Until the moment they boarded the train, Cassandra was still cradling her face, looking as if she hadn't quite recovered from the shock.
This was just too outrageous—her mind was like a cauldron boiling over.
Grindelwald!
That woman!
How dare she!
Cassandra was itching to confront Veratia about it, but she had already slipped away.
"Still thinking about Veratia?" Harry asked with concern.
In response, Cassandra shot him a glare so deadly it could've rivaled a Basilisk's stare.
Harry promptly shut his mouth and turned his gaze to the window, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the passing scenery.
"So," Ron piped up suddenly, "Harry, are you going to enter the Triwizard Tournament? If it's you, I bet Dumbledore would let you compete. I mean, who's more qualified than you?" He paused, then added, "Dumbledore would probably bend the rules for you—unless you don't want to?"
"I think it's better to give someone else a chance," Harry said, flipping through a Chocolate Frog card in his hand. "I don't need to prove myself through some tournament anymore—"
He wasn't wrong. After all, the legendary exploits of Mr. Potter had long been the stuff of wizarding lore, ringing in everyone's ears.
Harry's mindset had changed since his reckless, battle-hungry days as Hogwarts' infamous tough guy. Now, he preferred a quieter life.
"From the way you talk, you'd think you were already decades old," Cassandra scoffed from the side. She glanced at Hermione, who looked anxious. "Oh, Merlin's toenails, you didn't actually believe him, did you, Granger? What a silly girl… A spotlight-loving Seeker like Potter? Miss a chance to make a name for himself? Please."
"So, do you want to or not?" Hermione asked, her eyes fixed on Harry with a pleading look.
"I'm thinking…" Harry hesitated. "Do I want to… or don't I?"
He was genuinely stumped. Should he want to compete, or shouldn't he?
Before he could mull it over further, the compartment door slid open with a bang, revealing the Weasley twins.
"Hey, Ronniekins," Fred said, waving a large parcel in his hand. "Look at this! Mum said it's for you—go on, have a peek. You'll love it."
"What's this?" Ron asked, a bad feeling creeping up on him, though he couldn't quite place why.
"Oh, just open it and find out," the twins said with matching mischievous grins. "One look, trust us—it'll definitely satisfy you…"
Ron's curiosity got the better of him. He stood up, took the parcel from his brothers, and opened it…
"What the heck?"
He pulled out a robe—or rather, something more akin to a garish, plum-colored velvet dress, complete with moldy-looking ruffled lace at the collar and matching frills at the cuffs.
Whether it was his imagination or not, Ron could've sworn he caught a whiff of mustiness.
"Dress robes," the twins said, snickering. "Remember the new supply list? It said we need dress robes. Oh, and Harry, you saw that too, right?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Sirius already sorted mine out."
He glanced at Ron's so-called dress robes and tried—really tried—not to laugh.
He failed.
"Hahahaha!"
Ron's face turned as red as his hair, his freckles standing out even more.
"This has to be Ginny's," he muttered. "No way this is for me. No way am I wearing this!"
"Oh, come off it, Ron," Ginny said, speaking so fast it was almost a blur. "That's yours. Look at the size—do you honestly think I could fit into that?"
She had a point. The robe was so large it could probably swallow Ginny whole.
"Mum's got to be joking," Ron said, staring at the robe in horror, his voice trembling with disbelief. "I'm not wearing this. No way!"
"Everyone's got to wear them, Ron!" the twins said, still laughing. "They're all like that. Dad's got a few himself—says Mum, for 'respectable gatherings.'"
"I'd rather go starkers than wear this," Ron declared stubbornly.
"Don't be daft, Ronniekins," the twins teased. "There's another option. Put it on now, let Colin Creevey snap a few photos, and we'll pop over to Madam Malkin's in Hogsmeade to get you a robe you actually like. Deal?"
"I don't trust you two to be that generous," Ron said, tossing the robe aside with a huff.
"You wound us, Ronniekins," the twins said with mock disappointment. "Fine, if you don't want it, wear that robe and make a grand entrance in front of the whole school—"
"Alright, fine, I'll do it!" Ron said, his face flushing even redder. "But not until we're back at school. That's my line in the sand."
"Deal," the twins said, exchanging a glance and high-fiving each other. "By the way, Lee Jordan's got his hands on a massive scorpion. We're off to check it out. Catch you later!"
"A scorpion?" Ron looked up suspiciously as the twins left. "If I'm not mistaken, Lee Jordan always shows up at the start of term with some bizarre creature. First year was spiders, second year was a giant centipede, third year was millipedes, and now a scorpion? I'm terrified to think what's next…"
"They're all arthropods," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "But he's just so… eww…"
"I heard fried giant scorpion is pretty tasty," Harry chimed in. "Lee Jordan said the claws taste like crab…"
"If you dare eat that, stay away from me!" Cassandra said without hesitation.
"Alright, alright," Harry said with a shrug. "Not like I've got a taste for weird food anyway."
The train rattled along toward Hogwarts, dark clouds gathering overhead, the sky growing ever gloomier.
Some time later, thunder roared outside, and soon raindrops pelted the windows, splattering into tiny bursts of water.
"Looks like the first-years are in for a rough time," Ron said with a gleeful smirk. "We've got carriages, but those poor sods have to take the boats. Hope Hagrid's got umbrellas for them."
