Lunch at the Grangers' house was a blend of calm and restrained excitement.
Jean Granger had prepared beef stew with mashed potatoes and freshly baked bread—a comforting, simple meal, vastly different from the icy elegance of Malfoy Manor, yet filled with a warmth Nathael and Celestia deeply appreciated.
Shortly after the first course was served, the front door opened.
It was Mr. Granger.
Tall, brown-haired, with glasses that made him look like a kindly academic, he entered carrying a dentist's case and wearing an expression that balanced curiosity and protectiveness.
"My wife called me at the clinic," he said, hanging his coat. "She told me Hermione's going to the United States. With you?"
He sat across from Nathael, his gaze firm but not hostile.
"Yes," Nathael said without hesitation. "But not 'with us' as if we were tourists. I'm in charge of her safety. And Draco's as well."
Mr. Granger studied him for a long moment.
"You're… a teacher, right?"
"Academic consultant at Hogwarts," Nathael clarified. "And beyond that, I'm a wizard with experience—a treasure hunter, explorer, and magical historian. I've been to places Aurors won't dare enter."
"But… the United States," Mr. Granger said, pausing. "It's not Hogwarts. No professors. No magical rules. Just… the real world."
"Exactly," Nathael said. "And that's precisely why they need to go. Magic doesn't exist in a vacuum. It's intertwined with the Muggle world. And if they don't understand that… they'll never grasp magic's true power."
Mr. Granger was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.
"My wife said Hermione trusts you. And I… trust her."
"Thank you," Nathael said. "And I promise: she'll return home—safe, sound… and wiser."
As they ate, Hermione came downstairs.
She carried two suitcases—smaller than Draco's, yet still considerable—and a backpack slung over one shoulder.
"This is everything," she said firmly.
Celestia stepped forward and tapped her ring.
"Need help?"
"Yes, please."
In a flash, the suitcases vanished.
"Now everything fits in your collar," Hermione said, amazed.
"And your backpack," Celestia added. "In case you want to carry something… personal."
Hermione smiled.
Then, curiously, she looked at Nathael.
"How are we getting to the United States?"
Nathael smiled.
"By plane."
Draco, who'd been eating silently, looked up.
"Plane? That Muggle transport? Why not Apparate? Or use a Portkey?"
"Because," Nathael said calmly, "if you got sick just Apparating to London… imagine what would happen if you tried crossing the Atlantic."
Draco paled.
"I… hadn't thought of that."
"Besides," Nathael continued, "I'd already planned to fly before I invited you. And now… it'll be your first lesson."
"Lesson?" Hermione asked.
Celestia stepped in.
"Nathael wants Draco to understand the Muggle world—not just what he sees from a train or his manor, but how it works. How it moves. How it communicates. How it lives."
Hermione nodded, eyes sparkling.
"Then… can I teach him?"
"Of course," Nathael said. "You're the best guide he could have."
Draco didn't complain. He simply nodded, a mix of resignation and curiosity in his eyes.
But then Hermione stiffened.
"My passport!"
She leapt up and ran to the kitchen, where Jean was washing dishes.
"Mum! Where's my passport?"
"In your father's office," Jean said without turning.
Hermione raced back to the dining room.
"Dad! Your office!"
Mr. Granger, who'd been quietly processing words like "Portkey" and "Apparition," sprang into action.
"Ah, yes! The passport!"
He got up and hurried upstairs.
Draco, confused, asked:
"What's a passport?"
Hermione turned to him.
"It's a document Muggles use to travel between countries. It has your photo, your name, your nationality… and officials check it at airports."
"They check it?" Draco asked, eyebrow raised. "Like Azkaban guards?"
"Not exactly," Hermione laughed. "But they do verify it's really you—and that you're allowed to enter."
Draco frowned.
"But… I don't have one."
He looked at Nathael, genuine worry in his eyes.
"Don't worry," Nathael said.
He raised his wand and tapped an encyclopedia on the table—Dental Hygiene for Beginners—which twisted, shrank, and transformed into a perfect British passport.
Nathael opened it.
There was Draco's photo, stern expression and immaculate blond hair in place. Name: Draco Lucius Malfoy. Date of Birth: June 5, 1980. Nationality: British.
Draco took it, astonished.
"Is it… real?"
"Real enough," Nathael said, "to pass Muggle inspection."
Hermione, however, frowned.
"Is that… illegal?"
Celestia chuckled.
"Of course it is. But remember: Nathael and I are treasure hunters.
Our work skirts illegality… and often dives straight into it."
Hermione considered this for a second. Then she smiled.
"Then… I suppose that's part of the adventure."
They finished lunch.
Jean packed snacks for the journey.
Mr. Granger gave them a small gift: a Muggle compass. "In case you get lost."
"Don't laugh," he said, seeing their smiles. "It works without batteries. And it never fails."
Nathael accepted it with respect.
"Thank you. I'll take good care of it."
Hermione hugged her parents.
"I'll be back in a few days."
"Write to us," Jean said.
"And call if anything happens," her father added.
"I will."
They left the house.
The black cab waited outside.
Inside the car, Draco looked at Nathael.
"Where exactly are we going?"
"To New York," Nathael said.
"New York?" Hermione repeated. "Why there?"
Nathael was silent for a moment.
"I'm searching for information about something—something ancient and hard to find.
But there's a lead. In New York's Chinatown, there's a shop that might give me what I need."
Draco nodded.
"So… it's not just a trip."
"No," Nathael said. "It's not."
The cab dropped them off at Heathrow.
The airport buzzed with people: families hauling luggage, tourists with cameras, airline staff giving directions, and announcements echoing through the halls. Screens displayed destinations and flight times.
Draco stared, eyes wide.
"All these people… travel by plane?"
"Thousands every day," Hermione said. "It's normal."
They approached the airline counter.
Nathael handed over their "documents."
The agent checked them, stamped their passports, and handed them boarding passes.
"Gate 27. Flight departs in one hour."
"Thank you," Nathael said.
As they walked toward security, Draco asked,
"What if they find us out?"
"Find out what?" Celestia said. "We're just three ordinary people with an elegant cat. Nothing suspicious."
"But… what about magic?"
"No magic," Nathael said firmly. "In the airport, we're Muggles. Period."
Draco nodded, uneasy.
They passed through metal detectors; staff asked them to open bags, remove belts and jackets. Celestia wove between people's legs, drawing smiles.
"What a lovely kitty!" a security guard said.
Celestia meowed with regal grace.
In the departure lounge, they bought coffee and sat down.
Hermione looked at Draco.
"Are you nervous?"
"A little," he admitted.
"Don't be," she said. "It's just a plane. You get on, sit down, read, talk, or sleep… and a few hours later, you're on another continent."
"Read?" Draco asked, confused.
"Yes," Hermione said, smiling. "On planes, you pass time reading, flipping through the in-flight magazine, or watching the clouds."
Draco looked at her, as if the concept were alien.
Nathael and Celestia exchanged a glance.
"This is going to be interesting," Celestia said.
"Yes," Nathael agreed. "Very interesting."