, combined with the inky black darkness almost made him fall back asleep again. The anchoring weight latched across his body drawing him slowly but surely.

Just as he was on the tip of slumber, a featherlight touch brushed the tip of his hair. Along with it came a soft chuckle laced with a twinkle of amusement. The confusing sound made Cale curiously peek open his eyelids.

At first, all Cale could see was black, encompassing darkness. But as Cale’s eyes sharpened, the visage formed into an image that made his throat dry.

A figure entered his vision. An unimposing form that was draped in white wool sweater and skin fire-gold with the glow of dawn. His gaze drew him in, their entire body visible despite the lack of light.

“Finally awake are we, Cale Henituse?” Their voice was soft like silk, yet Cale could feel the power emanating from them, a force so strong that it made his heart ache.

Trying to get his bearings, Cale merely nodded his head. He could not mutter a word out. His voice appeared to be locked in his throat, not seeming to function.

“Good,” the figure who could only be that bastard God of Death replied with a chuckle, his white hair fanning across his shoulders during the action. If Cale wasn’t too busy trying not to anger the god that could kill him with a snap of his fingers, he might’ve been tempted to pull that hair, if only to annoy the god as much as he annoyed Cale. “You took your time to awaken. I had only pulled you into your unconsciousness. Was your sleep restful?”

Not really, no. Cale truthfully thought.

“I was beginning to fear that my presence had accidentally killed you. It would have been very unfortunate if I did,” the God of Death let out a quiet chuckle afterward. “Humans are so fragile, after all. So many advancements to save them from death. But even an unfortunate tiny scratch can send them straight into my realm. Haha!”

Cale blanched at the statement. What a scary thought process. Laughing at the concept of death in front of a mortal…

“Why did you call me here? I don’t remember wanting to see your face,” asked Cale, it was frankly a miracle that his voice was now working.

He could not recall a reason for this impromptu summoning by the God of Death. They had only just begun shifting the tides against the White Star. Tensions were high, and Cale did not want to leave his friends and family when each day could be another murderous strike from the enemy.

The figure leaned in towards Cale, rubbing his chin slightly. Cale could see that the bastard god was wearing an expression of unbridled amusement.

“Can I not simply call you out of loneliness? It may not seem like it, but being a god does get lonely, my child,” replied the God of Death.

Cale raised an unbelieving brow. “If you called me just to have a conversation, then send me back right now.”

“Haa... “ the God of Death sighed, shaking their head. “Fine. I have a task for you,”

Cale was not surprised, but at each word that came out of the God’s mouth, he felt his dreams of becoming a slacker dissipating away.

An expression of frustration blossomed on his face. Why did everyone confuse him with someone who enjoyed completing these duties out of kindness? That was Choi Han’s job.

“Bastard. I swear I will kill you,” Cale threatened to the God of Death’s face. He meant it with all of his heart. “I refuse.”

But the God of Death ignored Cale’s threats as usual. “Hahaha! There is no need to be violent, child. This task I ask of you is simple.”

How unfortunate. Cale wanted this conversation to be over with so he could go back to happily slacking off as usual. He grimaced. “Well, spit it out then.”

A palpable change began to take hold as the God of Death leaned back, their demeanor growing serious. The air seemed to thicken, as though it was weighed down by an invisible force. It was as if the molecules had grown heavier, casting a solemn weight over the both of them. Cale held his breath in anticipation of the God of Death’s reply.

“There is a mortal that has been playing with the very instruments of the gods. He seeks to escape death, my child. I want you to stop him.”

Cale felt his heart drop as he heard those words. The weight of the request felt heavy, and the implications of what was being asked of him were enormous.

“And you can not do this yourself? I would have assumed the gods would have been quite capable of taking care of such a trifle issue easily,” he said.

At Cale’s observation, the God of Death seemed hesitant to continue replying. They debated their answer. “That… we can not intervene.”

A particular situation in which even the gods can not intervene? The uncommon circumstance made Cale slightly interested.

“Why?” he asked, curious.

The God of Death remained silent for a few seconds.

“The realm I seek to send you to is a godless land, child. Revealing ourselves to this realm now comes with consequences too dire than you mortals can understand,” the god eventually revealed. “Such is why the gods have long since left this realm to be governed by mortals. Whatever actions the mortals wish to take are not ours to intervene.”

“And that is why you need me.” Cale came to an irritated conclusion. “You want me to fix whatever problem this is causing.”

“Indeed,” the God of Death confirmed, much to Cale’s dismay. “The very fabric of reality this mortal seeks to conquer is causing harm to the boundaries between each realm. Such is why I need you to stop him before he causes any further damage. No mortal is ever supposed to escape death, Cale Henituse. It comes to claim them eventually.”

… What a frightening statement. Cale felt a wave of fear wash over him and his hands began to shake.

He exhaled a long, drawn-out breath, some of his fear dissipating. His brow twitched. Genuinely, he truly did not want to help this bastard God of Death any more than he did in the past. Sure, he could simply refuse the gods' request. But if what the god said was true, then perhaps this person the God of Death wanted him to stop could hurt his family back home.

Causing damage to the boundaries between each realm… the mere thought formed goosebumps on Cale’s skin.

“Fine,” he conceded, scrunching up his nose. “I’ll help you just this once, bastard. But you owe me a favor.”

“That, I can deliver,” breathed the God of Death. The sweater fitted god raised their hand and raised three deathly pale fingers.

“Three,” the God of Death declared. “I can only grant you three favors. Any more and I risk being in jeopardy with the other gods. You can only use them while in the other realm.”

Cale huffed. What a cheap offer. He was offended, truthfully.

“Only three?”

Interestingly, the God of Death looked a little embarrassed at the observation. It was almost unnoticeable, but the god had titled their head slightly away from the redhead. Cale slowly formed a coy smirk at the picture.

“Ah, well you see… This whole excursion of yours is meant to be secret. None of the other gods know of this deal. Truthfully, the gods do not really care for the other realms, my child.”

Hoh... How bleak. “And you do?”

“Death happens everywhere. And where death is, I am too," The God of Death explained. “Nothing lasts forever, Cale. Well, everything except for me.”

‘I can fix that,’ Cale thought, bitterly.

Oh well, he hoped for more if only to make his life easier. But three favors were plenty enough, nonetheless. He would just have to use them wisely.

“Alright,” voiced Cale nonchalantly. “Is that all? Anything else that I need to do?”

Please say no.

“Do whatever you wish, Cale Henituse. I am most certain that whatever path you take will keep me entertained.”

Cale did not want to be anyone’s form of entertainment, thank you very much. He did not comment on the God of Death’s opinion, however.

Speaking of, the God of Death scratched their chin while in thought. “Hm, in fact, I’ll send some of your companions with you so you aren’t lonely. The children, perhaps. Anyone larger than them will cause strain on the fragile boundaries between realms. Sending you across dimensions already provokes enough harm.”

‘Hm?’

As Cale idly listened to the God of Death’s commentary, his eyes widened in surprise when he heard the latter half. “Hey, you bastard God of Death! We did not agree on that!”

Cale’s protective instincts kicked in, and he felt a surge of anger toward the God of Death. He could not let the children come with him. Cale did not know how dangerous the new world was going to be. Or how the realm’s inhabitants were going to react to them. For all he knew, there could be zero dragons or cat tribes in this new realm. How was he going to watch over the three?

The God of Death seemed sheepish at Cale’s vexation. “Ah. Too late, I already summoned them here.”

“Then summon them back,” Cale quickly commanded. “You’re a god, act like one.”

If only the God of Death could be reliable for once.

“I can't,” the God of Death expressed mournfully. “Someone will notice. My apologies, child.”

After the God of Death’s apology, a brilliant light flared above Cale. With it, Raon, On, and Hong appeared, the last two in their cat forms, and slowly floated toward the redhead. Cale spread his arms out and gently grasped the three into his hold.

The three seemed to be deep in sleep. Raon even had a stream of drool coming from his mouth.

In any other situation, the image would have seemed so adorable and heartwarming that it would have brought a smile to the faces of everyone who witnessed it. To Cale, it felt like a hostage situation.

“Bastard,” he spoke softly, careful to not wake the children. “You owe me four favors now.”

Despite the softness of Cale’s voice, the God of Death could feel the intensity of his anger. His anger was palpable, and despite the god’s large strength, it made them feel small and vulnerable.

“As you wish,” the God of Death agreed to the demand with little hesitation.

Of course the God of Eternal Rest would accept a number closely associated with death, Cale assumed. He did not notice the God of Death’s meek expression, unfortunately. Perhaps that was a benefit to the God of Death, as Cale would never live it down.

His eyes headed toward the children in his arms. On and Hong were coiled tightly together, each one guarding the other. Raon, on the other hand, used both of them as a pillow, his arms protectively encircling the two siblings.

“When do we leave?” Cale bluntly asked the God of Death, ripping his eyes off the children in his arms.

“If you wish to, you can embark on your journey now. I can send you four immediately. Just know that as many years you spend in this other realm is a day spent in this world. Time flows differently everywhere, you of all people should understand that, my child.”

Cale stayed silent for a minute, his eyes deep in thought.

He would never say it out loud, it’s too cheesy to admit it even— but the children in his grasp meant the world to him. Both them and all of the people he’s somehow collected back home.

When he first woke up as Cale Henituse, he never would have thought that his family would have crawled their way into his heart.

“Hah…”

Cale took a quick glimpse back at the slumbering children in his grasp.

The God of Death seemed to sense his determination and brought his hand up to hover over Cale’s face, a black aura emanating from it.

The aura seemed to swallow all the light around it, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake. A sight that brought Cale more dread than he already had.

"Are you ready?" the God of Death asked, his voice echoing ominously.

Cale took a deep breath.

"All right, let’s go," he said, his voice quivering slightly.

The God of Death sealed his fate.

“Don’t forget this name, child.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Chapter Text

If anyone told Cale that accepting the God of Death’s ridiculous request would force him into a whirlwind of endless pain, he would have reconsidered the god’s offer.

The moment Cale’s existence rearranged itself to merge with this new world's dimensional laws, a sharp pain soared throughout his entire body.  

It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It wasn't just a physical sensation, but a deep ache that seemed to radiate through his entire being. It was as if his very soul was being ripped apart piece by piece. Atom by atom.

It hurt. Tremendously. 

It was well known that Cale did not like the discomfort that came from even a small paper cut. 

This? This was even worse than the time he used the Fire of Destruction at max strength.

Every breath he took felt like a struggle, as if he were trying to inhale fire instead of air. His limbs trembled with every effort, and his vision was blurry with tears. 

It was a pain that defied description, a pain that no amount of magic or potions he could think of could fully alleviate. 

The pain intensified, and Cale could feel his mind slipping, his thoughts becoming jumbled and confused. 

He struggled to maintain his focus, to keep his consciousness going, but it was like trying to swim against a strong current.

It continued to build, growing stronger and more intense with every passing moment. To Cale, it felt like an eternity had passed, but in reality, it had only been a few minutes.

Finally, the pain reached a crescendo, a blinding burst of pin-pricking pressure that left him gasping for breath. When it was over, he collapsed into himself, his body trembling and covered in sweat.

“—Ack!”

Blood burst out of his mouth. 

The Vitality of the Heart had rushed to heal whatever pain the dimensional traveling gave him. But as there were no physical injuries and it could not heal mental ones, the ancient power was left at a loss.

A red, almost black stream of blood trickled out of his mouth and fell down his chin.

“Hah…” Cale sighed and forcibly twisted his body to lay on his back. It took a lot of exertion to complete that singular motion, and he already felt out of breath after doing so. 

The torrent of pain left a ringing in his ears that seemed to reverberate through his skull. A constant, nagging pressure slowly built up in his head. It was akin to a high-pitched whine, like the sound of a distant train. 

Along with it came the consistent wails of children. A plaintive sound that appeared to echo throughout wherever Cale currently was. It was irritating, and he wanted to dampen the noisy sound with a delicate brush of his hand, but he could not bring himself to lift a finger.

He didn’t know how long he lay there panting to himself. Seconds, minutes, hours. Cale didn’t know. But eventually, the sound of rustling leaves and twigs snapping underfoot cut through the noise of children wailing.

“Easy there. Easy, Fang! I said easy,” someone hollered out. The voice was deep and booming. Its tone was laced with an accent that rang familiar to Cale’s ringing ears, as though he was trying to recall a long-lost memory.  “What’s got yeh all frazzled up, huh boy?” 

A sobering bark of a dog replied to the thundering voice as if annoyed with its owner’s comments. Before long, the ground beneath Cale pounded with heavy footsteps that grew deeper and deeper as it drew closer. 

He quickly fluttered an eye open, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was coming closer, but the dense trees and foliage made it difficult to see much of anything. 

Then a figure entered his vision- a giant of a man, taller than anyone Cale has ever seen, with wild hair and a bushy brown beard, carrying a lantern in one hand and a crossbow in the other. He was accompanied by a massive black dog who barked worriedly at the sight of him.

“Blimey… Stay here, Fang! No—! Wait, boy!”

Ignoring the man's call to stay back, the black dog rushed up to Cale's side, panting and huffing. A slobbering wet nose prodded at his exposed cheek, sniffing with curiosity. As if sensing his weakness, the dog nuzzled their massive head against Cale’s leg. Scandalized by the action, two twin ferocious hisses sounded, and the animal quickly jumped back and whined.

The cats did not dare budge in their ferociousness, sticking close to Cale’s leg, but he could hear the sound of those heavy footsteps drawing closer. 

“Merlin’s beard, what 'ave we got 'ere?” the same booming voice from before muttered. “We ought to get yeh to the ‘ospital Wing. Come on, Fang! Quickly now!”

His vision was fuzzy, but Cale could see two vaguely small figures standing tall and poised, ready to pounce if the man made any sudden movements.

"Easy there, kitties," the giant of a man said in a soothing voice. He approached slowly with his hands in the air. "We're not 'ere ter hurt your friend, promise."

He gestured towards Cale. The dog, Fang, barked in agreement. The cats merely hissed in response.

The man seemed sheepish. “I know, I know and I‘m sorry. But yah friend’s clearly hurt and ‘m tryna ter take him to a place that can help him! I swear with all my ‘eart!” 

The man seemed relatively sincere. There was no mistaking the authenticity of his booming voice, each sentence ringing out with a depth and soft richness that was impossible to fake. 

A soft thump landed next to Cale, the strands of grass parting to make space for the invisible entity. He could feel a sharp gaze lay upon him.

“Human. If he hurts you, I’ll kill him,” a childish voice declared in Cale’s mind with vicious determination. “And then I’ll destroy up this entire forest and everything in it too. You hear that, weak human? I won’t hesitate.”

Hah… How chilling…

Two twin weights jumped onto his chest, causing a flash of pain that made Cale grunt out a weak groan. As if trying to say sorry, the two of them meowed apologetically and coddled at his cheek.

There was a low chuckle. “Yeh two must be very protective of him. Heh, I know I am too with my friends! I won’t let anything ‘appen to him, I swear. Please, let me help him.”

A momentary silence followed the response. The cats looked at each other before finally stepping back. It seemed that they had come to an agreement.

Quickly, two large hands gently picked him up like a sack of potatoes, clutching him into a protective grasp. Despite whatever care the towering form took to ensure Cale wasn’t in any pain, Cale couldn’t help but let out a quiet noise of discomfort. 

Eventually, with the large man’s support, they made their way out of the forest, with the black dog leading the way. As they walked, Cale felt the warm purring of the cats against his chest, oddly giving him comfort. 

They were protecting him, looking after him, Cale thought. What a strange shift in roles. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one protecting them?

Cale attempted to raise his arm to pet the red and gray children, but his arm did not respond. He huffed, irritated, a slight wheezy noise that made the large man glance down at him.

The man spoke softly to Cale, trying to keep him awake. The gentle rocking motion of the towering man’s stride made Cale wish to doze off.  

"Don't worry, lad," the large man expressed. "You're safe now. Hogwarts will get yeh patched up in no time."

Cale twitched. 

Hogwarts? What an honestly ridiculous name. 

Beads of sweat trailed down his chin as Cale merely bobbed his head in reply, his tongue unable to coherently form a simple sentence. In fact, trying to think about anything was hard. The dull pain reverberating in his soul made everything difficult, really. 

Instead, his eyes zeroed in on the two cats across from him, both of them vibrating constantly on his chest. The gray one was attempting to lick the dirt off of the slightly smaller red one. When the kitten duo noticed his fuzzy gaze on them, they mewed happily at Cale’s attention. The happy smiles on their faces revealed their sharp, yet small fangs.

The sight was a good distraction. Cale was tempted to smile, but he was finding it difficult to even keep his eyelids open without any strength. He craved the sweet release of sleep.

Just as he thought that, a scaly, cold cheek nuzzled against Cale’s hair, invisible to the naked eye.

“Go to sleep as you always do, weak human,” the childish voice tapped at his face with a small paw. “This mighty dragon will protect you.”  

Sleep, yes. Hah… That was a good idea. 

Sleeping was always the correct choice in Cale’s mind.

He could feel a gentle, invisible paw lying on his wet forehead. It moved back and forth, gesturing for him to rest. Guided by the gentle rocking motion of the large giant's determined stride and illuminated by the soft moonlight, Cale’s eyes slipped shut and he sank into the silent rivers of slumber.

He could only pray that the children won’t break everything when he woke up.

Hagrid trudged through the dense underbrush of the Forbidden Forest, the giant man making his way through the trees with a determined pace. He was accompanied by his faithful companion, Fang, the boarhound who was always by his side.

It was after dark, and the moon illuminated the pathway like a guiding light, but Hagrid knew better than to trust the weather in these parts. He was on a mission, and he had to stay focused.

The Forbidden Forest was not a place for casual exploration. It was a dangerous, mystical place, filled with all manner of creatures, some friendly, some not. Many of them tended to recognize Hagrid’s large presence, almost always ignoring him, but it wasn’t a bad idea to stay vigilant. 