"He will," Hermione said, though her voice lacked conviction.
By the time the sky was fully shrouded in darkness, they arrived at Hogwarts in a torrential downpour.
The carriage doors opened, and the rumble of thunder echoed through the air. Hermione pulled her cloak over her parrot, Jack, while Ron draped his dress robes over his owl's cage.
The students spilled out of the train, heads bowed and eyes squinting against the relentless rain.
The downpour was fierce, like buckets of icy water being dumped over their heads.
Harry raised his hand and cast a swift Protego overhead, shielding them from the rain.
"Let's go," he said.
"Magic's brilliant," Ron said, grinning. "Never would've thought to use Protego like that."
"If you could think of it, you wouldn't be Ron," Hermione quipped from behind.
They hadn't gone far when they spotted a massive figure at the far end of the platform.
"Hey, Hagrid!" Harry called, waving. "You alright?"
"All good, Harry!" Hagrid's booming voice came back as he waved. "If we don't drown, I'll see you at the feast!"
Even in the pouring rain, tradition held firm: first-years would cross the lake with Hagrid, rowing to Hogwarts Castle to experience the founders' arduous journey.
A bit of manufactured hardship, perhaps, but the wizarding world never shied away from a touch of nostalgic suffering.
"I can't imagine crossing the lake in this weather," Hermione said, shivering as a gust of cold wind hit her, making her head spin.
They shuffled forward with the crowd, moving slowly across the rain-slicked platform.
"You okay?" Harry asked, turning to Cassandra with concern.
"I'm fine," Cassandra said, holding her head high, though her face was a touch pale.
The cold clearly wasn't agreeing with her.
Harry slipped off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. "Put this on. You'll feel better."
"Thanks," Cassandra said, accepting it without protest and pulling it tighter around herself.
Outside the station, over a hundred horseless carriages awaited—at least, they appeared horseless to Ron and Hermione.
"Thestrals," Cassandra said to Harry.
They climbed into one of the carriages, finally breathing a sigh of relief.
The door slammed shut, and moments later, with a jolt, the long line of carriages rumbled down the path to Hogwarts, splashing through puddles.
The rain battered the carriage roof, creating a steady, drumming noise.
"Sometimes I think back to when I was little," Hermione said, shaking out her hair with a smile. "I used to imagine being on a ship in a stormy sea, listening to the rain hit the deck, with a cozy fireplace nearby, reading a book…"
"Sounds utterly depressing," Ron said, shaking his red hair and flicking water droplets onto Hermione's bare leg.
"Oi, that's cold!" Hermione swatted him. "People like you, who don't know the first thing about learning, will never understand how lovely it is to read in that kind of setting."
"And you'll never know how much fun it is to play Wizard's Chess on a mountaintop," Ron shot back.
Hermione huffed and fell silent.
The carriage passed through the gates flanked by winged boar statues, rattling along the wide driveway as the wind howled, rocking the carriage violently.
Hogwarts loomed closer, its lit windows glowing faintly through the thick curtain of rain.
Their carriage stopped at the stone steps leading to the oak front doors. A flash of lightning split the sky as students from the carriages ahead hurried up the steps into the castle.
"Let's get ready to disembark," Harry said, standing. "The ground looks a bit flooded, so watch your shoes."
"I'll need to be careful," Ron said cautiously. "Stepping in a puddle would be miserable—wet shoes are the worst."
"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione said, patting her chest confidently. "I've learned a drying charm. If your shoes get wet, I've got you covered."
"I'd rather not test it," Ron replied.
He opened the carriage door. Fortunately, the wind was blowing from the front, keeping the rain out of the compartment.
Ron struck a long-jump pose and leapt onto the steps, turning back with a triumphant grin.
"Don't mind him," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Just wait—"
Before she could finish, a staircase appeared in front of them.
"Hurry up," Cassandra said. "The Transfiguration won't hold for long—it's made of water."
They climbed the staircase to the steps, where Ron was already waiting in the entrance hall.
As he turned, a red ball loomed larger in his vision.
"Depulso!"
Ron's reaction was lightning-fast. His spell hit the red ball, sending it flying backward—straight into Colin Creevey's face.
Colin stumbled back from the impact, and the ball exploded with a pop, dousing him in water.
Ron looked up to see Peeves, the mischievous poltergeist, floating nearby. The diminutive figure wore a bell-adorned jester's hat and an orange bow tie, drifting through the air with another water balloon in hand.
"Waddiwasi!"
Ron's spell struck Peeves, who somersaulted backward as his water balloon burst in his hands.
It was a charm Lupin had taught him, perfect for dealing with the pesky poltergeist.
"Nice one, Ron!" Hermione praised.
Peeves let out an indignant wail and vanished.
"Guess he knows who's boss now, eh?" Ron said, tucking his wand away with a smug grin, looking for all the world like he'd just won the Quidditch World Cup.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall emerged from the entrance hall.
"Come along, now," she said sternly, her eyes sweeping the group before settling on Ron. "Well done, Mr. Weasley. If it weren't for the timing, I'd award Gryffindor five points…"
"It's not too late to add them now," Ron muttered.
"What was that?" McGonagall asked, not quite catching his words.
"I said you're right, Professor," Ron said, spreading his hands innocently.
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