By the time Friday evening rolled around, Cael Vale was fairly convinced that Hogwarts wasn't merely a school—it was a full-time magical survival challenge masquerading as an academic institution.
Between dodging moving staircases, decoding the cryptic whims of professors, and nearly inhaling a cloud of poisonous toadstool spores in Herbology, he'd survived his first week intact, if only barely.
Dinner in the Great Hall that evening was a reward in itself: roast chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, honey-drizzled carrots, and a treacle tart so dangerously good it probably violated multiple international laws on magical pastries. By the time he collapsed onto his bed back in the Gryffindor dormitory—still tasting dessert on his tongue—he was ready to shut off his brain completely.
And that's when it happened.
Ding!
A soft chime echoed in his head.
System Notification: First Week at Hogwarts – Complete!
A golden window blinked to life before his eyes.
Congratulations, Host!
You have successfully completed your first week at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
You neither died, got expelled, nor were turned into a toad. This is considered a win.
Cael raised an eyebrow. "…That's the bar?"
System: Now, let's start your next quest. The previous one is still pending and will take time to complete.
New Quests Unlocked: Interactions with the Twins, a Night of Exploration, Pranking Fellow Students, Visiting Filch's Office, and a Trip to the Forbidden Forest.
Reward: Intelligence +2 and Two New Spells.
Cael stared at the list, aghast. "Are you trying to get me expelled? I'm not Harry Potter—Dumbledore won't just turn a blind eye to my midnight adventures."
System: First of all, why are you scared? You're not getting expelled. And second—what are you doing, then? Going to be a model student and waste the whole year holed up in the library? Where's your sense of fun? Hogwarts isn't just about homework—it's about exploration, adventure, night-time escapades, and a good prank or two. Don't be a mood killer.
Cael hesitated. "…I don't know if this Hogwarts is the same as the one from the books or movies. Cassandra's presence alone already proves things are different. So I need to be careful—see what diverges."
He let out a sigh. "Still… fine. I accept the quest."
And just like that, he rolled over and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning brought a soft breeze and a bright sky—an unusual gift for the Scottish Highlands. It was Saturday, which meant no classes, no professors, and most importantly, no deadlines. Cael decided to take a walk outside the castle and familiarize himself with the grounds.
Eventually, he found himself at the edge of the Black Lake. There, nestled beneath the wide branches of an old beech tree, he lay down on the grass, letting one arm rest beneath his head. The sun was warm on his face, golden light spilling through swaying leaves, casting mottled shadows across his body. The air smelled of wildflowers and water. Somewhere in the distance, laughter floated from the courtyard. It was peaceful—almost enough to lull him into sleep.
His breathing slowed. A few more seconds and he would have drifted off completely.
Thud.
A sharp kick landed squarely on the sole of his shoe.
"Oi," sneered a voice, thick with disdain. "You deaf, mudblood?"
Cael opened one eye lazily, squinting up into the sunlight at the silhouette above him.
A tall boy in emerald-trimmed robes stood there, likely a fifth-year. Pale-skinned, hollow-eyed, and radiating entitlement, he was notably missing a prefect badge—but didn't seem to notice. Arrogance clung to him like a bad cologne.
Cael blinked. "You're blocking the sun."
The Slytherin boy smirked. "Funny. Real funny. You think just because Dumbledore lets your kind scurry around here like stray Kneazles that you actually belong?"
He crouched beside Cael, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Let me make it simple. Stay away from Cassandra Vole."
That name made Cael's eyebrow twitch slightly—but he said nothing at first. Then, with mock curiosity, he asked, "Oh? Who is she to you?"
"She's going to be my fiancée," the boy said smugly. "My parents will speak with hers. It will practically be settled."
Cael almost laughed out loud. "And you think she'll just… agree to that?"
"She will," the boy replied haughtily. "My family owns three dragon farms. No girl in her right mind would say no to me."
Cael stared at him, stunned at the sheer level of entitlement. "She's eleven. Are you seriously planning to propose now?"
The Slytherin scoffed. "Clearly, you don't understand pureblood traditions. We choose our future wives early—before some mudblood sniffs too close."
He stood, brushing off his robes with an air of practiced disdain. "She's not for the likes of you. She's a pureblood. Respected. Not some orphan who sleeps under trees like a vagrant." His voice dropped again. "And if I see you near her again, I'll remind you who actually runs things around here."
Cael didn't move. His gaze remained cool, half-lidded, and unimpressed.
Then he yawned.
"Right," he muttered, dragging the word out lazily. "You've made your little threat. Now slither off like a good snake. I was dreaming about treacle tart."
The boy's face twitched—momentarily caught between disbelief and fury. But in the end, he said nothing. He straightened slowly, spun on his heel, and stormed off, robes flapping behind him like a stage magician mid-drama.
Cael let out a soft breath and leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head.
"Snakes," he said to the sky. "Always so dramatic."
The sunlight returned to his face, warm and uninterrupted.
System: Wow. You've got yourself a love rival. So… what's the plan? How are you going to eliminate this obstacle to true love?
Cael snorted. "First of all, I'm not in love. Second, I don't care what Cassandra does—it has nothing to do with me. But thanks to him, I now have my first idea for a prank."
System: That's the spirit.
And with that, Cael closed his eyes and let the golden sun cradle him once more, the wind whispering gently through the leaves above.