The sound of chattering voices, owl screeches, and the shrill whistle of the Hogwarts Express filled the air at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Smoke curled lazily from the scarlet engine as students clambered aboard with trunks, pets, and half-worn robes.
Caelum exhaled slowly, leaning against the cushioned backrest of the compartment seat. He was dressed neatly, though his frame still bore the subtle tension of someone not long out of recovery. Across from him sat Bastian, flipping through the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly.
"You think Evran got distracted again?" Bastian muttered, glancing toward the compartment door.
Caelum smirked faintly. "He'll show up before the train leaves. He always does."
As if summoned, the door slid open—but it wasn't Evran.
Two identical redheaded boys stepped in, their grins identical and eyes glinting with mischief. Fred and George Weasley.
Caelum blinked. He hadn't spoken to them much last year. They were second-years too now, but from Gryffindor, and their paths rarely crossed.
"Caelum Sanguine?" Fred asked.
"That's him," George confirmed before Caelum could respond. "Mind if we come in?"
"…Sure," Caelum said warily, straightening in his seat. Bastian raised an eyebrow but scooted over to make space.
"We heard something," Fred began, flopping into the seat beside Bastian.
"Something wild," George added, dropping into the seat next to Caelum.
Caelum tilted his head. "From where?"
"Our dad works at the Ministry," Fred said, grinning.
"And he doesn't realize we're quite good at listening behind doors," George finished.
"He mentioned something about you."
"Rosier Manor."
"A battle."
"Fire everywhere."
"Thirty-two casualties."
"Boom."
Bastian nearly choked on his breath. "Wait—what, how did you guys—?"
Caelum winced but said nothing.
Fred and George leaned in, eyes gleaming. "We know it's supposed to be all hush-hush. But blimey, Sanguine. You were in the middle of it?"
"And survived?" Fred asked, almost reverently.
Caelum sighed. "I didn't exactly plan for any of it."
George waved a hand. "Doesn't matter. You're officially fascinating now."
"We wanted to ask—"
"If you ever need help getting back at someone."
"With something loud."
"Or smokey."
"Or slightly illegal."
"We're your guys," they said in unison.
Caelum blinked, then laughed softly. "You're building a prank empire."
"That's the plan," Fred said proudly.
"Prank Kings of Hogwarts," George added. "But every kingdom needs allies."
"I'll keep that in mind," Caelum said, amused.
Just then, the door slid open again—and this time it was Evran, windblown and scowling.
"You started without me?" he said, then noticed the Weasleys. "Oh. Right. Gryffindor's twin terrors."
Fred and George gave theatrical bows before hopping up.
"Pleasure meeting you, Slytherin lot," Fred said.
"Let us know if you ever need fireworks or stink pellets," George added.
With a final nod, they vanished down the corridor, already plotting something else.
"Those two are going to blow up a toilet this year," Evran said, shaking his head as he took the last seat.
"They're already trying to recruit me," Caelum said, lips curling into a faint smile.
Bastian closed his playbook and leaned forward. "Anyway—Quidditch. Tryouts are right after the feast. You two better be ready. Slytherin's still missing a Chaser and a Keeper."
"I'm not trying out," Caelum said.
"Maybe not this year," Evran added, then nudged Caelum. "Still recovering?"
Caelum nodded. "Sort of. Healer's orders."
The train whistle blew. The compartment jolted slightly as the Hogwarts Express began its journey northward.
Caelum leaned back against the window, feeling the hum of the tracks beneath him, the faint weight of the Luxardent fire sleeping inside his palm. His body still ached faintly, and his magic still surged in unpredictable waves beneath his skin—but it was steadier now. Controlled.
Outside, the sky grew dimmer as the train rolled on toward the castle.
—
That evening, the Great Hall glowed with hundreds of candles floating in mid-air. The ceiling reflected the dusky sky, tinged with the last blush of sunset. Golden plates gleamed on the long house tables.
Caelum sat between Evran and Bastian at the Slytherin table. The hall buzzed with excited chatter and returning students, and Caelum caught more than a few glances sent his way—some curious, others cautious.
He kept his gaze ahead, watching as Professor McGonagall led the new first-years toward the Sorting Hat. Among them, he noticed a few familiar names.
One of them—Cho Chang—stood with quiet confidence as her name was called. After only a moment of deliberation, the Sorting Hat shouted:
"RAVENCLAW!"
Later came Cormac McLaggen, who looked smug even before the Hat touched his head. He went to GRYFFINDOR.
Caelum leaned slightly toward Bastian. "I see our house isn't getting all the flashy ones this year."
"We don't need flashy," Bastian muttered. "We've got you."
Caelum rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be forgotten again, thanks."
The Sorting continued, names echoing off stone walls. The candles flickered gently overhead.
As the last name was sorted, Dumbledore rose from the staff table, his blue robes shimmering subtly with silver thread. He welcomed them all back, gave a few humorous reminders about not setting off fireworks in the hallways (Fred and George grinned knowingly), and then declared the feast open.
Food appeared in an instant.
And yet, even surrounded by roast chicken, pumpkin juice, and the noise of returning life, Caelum couldn't shake the feeling that this year would be different.