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As time went on, Julien and Hermione grew steadily closer. They discussed tricky classroom problems together, shared their favorite books, and occasionally walked part of the way home after school when the cherry blossoms were drifting down.
"Julien, you'll be applying to secondary school after the summer holidays, right? Where are you thinking of going? Eton, Marlborough, or straight into an Oxford prep program?"
One afternoon after school, Hermione walked beside him on the pavement and couldn't hold the question back any longer. This was already the nth time she'd asked. In her mind, with Julien's grades and family background, he was obviously destined for one of Britain's most elite schools.
Julien's steps slowed for a moment. A mysterious little smile tugged at his lips.
"Still a secret. When the time comes, you'll find out."
Hermione frowned, clearly dissatisfied. "Why won't you tell me? Aren't we good friends?" There was a trace of grievance in her voice. She had actually been hoping they might end up at the same school.
"Exactly because we're good friends, I don't want to say anything yet," Julien turned to look at her, his green eyes serious. "Trust me. You're going to get a surprise."
Hermione stared at his steady gaze. Though still full of confusion, a strange flutter of happiness rose in her chest anyway.
The days continued to slip by. The semester passed in a blur of study and the occasional bit of fun.
The cherry blossoms in the schoolyard bloomed and fell, the plane trees turned from tender green to deep green, then slowly took on shades of gold. Before they knew it, final exams were over and summer vacation was just around the corner.
Hermione's eleventh birthday happened right on the eve of the holidays. That day she brought an elegant chocolate cake to school and shared it with the whole class. Julien received a piece too—the cake was perfectly sweet without being cloying, clearly chosen with care.
"Happy birthday, Hermione," Julien said as he accepted the slice, smiling warmly. "May you never lose your love of knowledge… and may you receive a very special gift."
Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. She lowered her head and murmured, "Thank you, Julien."
But after her birthday, Hermione seemed like a different person. She stopped asking him constantly about secondary school choices. Even when Julien brought it up himself, she would dodge the topic, her eyes shifting away and her tone turning awkward.
One break, Julien asked deliberately, "Have you decided which secondary school you're going to yet?"
Hermione's hands paused over her books. Her gaze drifted. "Not… not yet. Probably just the local comprehensive, I suppose." Then she quickly grabbed her books and hurried out of the classroom as if escaping.
Julien watched her retreating figure and allowed himself a knowing smile.
He knew exactly what had happened. An owl had already flown to the Grangers' house—and it would soon reach Privet Drive as well. No wonder she'd been acting so mysterious lately. She probably thought there was no chance they'd end up at the same school.
He didn't expose her secret. For a Muggle-born witch about to step into the magical world, that mixture of shock and nervous excitement was something words couldn't describe.
He wanted to let her have this moment to herself. Besides, he planned to give her a proper surprise later.
(Inner thought: Congratulations, Miss Hermione Granger. You have officially entered the 'Pre-Hogwarts Anxiety Phase.')
As for himself?
Grandfather had said that as long as a Black child wasn't a Squib, the Hogwarts letter might be late—but it would never fail to arrive.
Summer vacation arrived in the blink of an eye. The St. George's students were all cheering. They had finally escaped "boring old primary school" and were busy planning how to enjoy their freedom.
Thomas invited Julien to go on a seaside holiday with him, but Julien politely declined. This summer was far too important for him. He was about to turn eleven… and he was about to receive the letter that had been waiting for him his entire life.
"Julien, your eleventh birthday is almost here," his father Altair said one evening, sitting on the edge of his bed with a gentle expression. "What would you like as a present? The latest game console, or that astronomical telescope you've been wanting?"
Julien looked up at his father's kind eyes and smiled. "I don't need anything, Dad. Grandpa said I'll be getting a very special gift."
Altair blinked in confusion. "A special gift? Are your grandparents planning something? How come I haven't heard about it?"
Julien simply gave him a mysterious smile and said nothing.
"Anyway, they're flying in the day after tomorrow for your birthday," his father chuckled. "I'll find out then. Though I still think your mum and I might have them beat."
His mother Clara had also noticed Julien's quiet anticipation. She didn't know exactly what he was waiting for, but she could feel the intense longing in her son. She didn't press him. Instead, she quietly began preparing for his birthday party, inviting relatives and friends, hoping to make it unforgettable.
At his parents' suggestion, Julien also invited a few close school friends—most of whom would be heading to well-known private secondary schools. They would likely become his classmates in the future.
As for Julien's own school placement, Grandfather had already said he would handle everything personally.
However, his best friend Hermione stammered and politely declined the invitation, saying she had something important to do that day. She gave him an early present instead: an R.E.M. vinyl record of Out of Time.
August 3rd, 1991. Julien's eleventh birthday party.
The house on Charing Cross Road was brightly decorated and filled with festive energy. Relatives and classmates arrived one after another, bringing carefully chosen gifts and warm wishes.
The living room was stocked with fine wines and drinks. The air smelled of fresh cake and flowers. In the background played Out of Time.
Grandma Élodie had already complained three times: "This music sounds like fighting owls outside the window!"
"No," Julien insisted, "this is art!"
—Truthfully, he just thought the lyric "Time ticks away" felt extremely fitting.
The birthday boy wore a deep green suit with a silver tie embroidered with fine vine patterns—the exact same style as Grandfather Alphard's. It was the Black family "heirloom edition," supposedly capable of blocking low-level curses (though Julien strongly suspected his grandfather was exaggerating).
Grandpa and Grandma had flown in from Bordeaux that morning, their suitcases packed with presents: an antique French pocket watch, crystal wine glasses that could sing, and a top-of-the-line matte black Italian AGV motorcycle helmet with sleek lines—cool enough to make Dudley drop to his knees and call him "big brother."
"Happy birthday, little wizard," his grandfather whispered with a wink, voice low enough for only Julien to hear. "I added stabilizing runes to the helmet lining. Try not to fly your broom too fast… unless you want to crash into a Muggle airliner."
Julien nearly burst out laughing.
Sure enough—this was Grandfather's way of telling him he could finally start proper flying lessons!