He had been woken up by Fang’s frantic howling. The dog had been attempting to wake the sleeping half-giant for a while now, biting at his trousers in an endeavor to pull him into the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had long since trusted the instincts of the boarhound, even if it was wrong more often than not.

As Hagrid made his way deeper into the forest, he listened carefully for any signs of danger. Fang trotted ahead of him, sniffing the air and scanning the trees for any potential threats. Hagrid had his trusty crossbow at the ready, just in case. The forest was truly a dangerous place, and it was not uncommon for people to get hurt or worse.

As they trudged their way through the forest, Hagrid spotted movement up ahead. He motioned for Fang to stay behind him as he approached cautiously, but the dog ignored him and ran deeper into the forest. As he drew closer, Hagrid’s heart sank. He saw Fang cowering away from two small cats, one red and one gray. Both had glowing yellow eyes. It was a combination strange even for wizarding standards, Hagrid noted.  

On any other occasion, Hagrid would have cheerfully laughed at the hilarious sight of a large animal like Fang cowering from two small kittens, but what he saw afterward made him hesitate. 

Next to them was a person lying on the ground, motionless.

Worried, Hagrid rushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest, the gentle heart within him couldn't bear the thought of someone in pain. He knelt down beside the figure and saw that it was a young man, his face pale and his clothes wet with sweat. A stream of blood dripped down his chin, confusing Hagrid as there were no injuries that he could physically see. But his chest was rising and falling.

He was breathing, Hagrid noted, but just barely.

“Merlin’s beard, what 'ave we got 'ere?” Hagrid muttered under his voice, troubled. He determinedly nodded his head. “We ought ter get yeh to the ‘ospital Wing. Come on, Fang! Quickly now!”

He made to pick up the nearly unconscious fellow, but the two kittens from before jumped in front of the redhead, hissing profusely. The tail of their fur was raised straight up and their fangs were clearly shown. 

Hagrid lifted his large hands in a soothing motion, trying to calm the two very small kittens down.

"Easy there, kitties," he articulated slowly. He gestured to both Fang and him.  "We're not 'ere ter hurt your friend, promise." 

Hagrid understood the plight the two cats were feeling. He knew all too well the pain and anguish that came with seeing a beloved friend lying helpless on the ground. It was a situation that no one should ever have to endure. The sight of someone you held dear in such a vulnerable state was a heartbreaking experience, and it was something that Hagrid would never wish upon anyone…

Even now, long after the Wizarding War had ended, he couldn't escape the horrors of it. The nightmarish memories of his fallen friends still haunted him, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat on countless occasions. 

Fang had always stayed whimpering anxiously by his side on those nights. The mere thought of those dark days sent shivers down his spine, and the trauma of it all seemed to linger on within him, unrelenting and unyielding.

His eyes darted towards the figure of the redhead lying on the ground. Somehow, the man's complexion had grown even more pale in the brief period he had been conversing with the kittens. The sight of a constant trickle of blood trickling from the man's mouth was enough to make him gasp in concern. Hagrid let out a worried noise.

The kittens did not look like they believed him. Their pupils were wide and dilated, and their sharp claws were exposed, ready for attack. A wild and fierce hiss emanated from their mouths, indicating their hostility towards him.

It seemed like they were ready to pounce, and Hagrid rushed to come up with an explanation. “I know, I know, and I‘m sorry. But yah friend’s clearly hurt and ‘m trying to take him to a place that can help him! I swear with all my ‘eart!” 

He hoped that that simple explanation would help make the kittens understand his plea. Hagrid was not good at trying to convey his emotions. He understood that he was slow, that most of the time his tongue did not want to keep up with the vast amount of thoughts and feelings that sped through his mind. 

It did not help that a numerous amount of people did not want to stay patient with him, always telling him to speed up or taking one look at his obvious bloodline and walking away with disgusted looks on their faces.

That was the explanation for why he had always had a deep love for magical beasts. Many wizarding creatures were almost always considered outcasts, just as he was. Either distrusted for their lack of intelligence, their strange appearances, or even because of association with the dark arts and death. 

None of them deserved those foolish reputations the wizarding world gave them. They had thoughts and feelings, just like he did. They were simply in another language.

Swallowing with resolve, Hagrid set an understanding expression on his face.

“Yeh two must be very protective of him,” he beamed. “Heh, I know I am too with my friends! I won’t let anything ‘appen to him, I swear. Please, let me help him,” he added afterward, pleading.

He watched as the two cats exchanged a quick look before nodding their heads in unison, as if reaching an agreement. They then stepped aside to make room.

A rush of relief flowed through him and he immediately moved to scoop up the redhead in his arms. He was worryingly light, Hagrid noted. Being a half-giant gave him a lot of strength, but it was just too easy to pick the redhead up. Disturbingly so. Even some of the smaller animals back at Hogwarts were heavier than the man in his arms. He was about as light as a feather.

With the injured man comfortable in his arms, Hagrid rushed out of the forest at a determined pace. Fang was running by his side, keeping an eye out for any potential predators that may sneak up on them. 

A wheezing noise from below forced him to glance down at the man in his grasp. He was breathing harshly with his eyes locked in on the kittens sitting on his chest. The sight made him resemble more of a teenager than a man, making Hagrid’s heart swell with pain. 

No one, especially children, deserved to be in pain, Hagrid thought. It didn't matter whether they were human or creatures, no living being deserved to live a life of misery. This was a resolve that he held deeply, and it was something that resonated with every fiber of his being. He firmly believed that every life was precious and deserved to be cherished and protected, and he was willing to do whatever it took to ensure that this belief was protected.

"Don't worry, lad," the large man expressed. The redhead peeked up at him with trembling eyes. "You're safe now. Hogwarts will get yeh patched up in no time."

Hagrid was on a mission to save this kid and nothing was going to get in his way.

The first sense to come back to Cale was his hearing.

It was a skill that was woven so deeply into Cale’s brain. He could always distinguish the faintest of sounds, even in the midst of chaos and confusion. Spending years in an environment where any wrong noise could force him into a cacophony of pain forced the unfortunate habit into him.

As he lay there, slowly regaining consciousness, the world around him came alive with a symphony of sounds. He heard the distant purr of kittens next to him, the rustling of branches hitting the window, and the soft giggling of children outside.

But amidst all these sounds, there was one that stood out – a voice that he recognized immediately. It was a childish voice, one that had been by his side throughout his life as Cale Henituse. 

With each passing moment, Cale's hearing grew stronger and clearer, and he began to piece together each and every word that entered his ears.

“Four… three… two… one… one and a half… one and a… Human, because I am a great and merciful dragon, I will give you the liberty of restarting. I am going to count backward again from a hundred and if… if you don’t wake up when I reach zero, I won’t hesitate to destroy everything and then myself. Do you hear that? One hundred... Ninety-nine… Ninety-eight…”

A childish voice muttered into Cale’s ears, tone ringing with a melancholic melody that made him flicker open his eyes. It took a few tries, but he eventually forced them open.

He blinked back the thunderstorms swarming in his mind, his vision was a disorganized haze, colors swirling and roaming around him. There, near the edge of his vision, was a speck of inky charcoal black - a familiar color to Cale’s eyes - and he instinctively turned his head to face the smudge.

On his torso was Raon, his usually vibrant blue eyes dull with a blotchy wet shine. A river of tears was flowing down the black dragon’s cheeks. He was crying, Cale realized.

“Raon?” he tried to speak, but his throat was dry and scratchy, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The idle counting of numbers suddenly stopped and Raon shot his eyes up at Cale with a gasp, the dragon’s jaw slackened with shock. It was like he could not comprehend what his eyes were seeing, and quickly, large dew drops pooled beneath his eyelids. 

“Human!” Raon wailed with relief, throwing his stubby and tiny arms around Cale’s neck. The black dragon’s embrace was tight and desperate, like he was holding on for dear life.

Cale pulled his arm out from underneath the thin blanket, moving to wipe Raon’s tears away. Like two magnetic fields attracting to each other, Raon nuzzled his snout into Cale’s hand with a meek whine.

“Stupid! Stupid dumb idiotic weak human!” Raon clamored loudly. His voice was trembling, and his stubby little paws were lightly smacking Cale’s chest with each word. It did not hurt. In fact, it was like receiving jabs from a baby. “So so so so stupid! ”

With a huff, Raon pushed his face away from Cale’s hand and moved to wipe his face with his plump paws. He slammed himself onto Cale’s legs with a pout, contorting his body to cuddle into every nook and cranny.

Distinctly, Cale thought he looked like a grumpy animal plush. 

He sat there, stoic, as Raon continued to berate him. He knew that the little dragon was extremely upset and he couldn't blame him. Closing your eyes and waking up in another world you didn’t recognize without warning had to be stressful.

Cale’s hand clenched into a fist. It was the bastard God of Death’s fault for throwing his children into this situation with him.

Hah… This child. 

He idly noticed his hand folding and unfolding again by his side. Cale frowned, he already missed the faint warmth that disappeared from his palm.

As the black dragon continued to sob into Cale’s arms, he took the opportunity to peek at his surroundings. He was lying in a white medieval hospital bed in a spacious room filled with beds, curtains, and cabinets. A faint smell of medicinal herbs filled the air and the sound of chatter rang outside the large windows. 

Near the end of his bed were On and Hong, the two of them in their kitten forms. The cat tribe children were sleeping peacefully by his feet. It was a miracle that the two of them hadn’t woken up yet. 

He glanced back at the dragon as Raon let out a loud sniff. The black dragon had his face turned away from the redhead.

“You’re crying.”

“I am not crying. Strong and mighty dragons don’t cry, only weak ones do,” Raon refuted bluntly with a sniff, as though it was obvious. But as the seconds passed on, his bravado fell and slowly his blotchy face turned glum. “But… mm, stupid weak human, maybe I am not a great and mighty dragon…”

Cale's heart ached as he watched Raon's bravado crumble. The little dragon was always so full of confidence and energy, it was hard to see him like this.

He pursed his lips. 

"You are a great and mighty dragon, Raon," Cale said. He truly did not know what ridiculous nonsense the black dragon was on, but he placed a hand on the dragon's back anyways, stroking his scales comfortingly. 

The dragon’s big blue eyes wavered, and slowly the corners of his mouth drooped. Before long, Raon's body shuddered with sobs, and Cale could feel the warmth of his tears on his skin.

Cale felt his throat swallow, but he continued to stroke Raon’s scales. "But even great and mighty dragons have moments of weakness. It's okay to cry, Raon. It doesn't make you weak."

Raon sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his paw. He looked up at Cale with his big anxious blue eyes, the pupils occasionally flickering away to stare at the mattress. 

“Stupid weak human, why are you so…” Raon began to express, but he never got to finish his sentence. 

Suddenly, the curtains around his bed rustled, and the last thing he saw before Raon quickly turned himself invisible was the dragon’s mournful expression. 

Cale twisted his head to see a middle-aged lady bustling over to his bedside. By the look of her clothing, a simple red robe adorned with a white smock on top, she was a nurse.

“Goodness me, young man! You should not be sitting up yet. You’re still recovering from your injuries,” she scolded, bustling over with a tray of tinctures and a clipboard. She eyed the curtains around his bed before continuing.  

“I thought I heard a few voices, but it may have just been the children outside. They’ve been awfully curious lately. By Ravenclaw’s crown, don’t they have anything better to do than bother the patients?” the nurse tutted.

Cale recalled the whispers of children he heard earlier. At first, he thought that they were the voices of the cat tribe children and Raon, but thinking closer, there were too many of them to be his trio of children. Speaking of, On and Hong appeared to wake up at the sound of the nurse’s pondering and were both now pawing at his chest.

Cale eyed the glass jars the woman was placing by his bedside one by one. They were filled with various colors of liquid.

“Where am I?” he asked with his best polite smile just to be safe, swallowing. His hand subconsciously reached up to scratch the back of Hong’s left ear. By the sound of the crimson red child’s delightful mew, the kitten was ecstatically enjoying the idle pets.

The nurse paused and glanced up from her task, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes softened at the sight of him petting Hong.  “Well, you're in Hogwarts, dear! Our groundskeeper Hagrid found you in the Forbidden Forest with blood bleeding all out of your mouth. Merlin’s beard, the sight of him. The poor man's heart was so shattered when he barged in here with you in his arms. 

Suddenly, her face paled as if she was recalling a terrible sight, and she covered her mouth with her palms. “All my years of working here, I think the last time he looked so dismayed was that disaster of an event a few years ago, I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Cale did not know what event she was talking about.

“Weak human, that strange lady is extremely weak but weird. Mm, weirder than you even, stupid weak human. It’s so strange, I can’t really feel her presence!  If she hurts you, I may not be able to destroy this entire place because I will be too surprised. So don’t get hurt.”

Raon’s voice was still shaky, but he seemed back to his normal lively self. 

The nurse was still speaking, oblivious to Raon’s speech. “You’ve been asleep for a few days now, recovering from your injuries. Dear me, I can only imagine what happened to get all that horrific blood on you.”

Cale nodded, taking in both the black dragon and the nurse’s information. He could not recognize the names or the locations the nurse confidently expressed, which confirmed that he really was in another realm. He figured that Hagrid was that large man who found him in that forest. He had vague memories of leaves rustling and a dog barking.

The nurse nodded back, her attention now fully on the jars she was setting on the small table next to his bed. “Here you go sweetie, the potions in these jars here will help speed up the healing process and alleviate any pain you may be feeling.”

“I see. Thank you,” Cale replied faux sincerely.

He planned on tossing the potion whenever he could. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you and administer another round of potions,” the nurse said before making her way out of the curtains around his bed, her footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent space.

Cale made sure to see her fully leave before waiting a few minutes, picking up the potions and tossing them into Raon’s pocket dimension when he thought it was safe. 

He didn’t know what the weird lady was talking about. Cale knew he had no injuries. In fact, he felt perfectly fine. The Vitality of the Heart would have healed any of them anyways.

Turning his attention back to his companions, he saw that On and Hong had curled up next to him, purring out of their hearts contentedly. He couldn’t help but let out a small smile at their little antics. The children had been through a lot together, and he was grateful for their unwavering loyalty.

Hah…

Cale recalled the last few words the bastard God of Death said to him before he was dumped straight here. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The name rang in his head with a hint of unease.

Who the hell was that?

Cale held his head in his hands, clenching his eyes shut. As he tried to make sense of the situation, he couldn't help but feel a feeling of apprehension.

Was Tom Marvolo Riddle the reason he was here? Was he supposed to find him? Was he some kind of villain he had to defeat? He knew the God of Death wanted him to stop some sort of ridiculously insane bastard who was toying with life and death, was this fucker it?

Why was everyone trying to become some immortal god or something?! He really could not understand.

His poor slacker life! He could envision it being drawn away every time he tried to grasp it.

Cale grumbled into his palms, much to the confusion of the children around him. A headache was forming at his temple.

He peeked through his fingers and began to think.

As much of a bastard as he was, the mention of the God of Death was enough to send shivers down his spine, and the name Tom Marvolo Riddle only added to his confusion. He knew that he had to gather his wits and figure out a way to survive in this strange new world. But what was he supposed to do when the God of Death didn’t give him any clues to what he was supposed to do?!

A deep breath exhaled from his mouth and Cale opened his eyes, lowering his palms and staring blankly ahead of him.

He wanted to go back to sleep. The hospital bed he was laying on was surprisingly comfy, with a thick, fluffy mattress and a pillow filled to the brim with feathers. It was a surprising contrast to the thin and scratchy hospital beds from back when he was Kim Rok Soo. 

Comfort was sacred back then, and it was easier to supply temporary needs than quality ones.

But Cale’s slacker life wasn’t possible if he laid on a hospital mattress all day, even if it seemed like a comforting idea to him. In all honesty, he would much prefer to lay down and sleep to his heart's content for hours on end, but Hong, On, and Raon were only children. Strong, powerful children, but still children. They had a family to get back to at the villa.

“On. Hong,” he whispered to the two cat tribe children. 

The two kittens glanced up curiously at him.

Cale gave both the cats a good scratch behind the ears. With a quiet tone, he asked them a question. “What has happened since I passed out?”

The two kittens purred contentedly under Cale's gentle scratches. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of their happy faces.

"Mm, well, let's see," said On, shifting her head to make Cale’s hand reach a spot that seemed to feel nice. Cale obliged her request. “After you passed out, which was really scary by the way! A large man, even larger than that scary but kinda funny man Toonka, showed up with a really big black dog. Ah, I guess his name is Hagrid. Hong and I tried to scare him off, but… Mm, he was really, really insistent on bringing you to this castle.”

“Nya, what noona said!” replied Hong, nodding.

Cale raised an eyebrow. "A castle?"

A childish voice came from his ear. It was the dragon, Raon, who was sitting on his shoulders.  "Good siblings On and Hong are right! He was really weak and I almost wanted to blast him away with my magic, but he took us to this big strange castle! It is not as nice as the cookie prince’s castle, but I think it’s still okay. Human, do you think I will have a large castle one day?” 

Cale turned to the little dragon. “What are you talking about? You are a dragon, Raon. You can have anything you want.”

“Mm, I guess you are right. I am a great and mighty dragon.”

“Yes, you are great and mighty.”

Raon’s long tail fluttered back and forth, gently pounding against Cale’s back. He moved to continue the conversation. 

"Anything else?” he asked.

Hong jumped up to speak, seeming to want a turn explaining to Cale. “It was really weird! After they brought you into the castle and into this bed, they brought out these weird tiny sticks and waved them around. I thought they were just playing around like how noona and our youngest do sometimes, but some weird lights came out of the sticks. They seemed really stressed afterward, kind of like how the crown prince does after speaking with you.”

Cale pursed his lips.

Hmm, interesting.

