The reason Marius Cloud had come over in the first place was, of course, because he'd recognized the little girl with the golden-brown curls. With a warm smile, he said, "It's no trouble. My name's Marius Cloud. I'm also a first-year at Hogwarts. Please, follow me."
"Hello! I'm Hermione Granger," the little girl replied confidently, reaching out to shake his hand in return.
"Oh, how wonderful!" Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged excited glances. After a brief pause, they finally blurted out a strange compliment: "No wonder your teeth are so well taken care of!"
…Huh?
What does being a Hogwarts student have to do with dental hygiene?
Marius's mouth twitched, but he got it. The Grangers were clearly out of their depth, and under the pressure of the moment—and likely due to their profession—they'd spat out the first remotely relevant thing they could think of.
Feeling the awkwardness in the air, Mr. Granger tried again. "So, um… Mr. Cloud, judging by your complexion, are you not from Britan? Here to study magic in Britain?"
Realizing how that might come across, he quickly waved his hands. "Ah! Apologies, we're just curious. We're still very new to this whole wizarding world thing."
Marius gave them a friendly nod. "According to my father, our family lineage traces back to an ancient Cloud dynasty—what you might call the Celestial Empire. But we settled in Britain several centuries ago."
"The Celestial Empire… I've read about it! It's supposed to be incredibly old and mysterious!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed, half in awe, half trying to recover from the social stumble.
As they chattered nervously, Marius led the Grangers to the New Arrivals Section of Riven's Bookstore.
"This area is set up specifically for Hogwarts first-years," Marius explained. "Every year around this time, the shop organizes all the required books by year and subject. Makes it much easier to find what you need."
The Grangers perked up instantly. Mr. and Mrs. Granger dove into the books with childlike fascination, flipping through pages with unrestrained wonder. Hermione, on the other hand, was already lost in a thick volume, eyes wide with wonder.
"I have a question," she piped up, turning a page with trembling fingers. "Why are the pictures moving? This is… absolutely incredible!"
Marius chuckled. "They move because magical photos are developed using special potions. As long as the right developing solution is used, the subjects can move freely within the image."
"And this one here, it's blinking!" she gasped.
"What about—?"
She had more questions, of course. Lots more. Like every Muggle-born experiencing their first brush with the magical world, everything was new, strange, and worthy of interrogation. Marius answered each one patiently, almost like a seasoned prefect rather than a fellow new student.
But not everyone found the scene heartwarming.
Marius, thanks to his powerful mental acuity, caught a ripple of disdain directed their way. His eyes flicked toward a nearby shop assistant, whose expression twisted with unmistakable contempt.
And when Marius met his gaze, the clerk deliberately gave a snide snort. "Bloody Muggles… Why Hogwarts even bothers letting mudbloods in, I'll never understand."
In Britain, pure-blood elitism still had deep roots—especially in the early 1990s. Many wizards held an outdated and arrogant view of Muggles, and often looked at Muggle-borns with the same condescension city dwellers reserved for clueless country bumpkins.
To this clerk, Marius's familiarity with the Grangers marked him as suspect. No true pure-blood would behave so kindly toward Muggles. The only logical conclusion? He must be a half-blood… tainted with "dirty" blood.
"Um…" Mr. Granger turned, confused. "Was he talking about… us?"
Marius arched an eyebrow. The insult wasn't worth his time, but that didn't mean he was going to let it slide either.
"Don't worry," Marius said calmly. "Some of the less-educated magical folk haven't quite figured out how to act in polite society. Think of them like stray dogs barking at shadows."
"What did you say, you little brat?" the shop assistant exploded. "I happen to come from a proud line of pure-blood wizards! Muggles like them don't get to talk down to someone like me!"
The Grangers instinctively stepped back. Hermione clung tighter to Marius's sleeve, visibly shaken but trying to stay composed.
Marius's expression turned cold. "A proud line of pure-bloods, hmm? Which house do you claim? What family are you from?"
The clerk puffed out his chest. "Listen up, boy! I'm Aug of the prestigious Chicault family! Not that you'd have heard of it."
He was right. Marius had never heard of the Chicault family. They were likely a second- or third-rate pure-blood line at best—noble enough to boast, but obscure enough to be entirely irrelevant in the grand scheme of wizarding society.
The idea of someone like that trying to flex on him? The irony nearly made Marius laugh.
"I see," Marius said, pointing vaguely to himself. "So you're pure-blooded… and yet you don't recognize me?"
The clerk's eyes narrowed. He clearly assumed Marius was a half-blood about to argue blood purity nonsense.
"Don't make me laugh," Aug sneered. "You think I care who you are? I make it a point to never learn the names of half-bloods or—Merlin forbid—mudbloods. Consider this your first lesson upon entering the wizarding world: Pure-bloods don't associate with filth."
It was a bold statement—and an ignorant one.
It was still the 1990s, long before wizarding newspapers and social media made every prominent family name and face instantly recognizable. Out here, in the more secluded corners of magical Britain, not everyone had seen the young heir of the Cloud family.
But to boast of pure bloodlines to a member of the Clouds?
Marius barely contained his laughter. "Let me guess. You're new here, aren't you? First month working at Riven's?"
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