Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

The early morning sunlight crept through the tall windows of the hospital wing, casting long beams of gold across the polished floor. The scent of calming potions lingered in the air, mixed faintly with fresh linens and lavender.

Cael stirred beneath the white blankets, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he lay still, blinking against the warm light. Then, slowly, memories came flooding back—the duel, the Basilisk, the diary, the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.

He sat up, surprised to feel no ache, no sharp twinges. Madam Pomfrey's healing had worked. He was whole again. Physically, at least.

He looked around the silent wing. Beds lined the room like silent sentinels. Only a few were occupied. One in particular caught his eye.

Across from him, Hermione Granger sat upright in her bed, her knees pulled to her chest, her face tilted downward. Her fingers twisted together anxiously in her lap, and though her hair covered most of her face, Cael could see the shimmer of tears tracing silently down her cheeks.

She was crying.

Cael swung his legs over the bed and walked toward her slowly. She didn't look up. Her shoulders trembled slightly with each sniffle. He paused in front of her, quietly, giving her a moment.

Then, in a low, gentle voice, he said, "Don't cry. None of this was your fault."

Hermione's breath hitched, and her voice came out in a whisper, thick with shame. "Am I going to be expelled?"

She still didn't look at him.

"I'll be like Hagrid," she went on. "My wand broken, sent back to the Muggle world, never allowed here again."

Cael shook his head and crouched down beside her bed, looking up at her tear-streaked face. "No. Hermione, no. You were a victim. You were manipulated by Riddle—by Voldemort. You didn't choose any of this."

"But I did those things," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I remember now, Cael. I remember ordering the Basilisk to go after Malfoy… Theodore Nott… Marcus Flint… Victor Baines from Ravenclaw. I didn't remember before—but now I do. Every command. Every whisper in Parseltongue. The way it slithered behind me through the walls…"

She shivered and brought her hands up to her face, her fingers wet from tears. "I'll be expelled. I know it."

"No," Cael said firmly. "You won't. You can't. You were under possession. You weren't in control. And Dumbledore—he knows. If anyone understands the magic of memory and possession, it's him."

Hermione started crying harder, her shoulders shaking. Cael hesitated, then gently patted her head. "It's over now. Harry and I—we stopped him. You're safe. Hogwarts is safe."

But Hermione just hugged her arms around herself, and for the first time, her walls completely fell. She launched forward and wrapped her arms around Cael, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"I was so scared, Cael," she cried. "Sometimes he would talk to me at night—in my mind. Sometimes he'd take me down there… into the Chamber. I couldn't resist. I wanted to scream but I couldn't even move. He was always watching. And when I tried to fight back, he'd just… erase my memories. There were nights I woke up outside the dorms, covered in dirt or blood, and I didn't know why."

Cael listened in stunned silence.

"I tried to tell someone," she continued. "Once, I made it all the way to Professor McGonagall's office. I stood right outside the door… and I forgot why I was there. He changed my memories. Made me forget. I spent the whole year like a ghost, wandering the halls, losing time. I didn't even learn anything this year. I tried so hard to fight, Cael. But he was stronger."

Cael hugged her back tightly. "Okay, okay, kid. I'm here now. It's over. Everyone's here for you. The professors, your friends, me. No one's going to let anything happen to you ever again."

She clung to him in silence, and he gently rocked her until the sobs faded.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't see it. I thought you were just studying late in the library, or reading too much again. I didn't realize you were hurting… that you were trapped. I should've seen it. I should've helped sooner."

Hermione finally pulled back and sat down, wiping her puffy eyes with the sleeves of her hospital gown. Her voice was quieter now, but steadier.

"You want to know how I got the diary?" she asked.

Cael nodded, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.

She stared ahead as she spoke. "It was at Diagon Alley. After I said goodbye to you and the Weasleys, I was walking with my parents back toward the Leaky Cauldron. That's when I bumped into Lucius Malfoy. He pretended it was an accident—he tripped me. All my books scattered on the ground."

Cael narrowed his eyes, already suspecting where this was going.

"I picked them all up," Hermione continued. "But… I think he slipped the diary in. I didn't notice it until I got home. It looked old. Plain black. On the back, the name 'Tom Riddle' was faintly etched."

"And then?" Cael asked.

"It was empty," she said. "Completely blank. But when I wrote something in it… it wrote back. I thought it was enchanted—a magical journal that could talk. At first, it was harmless. It answered my questions. It explained homework better than any book. I started to depend on it."

She paused, her breath catching.

"Then it changed. I started blacking out. One night, I found myself outside Hagrid's hut. My hands were covered in blood. There were dead roosters around me."

Cael's stomach turned.

"I panicked. Ran back to the dorm, tried to wash it off. But the next morning—I didn't remember anything. When I asked the diary, it told me it was stress. That magical students sometimes forget things due to pressure. I believed it."

"Because it wanted you to trust it," Cael murmured.

Hermione nodded. "I stopped questioning it. Even when I lost hours at a time. Even when I found myself wandering the castle at midnight with no memory of how I got there. It convinced me I was just… overworked. I thought it was helping me. But all the while, it was using me."

She fell silent again.

Cael placed a hand on her shoulder. "But it's over now. You fought back. That means something, Hermione. The diary's destroyed. Voldemort is gone."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I know. But it still feels like I lost a part of myself this year."

Cael looked at her, and for a moment, saw not just the brightest witch in their year, but a girl who had been through something few could even imagine. And survived.

"You didn't lose yourself," he said softly. "You're still here. And you're still you."