Strange thin sticks and flashing lights? If he were anyone else, Cale would have assumed they were talking about wizards. 

Cale leaned back against the headboard of the hospital bed, deep in thought. They had encountered a fair share of magic in his adventures, but this was something entirely new. Well, he guessed that being in a new world meant seeing new things. Wizards can be one of them.

"Did you see anyone using these sticks? Like that large man, Hagrid?” he asked Hong.

The young cat shook his head, "No, they just came in with the sticks and waved them around you for a few minutes before leaving."

Cale rubbed his chin. After a few seconds, he moved to pat the top of the red kitten's head. “Thanks for letting me know, Hong."

Hong beamed, a delighted purr rumbling in his chest. "Of course!”

Cale smiled at the beaming kitten. Raon and On looked scandalized.

There was a brief pause, but he motioned at the children to pay attention to him with a snap of his fingers.

“Hong, On, Raon,” he called. “Has anyone told you why we are here?”

The three children shook their heads with confusion.

Cale hesitated, knowing that this is the part where things were going to get a little tricky.

“We aren’t in the Roan Kingdom. The God of Death sent us to another world,” he explained.

The three children looked at each other, their faces filled with shock and disbelief. 

“Another world?”

“Is it just us? But what about the others? Are they okay?”

“Human, will we see our family again?”

Cale could see the fear and uncertainty in their eyes, and he knew that he needed to reassure them.

“It’s just us four,” he said, “But don’t worry, we’ll figure this out together. We’ll find a way back to our world.”

The children nodded, still unsure of what to do next.

Cale took a deep breath. He had no idea where they were or how to get back home, but he knew that they had to start somewhere.

“Let’s start by exploring our surroundings,” he suggested. “Maybe we can find some clues or a way out.”

The three children nodded their heads, agreeing.

He slowly swung his legs off the bed, heart pounding in his chest as he carefully moved the now roughhousing Hong and On out of his way before placing his bare feet on the stone-tiled floor, the kittens meowing happily.

The floor seemed clean. It looked polished enough that he could vaguely see his reflection if glanced down, so he did not mind walking around with his bare feet, but it was cold and uncomfortable. 

Cale wished he had his cozy white slippers from back at the Henituse Estate. He should really tell Hans to purchase more of them. Just enough that he had a whole closet full of them.

Taking a step towards what appeared to be the exit of this place, On and Hong took a leap down from the mattress and began to follow him, Raon floating a ways above them. 

He was determined to find some answers. But as he made his way out of the medical room, he realized that he had no idea which direction to go. He was lost, stuck in the unknown, and completely out of his depth. 

The God of Death had dumped him in this strange new world with no guidance or explanation, and Cale had no choice but to figure things out on his own if he was going to get his children out of here alive.

Chapter Text

“Did you hear the rumors?” 

A familiar voice poked at Harry’s ears. It was early in the morning, a good hour before the first class of the day. Harry mournfully glanced at his breakfast, eggs and toast- before peeking up at Ron, who was sliding down on the bench across from him with an interesting look on his face. 

“What rumors?” he asked, breakfast long forgotten. 

Ron grinned widely. It seemed like that was the exact answer he had been looking for. “You know, the rumors about the poor bloke in the Hospital Wing? The one found in the Forbidden Forest?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. The Forbidden Forest? “No, I haven’t heard anything. Uh, what’s going on?”

Ron leaned in, his voice hushed but eager. “Well, I overheard this from Seamus back at the dorm, and he said he heard it from another bloke in Hufflepuff. But apparently, some seventh-years were out in the Forbidden Forest a couple of nights ago and stumbled upon a man lying there. He was injured, badly, and they had to carry him back to the castle.”

Harry’s eyes widened. The Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place, and no one in their right mind would willingly go there, let alone at night. Well, except for him. “Who was it?” he asked, his heart pounding.

“That’s the thing,” Ron said, lowering his voice even more. The redhead reached to help himself to a large plate of eggs and bacon. “No one knows. They say he was so injured that couldn’t identify him with all the blood on him.”

Harry’s mind raced with possibilities. Swallowing, he moved his fork and played around with the yolk of his egg. Who was this mysterious man, and what was he doing in the Forbidden Forest? And why was he so badly injured?

He looked up at the front of the Great Hall. All of the professors seemed normal, but if you looked closely, some of them seemed a little tense. The pink toad, Umbridge, looked like she was one mishap from exploding. On the contrary, Dumbledore appeared joyful, as usual.

He pursed his lips and turned back to his best friend.

“Have the professors said anything?” Harry asked. 

Ron moved to shake his head no. “Not yet. But I heard they’re investigating. I’ve seen them asking around, y’know, trying to figure out who he is. The strange thing is, mate, they say the place they found him felt like death itself.”

Harry shuddered at the thought. The Forbidden Forest was always known for its eeriness and danger, and he recalled those nights trailing the mysterious place back in his First Year. Despite its reputation, the place always gave him a feeling of curious adventure. To say the place felt like death itself? 

It sent a chill down his spine. 

He bobbed his head, his mind still racing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this story than met the eye. The events of the Triwizard Tournament flashed in the back of his thoughts. The cold air of the graveyard and the ethereal green color of the Killing Curse, the same as the own color of his eyes, probed at his mind.

He knew the image well. He saw it every night when he went to sleep. 

Lowering his voice, Harry muttered under his throat, “Maybe it was Voldemort who hurt him. You know, as a sign.”

Ron flinched a little, looking around to see if anyone overheard their little conversation. “Look mate, you don’t think it was You-Know-Who, do you?”

Harry scowled at Ron. “Ron, he’s out there. I saw it.”

Ron raised his two hands in surrender. He seemed a little tense.  “Harry, y’know I believe you. But…”

“But what?” Harry pressed, his voice rising.

“But let’s rush in wands blaring, Harry. Mate, I want to figure this out as much as you, but we don’t have any evidence yet. Also, I just woke up and I’m starving.” 

With that, the fiery redhead ended the conversation and started to shove his face with an appetizing blood sausage. 

Watching his friend dig into his breakfast with a twitching smile, Harry sighed. Ron was right. They weren’t kids anymore. They needed to gather more information before they could make any assumptions. 

There was a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Hermione sliding into the empty spot on the bench next to him. She was holding the latest copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Boys,” Hermione said, sitting down. 

Ron immediately flushed to look a little embarrassed. He slowed down in his eating. “‘Ello, Hermione.”

Harry gave her a meek wave. The witch was thoroughly reading the newspaper in her hands with a determined fever. After a moment of watching her look through the Daily Prophet, he opened his mouth. 

“Hey Hermione, have you heard about the injured man in the Forbidden Forest?” he asked, hoping to get some more information.

Hermione looked up from her paper, her eyes widening with concern. “Huh? Oh. Yes, I have. It’s all over the news, actually. The Daily Prophet says they still haven’t been able to identify the man.”

She moved to show him the newspaper she was reading and Harry leaned over to read the article. The headline was in the lower left corner of the paper. 

“The article says he was badly injured and unconscious when they found him. He’s currently in the Hospital Wing, actually. Did you know? Madame Pomfrey is having trouble identifying the cause of his injuries.”

“What?” Ron chimed in, finally joining their conversation. Harry took a wide-eyed glance at his empty plate. Wow. “What kind of injuries could be so mysterious that even Madame Pomfrey can’t figure them out?”

Hermione shrugged. “It could be anything, really. Dark magic, perhaps? Or some kind of creature attack? But the Ministry is saying that it was simply some idiot who found himself in the path of angry poachers. Ridiculous. It’s like they don’t even care.”

Harry’s heart sank. He leaned back and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves at the mention of dark magic. He just felt like it was another one of Voldemort’s or his even lackey’s schemes.

“What do you think, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, looking up from preparing a second plate of food.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, lost in thought. “It’s hard to say, really. But we need to be careful. We don’t want to get caught up in something we can’t handle.”

Harry nodded in agreement. She said the same thing Ron said earlier. They needed to be cautious, but at the same time, they couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. They had a responsibility to keep the school safe.

He glanced over at Ron. 

“Do you know which students found the guy?” he asked.

Ron squinted his eyes in thought. “…No? Not really.”

“Huh?”

Hermione leaned in, she seemed a little confused. “Did you say, students?” 

“Uh, yeah? The poor seventh years that found the injured man? Have you been listening?” Ron replied. 

“If you had been paying more attention, Ronald, you would have remembered that I just got here.” Hermione raised an irritated brow at the redhead, scoffing at him. 

Ron’s face paled and he turned to Harry, mouthing the name ‘Ronald’ at him with bewildered disbelief.

“Anyways, if you would let me finish. It was Hagrid who found him, not some seventh-years.” Hermione continued. 

There was a second of silence.

“What?”

Harry and Ron exchanged a bewildered look. They were certain they heard it was a group of students who found the man.

“But… that’s not what we heard,” Ron said, still looking confused. Harry bobbed his head as though he hadn’t just heard the rumor from Ron a few minutes ago.

Hermione sighed, lowering her eyes in faux disappointment. She placed a hand on her head. “Honestly, boys, you can’t just believe everything you hear. Now, there's still a while before our first class and we should go talk to Hagrid and see what he knows.”

Harry nodded in agreement. Hagrid was always willing to help, and he would probably have more information about the incident.

Ron looked a little hesitant. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, we don’t even know who the bloke is. He could be dangerous.”

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” Hermione said, reassuringly. “We’ll be careful, of course.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Let’s do it.”

Ron looked at the both of them with a disbelieving expression.

Just then, a loud booming voice interrupted their conversation.

“Attention students! I have an important announcement to make.”

It was Dumbledore. All chatter in the Great Hall ceased, and all eyes turned to the Headmaster, who was standing up from his seat at the staff table.

“A few nights ago, a man was found injured in the Forbidden Forest. We do not know who he is or how he got there, but we suspect that it may have been a run-in with something nefarious. Good news, he is recovering in the Hospital Wing at this moment, and I ask that any curious students leave him to peacefully rest. Additionally, I am urging all students to be extra vigilant and cautious, and to report any suspicious activity to the faculty immediately.”

Harry swallowed his throat. This was not good news. It seemed like they were in for a long year, and they had a lot of work to do if they were going to keep Hogwarts safe from the dark forces that threatened it.

He exchanged worried glances with Ron and Hermione. The three friends made a silent pact to stick together and keep each other safe. They knew that the road ahead would be difficult and dangerous, but they also knew that they had each other’s backs.

Curious, he took a peek at Umbridge’s expression.

Umbridge's face was visibly tense as she listened to Dumbledore's announcement. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on, but he couldn't be sure. He knew he would have to keep a close eye on her, just in case.

As the announcement ended, students began to whisper and murmur amongst themselves. Harry couldn’t help but overhear the snippets of conversations.

"Did you hear about the injured man in the forest?"

"Who do you think it could be?"

"I heard it was a Death Eater!"

“Hah! Don’t tell me you actually buy into that absolute rubbish?”

The last comment made Harry grit his teeth, but a tap on his shoulder made him turn towards Hermione, who was shaking her head at him. Deflating, Harry sighed in defeat.

The Great Hall emptied out, and the trio set off on a journey down to Hagrid's hut. As they walked, the cold morning air nipped at their lungs, making each breath feel harsh and labored. 

Although the three of them had hiked this trail many times before, they still found themselves a little out of breath once they reached their destination. Despite the familiar route, the journey was still quite a trip, and they had to exert a considerable amount of effort to make it to the end. 

Nevertheless, they pressed on, eager to see Hagrid and find out what he had in store for them. As they approached the hut, the trio felt a sense of accomplishment, knowing that they had overcome the physical challenge of the hike. 

Perhaps Harry was sentimental. After living with those awful Dursleys for eleven years, it made his first year feel so magical to him. Even with the disaster that was the Philosopher’s Stone and Quirrell.

But looking back, it was clear that they had come a long way since their first year. The simple trek to Hagrid's hut, which once felt like crossing an open plain, now seemed like a distant memory. Despite the challenges and obstacles they had faced, they had grown and matured. 

Even though the journey to Hagrid's was still a hike, it had become a different experience altogether. The contrast between their initial trip and the present one was evident, but it was a positive change. 

It served as a reminder of how much they had learned and how far they had come. 

As they arrived at Hagrid’s, they spotted their large friend sitting outside polishing his giant-sized boots. Fang was dashing around the back of the hut. He greeted them warmly with a large smile on his face. 

“‘Arry!” Hagrid beamed. He placed the giant-sized boots down with a boisterous laugh. He appeared eager to see them. “And both Ron and Hermione too! Heh! How are ya?” 

"We're doing great, Hagrid," Harry replied, grinning at the sight of their dear friend. "How about you? Are you doing well?"

Hagrid let out a hearty laugh, his face beaming with happiness. "I'm doin' just fine, lad, thank you. Jus’ got back from a trip ter the Forbidden Forest, actually. Had ter check up on something there, makin’ sure there isn’t any more trouble."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried glance. They all recalled Dumbledore’s announcement about the man in the Hospital Wing.

“But enough about that! What brings yeh here today?" Hagrid asked, looking at them with curiosity.

The three of them shifted slightly, a little nervous.

"Um, yeah actually. If it’s okay, we all have something to ask you, Hagrid," Harry said hesitantly, breaking the silence. “Do you know anything about the man who was found in the Forbidden Forest?” 

Hagrid's expression turned grave at the mention of the injured man. He paused for a moment, his finger scratching at his bushy beard as if considering what to say next.

The half-giant looked up, his eyebrows furrowed. “Aye, I do. I was the one who found him. Saw him almost unconscious in the forest ‘bout a few days ago with two lil' kittens guarding protectively over him. He was hurt, badly. Poor bloke, was a terrible sight, he was.”

Two cats? It was the first he had heard of that.

“Do you know who he is?” Hermione asked, her voice soft with compassion. She seemed to soften at the thought of the two kittens.

Hagrid shook his head solemnly. “No idea. He was too injured to speak, and I couldn’t find any identification on him. I took him ter the ‘ospital Wing, and Poppy’s been doing everything she can ter heal him. Terrible thing. He’s around yer age, y’know, if ah bit older.”

Harry exchanged a worried glance with Ron and Hermione. It was unnerving to think that someone around their age could have suffered such a terrible fate.

“Do you think he was attacked by something in the forest?” Ron asked, his brow creased with concern. His face was pale.

Hagrid nodded, his expression grave. “Aye, that's what I reckon. There's all sorts of dangerous beings in the forest. Poachers, dark wizards, beasts. I’ve seen some myself, but there’s even more in there I’ve never seen before. Mos’ likely no one has.”

The trio shuddered at the thought. They all had vivid memories of trekking the Forbidden Forest at night. Ron and Harry, especially. The memory of seeing those spiders still haunted Ron’s nightmares.

“Is there anything we can do to help him?” Hermione asked.

Hagrid shrugged helplessly. “Not much anyone can do, I'm afraid. Madam Pomfrey’s got him under clos’ watch, and she’s been using all sorts of potions and spells to help him recover. But he’s still unconscious, and we don’t even know who he is.”

Harry thought for a moment, considering Hagrid's words. “What about Dumbledore? Do you think he might know something about this?”

Hagrid nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, he might. But he’s a busy man, Dumbledore is. And he’s got his own reasons for keepin’ things secret. ‘S best not to get involved in matters that don’t concern us.”

With that, the half-giant began to continue polishing his boots.

The trio fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, broken only by the occasional bird call or rustle in the underbrush. 

As he stood there, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. 

Something was coming, he could feel it in his bones. He knew that they would have to be on their guard at all times if they were going to survive the coming year.

Little did he know, the events of this year would change everything he knew about Hogwarts and the wizarding world forever.

“That bastard God of Death… he didn’t tell me he was sending me to Earth!”

In a moment of overwhelming emotion, Cale slammed his head onto the hard, wooden table in front of him, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure and clear his mind. However, the sharp pain that followed immediately afterward caused him to regret his impulsive action.

As he lay there with his forehead pressed against the cool surface of the table, Cale took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, focusing on the sound of his own breathing. 

After a few seconds, the pain in his forehead began to subside, and he slightly lifted his head from the table.

"Why me?" he muttered to himself, his voice muffled by the table. He turned his face so that his cheek was resting on the table.

Why had the God of Death sent him to this forsaken place? That son of a bitch could have at least given him a warning! 

He stared at the book in front of him, a weird leather tome with the title ‘Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.’

It wasn’t even a good read. The majority of the book was filled with events that portrayed these wizards in a positive light, which made it seem more like propaganda than an honest historical account. 

It was such a disappointment that Cale couldn’t help but want to curse out the insane, childish god who sent him here. 

Cale huffed. He had always been skeptical of the gods and their whimsical ways, but this was the last straw. Being sent to a strange alternate Earth with no explanation was bad enough, but now he was surrounded by books that seemed to belong in some sort of fantasy world. 

Sure, he couldn’t say much, as he himself woke up in a novel he was reading on his rare one day off. 

He suddenly fought the urge to give the God of Death a middle finger. Perhaps Cage was on to something.

He shut the book close in frustration, feeling a surge of anger rise up within him. He couldn't believe that he and the children had been dragged away from their own lives and thrown into this bizarre world without any warning or explanation. It was like the God of Death was playing a cruel joke on him.

“Hah…”

Cale sighed and looked around the room, his eyes scanning the walls of towering shelves that surrounded him.

He noted that he was in some sort of library.

Each shelf was packed tightly with books of every shape and size, from thick, leather-bound tomes to strange books covered in an odd fabric. The shelves themselves were made of dark, polished wood, giving the room a warm, cozy feel.

In all honesty, it was somewhat of a miracle that they hadn't come across anyone other than the nurse he had spoken to ever since he had woken up. Despite this nightmarish stroke of luck, he half expected to run into someone or something by now. The eerie silence of the library’s atmosphere was starting to give him an oddly weird sense of paranoia altogether.

He rubbed at his chin, pondering.

After leaving what he believed to be an infirmary, Cale had found himself wandering aimlessly down a series of winding staircases. Step by step, he had descended deeper into the unknown and allowed his mind to drift and wander, lost in thought and not fully paying attention to his surroundings. 

The rhythmic sound of his footsteps echoed off the stone walls around him, followed by the pitter-patter of both Hong and On behind him. Raon had been floating beside him, invisible.

Cale’s thoughts had drawn to his worryingly silent mind space. The usual hum of the Ancient Powers that filled the air around him had disappeared ever since he woke up, leaving him with an unsettling sense of isolation. 

Super Rock, who would often offer his commentary on Cale's actions, was silent. As was the Sky Eating Water, who usually had a rather verbal desire to fight. Even the other Ancient Powers seemed strangely distant. 

It was as if they had been sealed, leaving him feeling alone and vulnerable in the overwhelming silence. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

It was disconcerting. As much as he said that he would prefer that the Ancient Powers leave him in quiet bliss, Cale’s mind hasn’t been truly quiet in a long time. Not since he threw the last piece of bread into the gaping hole of the Man-Eating Tree’s desire for salvation. 

Cale pursed his lips, thinking back. He had made his way through a series of hallways, eventually reaching this large and empty library. He remembered feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over him. Libraries tended to store a wealth of information in them, and he was determined to make the most of it. 

Most of the books in this library made no sense to him, but there had to be some form of information that he needed. He knew that somewhere, buried among the countless pages of these books, lay the information he needed to uncover the secrets of Tom Marvolo Riddle. 

But the only thing he could find was that Riddle was a highly intelligent and ambitious student that had passed through the halls of Hogwarts. An exceptional teenager, eventually achieving top marks in his classes and demonstrating a natural aptitude for magic. He had even been made prefect of Slytherin House in his sixth year, an achievement that was said to be highly respected. Additionally, he put an end to a string of terrors sometime during his school year.

Other than that?

Nothing else.

Cale let out a sigh of frustration. 

Why did the God of Death want him to investigate some goody-two-shoes kid hero? It made no sense.

Just then, there was a sudden movement in the corner of his eye.

With a sudden burst of energy, Hong leaped onto the table, eager to engage in some playful mischief. The red kitten batted at his hair. Cale, caught off guard, couldn't help but laugh at the kitten's antics. 

“What is an Earth, nya?” Hong meowed at him.

On jumped onto the table and nodded along with Hong. “Is it food, nya?”

Raon slammed into Cale’s hair at Mach speed. Ouch. “Human, human! What is an Earth?! Is it tasty? It sounds tasty! Ooh, is it as good as an apple pie?!”

Cale pried the hungry black dragon off from his head and placed him alongside Hong and On. With a gentle touch, he settled the small creature onto the table, where it joined the other two companions with a giggling laugh.

He felt amused at the trio's enthusiasm. "Earth is not a type of food. It’s the land we are on right now," he explained.

"The land we are on? That sounds interesting!” Hong meowed.

On nodded in agreement. "Yes. Very interesting, tell us more about this Earth, nya."

Cale snorted, prying the book he was reading open, and quickly flipped to a particular page that he remembered had a map on it.

"Here, let me show you," he said, holding the book up for them to see. "This is a map of Earth. There are seven continents on this planet, each with its own… kingdoms, like the Roan Kingdom. We should be… ah, right here."

His finger directed the children’s attention to an island situated a short distance away from a larger land mass labeled Europe. A small line of text said that it was Great Britain, a relatively small island compared to the continent it was part of.

Raon's eyes widened at the amount of land the map had. It made sense, with how there were only the Eastern and Western continents back in their own world. "Wow! There are other continents on this Earth?! Can we go there too?"

“Yeah, can we go there too?”

Cale shook his head. "Mm, maybe in the future. We still haven’t been here long, after all.”

“Aw…” Raon pouted.

On twitched her tail in disappointment. "Mm, oh well, Earth still sounds pretty interesting. But, how do you know all of this?"

Cale paused, hesitating.

They had asked him an innocent question, one that he knew the answer to but was hesitant to give. Cale had never really told his secret to anyone for a reason. 

He was afraid of their reactions. 

The fear of being judged or rejected had kept him from opening up to the others, and he wondered if he would ever find the courage to do so. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for keeping his secret from his friends and family, especially the Henituses. Perhaps one day he would find the strength to tell all of them.

“Do you remember what I said about how we are in a different world?” he started.

The three children nodded their heads, waiting for his response. The weight of their stares made Cale's nerves go on edge, and his mouth suddenly felt dry. He swallowed hard and flickered his eyes away from their expectant faces. 

“Truth is, this isn’t my first time waking up in another world.” Cale eventually explained, voice a little too monotone. “Although this is your first time being sent to another world, I have experienced this before. I used to live in a world called Earth too, in a country called Korea.”

The three children’s eyes widened at his words, and Cale couldn't help but feel a little relieved that they weren't recoiling in horror.

There was a moment of silence as the children processed the information, and Cale couldn't help but feel a little tense. He couldn’t predict how they would react.

He didn’t know what he would do if the children gave him a negative reaction. He would still protect them and make sure that they get home safe, of course. But emotionally? He would most likely break.

But to his surprise, they seemed more fascinated than anything. 

"Wow, that's so cool!" Hong exclaimed, his tail fluttering. "Nya, can you tell us more about Korea and Earth?"

Cale was surprised. “You’re… You’re not angry?”

On and Hong glanced at each other for a brief second before shaking their heads. They both knew what the other was thinking.

“Nya, Cale is still Cale.” On explained.

Hong bobbed his head. “Yeah! Nothing has changed!”

“Nothing at all!”

“Cale is still our hyung / oppa!”

The two cats gave him matching beaming smiles, fangs showing. 

“Hah.”

He felt himself let out a soft chuckle. 

It was as if the weight that had been sitting on Cale’s chest suddenly lifted, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been carrying this heavy burden on his chest for quite some time, but that was… surprisingly easy. 

The corner of his lips twitched, maybe telling this little secret of his wasn't so bad after all.

He felt a scaly paw tap at his fingers, forcing Cale’s eyes to flicker down at Raon. The black dragon was peeking up at him with a soft smile on his face, his big blue eyes sparkling.

The childish dragon softly giggled, his wings twitching with each chuckle, “Human! You have a very pretty smile. Heheh.”

As he stared down at Raon’s happy expression, Cale, for once, felt an overwhelming sense of contentment that he had never experienced before.

It was an odd sensation. It felt like a warmth spreading through his chest, a fluttering in his stomach, and a weightlessness in his feet. 

It was an odd sensation, but one that made his heart soar. 

He couldn't really explain it, even to himself. 

Sitting there, Cale simply existed in the moment, basking in the lighthearted amusement of the happy children as they asked simple questions about his previous life. 

(“What did you look like?”

“Like Choi Han. My hair was black, just like your scales, Raon. Though my eyes were more brown.”

Raon twitched his tail for some reason.)

Watching the three of them have a happy grins on their face was a feeling that he wished he could hold onto forever.

“Ahem.”

“!!”

A grunt suddenly came from behind him. Cale's heart raced as he spun around, jolting. He saw Raon quickly turn invisible at the edge of his vision.

Behind him was a tall and lean man, with long, black, greasy hair that hung down to his shoulders, framing a gaunt, sallow face. His crooked nose was prominent, giving his appearance a distinctively sharp and severe look. Cale noted that there was a sense of detachment from the world around the man.

Luckily, it seemed like he did not notice Raon. 

“There you have been,” the man said in a deep and silky voice that sent shivers down Cale's spine. The man’s distinct tone oddly reminded him of his butler, Ron, the both of them having a unique aura of death and danger.

Cale took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He felt On and Hong rush to hide behind his back, the two of them trembling.

"Hello," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The man’s dark eyes flickered over Cale, taking in his appearance. His eyes landed on Cale’s bare feet and a sneer formed on his face. Cale couldn't help but feel like he was being scrutinized under a microscope. 

“Indeed. You have every professor in this castle looking for you like rabid animals. Last I checked, you were still supposed to be in the Hospital Wing,” said the greasy-haired man. 

“Human, this man’s arm smells weird. Super weird. I don’t like it. It smells really, really bad,” Raon happily informed him.

Cale wanted to cry at Raon’s innocent spiels. He did not want to know that tidbit of information.

He avoided glancing at the stranger’s arm. 

The temptation to curse the God of Death for putting him in this situation was high. 

Instead, Cale grabbed his heart, placing an emotion of faux shock and embarrassment on his face. “Ahh, my apologies! To be honest, I was feeling a little bit of pain and went to go look for some help, but it seems like I may have gotten a bit lost doing so. Truthfully, I do not know how I ended up here….”

‘Look at me! I’m innocent!’ his face screamed.

Cale could feel the man's eyes bore into him, scrutinizing him for any sign of deception. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying his best to maintain eye contact. He could hear On and Hong mew quietly behind him.

The man's eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. "Is that so?" he repeated, his voice laced with skepticism.

Cale swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the man's suspicion bearing down on him. He knew that his story was flimsy at best, but he had hoped that he could convince the man to let him go. It seemed like that was becoming less and less likely.

"I swear it's the truth," he bobbed his head, hand still on his chest.  "I just got lost, that's all."

The man's expression didn't change.

"Very well," he said, his tone betraying no hint of sympathy. “Hm…Follow me. If I see you stray one inch away, I won’t hesitate to put you under a body-binding curse and leave you in a broom closet. Is that clear?"

Hah... How chilling…

Cale did not know what a body-bind curse was, but the mere sound of the name gave him chills. What sort of name had the word curse in it, and body binding too?! 

He gave a small but complacent smile to the stranger. 

It was a gesture that he had learned to use over the years, a way of conveying his agreement or acknowledgment without giving too much away.

The man eyed Cale's expression closely, searching for any sign of deception or hesitation. When he saw nothing on his face, the stranger turned on his heel without comment and swept out of his vision.

Cale scooped up On and Hong, one in each arm, before slowly following after the greasy-haired man. The cats squirmed and mewed in protest at being jostled around, but Cale held them firmly, determined not to let them escape. 

They quickly exited the empty library, Cale trying to keep up with the man’s long strides. It was hard, and he was starting to become out of breath, but the stranger’s earlier threat lingered in his mind. 

He didn't want to end up in a broom closet, or worse.

The man's greasy hair hung in his face as he led Cale through a labyrinth of twisting hallways, his footsteps echoing on the cold stone floors. The dimly lit corridors were lined with strange objects and moving paintings, and Cale couldn't help but feel tense as they walked deeper into the maze.

Every so often, the man would pause and mutter something under his breath before continuing on. Cale had no idea where they were or where the man was leading them too, but he knew that the man meant business. 

He kept a tight grip on On and Hong, hoping they wouldn't attract any unwanted attention.

It felt like they had been walking for an eternity, and he couldn't help but wonder where the man was leading them to.

Suddenly, the man came to a halt in front of a stone gargoyle statue.

Cale frowned, wondering what had drawn the man to this particular statue. Perhaps there was something significant about it that only he knew. He took a peek at the stone sculpture.

The statue itself was an imposing sight, standing nearly twice the height of Cale himself, with a fierce expression on its stone face and bulging, muscular arms crossed in front of its chest. On closer inspection, he could see that the statue was carved in the likeness of a winged beast, with a long, pointed tail and sharp claws protruding from its stone feet.

The man's attention shifted to Cale, his dark eyes conveying a sense of apathy and disinterest.

"Before you enter,” the stranger spoke. “Be more careful about where you wander. This is a private wizarding establishment, not a hospital," he said with a slight hint of annoyance. 

He glanced down at On and Hong, sneering. “And make sure you keep your… pets with you. We don’t want to turn this school into an animal shelter.”

On and Hong fiercely hissed at him, eyeing the stranger with suspicion. It was clear that they did not trust him. Cale gave them a quick scratch behind their ears.

The greasy-haired man scowled at the viciousness of the two cats, the crookedness of his nose only becoming more prominent with his furrowed brow. After a moment of disdainful observation, he scoffed and turned away from the scene to face the stone sculpture once more.

“Sherbet Lemon,” the man quickly whispered under his breath. Cale stood there, a little perplexed at what the stranger was getting on to when a loud noise forced him to jolt away.

“Human! The statue, it's- it’s moving!” Raon shouted in his mind. “I— I want one!”

In a sudden movement, the stone gargoyle shifted, revealing a spiral staircase leading upwards. It was a strange and unexpected sight, and for a moment, Cale simply stood there in stunned silence, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. But as he looked more closely, he could see that the staircase was real and that it led somewhere.

“Come,” the man gestured for Cale to come with him before ascending the staircase. Cale raised a brow.

For a brief second, he stood there in stony silence, unsure of what to expect next. To be honest, he had been caught off guard by the stranger's sudden appearance, and he wasn't sure if he could trust him. 

As he noted before, Cale couldn't help but be reminded of his butler, Ron. There was just something about the stranger's aura that reminded him of Ron's, both of them exuding a dangerous energy that could be felt from miles away.

A sudden wave of melancholy washed over him, and he instinctively raised a free hand to rub at his chest as if to soothe the ache. 

It was a feeling he was all too familiar with, a deep sadness that seemed to well up from within him at the most unexpected moments.

Cale blinked and shook off the unwanted emotions, his mouth twitching downwards and his dark red eyes flickering. 

He contemplated just standing there silently, but the stranger's intense gaze made him feel a little uneasy. He didn't want to risk incurring the man's wrath, especially with that broom closet comment, so he took a deep breath and decided to follow him.

Taking one step after another, he followed the stranger up the winding staircase.

Eventually, they reached the top of the staircase, and the stranger led him down a long corridor lined with portraits of what appeared to be wizards and witches. Cale couldn't help but stare at the lifelike quality of the paintings with mixed emotions. 

The people in them seemed to be moving and talking as if they were alive.

The paintings depicted men and women in pointy hats and medieval clothing, each going about their daily lives, some nodding and greeting them as they walked by. On and Hong stared in wonder at the moving paintings from his arms, their eyes wide with innocent amazement. 

As they approached the end of the corridor, Cale noticed a large wooden door with intricate carvings. The stranger opened the door, revealing a circular room filled with all manner of strange objects and magical artifacts.

The room was bathed in a warm golden light that emanated from the many candles floating in mid-air. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books, some of them so old and worn that they appeared to be on the verge of crumbling to dust. In the center of the room stood a large desk, cluttered with parchment, quills, and books.

As Cale walked closer, he noticed that the desk was not made of any ordinary wood, but rather of a deep reddish-brown wood that seemed to glow in the candlelight. The wood was carved with intricate symbols and designs that he could not understand.

He couldn't help but run his fingers over the smooth surface of the wood, feeling the fine lines and grooves under his fingertips. 

It was almost as if the desk was alive, with a pulsing energy that seemed to emanate from the wood itself. 

His eyes darted up over the wooden desk.

Behind the table sat a high-backed chair, its cushioned seat and backrest upholstered in deep purple velvet. A tall, thin man with a long white beard was sitting in the chair, his bright blue eyes twinkling behind a pair of half-moon spectacles.

The greasy-haired man trailed a few seconds shortly after them.

“The guests, Headmaster Dumbledore,” he told the thin, bearded man in a bored tone.

The thin man, Dumbledore, stood up from his high-backed chair and spoke to the greasy-haired man. “Ah, Severus! Thank you kindly. You may continue with your duties now.”

"Very well.”

The greasy-haired man, now known as Severus, nodded curtly and turned to close the door behind him, leaving Cale alone in Dumbledore's office with On and Hong in his arms. Meanwhile, Raon was floating above him, invisible.

After Severus had left the room, Dumbledore made his way back to his cushioned chair and settled into it. He appeared to be at ease, his expression relaxed as he leaned back in his seat. The man seemed confident, emitting an aura of authority.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” the thin man was watching him intently, a small smile playing on his lips. He gestured to the cushioned chair in front of him."Please, make yourself comfortable."

Cale nodded and settled into the chair that the man had offered him. 

Just as he did so, On and Hong leaped down from his arms with excited vigor and began to explore the circular office with curious faces. He watched them with a small smile on his face.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes twinkling as he regarded the two creatures with amusement.

"I see you have some loyal friends there," he said, his voice tinged with a soft chuckle. Cale bobbed his head in agreement.

"Indeed," Cale replied, a small smile still on his lips. He watched the two cats playfully chase each other around the room. "On and Hong have been with me for a long time, they have always been by my side."

“Hey!” his mind was interrupted by the voice of Raon, who was floating above him. The black dragon seemed to feel left out. “What about me, weak human? What about me?”

Cale shifted his position slightly to recognize Raon's cry and rested his head on his palm. 

Raon continued to wail in his mind.

Oblivious to the black dragon’s plight, Dumbledore's smile widened. "Well, you'll find that Hogwarts is a place that values loyalty and companionship. We welcome all creatures here."

Cale blinked in acknowledgment. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about On and Hong running around while he tried to find out how to solve this Tom Marvolo Riddle problem. “I see. That’s good to hear.”

As he sat in front of Dumbledore, the old man twitched and continued talking. "Now, forgive this old man for asking, but I do hope that Severus gave you no trouble escorting you here?” he said, his gaze fixed intently on Cale.

Cale swallowed and shook his head, remembering the greasy-haired man who had led him to Dumbledore's office. "No, no trouble at all. He was quite efficient, actually."

He painfully did not think about the man’s broom closet threatening. Instead, he forced a small smile and avoided making any comments on the matter.

Dumbledore nodded in approval while chuckling, his twinkling blue eyes still fixed on Cale. Cale gazed at him back with the same intensity. "That’s good to hear. Severus may seem rough on the outside, but he is a valuable member of our staff. As a guest of Hogwarts, I trust that he treated you with respect."

