Mrs. Gable knew this wasn't a simple, sad accident. The second she looked into Kaelen's eyes, she froze. For just one second, she saw what the bullies were seeing: a deep, cold emptiness hiding inside the boy, with a calm, scary smile. She felt a shiver of real fear.
Then, as fast as it came, it was gone.
The scary smile vanished. The cold fire in Kaelen's eyes went out, replaced by panic and terror. The magic inside him, which had exploded to hurt the bullies, snapped back. As it did, his face seemed to change. His skin went paler, his eyes grew wider, and real tears started to stream down his cheeks. He wasn't a monster anymore. He just looked like a terrified, heartbroken ten-year-old.
At the same time, the bullies were dropped back into the real world. They were still screaming, the horrible things they had just seen in their minds feeling fresh and real.
"Mrs. Gable!" Kaelen cried out, his voice shaking. He pointed a trembling finger at the three boys. "They… they pushed her! They wanted her bracelet and they pushed her!"
He stumbled over to Mrs. Gable and buried his face in her skirt, his body shaking with sobs. It was the perfect picture of a horrified, heartbroken child. He was crying for Elara, but he was also hiding his face, letting his lie sink in. He had watched other kids cry many times. He knew exactly how to act.
After that, everything was chaos. Police officers and paramedics came, but it was too late. Elara was gone. The orphanage filled up with serious-looking adults.
Kaelen was taken to Mrs. Gable's office and given a cup of hot, sugary tea. He sat quietly on a chair, pretending to be in shock. But on the inside, his mind was cold and calm. He went over his story again and again. They pushed her. Then they went crazy. It was simple. It was easy to believe. The truth—what he had done to them—was his secret, a new power he held onto.
A kind social worker knelt in front of him. "Kaelen, I'm so sorry about your friend. Can you tell me what you saw?"
He looked up, letting his fake tears fall. He told her the story in a shaky voice, with lots of sniffles. He said they had tried to take Elara's bracelet and that Mark had shoved her. Hard.
"And what happened after she fell?" the woman asked gently. "Why were the other boys screaming so much?"
Kaelen looked down, pretending to be confused and scared. "I don't know," he lied. "They just… started screaming. Like they'd seen a ghost."
His story was perfect. He seemed like a grieving friend who was too upset to make up a complicated lie.
The bullies' stories were a complete mess. They babbled about things that didn't make sense. Mark kept screaming about being buried alive. Peter wouldn't stop scratching his arms, crying about spiders. Liam just stared at the wall and wouldn't talk at all. Doctors said the three boys were having a shared breakdown from the shock and guilt of what they did. Their minds were broken. No one believed a word they said.
Within a week, Mark, Peter, and Liam were sent to a special hospital for long-term care. Kaelen watched the van drive away from his window. He felt nothing. The problem was gone. He had protected Elara's memory in the only way he could. He wasn't happy, but he was sure he had done what was necessary.
Elara was buried in a small, plain cemetery. Kaelen was the only one from the orphanage who went to the funeral. He stood by the grave long after everyone else had left. He didn't cry. He felt like he had used up all his tears, real and fake. He knelt and placed the broken bracelet he'd made for her—the string and the polished stone—on the fresh dirt.
"You were kind," he whispered to the grave. "But there is no magic in the world, Elara. There is only power. They took you because you were good and I wasn't strong enough. I will not make that mistake again."
In the year that followed, Kaelen changed. To the adults, he was the perfect orphan: quiet, polite, and very smart. But the other children were terrified of him. They whispered about what really happened to Mark, Peter, and Liam. They knew Kaelen was the reason they were gone. They could feel a coldness coming from him, and they all stayed far away. He never had to say a word.
At night, when everyone was asleep, he would practice. He would stare in the mirror and try to make his powers work on purpose. He tried to change his hair color like he used to for Elara, but it was harder now. It only seemed to work when he was very angry or sad. He tried to find that cold, icy power he'd used on the bullies, but he couldn't. It was locked away.
So, he practiced something else. He practiced locking his feelings away. He practiced being calm and empty, so his anger or sadness could never take control of him again.
On the morning of his eleventh birthday, an owl flew right into the orphanage dining room. It dropped a thick, yellowish letter right onto his plate. The envelope was addressed to him in green ink:
Mr. KaelenThe Smallest BedroomSt. Jude's OrphanageLondon
On the back was a wax seal with a shield holding a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake around a big letter 'H'. Kaelen wasn't surprised. It felt like an answer he had always been waiting for.
Just as he was about to open it, Mrs. Gable snatched it away. "Nonsense! Owls don't deliver mail."
"It's for me," Kaelen said, his voice flat but his eyes hard.
Before they could argue, the orphanage doorbell rang. A moment later, a tall, serious-looking woman in emerald-green robes stood in the doorway.
"I am here to see a Mr. Kaelen," she said, her voice sharp. Her eyes scanned the room and landed right on him.
For a second, she just saw a quiet, skinny boy. But then she met his eyes.
Professor Minerva McGonagall felt a sudden, strange chill. He looked far too smart for a boy his age, and he was unnervingly still. It felt like she wasn't looking at a child, but at something old and cold that was studying her right back. She quickly pushed the feeling aside.
Kaelen ignored the new woman. He looked straight at Mrs. Gable, who was still holding his letter, and held out his hand.
"I believe you have something that belongs to me," he said, his eyes never leaving hers.
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