"I hope you had a lovely Christmas," Nathael said, his voice gentle but firm, as he watched Hermione and Draco walk down the snow-covered path leading out of Hogsmeade.
Hermione, cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes bright as ever, nodded instantly.
"Yes," she said, her smile warm. "And… thank you. For the gifts. All of them. I've used them every day," she added, mostly thinking of her scarf and notebook.
Beside her, Draco adjusted his coat—not with the old arrogance, but with a newfound thoughtfulness.
"Thank you," he said simply. "The armband… it's more than I deserve."
Nathael studied them with a look that held pride, tenderness, and a hint of the quiet melancholy only experience can bring. Several days had passed since Christmas. Snow still blanketed Hogsmeade like a sacred shroud, and the trees—branches heavy with white—stood like silent guardians of a moment that would never come again.
Hermione and Draco had returned from their respective homes—she from Hampstead, he from Malfoy Manor—and had reunited with Nathael, Celestia, Carrie, and Kate at the cottage near the Three Broomsticks. Now, all six stood just outside the village, ready for what Nathael called "the final test before returning to Hogwarts."
"I'm glad you enjoyed the gifts," Nathael said, crossing his arms with a faint smile.
Hermione and Draco exchanged a confused glance—until Nathael gave a subtle nod toward their necks.
They looked down.
Hermione wore her thick, soft red scarf, shimmering with scarlet hues in the winter light. Draco wore his: deep green with silver edging, woven from the same magical wool. They were identical in texture, in enchantment, in everything—only the colors differed.
Nathael smiled.
Celestia, who until now had been perched on a snow-dusted log, let out a mischievous, purring laugh.
"It's sweet how well you get along now," she said, barely containing her amusement. "You're even wearing matching outfits."
Draco and Hermione turned to each other simultaneously, as if only just noticing the obvious.
"Matching…?" Draco began—but cut himself off, coughing awkwardly. He didn't take off his scarf. Neither did Hermione.
Instead, she blushed faintly but held her gaze steady.
"They're magical scarves," she said, half shy, half proud. "They keep me warm even in Hogsmeade's worst snowstorms. I wouldn't take mine off even if my mum asked."
Draco said nothing—but his posture relaxed. Carrie, watching from behind, offered a small, genuine smile. Kate, who had come to say goodbye before their training session, had already left with a promise to return soon.
Nathael let the silence stretch, letting the cold air and the crunch of snow beneath their boots speak for him.
"The time has come," he finally said. "The final test before classes resume."
Draco straightened, a spark of his old confidence returning to his eyes.
"A test? Against what?" he asked with a smirk. "We've already fought a mountain troll, dozens of gremlins—we're ready. I hope it's something harder… and not a disappointment."
Hermione, more measured but equally determined, nodded.
"A few months ago, facing something the Ministry classifies as 'Category X' would've been impossible," she said. "But now… I think we're ready for anything."
Nathael looked at them. Then, slowly, he walked toward Draco. At the same time, Celestia glided gracefully toward Hermione. When they stopped, Nathael and Celestia exchanged a knowing glance—then subtly stepped aside, leaving Draco and Hermione facing each other.
Draco and Hermione looked at one another, now curious.
"This test," Nathael said clearly, "won't be against a creature. It will be between you."
Silence.
Hermione blinked, surprised.
Draco frowned.
"A duel?" he asked, incredulous. "Against her?"
"Yes," Nathael confirmed. "A magical duel. Fair, clean, and under my rules."
Draco shook his head—not in disdain, but with genuine concern.
"That doesn't seem fair," he said. "Not to me. To her. She's… a girl. It'd be too easy."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, her smile a blend of amusement and challenge.
"Technically," she said, her voice soft but firm, "I'm the top first-year student at Hogwarts. You're in second year. So if anything… you should be the one worried."
Draco stared at her, surprised. Then a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Beating me will be a piece of cake?" he echoed, mimicking her tone.
"Exactly," Hermione said.
Celestia purred, clearly delighted.
"That's the spirit. Healthy competition forges champions."
Nathael nodded.
"Good. Then prepare yourselves. But first… there's another part to this test."
He turned to Carrie, who had been watching quietly until now.
"Carrie," he said, "you'll have your own trial."
Carrie looked at him, eyes wide.
"Me?"
"Yes," Nathael said. "You know you've barely touched magic. You're sixteen—which is rare in the magical world, though not entirely impossible. But what is rare… is your talent. You mastered Lumos on your first try. Your wand chose you with a force Ollivander hadn't seen in years. And in Forks, during training, your body responded to magic as if it already knew it."
He paused.
"So your test will be simple… in theory. But execution? Ah—that's the real challenge."
Carrie listened, hands clasped, heart racing.
"Your task," Nathael continued, "is to cast Wingardium Leviosa… on Celestia."
Draco let out a snort.
"On Celestia? Seriously?"
"Not on her," Nathael corrected. "On her cloak. As you know, Wingardium Leviosa doesn't work on living beings—but it does work on objects. And Celestia's cloak… is a magical object. So you must aim only at the fabric."
He looked directly at Carrie.
"But Celestia won't stay still. She'll be in constant motion. Your goal is to lift the cloak just enough to raise it off the ground—even by a single centimeter. This test will measure your precision, magical control, patience… and your mastery of a basic spell that, in the right hands, can turn the tide of a battle."
Carrie nodded, a mix of nerves and excitement in her eyes.
"I'll do it."
Celestia stepped forward and, in a soft voice, said:
"Be careful. That cloak cost many Galleons. And I dislike wrinkles."
Carrie smiled.
"I promise."
They took their positions on a snow-lined clearing. Nathael stood in the center as referee. Hermione and Draco stepped back to watch.
"I'll place a bet," Draco said, arms crossed. "I bet Carrie won't catch Celestia. We're talking about an ancestral cat. She's faster than lightning."
Hermione shot him a challenging look.
"I'm betting on Carrie," she said. "And if I win, you'll stop bothering Neville."
"Deal," Draco said, confident in his victory.
Nathael raised a hand.
"Ready?"
They both nodded.
"Begin!"
And then… something surprising happened.
Carrie didn't hesitate. She didn't take a breath or aim carefully. She cast the spell instantly.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Her wand moved with a precision Hermione herself might not have matched at her best. The spell—a soft, transparent beam—shot out so quickly that Draco and Hermione barely saw it.
Nathael gave a slight nod, approval flickering in his eyes.
But Celestia… was Celestia.
With an elegant, almost dance-like leap, she sidestepped the spell. The magic passed through the space her cloak had occupied a heartbeat before, dissipating into the snow.
Celestia landed gracefully, licked one paw, and looked at Carrie with a feline grin.
"Predictable," she said. "But… impressive for a first attempt."
Carrie took a deep breath, adjusted her stance, and raised her wand again.