Chapter 357: Graduation
Seven years had passed since the founding of the school. The very first batch of students was finally about to graduate.
Most of the young wizards from among Men had come of age. Some had even begun courting while still at Hogwarts.
Only the Elves, who grew so slowly, looked almost unchanged. After seven years, they seemed much as they had on their first day, and would not have looked out of place standing among the new first‑years.
Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic had jointly established the Ordinary Wizarding Levels (O.W.L.s) for fifth‑years, and the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests (N.E.W.T.s) for seventh‑years
The O.W.L.s decided whether a student could continue into the sixth and seventh‑year courses.
The N.E.W.T.s, in turn, would shape a graduate's choices and chances in the wider world.
For many, these exams mattered most to the children of Kael's own lands.
Elven and Dúnedain students, for the most part, would simply return to their own peoples after finishing at Hogwarts. Their futures lay elsewhere, and the pressure was lighter.
For someone like Adam Belli, who had grown up in Hogsmeade and under Kael's rule, the tests came with the heavy question of what to do with the rest of his life.
Among wizarding families in Kael's territories, the finest future was clear: to remain at Hogwarts. The professors were both well‑paid and highly respected.
Second to that was a post in the Ministry.
The Ministry had become the sole government under Kael's authority, and its departments, such as Magical Transport and the Auror Office, were highly sought after.
The Auror Office in particular answered directly to Kael. Its Aurors were an elite, heavily trained fighting force.
Many of the seventh‑years and even the older fifth and sixth‑years dreamed of joining them.
Outside the Ministry, the dragon ranch near Isengard had also become a popular choice.
After years of work, its grounds now covered the entire southern end of the Misty Mountains, and it held more than a thousand lesser dragons.
Over a hundred wizards worked there already, and still, they were short‑handed.
Their duties ranged from breeding and rearing the dragons to patrolling the grounds, keeping the creatures in and troublemakers out.
From time to time, one of the lesser dragons was slaughtered, and its parts sent to market.
There was profit in every scrap. Nerves and heartstrings went to Ollivander's wand shop for wand cores.
Dragon blood, liver, heart, and other organs were sold on Diagon Alley as rare potion ingredients.
The prices matched their rarity. An ounce of dragon liver, no larger than a pigeon's egg, costs a full Galleon.
A pint of dragon blood might fetch over a hundred.
Horns, bones, meat—everything was costly, and everything sold.
Even at those prices, supply never met demand. Every time a single dragon's worth of parts went on sale, they vanished almost at once.
With such income, the ranch needed no gold from Kael or the Ministry. It flourished on its own.
One slaughtered dragon a year was more than enough to cover its costs and wages and still leave a tidy surplus.
Even the droppings were profitable, bringing in more coin over time than a dragon's body.
The dragons produced an endless supply of manure, richer than any other fertiliser once properly rotted down. It was perfect for magical plants and herbs.
With over a thousand lesser dragons on the ranch, the daily piles were enormous.
There were wizards whose full‑time job was to collect it, and they were paid well.
Because of the dangers of working around such powerful beasts, the standards for hiring at the ranch were high.
Beyond these "state posts" in the Ministry and at the ranch, there were always places in the shops of Diagon Alley.
Some graduates went into service there as clerks. Others opened businesses of their own.
Between all these paths, Hogwarts graduates did not have to fear unemployment.
Under Kael's rule, wizard numbers had climbed steadily. In a few short years, their ranks had swelled to nearly five thousand.
Magic thrived throughout his lands.
In Hogsmeade, Bree, and Isengard, whole wizarding districts had grown up.
And as the new Ministry had never put any Statute of Secrecy or "Muggle Protection Act" into force, it was common enough to see wizards swooping overhead on broomsticks above the streets.
…
Another school year drew to a close. Another end‑of‑year feast filled the Great Hall.
The seventh‑years' faces were full of reluctant sorrow.
In Phoenix House, Adam Belli took leave of his two dearest friends.
One was Alannir the Elf, who still looked no more than eleven or twelve by Mortal reckoning, and in truth was still a child among his own folk.
After graduation, he would return to Rivendell to continue his people's lore and would not be free to wander until he came of age.
The other, Anromir of the Dúnedain, was already grown. He loved Hogwarts and the wizarding world dearly after seven years, but in the end, he shook his head at Adam's offer to join him in the Ministry.
He chose instead to go home, to serve his own people.
Adam himself, with excellent N.E.W.T.s behind him, joined the Auror Office and became a colleague of his father, old Mr Belli.
Other graduates fanned out in all directions: into the various departments of the Ministry, onto the staff of the dragon ranch, into shops on Diagon Alley, or into businesses of their own.
At Hogwarts, Kael and Arwen's twins were now four years old.
From the moment of their birth, Elthir and Elroth had been cherished by everyone, growing up without a care.
They spent their days between Hogwarts, Rivendell and Lothlórien, indulged as the beloved "mascots" of three realms.
With Arwen's Elven blood, their growth did not follow the pattern of mortal children. They spoke early and clearly, and showed quick, bright minds. By their first birthday they already commanded both human speech and Elvish, and could run and leap. Their small figures could be seen everywhere around the castle, and students often invited them to play in their house common rooms.
Up to the age of three, their bodies had grown at much the same rate as human children. After that their growth all but slowed to a crawl. By their fourth birthday they looked little older than they had the year before.
And for a long time yet, that would be the way of it. When human children of their birth‑year reached their full height, the twins would still look no more than seven years old.
When their Mortal classmates began to grey, Elthir and Elroth would only just be entering their own youth. By the time those Mortals died, the twins would be only newly grown.
Their early minds, though, were swift. Years of quietly "auditing" lessons with the older students had left them with a store of magical knowledge that rivalled many in the upper years.
Seeing how sharp they were, Kael did not insist they wait for the usual age before using wands.
Once the twins had solemnly promised not to play recklessly with magic, he made their wands himself.
For Elthir he used a piece of heartwood from one of the mallorn trees in his garden.
For Elroth he shaped the shaft from a small branch of the White Tree that grew there.
The cores were the same in both: feathers from the phoenix that was part of Kael's own being.
Working together, the twins' wands could weave their spells into something greater than either might manage alone. And in danger, the feather at each wand's heart gave them one more power.
It would always let them call their father.
Like a beacon, the phoenix feathers served as a fixed point in the web of magic. Wherever Kael might be, he could find his children at once.