Years had passed, and the Hawthorne family had only grown in prosperity and strength. Aaric had matured a little, though his playful spirit remained very much intact.

Thanks to the regular use of the moonblood resin potions, both Simon and Edwina appeared younger than their years. The potion seemed to fundamentally alter one’s essence on first use and continued to enhance magical and physical vitality with each dose.

As a gift, Aaric had given a divine scale to each of his parents. Edwina had immediately received Vasuki’s blessing, while Simon had been chosen by Makara, the divine sea-beast with the head of an elephant and the body of a crocodile.

Even Nibbin had received the potion. His posture was straighter now, his movements more graceful. He’d even been given a series of butler-style suits to wear—something he wore proudly. He considered himself free already, and clothes, to him, were simply fashion.

Today was Aaric’s eleventh birthday, and the party was extravagant. Guests arrived from all parts of the magical world. Representatives from the beast reserves Simon managed in the US, and relatives from Edwina’s clan in India, were among the first to arrive.

Right now, Aaric was being cornered by a group of aunties from Edwina’s side, who were affectionately assaulting his cheeks with pinches. Aaric tried to keep a brave face and shot a desperate look at his father, who very pointedly ignored him.

“I will have my revenge,” he thought with narrowed eyes.

‘What can I even do?’ Simon thought helplessly.

Soon, the Nott and Malfoy families arrived. The Greengrasses were already there—Daphne and Astoria had greeted Aaric earlier and were now happily poking at him like he was some magical plush toy.

Lucius Malfoy entered with a swagger, a flashy goblin-forged sword strapped at his hip. Runes were etched across the blade. The quality was decent, and Lucius wore the smug grin of a man who thought he was walking perfection.

The goblins who’d worked with Aaric, though, would have been unimpressed.

“All this time and you’re not even close,” they would have scoffed.

Aaric and Draco still maintained a strong friendship. Draco had long stopped repeating the prejudiced nonsense he’d grown up hearing. Aaric had even taken him to watch Tim Burton’s Batman, which had left a mark.

“Why don’t we have things like this?” Draco had asked.

“Because your dad thinks Muggles are stupid,” Aaric had replied with a grin.

Later, Simon had even invested in Warner Bros, helping prevent several idiotic decisions that would’ve haunted the company.

“The boy has reached eleven, the age of magical maturity. Why don’t we celebrate with a duel?”

The suggestion, surprisingly, came from Lucius. Friendly duels were traditional among noble families—especially during coming-of-age ceremonies.

Lucius turned to Simon, clearly intending a challenge.

Simon raised an eyebrow.

“It seems Lord Malfoy wishes to test his new sword. I accept. What will be the rules?”

Lucius grinned.

“Swords and wands. Like the true-blooded nobles we are.”

In the mansion’s garden, Simon wordlessly conjured an arena with a few elegant waves of his wand. Lucius was capable of the same, but Simon’s effortless precision made him raise a brow.

They entered the ring and bowed. Lucius drew his wand from his cane. Simon activated the mechanism on his holster, and his wand smoothly slid into his palm.

Lucius struck first—sending a volley of Stunners, Disorientation Charms, and a Slicing Hex toward Simon.

Simon calmly dodged, countered the hex with one of his own, then bent his knees and launched forward, sword drawn.

Their blades clashed with a loud clang. Lucius staggered slightly and swung again, mixing the motion with a Leg-Binding Jinx and a downward sword arc aimed at Simon’s chest.

Simon sidestepped, parried the sword, dodged the jinx, and sent Lucius stumbling with a Wind-Knockback Charm that knocked the air from his lungs.

Though holding back significantly, Simon grew to admire Lucius a little. The Malfoy patriarch kept his chin high for a reason.

Lucius regained his footing and fired a Confringo. Simon, smirking, slashed at the spell mid-air, deflecting it cleanly, causing gasps from the crowd.

With a precise Leg-Locker Curse, Simon closed the distance, disarmed Lucius, and placed his wand at his throat.

Lucius sighed in reluctant defeat. Simon helped him to his feet, and they bowed respectfully as the audience applauded.

Narcissa fixed Lucius’s robes while Lucius kissed the back of her hand, sharing a smile with his wide-eyed son.

Simon stepped down, kissed Edwina, and ruffled Aaric’s hair.

“Thank you for the duel, Lucius. I admire your strength.”

“And I yours,” Lucius replied.

Draco, Aaric, and the Greengrass sisters laughed and played the rest of the evening.

Later that night, a snowy owl arrived, carrying a parchment envelope sealed with red wax—the Hogwarts crest pressed into it.

Simon opened it, and they all read it together.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Hawthorne,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

First-Year Students Will Require:

Uniform:

Three sets of plain black work robes

One plain black pointed hat (for day wear)

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

That night, the family celebrated joyously, though a faint melancholy hung in the air. Their son would be leaving home soon.

The next morning, the Hawthornes headed to Diagon Alley for Aaric’s school shopping.

They visited Madam Malkin’s, where Aaric got four sets of robes enchanted for comfort, temperature control, and minor self-repair.

He also purchased a light brown owl, which he named Dune.

But the stop he was most excited about was Ollivanders.

“Welcome, child,” said the wandmaker, measuring Aaric and vanishing into the back.

Half an hour later, the shop looked half-destroyed, and Ollivander looked utterly thrilled.

“Would you consider a custom wand?” Simon asked casually, fixing the damage with a wave of his wand.

Ollivander’s eyes sparkled. “It would be an honour.”

Edwina gently stopped him before he could begin pulling out stock wood.

“Try these,” she said, offering a moonlight-infused piece of Serpentwood and a basilisk scale, both soaked in essence drawn from the Celestial Gourd.

Ollivander was speechless.

“These are… exquisite. The kind of materials wandmakers dream about.”

He held them with reverence.

“Three days. Seventy Galleons.”

(Though he would’ve done it for free.)

They agreed. After a few more stops—and a round of ice cream—they returned home.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep