Elian ceased to be interested in anything other than the four ornaments and his mother's letter for the following two days. He repeatedly read the letter, as though it might whisper fresh truths each time, trying to grasp the meaning of the things, how to use them, why they felt like fragments of his own soul.
He stayed in his room. He hardly ate or drank anything. He even stopped talking to Stephen.
Hogwarts' letters persisted to arrive. But Elian was lost in a world distant from welcome letters and wands, in his own world.
Elian locked himself in his room with the letter and the ornaments the next day, like he always does. That day, though, another thing caught his attention: a tabby cat looking at him through the window.
He disregarded it for hours, concentrating on the ornaments. That cat, though, seemed odd in some manner.
It hadn't changed at all.
Elian sighed, as if he had been expecting something like this, and then, with a sarcastic tone, broke the silence.
"Professor Minerva McGonagall, should I consider myself lucky or what that the second-in-command of Hogwarts herself came to welcome me?"
He turned towards the tabby cat with a smirk on his face, but it had gone. Instead he was smirking at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair with a bit of white in it was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
"How did you know it was me, Mr. Vale?" she asked.
"Oh, Professor, no other witch in this wizarding world will keep this much elegance and stiffness even after transfiguring herself as a cat."
Mcgonagall's mind jolted with a memory from 10 years ago at Privet Drive when she and Dumbledore were talking about leaving Harry at the Dursleys. Dumbledore also said something similar, but before she could say something, Elian interrupted her mid-nostalgia, saying, "Remembering Professor Dumbledore's words, Professor Mcgonagall?"
McGonagall's expression didn't change—but inside, a flicker of fear took root.
How did he know she was remembering Dumbledore?
Before she could process that, something else returned to her.
Something Dumbledore had said that very night on Privet Drive, in that same careful, quiet voice:
"A child who has already bent time without knowing it."
McGonagall straightened somewhat, her tone steady and cool.
"Mr. Vale, Hogwarts was sending you letters, I think."
"Of course, Professor," Elian said with a shrug, his voice as casual as if talking about the weather.
"Then would you care to explain why we received no response from you?"
"There were a lot of things going on — family problems, mostly — but to be honest, I also wanted to play a little 'hard to get.' You know what I mean." Elian responded.
McGonagall rubbed her temple, already imagining the chaos incoming in Hogwarts, but didn't break her character and handed Elian a letter that read:
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. Vale,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. The term begins on 1 September. We await your call by no later than 31 July.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
At the end of the letter there was a man drawn with a smile and a wink for some reason, and below that man A.D. was written.
"If you are done playing a dramatic princess, Mr. Vale, then kindly send your owl by tomorrow because after that you may not get any further chance." McGonagall said sternly.
"Alright, professor. I will send my owl with a dramatic flair in it as soon as I get some spare time," Elian said, half-sarcastic, half-testing.
McGonagall gave one last sigh before transfiguring herself back into that tabby cat and leaving from the same window she came in.
Elian wrote his reply to Hogwarts the following night and handed it to Marco, their family owl, a startling fusion of a barn owl and an eagle owl.
He then called Stephen. The old man arrived with a concerned expression and asked,
"Yes, Young Master?"
"I'm going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy books and equipment for Hogwarts. So if that man—my father—asks about me, tell him. Not that he'll care, with his precious ministry keeping him too busy."
"Alright, Young Master. I will prepare—"
"No," Elian interrupted. "I'm going alone. You don't need to do anything else."
"But, Young Master—"
"You can leave, Stephen," Elian said firmly.
Stephen turned to go without another word, but just as he reached the doors, Elian added, loud enough to be heard,
"And Mom told me to praise you for hiding that letter. So… good work, Stephen."
Stephen said straight-faced, "I only did what I was told to, Young Master."
"Yeah, yeah... you humble butler," Elian said, sarcasm rippling through his tone.