Cale merely nodded without comment.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said. “Ah. But before we continue any further, may I ask for a name? We couldn’t find any identification on you when we found you.”

Hoh.

Cale's features shifted as he put on a look of innocence, his expression softening as a gentle smile spread across his lips. 

The corners of his eyes lifted upwards, creating an overall impression of a warm and friendly demeanor. But a small, devilish smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, threatening to break through.

“Human! You have that smile on your face. Are we going to scam this weird old man?”

Cale's grin widened at the sound of Raon's curious voice.

He knew he taught the kid well.

“Cale Henituse,” he replied to the bearded man. He offered his hand out to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

‘Yes, Raon,’ Cale thought with glee. ‘Indeed, we are.’

Chapter Text

Cale's gaze was locked on the man sitting before him. He remembered reading about him during his journey into the library.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It was a mouthful of a name with an equally impressive number of titles. 

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot— the list went on and on, it was almost overwhelming.

To be frank, most of the titles were nonsensical gibberish to his ears as he did not understand what most of them meant, but Cale's mind raced as he thought about the amount of authority the man must possess to have as many titles as that. 

In the many books he had read during his short voyage into the library, he couldn't help but notice the multitude of books detailing the life and accomplishments of Albus Dumbledore. The old wizard was revered in the wizarding world, and it seemed that every writer had their own take on his grand status.

Most of them described the old man as a legendary figure, his reputation preceding him wherever he went. Defeater of dark evil, the grand wizard of light, a living embodiment of all that was good and just in the world. Some said that he was almost akin, or even the second coming to Merlin himself. 

The constant glorification of the man gave Cale a headache. Did he put so many books about him in that library as propaganda? 

Sigh.

In his experience, power and prestige often came with a hefty dose of manipulation and hidden agendas. And he couldn't help but wonder what Dumbledore's true motivations were. 

Was he truly the grand wizard of light, or was there something more sinister lurking beneath the surface?

Cale mentally shook his head. It was most probably an exaggeration, but with the number of titles the man had, it was difficult to ignore his influence.

‘Heh.’

Cale tried his best to hide the coy smirk that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

He was a seasoned player in the world of power and politics, and he knew that wherever there was power, there was also usually money involved too.

And Dumbledore's many titles likely came with a lot of money.

This was exactly what he needed.

‘Money is the best.’

Cale leaned in his seat and extended his hand out to shake. “Cale Henituse. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Albus Dumbledore.” Dumbledore took the proffered hand and shook it firmly, surprising Cale with his strength despite his obvious age and appearance. “The pleasure is all mine.”

The aged wizard’s attention was drawn to a jar of lemon-shaped candies sitting on the desk. "Would you like a lemon drop?" he offered, gesturing towards the sweets.

Cale's face paled at the mention of lemon. He had always despised the sour flavor, much to the amusement of Ron. He could hear the butler’s benign chuckles. He shook his head politely.

Dumbledore simply shrugged and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "Unfortunate," he said with a small smile. "Now, shall we continue?"

Cale nodded his head, leaning back on the comfortable cushioned chair and crossing his legs, a subtle gesture that gave him an aura of relaxation. He made himself seem like a young, buoyant man.

“Indeed, let’s continue,” he replied smoothly and upbeat, tilting his head towards Dumbledore.

The old man settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Where to begin… Ah, yes. There was a bit of a scare recently, you see. A couple of nights ago, our Groundskeeper, Hagrid, found you almost unconscious at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.”

Hoh. So the nurse back then was telling the truth, not that Cale didn’t believe her.

“It was quite concerning, actually. Other than you and your companions, there was nothing else at the site of the scene. Tell me, what happened?”

Cale's smile faltered slightly. He responded to the question with a hesitant tone, "Ah yes, that. I'm afraid I don't remember much of what happened."

“Is that so?” Dumbledore regarded him shrewdly. "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Henituse. You strike me as a man who remembers everything."

Hm, sure. 

Cale chuckled lightly, feigning nervousness and slight concern. "I am speaking the truth. I… I don't really remember much about what happened," he said, forcing his voice to trail off. "All I remember is waking up in the infirmary with a headache and feeling really weak."

The words that Cale spoke were not entirely untrue, but it was a crude version of the truth. He had indeed woken up feeling a tad bit weak in the infirmary, but he technically always did. 

There was more than he was letting on, however.

He wanted the Headmaster to think that Cale was simply a lost traveler that unfortunately got himself the wrong end of the stick. 

It was a precarious situation, and he knew that he would need to tread carefully if he wanted to keep himself and the children safe. 

He heard Raon let out a gasp in his mind. The black dragon sounded upset. “Human! You were feeling weak?! Why didn’t you let me know?”

Cale winced internally at Raon's outburst. He had forgotten that his five-year-old was listening in on their conversation.

Raon huffed indignantly. "Human, you should know better than to keep secrets from me!" he scolded. "You are extremely weak, weak human!  If you feel the slightest bit tired, you will tell this great dragon Raon Miru right away. I will handle everything!”

Cale smiled wryly at Raon's protectiveness. He was grateful for his partner's concern, but he also knew that he couldn't let his guard down. 

Dumbledore was watching him closely, and Cale had the distinct feeling that there was something more to the man's interest than he was telling him.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to appear nonchalant as the old wizard continued to watch him with an obvious mix of curiosity and concern.

“Weak human, this old man is strong. Not as strong as the great and mighty Raon Miru, but perhaps as strong as mm, the smart Rosalyn’s weakest spell.”

Hoh… So pretty strong then. Cale had always been aware of his own weakness, after all. But he knew that he always had other options at his disposal.

The black dragon above his head was one.

He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, turning his attention back to Dumbledore. "Is there anything else?”

Dumbledore's expression was intense as he leaned forward, his twinkling blue eyes piercing into Cale's own. Cale couldn't help but purse his lips - why were Dumbledore's eyes always sparkling? Still, he kept his composure.

"I'm afraid that's all I can divulge for now, Mr. Henituse," the old man said gravely, tilting his head slightly as he spoke. "But I assure you, we are taking every precaution to ensure the safety of both you and our students and staff.”

Cale's eyes closed as his grin grew wider, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"Don’t worry, I understand," he said with a keen polite grin, his voice light and easy. 

Dumbledore nodded and smiled benignly, but Cale sensed a sudden shift in the old wizard's aura. The room seemed to grow colder, and his skin prickled with a sudden sense of apprehension. He could feel Dumbledore's gaze piercing into him, as though he were trying to read his thoughts.

Cale couldn't help but feel a wave of vulnerability wash over him, as though he was standing before an otherworldly force. Despite Dumbledore's calm demeanor, Cale couldn't shake off the feeling that he was completely exposed, his every thought and emotion laid bare before the supposedly all-knowing wizard. 

The heaviness of Dumbledore's authority seemed to bear down on him, leaving him feeling small and insignificant in the face of such immense power.

The old man’s smile remained benign.

“Now what is a young man like you doing searching for Tom Marvolo Riddle?” he said calmly.

“!!”

What?

The question caught Cale off guard, and he hesitated for a moment before twitching his eyes in response.

The weight of Dumbledore's question hung in the air, causing a stillness to settle around them. Even On and Hong, who had been engrossed in their exploration, stopped to gaze at the group curiously. It was as if the very universe was holding its breath, waiting for the answer to the headmaster's question. 

The tension was palpable, and everyone could feel it. All eyes were fixed on Cale, waiting for his next words, wondering what he knew and what he was going to reveal. It was a moment that felt like it could last forever, and no one dared to break the silence.

Cale swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in his throat. He wasn’t perturbed, but the old man’s scrutiny was unnerving.

"What makes you think I am?" he countered.

Dumbledore's stare remained steady, and his expression was serious. Cale could feel the weight of his age in the air.

“When you have been alive as long as I have, you tend to sense a few things, Mr. Henituse,” he said seriously.

Cale's eyes narrowed slightly. What an unhelpful answer. He had hoped for a more clearer response.

And what exactly did he mean by sensing things? Was it some mundane kind of intuition or foresight that came with age and experience? Or a magical ability that he didn’t read about, even? 

Cale gritted his teeth. He couldn't understand how Dumbledore had known about his thoughts regarding Tom Marvolo Riddle. He had only thought of the name once during their entire conversation. 

Was Dumbledore capable of reading his mind? 

The mere thought of it sent a shiver down his spine.

What a chilling ability, if that was true.

Dumbledore's vague words had left him with more questions than answers. He had to think carefully.

“Weak human, the old man seems tense. I will watch over you carefully. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you if the weird gramps does anything!”  Raon’s childish voice trickled into his mind. He could feel that the black dragon was slowly spinning in circles around the room.

Cale’s face did not change.

“I have my reasons,” he settled on saying, firmly.

He studied the old man's face, trying to read any clues or hints in his expression. But Dumbledore's expression was still inscrutable, and Cale sensed that the old man was not convinced by his response. He wondered what was going through the other’s mind. 

Cale continued to sit there calmly. He and the old man had been sitting in silence for what felt like an eternity, each of them waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, the old man let out a deep sigh and shifted in his seat. Cale couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the sign of the old man's discomfort. 

"What is it that you want from me?" Cale asked, breaking the silence.

Dumbledore looked at him with a measured expression. "I simply wish to know more about you, Mr. Henituse," he replied.

Cale raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "Curiosity, mostly. You see, Mr. Henituse, I hold a great number of connections, and I have discovered something intriguing. There is no identification or records of you in the Ministry. Despite the vast amount of documents missing after the war, no one has heard of you or seen your face anywhere. That is why I am curious. You are an interesting individual, and I simply wish to understand you better."

Cale leaned back in his chair, considering Dumbledore's words. Of course there would be no identification. He knew that he didn't exist in this world prior to his arrival a few days ago. There was no way anyone in this world could know who he really was.

He grimaced. He had been hoping to keep a low profile.

Dumbledore then leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Cale.  "Normally, people we find on Hogwarts grounds are sent to Saint Mungo's," he said slowly, "but I was rather intrigued. Say, indulge an old man, Mr. Henituse, what do you value most in life?"

Cale raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question. 

He opened his mouth to speak. “… That's a rather personal question.”

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Perhaps, but I find that one's values can reveal a great deal about them. Just think of it as a simple question to humour an aging man.”

Cale frowned. 

What is this old man playing at?

He considered his answer carefully. He knew that Dumbledore was most likely looking for insight into his character, but Cale couldn't reveal too much. He decided to give a vague answer, one that would satisfy the old man without giving away too much.

"I value my freedom," he said simply yet truthfully. The only other option Cale could think of was money. He placed a devilish grin on his face. "You see, I want to become a slacker. I want to make my own choices and to live life on my own terms."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise, a twinkle in his eye as he regarded Cale. "Ah, an independent spirit. I can certainly appreciate that," he said with a nod. “Though this is the first time I’ve heard of someone wanting to become a slacker.”

Cale’s smile twitched. What was with everyone and not believing that he wanted to become a slacker?

He thought about how nobody seemed to take his desire to become a slacker seriously. It was as if everyone expected him to have some grand ambition or purpose in life. He couldn't understand why it was so hard for people to accept that he just wanted to take it easy and enjoy life.

Aigoo… 

"I know it's not a conventional aspiration," Cale said bluntly, running a hand through his hair. 

Dumbledore waved his hand. “I actually find it quite understandable.”

Cale deadpanned.

Did he now?

"Life can be quite taxing, my boy,” Dumbledore said, his white beard quivering as he spoke. “It's understandable that you want to take a step back and simply enjoy it.” He chuckled heartily.

Hoh… Cale really did hear that correctly.

The atmosphere in the room shifted suddenly, interrupting the previous mood. Dumbledore's hand disappeared into his sleeve, causing Cale's jaw to clench with apprehension. However, the old man simply withdrew a stick — a wand, Cale recognized.

The wand was slender and extended, crafted with polished wood and adorned with understated engravings along its surface. Its grip boasted a silver skull, ornate in its design.

Gazing at the wand, Cale couldn't help but feel uneasy, and his unease was only amplified by Raon's voice echoing in his mind.

“I don’t like that stick, Human.”

With a swallow, Cale nodded in agreement.

Then, Dumbledore waved his wand, unleashing a surge of energy that filled the room. Cale didn’t know what ability the old wizard was unleashing, and he sat tense.

He watched as Dumbledore's wand moved in intricate patterns, releasing wave after wave of energy that seemed to ripple through the air. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the magic dissipated.

Cale narrowed his eyes.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered with curiosity as he addressed the young man sitting before him, placing his wand back in his sleeve. "Mr. Henituse, just what do you know about Tom Riddle?" he inquired, his voice carrying a low hint of mystery.

Cale blinked. What was the sudden air of mystery?

He pushed aside his growing curiosity. Just what secrets was this Tom Marvolo Riddle hiding? Was there something more to the young prodigy's story that he didn't know?

Cale took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering, “… I only know that he was a rather gifted student here at Hogwarts. But beyond that, I can't say for certain."

"I had suspected as much,” Dumbledore responded with a serene expression. The aged wizard then intertwined his fingers, a gesture that conveyed both composure and contemplation. “I personally taught the boy. You see, Tom was a gifted student. But he was also quite different from the other students. Much more." 

He paused for a moment.

"There was a darkness within him, a hunger for power and knowledge that was unlike anything I had seen before. Tom had a certain charisma that drew others to him, but he also had a coldness that repelled them. He had a way of manipulating people to get what he wanted, and he was not above using darker means to achieve his goals."

Cale watched Dumbledore’s eyes take on a far-off look. He was distant, lost in memories of the past. 

"Tom Marvolo Riddle eventually became Lord Voldemort, the most feared dark wizard of our time. He caused immense suffering and destruction, and it is a stain on my conscience that I could not prevent it from happening."

Oh.

Oh.

Cale's features settled into a twitching smile, his eyes narrowing in frustration. His features contorted into a frown, and his lips twisted into a bitter grimace.

"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, the words dripping with annoyance. 

“As much as I wish I was, I am not,” Dumbledore supplied unhelpfully.

Shut up, old man. 

Cale couldn't believe his luck - of all the people in the world, why did he have to be the one sent to fight another fucking power-hungry tyrant.

His poor life, if only he were a slacker already…

Cale exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he rubbed his tired eyes.

A chill ran through him.

The Dark Lord Voldemort. What a frightening name.

Just as the name Albus Dumbledore was written heavily in the books he had read, so too was the name of Voldemort. It was a testament to the impact that both men had had on the world, though in very different ways. 

Unlike how Dumbledore was known as the wise and powerful wizard who had fought tirelessly against the forces of darkness, one that inspired hope and admiration in the hearts of many - Voldemort was a name that carried with it a sense of fear and dread, a dark and malevolent presence that had left a deadly trail of devastation in his wake. 

Cale couldn't help but feel a chill run down his back at the thought of the horrors he had committed. He felt a knot form deep in his stomach.

The mere mention of his name sent shivers down people's spines, and fear seemed to radiate from his very being. He was a dark and powerful wizard, feared by all who knew of him. 

So great was his influence that even those who had never met him dared not speak his name, lest they attract his attention. Instead, he was referred to in hushed whispers as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', or simply 'You Know Who'. Ridiculous names, if you had to ask Cale. But his presence loomed over the Wizarding World like a dark cloud, and his name became synonymous with terror and destruction.

For eleven years his terror lasted.

Well, up until he met his unlucky demise at the hands of an unlikely hero fourteen years ago - a baby named Harry Potter.

Ah… What an unlucky bastard the baby was, he thought solemnly. He truly did not envy him.

Becoming a hero was a position that Cale did not ever want to be in.

He eyed the old man.

“He’s supposed to be dead.”

Dumbledore regarded him with a steady gaze, his piercing blue eyes seeming to look right through him. For a long moment, there was silence between them as the older man studied Cale intently. "Do you truly think so?"

Not really, no.

He knew that he wouldn't have been summoned to another world if there wasn't something serious at play.

Cale sat up fully on his chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his fingers tapped rhythmically. The candlelight flickered across the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance around the room. The only other sound was the soft pitter-patter of On and Hong's footsteps as they circled the room.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing Cale's attention back to him. "Have you been reading the news lately?" he asked in a serious tone.

Cale shook his head, a little bewildered. He had only been in this world for a few days, and for most of that time, he had been unconscious. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Dumbledore's. "No, I haven’t. I don’t follow the news much," he bluffed.

Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow. "Not even from others?" he questioned. 

Cale shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. It was true that he had never been one for keeping up with the news, even in both of the worlds he had lived in.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment longer, as if trying to decipher something in Cale's demeanor. "I see," he said finally, nodding his head slowly. "Well, then let me fill you in on what you've missed."

Cale leaned back in his chair, preparing to listen intently. 

The wizard cleared his throat before continuing, his voice grave. "There have been reports that our old enemy, Voldemort, has returned."

What? Like, from death? 

“Returned?" Cale echoed.

Dumbledore's expression grew somber. "Yes, returned. It seems that Voldemort has found a way to return from the grave, and his followers, the Death Eaters, have been causing chaos and destruction throughout the wizarding world. Unfortunately, the Ministry of Magic does not believe it to be true."

There was a brief pause as the two men regarded each other. Dumbledore, with his piercing blue eyes, blinked first.

"Curious," the wizard mused. "Most of the wizarding community shares the same beliefs as them. But I can tell that you do not share the same sentiment."

Oh? Did he now?

“Tell me, just why were you so interested in Tom, Mr. Henituse?” Dumbledore questioned.

Cale raised a brow, his expression casual. He spoke, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

“Would you believe me if I said the God of Death told me to find him?”

Dumbledore's eyes bore into Cale's as if trying to decipher the truth behind his words. Cale felt no urge to shift or fidget in his seat. He knew that his story sounded far-fetched, but he also knew that it was the truth.

"You say Death spoke to you?" Dumbledore pondered, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

Cale nodded nonchalantly, his tone as if he were speaking about the weather. "Yes, the God of Death. He appeared to me in a dream and told me to find Riddle. Told me to stop him, actually.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 

“…Why do you care so much?" Cale eventually asked, arching a brow. His tone was slightly sharper this time.

He watched as Dumbledore's gaze flickered away for a brief moment, his attention seemingly diverted by something else. He wondered what was going through the old man's mind, and whether it had anything to do with their conversation.

But then, as quickly as it had left, Dumbedore’s attention snapped back at Cale. Perhaps even a little too fast.

He smiled enigmatically. "Let's just say that I have a talent for recognizing potential when I see it," he said, waving a hand. “We live in a strange land, Mr. Henituse. There are just some forces in this world that are beyond our understanding."

Hoh. “Is that so?”

“I have also learned that it is best not to dismiss things out of hand, especially when it comes to matters of magic and the supernatural."

Hm.

Suspicious.

Cale's skepticism grew.

He mentally shook his head. He couldn't help but wonder, though. Why was Dumbledore so interested in him? Was it just because he wanted to get rid of Voldemort, or was there something else at play?

"However," Dumbledore continued, his expression growing serious once again, "I must caution you. Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he is known, is a dangerous man. If you are truly so intent on finding him, you must be prepared to face great peril. Are you sure that this is what you want?"

Cale steepled his fingers, giving the wizard a coy smile. He could sense the skepticism in Dumbledore's gaze, as if the wizard was unsure whether the redhead was up to the task.

Cale grinned. "Oh, don't worry about me, Headmaster," he reassured the old wizard with a devilish grin, “I don’t plan on doing anything.”

Who said he was going to fight?

Yes, he was going to sit back and watch.

As Dumbledore continued to eye him warily, Cale’s attention drew to the fact that he was still barefoot.

He wiggled his toes absentmindedly, pursing his lips

“… Can I have some shoes?” he asked, glancing up at the old wizard.

Cale paid no mind to the stress that he could sense emanating from Dumbledore.

The Great Hall was alive with a frenzy of activity as students filled every inch of available space.  The air was thick with the smell of roasted meats, fresh bread, and sweet, sticky desserts. The long tables were filled with steaming dishes, glittering goblets, and flickering candles, casting a warm glow over the room. 

Whispers circulated among them, creating a suspenseful tension of anticipation. The atmosphere was humming with excitement, and the students eagerly awaited whatever was about to happen.

There was supposedly an announcement about to occur. Rumors swirled, but no one knew for sure what it would entail. Nevertheless, the sense of anticipation grew more intense with every passing moment, and the Hogwarts body braced themselves for whatever news was about to be revealed.

At the head of the Great Hall, most of the table was filled with each professor, but one seat remained suspiciously empty. 

The high chair where Dumbledore usually sat was unoccupied. Some of the other teachers appeared unsure of his whereabouts, occasionally shifting their eyes toward the area. It was a strange sight, and whispers of concern and confusion rippled through the students seated below. 

Many eyes were fixed on the empty seat, waiting for some explanation or sign of the headmaster's absence. However, there was one student who did the contrary. 

Harry fixed his piercing green gaze on Umbridge, his eyes brimming with a mix of defiance and hope. 

"You think they're finally getting rid of that toad?" he leaned in to ask Ron, his voice dripping with contempt. The redhead was sitting next to him.

Harry had long wished for Umbridge's dismissal, knowing full well the damage she had caused during her tenure at Hogwarts. He could still feel his hand burn with pain.

His fingers twitched with anticipation, as if eager to see justice finally served. Umbridge's expression remained unreadable, but the tension in the air was palpable as they both waited for an answer.

"Mate, I wish," Ron replied mournfully, resting his chin on the table. "Can you imagine the look on her face if she was sacked? I'd cherish that memory forever."

The two boys shared a moment of silent satisfaction at the thought of Umbridge being fired.

Suddenly, two arms clapped their hands around Harry and Ron's shoulders.

"Praying for the toad's downfall, are we?" Fred exclaimed.

"Not a good look for a Prefect if you ask me, Ronniekins," George added with a grin.

Harry and Ron both rolled their eyes at Fred and George's comment and shook the two’s arms off, but they couldn't help but smile at the twin brothers' antics.

"We're just discussing the possibility," Harry replied while pursing his lips, trying to sound nonchalant.

Fred and George exchanged a knowing look before George spoke up. "Well, if you're looking for ways to get rid of her, we may have a few ideas."

Harry and Ron leaned in, eager to hear what the mischievous Weasley twins had in mind.

"Well first," Fred began, "we could slip some Skiving Snackboxes into her tea. She'll be too ill to continue her reign of terror."

" Or ," George continued, nodding affirmatively, "we could charm her quill so that everything she writes comes out in rainbow colors. That'll put an end to her tyrannical decrees."

Harry and Ron let out a laugh at the absurdity of the ideas, but the thought of actually getting rid of Umbridge filled them with a sense of glee.

Just then, Hermione slid into the spot next to Harry and Ron.

"What's so funny?" she asked, looking between Harry, Ron, Fred, and George.

"We're just discussing ways to get rid of Umbridge," Harry replied, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Hermione's expression turned stern. "We can't just go around breaking the rules, Harry. We need to find a proper way to deal with her."

Harry and Ron exchanged a disappointed look. They had hoped Hermione would be on board with their plan.

Hermione's eyes flickered away from him and Ron, and her expression softened slightly. " But ," she said slowly, "if you need help with any ideas...I wouldn't mind helping."

She then turned away from them, hiding her face with the palm of her hand and ending the conversation there.

Harry and Ron exchanged surprised glances before breaking out into grins.

Fred let out an exaggerated gasp, drawing attention to the duo. "George, did you hear that?" he whispered loudly.

George leaned in, his eyes wide with excitement. "I think we did, Fred. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our age, is willing to help us with our little rebellion."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not agreeing to any rebellion," she clarified.

Fred and George shared a knowing look before chiming in together. "Don't worry, Hermione. Our mouths are closed."

They mimed a zipping motion with their hands, throwing away the key.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the twins' antics, and a chuckle escaped from each of the five of them. It was a brief reprieve from the tension and stress that had been building up around them, and for a moment, they were able to forget about their worries and just enjoy each other's company.

But suddenly, the chatter and bustle that had filled the hall moments before came to an abrupt halt as the double doors creaked open, revealing a glimpse of the figure everyone had been waiting for. With a dignified stride, Dumbledore emerged from the shadows and made his way down the aisle, his long white beard flowing behind him like a banner of wisdom and power. As he approached his seat, the professors, excluding Umbridge, rose from their chairs in a show of respect, their eyes fixed on the headmaster with admiration. 

All eyes were on Dumbledore as he took his place at the head of the table, his mere presence filling the room with a sense of calm and reassurance. 

The long-awaited announcement was about to begin.

Fred and George waved goodbye to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, not without ruffling each of them on the head. With grins on their faces, they headed off to join another group of friends, eager to hear what Dumbledore had to say.

As Dumbledore took his place at the head of the hall, he cast a benevolent smile over the assembled crowd. His long, velvet blue robes swept over the floor as he moved, and each student could not help but wait with bated breath as he began to speak, his voice calm and steady.

"Good evening, students," Dumbledore greeted them with a warm smile, his presence calming the murmurs and whispers that had filled the room. "I apologize for my absence, but I assure you, it was for a very important reason."

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he continued. "As many of you know, there was an incident in the Forbidden Forest a few days ago. Rest assured, the man that was found is in good health."

A collective murmur rippled through the room, and Harry, sitting in his seat, shifted uneasily. Dumbledore's words had caught his attention, and he remembered the incident he was referring to. He was initially concerned about it, but the thought slipped his mind after he got caught up in his studies.

As the buzzes continued, Harry couldn't help but feel a little guilty for forgetting about it.

Dumbledore's eyes flicked to the entry doors, and he raised his voice slightly. "Come in."

The double doors at the back of the hall creaked open, drawing the attention of the students and professors alike. As they swung open, a figure emerged, slowly making his way to the front of the room. 

Harry could tell that he was unlike anyone he had ever seen before. The students couldn't help but take in every detail of his appearance - the flowing crimson-red hair that seemed to catch the light just so, the sharply chiseled features of his face, and the otherworldly presence that seemed to command attention. 

As the figure drew even closer, the details became clearer, each one more mesmerizing than the last. Harry felt himself getting lost in the man's appearance. His skin was pale as moonlight, their eyes a stormy mix of red and grey that seemed to shift with each passing moment, and his aura was like a gust of wind on a dark night, powerful and unpredictable.

Following him were two cats, one a fiery red and the other a cool grey, their eyes twin pools of gold that seemed to glint in the flickering candlelight. Their movements were as fluid and graceful as their companion's.

As the stranger reached the head of the table, standing in the spot Dumbledore gestured him to, Harry felt a sense of unease wash over him as he watched the stranger's piercing gaze sweep over the crowd. The intensity with which the stranger studied each face and expression made some of the people in the room squirm in their seats. He simply stood there, a figure of mystery and intrigue, his feline companions at his feet.

Harry couldn't help but wonder who this person was and what he wanted. He knew that the wizarding world was full of dangerous and unpredictable characters, and this stranger seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

As Harry looked around the room, he could see that many of his fellow wizards and witches were similarly unnerved by the stranger's presence. They whispered and murmured among themselves, trying to make sense of what was happening.

For a few moments, there was a tense silence as the man surveyed the room, taking in every face and expression. Harry could feel his nerves beginning to fray as he waited for the man to speak.

Finally, the figure cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Everyone leaned forward in anticipation, eager to hear what he had to say. 

“My name is Cale Henituse,” he spoke, his voice deep and resonant. “Pleased to meet you.”

Henituse paused for a moment, his eyes flickering over the crowd once more before looking away to stare at his shoes.

The silence was palpable, and even Harry was stunned. 

Was—

Was that it? 

He had expected more from someone who commanded such attention, but the man seemed content to let his presence speak for itself. 

Harry knew one thing was for certain - with his striking appearance and mysterious aura, the man was sure to be a topic of conversation for days to come.

He sighed. At least they weren’t going to talk about him for a few days. He’s already had enough.

Dumbledore cleared his throat awkwardly.

Suddenly, a wail rang out from the staff table, shattering the stillness. All heads turned towards the staff table, where Hagrid had been surprisingly sitting in silence throughout the entire assembly.

Large, fat tears streamed down Hagrid's face as he rose from his seat, his massive frame towering over the onlookers. His eyes were fixed on the redhead, causing a stir among the crowd.

"Yeh're - yeh're okay. I saved yeh, I..." Hagrid's voice trailed off as he broke down in tears as he looked at Henituse. 

Cale Henituse, for that was the redheaded individual's name, watched Hagrid's outburst with slightly wide eyes. 

Hagrid's sobs echoed through the grand hall, filling it with a raw, heart-wrenching sound.

“Poor Hagrid…” Hermione whispered next to Harry, her voice full of sympathy. “He was the one who found Henituse, back then. Don’t you remember?”

Harry's eyes widened in sudden realization. He knew the story of how Hagrid had saved the redhead’s life, but he had never fully understood the depth of the giant's attachment to the young man.

Henituse stood awkwardly, seemingly unsure of what to do or say in the face of Hagrid's blotchy face. Harry could feel his own discomfort growing as he watched the scene unfold. 

He wanted to offer some kind of comfort to Hagrid, but he wasn't sure if it was his place to do so. Hagrid had always been a source of strength and comfort for him, and seeing the gamekeeper so sad was almost too much to bear. 

Hagrid's towering figure made Henituse appear small and insignificant in comparison. Harry could see the pain etched on Hagrid's face as he drew closer, his eyes red-rimmed and his face contorted in relief, and he knew that this must have been an unimaginably difficult moment for his friend.

As Hagrid drew closer, Henituse tentatively raised a hand to pat the half-giant's shoulder. It was a small gesture, but Harry could see that it had an impact on Hagrid. The giant's sobs began to subside, and he looked up at Henituse with a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes.

For a moment, there was silence between them, broken only by Hagrid's ragged breathing. Harry felt a lump form in his throat as he watched his friend cry.

Hagrid's shoulders shook as he let out a deep, guttural sob. He wrapped his massive arms around Henituse and pulled him into a tight embrace.

It was clear to Harry that Henituse was not expecting Hagrid's sudden embrace. The man's arms hung in the air, almost as if he didn't know what to do with them. There was confusion written all over the man’s frame.

The silence in the grand hall was interrupted by a faint meowing sound coming from the floor. All eyes turned to see two cats pawing at Hagrid's feet. The same feline companions that had been at the side of the mysterious newcomer just moments before. As Hagrid's tears continued to flow, the cats seemed to be trying to comfort him in their own way, their little paws gently tapping at his massive boots.

Finally, Hagrid pulled away from Henituse, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked at the smaller man for a long moment, his expression softening. "Thank yeh," he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.

Henituse hesitantly nodded, his mouth agape. “Uh. You’re welcome?”

His response was hesitant and uncertain, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

“Hem hem.”

The sound of Umbridge's voice cut through the atmosphere in the hall, making everyone turn to face her. She stood at the staff table, her beady eyes betraying her displeasure at the scene before her.

"What is going on here?" she demanded, her voice sharp and cutting. “Such public displays are highly unprofessional.”

Harry felt his temper start to rise at the sight of Umbridge's intrusion, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The memory of the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch match still made him seethe with anger.

Umbridge's eyes narrowed as she glared at Hagrid, her dislike of the half-giant evident on her face. Occasionally, she would glance over at Henituse, who was standing silently next to the half-giant with a blank expression. Her face was flushed pink from an emotion Harry could not quite decipher.

Umbridge tutted, “Do you not see that we are in the middle of an important assembly, Hagrid? Your interruption is not needed here, especially with your… questionable background.”

"Professor Umbridge," Professor McGonagall spoke from her spot at the staff table, her voice icy as she addressed the pink-clad woman. "I suggest you return to your seat immediately.”

Umbridge's eyes flashed with anger as she turned to face McGonagall. "Excuse me, Minerva, but as Hogwarts’ esteemed High Inquisitor, I believe I have every right to speak my mind."

McGonagall stood up, her expression stern. "High Inquisitor or not, you have no right to insult one of our esteemed professors, especially in front of the students and an important guest. Now, return to your seat and allow the Headmaster to continue with the announcements."

Umbridge gave her a condescending smile. “Oh, do not worry Minerva, we will be discussing this further. This kind of behavior will not be tolerated.”

The pink-cladded toad nodded at Dumbledore, who had been calmly observing the scene. “I'll be sure to bring this up with the Minister himself.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Umbridge's comment, his expression unreadable.

Professor McGonagall merely nodded, her expression stony. “I have no doubt that we will.” 

She then looked over at the half-giant, her face softening. “Hagrid, if you would. This is not the right time or the place.”

Hagrid shrunk a bit, still visibly shaken by his emotional outburst. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat, trying to regain some composure.

"Righ’, right. Sorry 'bout that," Hagrid said, his voice still rough. "I just needed a moment."

The man sniffled loudly for a bit, before moving to go back to his seat.

The hall buzzed with whispers. Several of the students were muttering under their breath.

"What a cow," Harry heard Hermione whisper, her disdain for Umbridge evident in her tone. He couldn't help but agree with her sentiment, as he watched the pink-clad professor make her way back to her seat with a smug expression on her face.

Despite the disruption caused by Umbridge, Dumbledore remained calm and composed. He began to speak, his voice carrying throughout the hall.

"Thank you, Mr. Henituse, for your enlightening introduction. You and your companions may now take your place at the staff table," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the empty seat that had magically appeared.

Harry watched as Henituse acknowledged the Headmaster's words with a curt nod and made his way to the vacant chair. His feline companions trailed behind him, their lithe forms gracefully following him to his seat. As he settled into the chair, Harry watched as the room grew hushed. All eyes were fixed on the new guest, who sat composed and inscrutable, his presence drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

His blank expression gave nothing away, leaving everyone to wonder what secrets lay hidden behind his enigmatic demeanor. He seemed oblivious to the scrutiny of the room, and his feline companions curled up at his feet, adding to his mysterious aura.

Dumbledore beamed, ignoring the inquisitive stares at the redhead. He addressed the assembled students and staff in the Great Hall.

"Mr. Henituse and his friends will be staying at Hogwarts for the time being," Dumbledore announced, his voice carrying easily throughout the room. "They are our guests, so I expect everyone to treat him accordingly."

There was a murmur of assent from the students, but Harry noticed that many of them were still casting curious glimpses in Henituse's direction. Dumbledore seemed to have little effect on the general mood of the room.

Dumbledore's smile remained fixed as he raised his hands in invitation.

"Now, shall we treat ourselves?" he said, signaling the start of the feast, and the feast began in earnest. 

Harry found his attention divided between his plate and the man at the staff table. Henituse sat with his feline companions at his feet, looking composed and inscrutable as ever. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this newcomer than met the eye. 

Looking over at his two best friends, Hermione and Ron, Harry noticed that they too were casting curious glances in Henituse's direction. Making eye contact with them, Harry nodded to both of them and they bobbed their heads back, their expressions mirroring his own intrigue.

Turning to his plate, Harry grinned mischievously to himself. Well then.

The enigmatic newcomer had certainly piqued their curiosity.

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore sat in his spacious round office, deep in thought. He gazed out of the window at the vast grounds below.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden light over the Hogwarts castle and the greenery surrounding it that would normally set Albus’ heart at ease. However, today, his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the mysterious newcomer who had recently arrived at the school.

Cale Henituse.

A peculiar man with a peculiar name.

Albus couldn't help but be intrigued by this scarlet haired newcomer. Speaking of the fact, the Headmaster wondered if Cale was a metamorphmagus, such was the intensity of the color of his hair.

But scarlet hair wasn’t the reason why his mind was elsewhere.

