The pale light of dawn crept over the forest, illuminating the frost-covered ground and casting long shadows across the encampment. Hermione sat outside the tent, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wand resting untouched beside her. The hum of her magic was ever-present, a restless current beneath her skin that refused to settle.

  Her wrist throbbed faintly beneath its bandage, a dull reminder of the sacrifice she’d made. She had given her blood to the magic, not in a deal or bargain, but as an offering. And though it had granted her the power she’d needed to survive, the cost lingered. Her magic no longer felt the same.

  The tent fp rustled, and her parents stepped outside. Emma held a cup of tea, while Dan’s eyes swept the area, his sharp gaze pausing briefly on Hermione’s wrist before softening. They didn’t say anything at first, letting the quiet of the forest fill the space between them.

  Emma handed Hermione the tea and sat beside her, pcing a gentle hand on her daughter’s knee. Dan crouched in front of her, his expression serious but calm.

  "We’re staying here today," Dan said after a moment. "You need to rest."

  Hermione frowned, her grip tightening around the mug. "I’m fine."

  Dan’s eyebrow quirked, and he gave her a pointed look. "You don’t look fine. You’ve been pale and quiet all morning, and you were barely standing st night. We’re not going anywhere until you’re back to full strength."

  Emma nodded, her voice soft but firm. "Your dad’s right, Hermione. Whatever’s waiting for us next, you need to be at your best to face it."

  Hermione exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly. She didn’t have the energy to argue. Her magic felt depleted, stretched thin in a way she’d never experienced before. A day of rest wouldn’t hurt. "Alright," she said quietly. "We’ll stay."

  Dan leaned back slightly, studying her. "You’ve been quiet this morning. What’s on your mind?"

  Hermione hesitated, gncing down at her hands. "My magic," she admitted. "It feels… different. Ever since st night, it hasn’t been the same."

  Emma tilted her head. "Different how?"

  Hermione set the mug down and pressed a hand to her chest, where her magic had always been centred. "It used to feel like a ball of energy here," she said, tapping lightly against her sternum. "Dense and compact. But now it feels… spread out. Like it’s not just in one pce anymore—it’s everywhere."

  Dan frowned. "Everywhere?"

  Hermione nodded, her voice thoughtful. "In my limbs, my fingertips, even my skin. It’s like my magic isn’t confined to my core anymore. It’s… closer to the surface."

  Emma’s brow furrowed. "Is that a bad thing?"

  "I don’t think so," Hermione said slowly. "It’s less dense now, so it doesn’t feel as strong as it did before. But it’s faster. When I think about something, it’s like my magic reacts before I even have to focus on it. That’s why the wandless magic keeps happening—it’s easier to call now because it’s already so close to the surface."

  Dan leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "So, it’s changed, but not necessarily weaker. More… responsive."

  Hermione gave a small nod, her mind racing. "Exactly. It’s like my pathways have been rewired. When I used all that raw power st night, my core must have stretched to handle it, and now it’s… different."

  Emma’s hand tightened gently on Hermione’s knee. "Does it feel like something you can control?"

  Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "It’s new, but I think I can learn. It’s just… strange. I’ve always thought of my magic as something I had to summon, something I had to work for. But now it feels like it’s part of me, like moving a limb or taking a breath."

  Dan sat back, his sharp gaze softening slightly. "That sounds like something you’ll need time to figure out. And that’s why we’re staying here today. No distractions, no rushing. Just rest."

  Hermione gave him a small smile, her shoulders rexing for the first time that morning. "Thanks, Dad."

  Emma smiled warmly, brushing a stray curl from Hermione’s face. "We’ll figure this out together. Whatever’s ahead, we’ll be ready for it."

  Hermione exhaled, letting the warmth of her parents’ presence ease the tension in her chest. Her magic still thrummed beneath her skin, unfamiliar and restless, but for now, she could focus on understanding it—on making it hers.

  The campfire crackled softly, its warmth pushing back against the chill of the forest. Hermione had retreated to the tent to rest, her body still recovering from the strain of the night before. Emma and Dan sat on the logs they’d pulled close to the fire, their faces lit by the flickering fmes. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the distant rustling of leaves.

  Dan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression dark and contemptive. "We could have lost her st night," he said finally, his voice low but filled with tension.

  Emma, seated across from him, nodded slowly. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t stop repying it in my head. The way she—" Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath. "The way she used her own blood. I’ve never seen anything like it."

  Dan’s jaw tightened, and he stared into the fire, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "I’ve seen sacrifice before," he said, his tone measured. "In the army, we were trained to make hard choices, to give what was necessary to protect others. But she’s thirteen, Emma. She shouldn’t have to make those choices."

