Chapter 628: The New Term
"The Hogwarts Express has stopped; we are at Hogsmeade Station."
Hermione was still lost in the comforting thought of Dumbledore's return,
leaving Justin to gently retrieve her forgotten handbag.
They stepped out onto the pitch-black, rain-slicked platform. Outside the
station, a fleet of a hundred carriages—apparently horseless—awaited them in the
downpour. A low, ominous rumble of thunder shook the sky overhead. The three of
them scrambled into the nearest carriage, letting out simultaneous sighs of
relief as the heavy door slammed shut.
A moment later, with a violent jolt, the long procession of carriages lurched
forward along the winding, mud-slicked path toward Hogwarts Castle, kicking up
sprays of water with every turn of the wheels.
"Where did Professor Dumbledore go? Was it because of what happened at the
Quidditch World Cup?" Hermione asked, finally snapping out of her daze and
turning her large, dark eyes toward Sean.
"Yes," Sean replied simply.
Dumbledore and Sean occasionally corresponded, the Headmaster sharing fragments
of his magical insights. Sometimes, listening to the old man talk about
recapturing the sharpness of his youth felt like watching an elder eat a
Pepperup Potion—grimacing through the heat, but ultimately finding it effective.
"Mr. Green!"
Voices echoed from the carriages ahead and behind them as passing students
caught sight of him through the rain-spattered glass.
"Good evening," Sean called out.
"Did you see that? The Great Green just smiled at me!" "Rubbish, he was looking
right at me." "Is that Mr. Green? The same 'Mr. Green' from The Wizarding
Weekly?" "Sylar, are you actually a student here or just hallucinating?"
Three eager heads popped out of the window of a neighboring carriage. The
publication they were referring to was a recent spread in The Wizarding Weekly.
In the popularity poll for "Favorite Young Wizards," the name Sean Green had
claimed the number two spot, narrowly trailing behind the legendary Quidditch
star Viktor Krum.
Considering Green's Notes remained the best-selling series in the magical world,
and the persistent rumors that he was destined to be the youngest Headmaster in
Hogwarts history, the ranking hardly came as a surprise.
Of course, if the public had known who "Hermes" actually was, Sean would have
secured the top spot by a margin of ten to one.
"I can hardly believe I'm in the same House as Mr. Green, though I practically
never see him in the Ravenclaw common room..."
The chatter faded as the carriages wound their way closer to the castle. Through
the thick, weeping veil of rain, the glowing windows of Hogwarts looked like a
cluster of warm, welcoming stars.
Moments later, the carriage rattled to a halt on the stone steps before the
massive oak front doors. A jagged fork of lightning split the sky, illuminating
the students as they scrambled out of the carriages and sprinted for the shelter
of the entrance hall.
Inside, the torch-lit hall was grand and dry, dominated by the sweeping marble
staircase.
Peeves the Poltergeist was currently lurking near the ceiling, clutching a water
balloon like a tactical grenade, preparing to ambush the arrivals. But before he
could launch his payload, he was caught red-handed by Professor McGonagall.
"Peeves!" McGonagall roared, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "Peeves, get
down here this instant!"
She had come charging out of the Great Hall, her stride furious. Unfortunately,
the stone floor was slick with tracked-in rainwater. Her foot slipped, and she
let out a sharp gasp, her arms flailing.
Had she hit the ground, it would have been a nasty fall. But a fraction of a
second before impact, two invisible, serpentine vines whipped up from the
floorboards, wrapping gently around her waist and breaking her momentum.
"Ouch—Goodness—Thank you, Sean... Oh! Are you here already, child?" McGonagall
steadied herself, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Are you alright, Professor?" Sean asked, stepping forward to steady her by the
elbow. He willed the vines to dissolve back into the stone.
"I'm fine, I'm fine... Peeves! I am warning you!" McGonagall shouted,
straightening her pointed hat and glaring up at the ceiling through her square
spectacles.
"I didn't do anything!" Peeves cackled, though he quickly dropped his water
balloon. "Besides, they're already soaked, right? Hey, little brat! Catch!"
He snatched a fresh water bomb, taking aim at a second-year student who had just
stepped out of a carriage.
"I am going to fetch the Headmaster—" McGonagall threatened.
"I'm warning you, Peeves—"
Before the poltergeist could release the bomb, his manic grin froze. He caught
sight of a pair of calm, deep green eyes staring up at him from the crowd.
"Oh! Mr. Green! What a pleasant surprise..." Peeves dropped from the ceiling
with a theatrical flutter, landing gracefully right in front of Sean. He began
frantically dusting off Sean's shoulders with a miniature broom he'd pulled from
thin air. "I was wrong! I repent! Please, have mercy—don't banish me! Don't—oh,
Merlin, please, I don't want to see His lordship again—!"
McGonagall blinked, utterly bewildered by the poltergeist's sudden, abject
terror. She quickly composed herself, turning to the trembling crowd of
students.
"Into the Great Hall! All of you, move along!"
The hall was as magnificent as ever, dressed in its ceremonial best for the
start of term. Thousands of candles floated in mid-air, casting a golden glow
over silver plates and crystal goblets. The four long House tables were already
packed with chattering students.
At the far end of the room sat the Fifth Table—the High Table—where the faculty
sat in a long row facing their students.
The air was warm, smelling faintly of roasted meats and sweet pastries. It felt
safe. It felt stable.
Despite the political tremors shaking the outside world, the students were
quickly swept up in the magic of the evening, staring with eager anticipation at
the three-legged stool where the ancient, frayed Sorting Hat sat waiting.
The Great Hall fell into a hush. A seam near the brim of the hat twitched open
like a mouth, and it began to sing:
"A thousand years ago or more, When I was newly sown, There lived four wizards
of renown, Whose names are widely known: Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair
Ravenclaw, from glen, Sweet Hufflepuff, from rolling vale, Astute Slytherin,
from fen. They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, They dared to try and build, A
place where young and old might learn, And magic be fulfilled..."
The song wasn't particularly melodic, but it held the room's rapt attention.
"I swear it writes a new one every year," Justin whispered to Sean and Hermione
as the applause broke out. "How does it manage to rhyme 'marsh' with
'Slytherin'?"