No identification, no family ties, no known history. Albus’ mind raced with questions. After the war, it wasn’t uncommon for documents to go missing. Records could be lost in the chaos, families could be torn apart, and histories could be obscured. But for all three: identity, lineage, and background to be entirely unknown…

Strange, so very strange.

As he sat in his office, his eyes wandered over to the sight of the Forbidden Forest through his window, where Cale Henituse had been spotted a few days prior. The Headmaster had sent out a search party to investigate the surrounding area, hoping to find some clue to the young man's past. But they had returned with nothing but traces of hurried tread marks left by Hagrid's giant feet and the pervasive, unsettling stench of death that clung to the forest floor.

Yet Albus’ intuition told him that Cale's appearance in the Forbidden Forest was not a coincidence and it was also telling him that he had to find out why.

The Headmaster delved into his thoughts. He had always been fascinated by the unknown, and Cale Henituse was no exception. He knew that Cale was more than just a passing visitor, something that set him apart from everyone else. Like a puzzle piece that didn’t match with the rest.

The aged wizard leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard while lost in thought as he remembered his meeting with Cale Henituse. The young man had been brought before him a few hours ago, and Albus had taken the opportunity to try and glean some information about him. Cale's demeanor had been calm, almost unnervingly so, given the circumstances. There was a quiet confidence about him that piqued Albus’ curiosity even further.

Albus has always been hesitant to use legilimency on others, believing it to be a violation of their privacy and a breach of their trust. There was always this lingering shame that formed in him whenever he had to delve into someone’s mind. However, his probing curiosity had gotten the better of him this time. He had decided to use a light version of the ability, not powerful enough where he could intentionally hear other people’s thoughts, but just strong enough to get a sense of the young man's feelings and intentions. It was a delicate balance, one that Albus was careful not to upset.

As he sat back in his chair, Albus stroked his beard, lost in thought. The memories of his meeting with Cale Henituse flooded back to him. He had sensed a few scattered thoughts that he couldn’t help but hear, but two had stood out amongst the rest. They were like a whisper in a crowded room, but the Headmaster's finely tuned senses had caught them nonetheless.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he quietly murmured to himself, recalling the name that had surfaced in Henituse’s thoughts as if it were a curse. The idea that his influence could still linger was deeply troubling.

He couldn’t let Tom terrorize the wizarding community again.

But there was something else that had captured his attention, a figure that he had only heard in legends and books - the God of Death. Truly, Dumbledore had always been intrigued by the unknown, the unexplainable, and the mysterious. And the mention of the God of Death had sparked a curiosity in him that he had not felt for many years.

He remembered something else that Henituse had said - that Death himself had spoken to him in a dream. A broad claim, something that Dumbledore wasn’t so rash to believe. Yet he knew that the legendary figure had been the subject of countless myths and childhood bedtime stories, he had read a majority of them as a young lad no less, but no one had ever been able to confirm its existence. Many wizards dismissed Death as mere legend, a simple folktale meant to scare children at night, but Dumbledore knew better than to be so dismissive of such claims so easily.

Every piece of information had some kernel of truth in it, after all.

He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes flashing with an emotion Albus could not decipher himself. In all honesty, he felt that this was perhaps the long sought clue that would lead him to the answers he had been seeking for so long.

Just how accurate were Cale Henituse’s claims?

Knock knock.

Dumbledore's mind returned to the present as he heard a rapid knock on the door. Quickly, he straightened himself up, composed his thoughts, and bade the visitor in.

"Come in," he uttered, his voice steady and measured as he turned his attention away from the window.

The door opened, and Minerva McGonagall, his trusted deputy and close friend, entered the room. She looked at him with a mix of icy concern and familiarity written all over her face, her eyes taking in his demeanor.

"Forgive the intrusion, Albus," she said as she closed the door behind her and walked over to the chair opposite his desk.

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving her face. He could sense her watching him, assessing his state of mind, trying to gauge what was going on.

"Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the chair. "Would you care for a lemon drop?" he offered, a glimmer of his old playful self resurfacing.

Minerva declined with a slight shake of her head. A shame.

Dumbledore closed briefly his eyes in response. “Oh, very well then,” he moved to rest his arms on his desk, “What brings you here, Minerva?”

Minerva let out a long, drawn out sigh.

"Albus, I have to voice my concerns about the new arrival," she explained, her voice grave.

Dumbledore's lips formed a pensive expression as he mused, "Cale Henituse, our red-haired guest, I presume? He's certainly an unusual one, isn't he?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, betraying his amusement.

Minerva tilted the corner of his mouth downwards, shaking her head. Truly, she adored Dumbledore dearly. But he always loved to take the long way around. "Who else could I possibly mean?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, his demeanor turning inquisitive. His eyes gleamed with curiosity as he asked, "What is the matter, Minerva? Why the apprehension?"

Minerva folded her arms, sighing once more.

"Albus, are you not being too rash?" She questioned, her brow furrowed. “We have protocols, traditions. Normally, we would send any stray visitors from the Forbidden Forest straight to Saint Mungos. We are a private establishment, not a sanctuary, Albus. You know as well as I that it is not our responsibility as a school to take care of them. What would the parents say if word gets out that we’re taking in— what would they say… Stragglers? You know the school’s reputation is already precarious.”

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as he listened to Minerva. With a reassuring smile, he said, "I understand your concerns, Minerva. But in this particular case, we cannot afford to simply send our guest away."

He shifted his position in his high chair, settling himself more comfortably. "You must understand that Henituse is not an ordinary visitor. He is different, you see. He possesses some… intriguing information."

Minerva still looked hesitant. "Albus, we cannot just blindly trust any outsider who comes to us claiming to have some important information—“

"He was asking about Tom, Minerva,” Dumbledore interrupted her gently.

Minerva looked taken aback, grimacing slightly at the name. “Tom,” she repeated, the name sounding like a bitter taste on her tongue, then said, “… And yet, you still trust him? Even when you know who he’s searching for?”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Minerva blinked in confusion, her lips pressing into a thin line, “Excuse me?”

“A muggle saying I am quite fond of.” Dumbledore stroked his beard. "I may be rash, Minerva, but I am not foolish. I plan to keep young Henituse under close watch until we can verify the truth of his claims. Once we do that, we will decide what to do next."

“I… can’t say I fully understand,” Minerva replied slowly, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Tell me the truth, Albus. The truth. Do you believe he could be dangerous?"

Dumbledore gave the witch a serious look. "I don't believe he poses a threat. At least, not right now,” he replied.

He then leaned forward in his chair, his eyes locking with Minerva's. "We cannot let our guard down, but we cannot ignore the potential this could hold either. This opportunity could be crucial in our fight against Tom."

As she listened to the headmaster speak, Minerva nodded slowly, her expression contemplative. After a brief moment, she sighed heavily.

"I see," Minerva said, her voice calm and measured. "I'll leave it in your capable hands then, Albus. Though I can’t say I am without reservations.”

With that, Minerva rose from her chair and made her way to the door, pausing briefly to cast a worried glance back at Dumbledore before exiting the room.

Dumbledore remained seated, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he deepened his contemplation. The world was rapidly changing with Tom’s resurrection, and he could sense that something even darker and more dangerous was approaching.

He sighed, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose with a frown.

"Could it really be? The God of Death?" Dumbledore murmured to himself, his voice quiet. He sat in silence for a few moments longer, lost in thought, before finally rising from his chair and heading his way to the door.

There, he paused, hand on the doorknob, and glanced back into the room one last time, watching as the moon rose high in the sky.

It felt like there was something other than him in the room.

Dumbledore gave the room a scrutinizing look before silently shaking his head.

The room seemed to chill as he left.

.

When the room had long since lost it’s warmth, a presence lifted the spell cloaking themself.

Raon stared at the closed door and narrowed his eyes.

.

Despite appearances, Cale fully intended to sleep in until noon.

He did not know what sort of magic, sorcery, or something these wizards placed on the mattresses here, but they were perhaps one of the most comfortable things he’s ever laid on. They might not top the absolute comfort of his own bed back at the villa, but they were getting pretty close.

Rolling over and placing a hand over his eyes, Cale tried to find the perfect position to alleviate the pounding of his head.

Hah…

He’s had this blasted migraine for a while now, ever since that rather awkward disaster of a ceremony that he attended for reasons still unknown to him.

Normally, the Vitality of the Heart would usually provide relief (much to his appreciation, with how much chaos his current homeworld decided to shove on him for some reason), but the comforting weight in his heart had inexplicably vanished alongside the others, leaving him in a maddening dance that left him yearning for their presence.

He knew they was working, but they felt… weak. It was strange. Despite their sudden disappearance, Cale could sense the dormant ancient powers deep inside him. Yet, they remained frustratingly out of his reach, as if he was trying to remember a blurring dream that refused to come into focus.

Cale hypothesized that the stress of universe traveling took a toll on them, that perhaps they needed a nudge to work again.

He needed an amplifier, or anything similar. Maybe that would help him call his ancient powers back.

“But where would I even find one?” He murmured alone to himself. Despite the fact that he was in a school for magic, if wasn’t as if it would just appear out of thin air, could it?

Perhaps he’ll take a visit to the library again sometime. The library was huge, and he had only managed to scratch the surface of the pile of books he read yesterday. There had to be something within the shelves that could fix his problem.

Cale sighed and shifted his position again, allowing his gaze to be drawn toward the sun’s bright rays, which filtered through the gaps in the curtain. A quick assessment suggested that the hour was around midnight.

The room he was in was gifted to him by that old wizard Dumbledore. At the centerpiece was a large poster bed, draped in beige curtains that cascaded like rivers of silk. Facing the bed, a small writing desk stood as a silent witness to Cale’s listlessness, adorned only with a simple quill and inkwell. Above it was an arched window framed with dark toned drapes, offering a view of the castle grounds, and serving as a reminder that he should most likely get up by now.

Cale would rather ignore that reminder and sleep the night away, but the pounding of his head was preventing that.

He was alone in the room, as On, Hong, and Raon were off exploring the castle, their curiosity getting the better of them. Cale let them. The morning was young, and the hallways should be empty unless the universe proved otherwise. The children initially had been hesitant to leave Cale alone, but he had shooed them off, insisting that he would be fine alone. How protective.

Although, he couldn't help but notice a flicker of doubt in their eyes as they reluctantly wandered off. Maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him?

With a determined sigh, Cale shifted his weight and pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. His hands instinctively moved to rub the sleep from his eyes, his fingers lingering on his temples for a moment as he collected his thoughts. It was time to rise and shine, as duty called— even if that duty involved investigating whether the children had raised any chaos during their exploration.

Oh, how the duvet sang to him.

A part of him wished he could just let them revel in the chaos. He knew those kids were sharp, cleverer and more sly than most people. Cale had faith in their ability to manage their pranks and clean up after themselves.

They were responsible when needed to be. But the situation was different now, as they all were not in their dimension and world, and Cale didn’t know what would happen if someone caught them.

And then there was something about the woman dressed in pink, Dumbridge… or something, that rubbed Cale the wrong way, although he couldn't quite pinpoint why.

He sighed. It was a long, drawn out breath. Really, he should retire soon after he finished whatever mess the God of Death wanted him to fix, he might die from the stress.

Slowly, using one hand, he raised himself off of the mattress, scratching his head a little with the other and grimacing at the bad taste in his mouth, a reminder of his previous slumber.

Right, he should probably freshen up first.

.

A couple hours later, Cale’s legs were about to give out.

He was not expecting for this damned cabin to be so far from the castle. If he had known, he might have reconsidered, or at least prepared himself better.

He sighed heavily, wishing he could just slack off all day, lounging in front of a warm fire and stare at the ceiling. Instead, here he was, trudging through the snow on this absurdly long trek because the God of Death had saddled him with this job. As much as he wanted to shirk the responsibility, he couldn’t. Not this time. He needed to take his children back home, and that meant making the trip to this blasted cabin.

He wasn’t looking forward to this visit, but it was necessary. Hagrid was the only one who could take him to the nearby village. Hogsmeade, he recalled. The old wizard Dumbledore had given Cale money, and he was planning on using it.

He thought back to the previous night.

"Now, about your living situation," Dumbledore began, his tone measured and serious.

Cale's heart skipped a beat. He had been trying to avoid thinking about this particular issue, hoping that it would somehow resolve itself. But it seemed that Dumbledore had other plans.

"My living situation," Cale echoed.

"Indeed," Dumbledore confirmed, his expression thoughtful. "As you have no identification or records in our system, finding a place for you to reside will be quite difficult— especially with the current state of affairs. You could file a report, but that will take quite a while.”

Cale nodded slowly, knowing that this was true. He had arrived in this world with nothing but the clothes on his back and the children, and he had been so focused on learning more about this world that he had not thought about the practicalities of his situation.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "However, I believe that we can find a solution."

Cale perked up at this. Maybe there was hope after all.

"I propose that you stay here at Hogwarts for the time being," Dumbledore offered, his voice calm and reassuring.

What?

Cale raised a brow. "You would let me stay at Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore nodded. He waved around the circular office. "Yes. Hogwarts is an ever increasing space. We have many spare rooms that can be used for this purpose. And as a guest of Hogwarts, you will have access to all of the resources that you need."

Dumbledore's words hung in the air. Cale thought about this unexpected proposal as he narrowed his eyes. Would he be allowed to come and go as he pleased, or would he be confined to the castle grounds?

Cale's thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore's voice. "Of course, this is not a decision to be made lightly," he said, his eyes locked on Cale's. "Living at Hogwarts is a serious responsibility, and there will be strict rules and expectations that you must follow."

Hoh. Cale narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”

Dumbledore smiled kindly. “Other than following the rules, there’s no catch, my boy.”

Who are you calling your boy?

Cale pondered, his mind racing with doubt. He had heard this pitch before, and every time there had been a catch. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head, weighing the potential risks and rewards. After all, he and the children had nowhere else to go in this strange world.

He hesitated before covering his mouth with his hand, considering his options.

Should push his luck?

"I’ll accept, but under one condition," he said suddenly, crossing his fingers. His voice was firm.“I expect an allowance.” Hook.

Dumbledore paused, his face reflecting deep thought as he considered Cale's request. He sat in silence for a moment, observing the young man.

"Certainly," he said finally. "We can arrange for a small stipend to cover your expenses."

Cale's eyes narrowed, he had a feeling that he could aim higher. "More," he said firmly, determined not to accept less. “I was injured on your grounds, wasn’t I? What would the press say if a famously known safe school was to…” Line.

Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle as he looked at Cale. "Very well," he said finally, a touch colder. Sinker. “A larger stipend will be provided to you. However, I must warn you that this is not a limitless fund. You must use the money responsibly and within reason."

Cale grinned, relieved that he had been successful in his negotiation. "Thank you," he said with a beaming smile. "I'll make sure to use the money wisely."

Dumbledore’s face pinched. Cale wondered why.

With the old wizard’s money clinking in his pocket, Cale was planning on buying whatever conduit he could use to access his ancient powers. Wands, he believed. Sticks that this world’s wizard’s used to wield magic. Stereotypical, much? Still, he figured it was worth a try. Magic was magic, after all, and he’d make do with whatever tools this realm had to offer.

He approached the cabin, his boots crunching against the ground. The place looked homey, he figured. The structure was simple, rustic, with a sloping roof and smoke curling lazily from the chimney. With a deep breath, he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles three times on the door before waiting.

Inside, there was a sudden clatter, the sound of something heavy being knocked over, followed by a string of muffled curses. Cale couldn’t help but raise a brow at the sound, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The noise grew louder, and moments later, heavy footsteps stomped toward the door.

The door swung open, revealing the large burly form of Hagrid. He seemed surprised to see Cale outside his door, the man’s eyes widened with shock slightly.

“Ah, Cale, was it?” Hagrid greeted, his face beaming at the sight of Cale. “What brings you ‘round here?””

Cale’s mouth opened to reply, but before he could answer, Hagrid’s expression softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Listen, ‘fore we get to that,” Hagrid began, his tone more subdued, “I reckon I owe you an apology for the ruckus I caused the other say you see. Bit of a mess, I was.” He chuckled sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to give you such a noisy welcome.”

“No harm done,” Cale replied casually, eyeing the swollen injuring on Hagrid’s face. “I’ve seen worse.”

He internally shuddered at the thought of a certain fanatical white haired follower of his.

Hagrid grinned, his tension easing. “Well, good to hear. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I need someone to take me to the neighboring village,” Cale stated plainly, shrugging. “Dumbledore recommended you to me.”

Hagrid’s grin widened - why he looked so excited, Cale didn’t know - as he stepped aside, motioning for Cale to come in. “Why don’t you step inside? We can have a chat.”

Cale nodded and entered the cozy cabin, his eyes briefly scanning the rustic interior. The place was exactly what he’d expected. Hagrid shut the door behind him, rubbing his large hands together as he spoke.

“Well what do you need help with?” Hagrid asked afterwords.

“I need to get to Hogsmeade,” Cale began, an excuse easily forming on his tongue. He moved to sit down on the nearby couch. There was a bright pink envelope that he swept his eyes over before glancing back at Hagrid. “I lost my wand, you see. Can’t do much without it.”

“You lost your wand?” Hagrid nodded knowingly. “Ah, that’s a tricky one. But you’ll be needin’ to go to Diagon Alley instead. Ollivanders’ll sort you out, no doubt. He’s a good man.” He paused, glancing out the window at the grounds of Hogwarts. “Thing is, I’ve got a Care of Magical Creatures class in a bit. Can’t leave the students waitin’, y’know?”

Hm. That made sense. Hagrid was a professor. Cale crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “How long will the class take?”

“Not too long,” Hagrid assured him, pouring hot water into a couple of large mugs. “Once we’re done, I’ll take you straight to Diagon Alley. Won’t be more than an hour or so.”

Cale considered the offer and then gave a slight nod. “Fair enough. I can wait.”