  Emma looked at him, her expression pained but resolute. "She shouldn’t," she agreed. "But this is her world now. And she’s not just some girl with a wand, Dan. She’s something else. She’s… brilliant and determined and—" She paused, her voice trembling. "And she’s preparing for something bigger than we can understand."

  Dan met her gaze, his brow furrowing. "You think she’s not telling us everything."

  Emma hesitated, then nodded. "I do. She says she’s trying to protect herself and us, but I don’t think that’s the whole story. The way she fought st night—the way she sacrificed—" She swallowed hard. "It felt like she’s training for a war, not just learning to defend herself."

  Dan exhaled heavily, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "I thought the same thing," he admitted. "And I get it. She’s scared of what’s out there, and she’s trying to prepare for the worst. But if she’s putting herself in this much danger now…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "What happens when the real fight comes?"

  Emma’s hand tightened around her tea mug, her knuckles white. "We’ve raised her to think for herself, to be independent, to push through anything. And I’m proud of her—God, I’m so proud of her. But sometimes I wonder if we’ve pushed her too far. If we’ve made her feel like she has to do this alone."

  Dan’s eyes softened, and he reached across the small space between them to pce a hand over hers. "She doesn’t have to do this alone," he said firmly. "We won’t let her."

  Emma’s shoulders sagged slightly, and she let out a shaky breath. "How do we help her, Dan? We don’t understand this world. We don’t even know what’s out there, what she’s fighting against. She’s so far ahead of us."

  Dan’s grip on her hand tightened. "We don’t have to understand the magic to support her," he said. "She needs us to keep her grounded, to remind her who she is. That’s what we’re here for."

  Emma nodded, her expression resolute. "You’re right. We can’t fight this for her, but we can make sure she doesn’t lose herself in the process."

  Dan leaned back slightly, his eyes drifting toward the tent where Hermione was resting. "I just wish she didn’t have to grow up so fast," he said quietly. "But if she’s going to fight, we need to make sure she knows she has us in her corner."

  The fire crackled softly, its glow illuminating the lines of worry etched into Dan’s face. He stared into the fmes, his mind racing. Every instinct in him, honed from years in the military, screamed at him to protect his daughter. But Hermione wasn’t a child who could be shielded from the dangers of the world. She was already in the thick of it.

  The memories of the previous night pyed over in his head: the way she had fought with precision and determination, the way she had bled for her magic, the way she had pushed herself beyond what should have been possible for someone her age. It had terrified him, but it had also filled him with an uncomfortable truth.

  She wasn’t just trying to defend herself. She was preparing for war.

  Dan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the fire. "Emma," he said quietly, breaking the silence, "I’ve made a decision."

  Emma looked up from her mug of tea, her expression weary but curious. "What is it?"

  Dan exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts evident in the set of his shoulders. "If Hermione’s going to be dragged into a fight like this, then she needs to be prepared. Not just with magic, but with her body. If she’s going to survive, she needs to be faster, stronger, and tougher than she is now."

  Emma’s brow furrowed, and she set her mug down beside her. "You want to train her," she said, her voice tinged with both understanding and concern.

  Dan nodded. "I’ve seen what happens to people who go into fights unprepared. No matter how smart or talented they are, if they can’t push through pain or dodge an attack, they don’t st long." He paused, his gaze darkening. "Hermione’s brilliant. She’s more capable than anyone I’ve ever met. But she’s not invincible. If I can give her even a small edge, something that helps her survive… I have to do it."

  Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "Dan, she’s already under so much pressure. What if this just adds to it?"

  "I won’t push her beyond what she can handle," Dan said firmly. "But I know Hermione. She doesn’t want to feel helpless, and she doesn’t want us to treat her like she’s fragile. If anything, I think she’d appreciate the chance to feel stronger, to feel like she’s doing something to protect herself."

  Emma looked toward the tent, her expression softening. "She’s already doing so much," she said quietly. "But you’re right. If this is the path she’s on, she needs to be prepared for everything. Just… promise me you won’t push her too hard, Dan. She’s still our little girl."

  Dan reached over and took her hand, his grip steady and reassuring. "I promise. This isn’t about turning her into a soldier. It’s about giving her the tools to survive, to protect herself when we can’t be there to protect her."

  Emma nodded slowly, though the worry in her eyes remained. "Then we’ll do it together. Whatever it takes to help her."

  Dan’s gaze softened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "We will. She won’t go through this alone."

  The fire crackled between them, the warmth a small comfort against the weight of their decision. They sat in silence for a while longer, their resolve settling like steel in their chests. Hermione didn’t need to fight this war alone, and they would do everything in their power to help her survive it.