The following weeks passed with a strange calm.
Anneliese and Lysander departed silently at dawn on the third day after the Tournament. There were no noisy farewells, no dramatic promises—only a brief embrace between mother and daughter, a look exchanged between siblings, and a soft farewell meow between Celestia and Lysander.
Then, they vanished.
And the ancestral valley returned to its rhythm.
But something had changed.
Nathael, instead of immediately leaving for new ruins, black markets, and relics… stayed.
Not out of obligation.
By choice.
He began to teach.
At first, it was casual. A younger cousin asked how he'd summoned the black chains without incantation. Nathael showed him. Then another asked about fog magic. And another, about using Apparition in combat.
Soon, a small crowd of young Grauheims—from both the main and, to many's surprise, the secondary branches—followed him through the gardens, the ancestral forest, even the library.
"It's not just magic," Nathael would say as they walked. "It's intention. If you cast a Stupefy thinking only to knock someone down… they'll fall. But if you cast it thinking to stop them, then not only will your enemy drop—they'll stop thinking."
The young took notes with enchanted quills. Some recorded his words on small magical mirrors.
And Celestia—though she complained that "teaching adolescent cats is worse than bargaining with a hungry basilisk"—also took part.
"It's not about casting magic," she told the white, blue-eyed kittens gathered around her. "It's about feeling it. Your magic doesn't come from a wand. It comes from here."
She tapped her chest with her paw.
"And if you don't trust your human… then you don't trust yourself."
One timid kitten asked,
"What if my human doesn't understand my magic?"
Celestia fixed him with a steady gaze.
"Then you must teach it to them. Because the bond isn't a gift. It's a conversation."
----------------
So two weeks passed.
The valley, which had boiled with energy during the Tournament, now breathed with renewed peace. The elders watched with approval. House-elves served more tea than usual. Even the ancestral oak seemed to whisper more gently.
One afternoon, Nathael and Celestia were in their room, resting after a long day of training.
Nathael lay on the bed, an ancient transfiguration tome resting on his chest, eyes closed but awake.
Celestia, perched on the windowsill, licked a paw. Her right foreleg had healed, though she still limped slightly after walking too far—after all, she'd been struck not just by brute force, but by the deep magic of the White Moon.
"That kitten from the main branch today," Celestia said, "tried blue magic and nearly turned himself into a cushion."
"That's progress," Nathael said without opening his eyes. "Last week he turned into a teapot."
"Yes," Celestia said. "But at least that time, he didn't talk."
Just then, a white owl carrying a small package tied to its leg flew in through the window.
Celestia eyed it warily.
"Another letter from Hogwarts. That makes three."
Nathael sat up and took the letter. The envelope was thick, sealed with the familiar crest: four intertwined animals beneath a tower.
He opened it.
Dear Mr. Grauheim,
Classes at Hogwarts will begin on September 1st. As an academic consultant, your presence is expected before the start of term to meet with the Heads of House and the magical support staff.
While you may, of course, Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk to the castle, the Hogwarts Express will depart from King's Cross Station on September 1st at 11 a.m. You may find it interesting to experience the journey as students do.
Sincerely yours,
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore
Nathael read the letter twice. Then folded it.
"The Express?" he said. "Among shrieking children, jumping frogs, and sweets with minds of their own?"
Celestia shuddered.
"Absolutely not. Besides, it's surely full of dust, snot, and uncontrolled magic. My fur wouldn't survive it."
"Nor my patience," Nathael said. "I'd rather go straight to Hogsmeade. At least there I can enjoy a butterbeer in peace."
"And I, a nap in a sunny windowsill," Celestia added.
They fell silent for a moment.
Then Nathael changed the subject.
"Did you find anything in the library about the White Moon?"
Celestia shook her head.
"I searched everywhere—in forbidden manuscripts, ancient grimoires, even the personal diaries of the first companions. Nothing. Not a single mention."
"It's strange," Nathael said. "Anneliese must have found it somewhere. She must have studied. Prepared."
"Perhaps," Celestia said, "she discovered something the library doesn't even keep. Or maybe… she learned it from Williams. He was always the most curious in the family."
"I should've asked him before he left," Nathael said, a note of frustration in his voice.
"It doesn't matter," Celestia said, leaping onto the bed and settling into his lap. "Even without the White Moon… we're strong enough."
Nathael smiled and stroked her head.
"Yes. Because we don't need to transform to be powerful. We already are."
Celestia purred.
"Besides, if anyone needs to see the White Moon… let them come to me. I'll show them what real power looks like."
Nathael laughed.
"That's beyond power, Celestia. That's pure vanity."
"Call it what you will," she said, closing her eyes. "But don't deny it."