Hagrid handed him a steaming mug of tea, his warm smile returning. “Good lad. You’ll see, Diagon Alley’s worth the wait. I’ve got something exciting planned for the students. Fact, you should come watch.”

Cale raised a skeptical brow. Him? Watching a class?

Hagrid nodded eagerly, his eyes twinkling. “Aye, it’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Cale sipped at his tea. Well, what harm could it be?

“All right,” he conceded, setting the mug down on the table. “I’ll watch.”

Chapter Text

As they neared the clearing, Cale took in the small group of students huddled together, their breath rising in soft clouds. The moment they spotted him trailing behind Hagrid, the whispering started. Loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to be direct. 

How fun.

Hagrid didn’t seem to notice or care. He hitched the dead cow higher on his shoulder and beamed at the group. “Alright, everyone, today’s a special day! Been holdin’ off on this trip a while, waitin’ fer the right moment. Figured now’s as good a time as any ter show yeh these creatures in their natural habitat. What we’re seein’ today is rare, real rare. Reckon I’m the only one in all o’ Britain who’s managed ter train ‘em.”

A sharp scoff cut through Hagrid’s enthusiasm.

Cale tracked it to a blond boy with his arms crossed tight over his chest, mouth curled. “And the beasts do tricks on command, do they?” he drawled. “Roll over? Beg?”

There were a few murmurs of agreement. Cale noted how quickly students aligned themselves. 

Hagrid only chuckled, completely unfazed. “Aye, Draco, they’re trained. Yeh’ll see soon enough.”

Just then, Cale felt a weight form on his shoulders and arranged itself with proprietary smugness. Raon. 

“Weak human,” the baby dragon murmured into his ear. “I sense something in the trees ahead.”

“Probably our lesson,” Cale said, voice low. 

Raon huffed. “If it breathes wrong, I can burn it.”

“Restraint, please.”

When he looked back to the group, he found Draco watching him, narrowed eyes sharp but uncertain. But the boy said nothing, just muttered “We’ll see about that,” and looked away.

The group pressed onward, snow thinning to ice as they reached deeper forest. Soon, there was no snow at all, just wet ground and tree limbs knitted so close overhead the sun barely touched the soil. When they reached a narrow clearing, Hagrid let the cow carcass drop. The thud of meat on cold earth made the students shift uneasily.

Cale didn’t move, even as two students sidled closer to him with the practiced nonchalance of people pretending not to be afraid.

“Gather roun’, then!” Hagrid called. “They’ll smell the meat, but I’ll call ‘em too. They know my voice.”

Cale raised an eyebrow as Hagrid tipped his head back and unleashed a cry. It was harsh and grating and wrong-shaped for a human throat, scraping along the bark and flinging itself down the tree line. The echo came back thin and jagged.

And then, movement.

Something vast and dark slid between the trees, gliding where nothing that heavy should. It stepped into the clearing like smoke condensing into bone: blank white eyes in a skull too bare, dragonlike head on a horse’s body, wings folded tight like blades along its ribs. Skin clung to it like old parchment stretched across a frame. A thestral, Cale’s mind supplied.

It ignored the gathered humans entirely. It walked straight to the carcass, tore into it with clean, efficient snaps. Meat disappeared in neat, vanishing chunks. For some of them, into nothing at all.

“Why doesn’t he call again?” someone whispered.

Cale watched faces instead of the beast. It was the faster way to see where the line had been drawn. Most of them looked at the empty space where the cow was unmaking itself, pupils blown wide, breath shallow. But a few…

The freckled boy. The one with glasses. Draco, his jaw locked so tight it might crack. 

When Hagrid asked who could see it, Cale lifted his hand without ceremony. The freckled boy and the one with the glasses followed. Draco’s went up a heartbeat later, like something he couldn’t swallow back down.

“Not surprised about you, Harry,” Hagrid added to the boy with glasses, then blinked at Cale. “And you as well, then. Right.”

As though summoned, the Thestral lifted its head from the carcass and turned. Blood slicked its muzzle. It walked straight to Cale, hooves soundless on the wet ground, and leaned in to nudge his side, pressing its forehead against him.

The clearing went very, very still.

Cale’s hand moved with indifference, resting atop the creature’s skull. His fingers brushed across the slick bone. The Thestral leaned into the touch. The collective intake of breath from the students sounded like a drawn weapon.

He didn’t blink. He let his hand move, slow, down the length of its neck. The hide there was paper-thin over bone, every angle pronounced. It should have felt like touching a corpse. Instead, there was a stubborn, quiet warmth under the skin, like a coal buried in ash.

The God of Death. 

The thought slotted into his mind, not his, and his jaw clenched. Get out of his head, bastard.

“Excuse me, but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?” Draco’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Hagrid simply pointed at the carcass. Gasps broke out as more meat vanished.

“What’s doing it?!” a girl cried, stumbling closer to Cale as if the space beside him were somehow safer.  “What’s eating it?!”

“Thestrals,” Hagrid said proudly, “Hogwarts got a whole herd of them ’ere,” he continued. “Now, who knows—”

“But— but they’re bad luck!” A girl stammered. “They’re death omens! Professor Trelawney—”

Hagrid snorted. “Superstitions, bah. Thestrals are smart, loyal, an’ dead useful. They pull the carriages to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore uses ‘em when he doesn’t feel like Apparatin’. They’ve got a perfect sense of direction, ain’t nothin’ like ‘em.”

More of the creatures came, gliding out of the trees one by one, all bone and shadow and careful steps. One brushed against a girl who couldn’t see it, she flinched at the invisible contact and shivered. Another drifted past Cale’s shoulder, then changed its mind and pressed its bony head into his palm again. He sighed through his nose and scratched absentmindedly at the jut of its brow.

“Tha’s the spirit! Now, who can tell me why some can see ’em an’ some can’t?” Hagrid rumbled.

A bushy-haired girl’s hand shot up like a spear. “The only people who can see Thestrals,” she said, precise as a knife laid on a scale, “are those who have seen death.”

Cale’s fingers didn’t stop moving, but something inside him did. Of course.

“Tha’s exactly right. Ten points ter Gryffindor,” the giant said, sounding pleased. Cale filed the word away. Points were currency. Points meant something here.

The class shifted as if something in the ground had tilted. A few of them were looking at nothing with determined interest, the way people stare to avoid admitting they see nothing. Beside Cale, the creature huffed again, warm breath threading into the cold like smoke. Its skin clung so tightly to bone it looked like someone had sketched it in charcoal and forgotten to fill in the flesh. It pushed its skull more firmly into his palm with the unconscious certainty of a creature used to being ignored and still daring to ask for contact.

And Cale, who had seen more than enough, let it.

“Hem hem.”

The sound scraped across the group like a fork on porcelain. Cale turned.

Pink. An adult woman, if one could call the thing wearing saccharine colors and a smile like a cut pear a woman, stood on the path. A clipboard hovered at her shoulder, a quill suspended like a stinger waiting for a pulse. She was dressed as though she wanted to be mistaken for the center of a sugared cake. Cale recognized her from the dinner last night. Umbridge.

“I trust my note reached your cabin, correct?” she asked the giant, sweet and poisonous.

“Oh, er- glad ye could find the place,” the giant said, beaming. “We’re doin’ Thestrals today.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Umbridge said, cupping a hand behind her ear, voice pitched just too loud. “You’re doing… what?” The quill twitched, eager.

Cale watched as Hagrid repeated himself, slower this time, adding big, careful gestures. 

“Has… to… resort… to… crude… sign… language,” the woman murmured as she wrote.

A thin ripple of laughter passed through the class. It had the wrong temperature. People laughed that way when they were afraid not to.

Raon’s small voice vibrated against Cale’s throat from where the dragon hid, a whisper so close it felt like a thought. “Human, that pink one is bad. I can bite her. My teeth are very clean.”

“Don’t,” Cale breathed, and the Thestral flicked its ear as if he’d spoken to it instead.

“Appears… to… have… short… term… memory,” the woman continued, quill scratching.

Cale exhaled once through his nose. The Thestral nudged his knuckles, insistently calm. He let the contact ground him: rough hide, hot breath, the steady weight of a living thing that didn’t apologize for existing. He didn’t understand this world’s rules yet, but he understood leverage. 

“You.” Umbridge’s clipboard lifted, sighting down it like a wand toward a round-faced boy. “You claim to see the animal?”

The boy— Neville, someone had called him— froze. Not a rabbit free in a field, but one cornered. Eyes too wide, shoulders pulled toward his ears, trying to occupy less space.

“Y-yes,” he said, and the word tried to shrink itself as it left his mouth.

“Whom,” the woman said, relish in the exactness, “did you see die?”

The question dropped like a blade. The air changed. Even the forest listened.

Neville’s color washed out. His mouth moved, but the sound snagged.

The Thestral at Cale’s side lifted its head. It flared its nostrils, tasting a shape in the air Cale couldn’t name. He didn’t need to. He knew the look of a wound being prodded for sport.

That was enough for Cale.

He stepped forward. Only half a step, but enough to sever Umbridge’s sightline to Neville. The Thestral moved with him, an extension of shadow and breath.

“That’s not your business,” Cale said. He didn’t raise his voice. 

The woman blinked slowly, like a cat deciding whether a rat had teeth. “Pardon?”

He met her eyes. “Asking that. Here, now.” He cut the words clean, the way one cuts thread. “One would think that someone paid to protect children would know the difference between evidence and entertainment.”

A smile tugged at Umbridge’s mouth, too tight now, the frosting cracking to show cake. “My, my,” she said. “Such boldness for someone so new.”

“Boldness?” Cale repeated, tasting the word. “No. Just policy.” He gestured without looking away from her. Brief, precise, a tilt of two fingers toward Neville. “You want proof he can see them? Ask him to describe what’s in front of him. Bone first. Then wing. Then the smell.” His eyes didn’t leave hers. “There’s plenty to test without carving the boy open. I’m sure someone as high up as you would know that.”

Something small and angry brightened behind her eyes. The quill scratched harder, as if it could draw blood.

“Dangerous tone,” Umbridge said lightly to her clipboard. “Disrespectful to authority. Intervention required.” She glanced up from under her lashes, lingering in a way that made the word intervention sound private.

Raon nudged Cale’s jaw. “Let me bite her,” he whispered, craving and earnest. “Just a little. I can aim for the shoe.”

“Not today,” Cale said, the corners of his mouth not quite moving. “We just got here.”

“Tomorrow?” Raon’s hope was soft as sugar.

“We’ll see,” Cale said, and this time his smile showed a hint of teeth.

Across from him, Umbridge recalibrated her smile, something mean glinting beneath the surface. The clipboard rose. The quill twitched.

Cale didn’t wait.

“Hagrid,” he said, respectful enough to be undeniable, still not looking away from Umbridge. “If there are rules about what professors may demand students reveal publicly, please share them. Right now.”

The woman’s lashes flickered. For a heartbeat, the clipboard hesitated.

The giant cleared his throat, found his footing with a kind of stubborn gentleness. “Right, well— Tha’s true enough. No need ter— er, get personal like that. We can do descriptions instead. Good thinkin’, lad.”

Cale inclined his head a fraction. He wasn’t trying to win. He’d only removed a knife from a boy’s throat and set it down where everyone could see it.

The pink woman’s smile never reached her eyes. “How resourceful,” she said, light, light, light. “I shall be certain to note it.” The quill moved again, and this time the curl of her letters looked almost pleased.

Cale kept a hand on bone and breath, the closest thing here to familiar weight, and learned what he could. 

The lesson broke apart in a scatter of boots and breath. Students filed toward the path in a hush that wasn’t quite relief, stealing looks at the place where Cale had stood his ground. The Thestral beside him nosed his knuckles once. A quiet farewell. Then it stepped back into the trees, bone and leather melting into shadow.

“Mr. Henituse,” came the sugar-glass chime. “A word.”

Umbridge did not ask so much as occupy the space where an answer would go. She had a knack for angles, found the place the path narrowed and arranged herself there, pink and poisonous, clipboard hovering like a tame insect waiting for a bite.

Hagrid hesitated, looking between them. “Right, er—kids, keep movin’ now,” he boomed with too much cheer. “Back ter the castle. No dawdlin’.” He gave Cale a worried, apologetic look. 

Cale smiled back. 

“I’ll just… tidy up the tack, I will,” Hagrid muttered, and retreated.

Cale stood still until the last student vanished around the bend before he turned. He kept his hands loose at his sides. He did not step closer.

“Your intervention,” Umbridge said, smiling with all her teeth hidden, “was… spirited. For a guest.”

Raon hummed against Cale’s throat. “She’s staring like she wants to pluck you and keep you in a drawer.”

Cale ignored him. “My presence here is temporary. I didn’t intervene. I followed a sensible boundary.”

“Mm.” The quill hovered, drank a drop of ink, and trembled with anticipation. “Sensible. Boundaries.” Her gaze lingered an impolite beat along his jaw, the set of his shoulders. Cale narrowed his eyes. “As it happens, the Ministry is deeply invested in sensible boundaries this year.” She held up a page covered in tight curls of handwriting and a forest of underlines. “But there are procedures. Forms. We do love our forms. I wouldn’t expect a guest to appreciate how important they are.

“I see,” Cale said.

Something in his tone made her step closer, half a step, enough for the perfume to turn cloying, sticky as cough syrup.

“As you are a sudden guest,” she said the words as if savoring them, “I must insist you appear in my office at six o’clock this evening to regularize your status. We can… discuss arrangements.” A pause. “Over tea.”

Raon’s voice sharpened. “I will boil the tea. With her in it.”

Cale did not blink. “I’m under the Headmaster’s watch,” he said. “Any regularization will go through him.”

A small crack crept through the frosting of her expression, then smoothed. “My dear Mr. Henituse,” she cooed, “refusal may be construed as noncompliance. Noncompliance can be corrected.” 

She let the silence breathe, then added- in a voice meant for only him—

“You are persuasive. I enjoy persuasive people.”

“I’m busy at six,” Cale quickly said brightly. “And at seven. And at eight. My cats I’m responsible for eat at regular intervals. They will continue to do so.” He let a beat pass, then added, “If the Ministry needs my name, you may ask the Headmaster. In writing.”

The quill scratched. Obstructive. Then, an odd little curlicue. Well-composed. Underlined.

“Of course,” she said lightly. “In writing.” She glanced up through her lashes, head tilting so one curl caught the damp light. “My door is always open, Mr. Henituse.”

“I’m sure.”

For the first time, her smile slipped far enough to show the edge of a tooth. Then the mask slid back, quick as a trick with cards. “Hem hem,” she breathed to the clipboard, as if into a pet’s ear, and stepped aside. “Do enjoy our… charming grounds.”

She moved off down the path with the air of someone leaving a string tied to something. The scent of her faded second by second, like sugar burning.

Hagrid reappeared the moment she vanished, shoulders sagging like he’d put down a boulder. “Sorry ’bout tha’,” he said. “I hear she’s been sniffin’ round everything like a fox in the henhouse.”

“Not your fault,” Cale said.

“Still.” Hagrid scratched behind one ear, found a twig, and looked surprised. “Yeh were proper brave there. An’ right, too. Poor Neville didn’ need that in front o’ everyone.” Hagrid cleared his throat. “Er— did yeh… like the lesson?” He sounded careful, like someone setting a mug down on a rickety table. “First time seeing Thestrals and all.”

Cale considered. “It was honest,” he said. “I prefer honest.”

Hagrid’s face broke into relieved sunlight. “Knew yeh would. They’re good beasts.” He rubbed his hands together, suddenly businesslike. “Right then. Promise is a promise. Let’s get yeh ter Diagon Alley.”

Raon perked up against Cale’s throat. “Are we finally shopping?”

“How will we be getting there?” Cale asked instead.

“We’ll do it proper-like. Nothin’ fancy. We’ll head back by me hut fer a travel cloak an’ gloves, then down ter the gates, up the lane ter Hogsmeade. From there we’ll take the Floo at the Hog’s Head—Aberforth don’ ask questions—pop out at the Leaky Cauldron, an’ through the wall to Diagon Alley. Easy as pouring a kettle.”

Cale nodded once. “Wand first,” he said, as if this were a perfectly ordinary errand and not the first wand he’d ever touch. "I’d rather not be unarmed any longer."

Hagrid’s mouth twitched into a grin that said he’d expected that. “Olivander’ll sort yeh. Don’ fret. He remembers every wand he ever sold, he’ll get yeh matched proper. Come on then.”

Cale hesitated a heartbeat. “He remembers every wand,” he repeated, almost idly. 

“Oh, aye,” Hagrid said cheerfully. “Faces, names, wood, core- he keeps it all up ‘ere.” He tapped his temple.

People who remembered everything were difficult to lie to, Cale grimaced.

They cut across the damp grass back toward Hagrid’s hut. It was a long walk, so Cale rehearsed the lie in silence. 

“Weak human,” Raon whispered, delighted, “you are lying again. This is so much fun!”

Cale decided not to ask what metric the dragon was using.

Hagrid shouldered the door with a practiced shove, rummaged, and handed Cale a cloak far too large, clean gloves, and a scarf that smelled faintly of cedar and smoke.

“For the wind up by the gate,” he said. “Gets a bit sharp up there. An’ if anyone stops yeh, yeh’re with me. Tha’s all they need ter know.”

“Obviously,” Raon said to Cale, peeking just enough to approve the scarf. “We are very official.”

Cale settled the cloak. Hagrid latched the door, checked the path with caution, and led the way down toward the iron gates and the long road to Hogsmeade.

“Right,” Hagrid said, voice low and steady as a drum under marching feet. “Keep close. We’ll have yeh there an’ back ‘fore supper.”

Cale adjusted the scarf, felt the small, fierce pressure of Raon’s nose against his jaw, and matched Hagrid’s stride. 

“Weak human,” Raon purred. “Do you think they will have apple pie?”

“We’ll see if they’ll have some.”