"Whooooo—"
The deep crimson train let out a long whistle, spewing thick clouds of steam as it slowly pulled into Hogsmeade Station.
With a sudden jolt, the train came to a stop. A second later, every compartment door slid open, and hundreds upon hundreds of witches and wizards of all kinds poured out.
Bulgarian wizards in indigo silk robes stepped off the train with their chins held high; Egyptian wizards wrapped in camel-hair cloaks jingled with golden ornaments; Indian witches' saris fluttered in the wind; and wizards from the Brazilian rainforests wore emerald-green cloaks with necklaces of color-shifting flowers.
"Make way! Please, make way!"
A booming voice shouted above the noise. Heads turned—and to everyone's astonishment, the voice came from one of two enormous elk pulling a carriage that lumbered down the path, its antlers gleaming in the mist.
Several Russian wizards in crimson high-collared uniforms marched past, their heavy bearskin boots creaking on the wooden planks. A sharp-eyed snowy owl perched proudly on one man's shoulder.
The sight of the owl stirred a fond memory in Hagrid—of his very first meeting with Harry Potter. The half-giant's face broke into a warm grin as he waved his massive hand and bellowed,
"Hogwarts welcomes you all! This way, please—carriages are waiting up ahead!"
"Oh, by Grace of Ra!" exclaimed a wizard in a white robe, staring up at Hagrid's towering frame in awe. "You're enormous, sir!"
Hagrid gave a bashful chuckle, and in the back of his mind, Madame Maxime's indignant voice echoed—
"I'm just big-boned!"
"Right this way, ladies and gentlemen," he said kindly.
Beyond the station, more than a hundred carriages stood waiting in neat rows, more splendidly decorated than ever before.
Silver constellations were stitched into the black leather; delicate bells and lanterns hung from the sides; thick yellow carpets lined the floor; even the spokes of the wheels were wrapped with sprigs of holly.
"What beautiful carriages," an elderly witch said jokingly as she climbed aboard. "I almost wish I could send my children to Hogwarts now."
"They are quite magnificent, but…" a young red-haired wizard muttered, glancing around. "How exactly do they move? Do we cast a spell? Or—er—ride them like broomsticks?"
He didn't get to finish before laughter rippled around him.
"Young man," said an old wizard with a goatee, reaching out to stroke the air in front of them, "the horses are already here. You just can't see them."
The red-haired wizard blinked—he could hear faint snorts and the flapping of wings, though there was nothing visible before him.
"They're Thestrals," a kindly Peruvian wizard explained. "Only those who have witnessed death can see them."
"No wonder Hogwarts is so famous…" a Kenyan healer witch muttered enviously. "Even their carriage horses are rare Thestrals—and so many of them!"
One carriage after another filled with guests and began to roll toward the distant castle, rocking gently as they went.
But not everyone chose the carriages provided by Hogwarts. Some flew on their own enchanted carpets or broomsticks, some preferred to stroll leisurely along the path, and others rode bizarre magical creatures — one wizard was even astride a wild boar.
All along the road to the school, the air cracked again and again with pops of Apparition, as wizards who hadn't taken the Hogwarts Express appeared directly on the spot.
Wizards from all directions were gathering toward Hogwarts, and to show support for their own countries, many wore distinctive outfits and adorned themselves with dazzling jewelry.
At that moment, the ancient castle seemed to have transformed into a miniature of the entire magical world — the mingling sounds of conversations, laughter, and spells from wizards of every nation blended into a marvelous symphony.
Thanks to the widespread use of Streaming Mirrors, even though the wizards came from different countries and spoke different languages, they could still happily communicate about the same topics — even if half the time they relied on gestures and expressions to do so.
…
Inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts, most students, though aware that a large audience would attend the final task, still couldn't fully grasp what that meant. Everyone was too busy enjoying today's especially grand lunch.
"Try this, Mom." Wade pushed a colorful plate of pudding toward Fiona. "We hardly ever see this at school — it's only served at the Christmas feast."
Fiona scooped a spoonful and tasted it, her eyes squinting in pure bliss. "Wow, it's delicious! How is this made?"
"The house-elves use their own kind of magic," Wade explained softly, "to make the pudding softer and lighter, almost airy."
Fred took a sip of pumpkin juice, raising an eyebrow. "Not bad… but I'm guessing you don't like it much?"
He knew very well that his son had always disliked the way pumpkin juice felt scratchy going down his throat.
"I've got this." Wade gestured toward the drink in front of him — a clear, fresh-looking green juice that seemed to glow with crisp coolness.
"Oh…"
Fred glanced around and quickly noticed that none of the other long tables had the same drink — not even the ones beside them.
Understanding dawned, and he let out a long "Ohhh~," half amazed, half pleased.
His son had always been solitary and reserved back in primary school. Yet here at Hogwarts… it seemed he'd unexpectedly learned how to make friends.
When the cheerful meal came to an end, Dumbledore rose to his feet and tapped his goblet lightly. The hall instantly fell silent.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, smiling, "in five minutes, I will ask everyone to proceed to the Quidditch pitch, where we will witness the final task of the tournament. For now, I would like the champions to follow Mr. Bagman to the grounds to prepare."
Wade suddenly felt his mother's hand clasp his tightly. Her warm palm trembled faintly. He stood and hugged both his parents.
"I'll remember our promise," he said softly. "Once the tournament's over, I'll be home before long."
"Alright." Fiona's eyes glistened with tears, but she forced a bright tone. "We'll be sitting right in the front row, cheering for you!"
"Take care, and don't push yourself," Fred said, patting Wade's back. "Out there, don't overthink things — just do what you can do. That's enough."
"I understand."
Wade whispered his reply, then quickly walked toward the Great Hall's doors, where Bagman was already waiting for the champions.
Just before stepping outside, Wade turned back, raised his arm, and waved. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, stretching his shadow long across the floor.
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- 200+ Chapters
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