1st September arrived, and with it, the return to Hogwarts.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was packed, just as it always was on that morning.
Steam from the Hogwarts Express rolled across the platform in thick clouds, mixing with the noise of students calling out to each other and parents trying to get in final instructions before departure.
Owls hooted from their cages, trunks scraped along the ground, and everywhere there was movement—organized in a way that only looked like chaos.
Inside the Hogwarts Express, the compartment had settled into that familiar early-journey mess—trunks shoved overhead, the door half open, voices drifting in from the corridor as students passed by looking for better seats they weren't going to find.
Victor sat beside Hermione near the window, while Ron and Harry took the seats opposite them. The train had just started moving, the platform slowly sliding away outside.
Ron leaned back, glancing out with a slight frown.
"I don't know why, but this year the train feels packed," he said. "I can't believe this."
Victor didn't even look.
"It's not, Ron," he said calmly. "It's the same as always. Hogwarts doesn't suddenly decide to admit extra students for fun."
Ron rolled his eyes.
"Still feels like it."
"It's because everyone arrives at once," Hermione said. "You say this every year."
Ron ignored that.
"Whatever," he said, shifting in his seat. "I'm just glad last year's over. That whole thing was a nightmare. My wand breaking, Ginny getting dragged into that diary mess… honestly, I'd like one normal year."
Harry gave a small nod, clearly agreeing.
Hermione glanced at him, then back at Ron.
"So what are you planning this year?" she asked. "Please don't say 'nothing' again. Maybe aim for better marks? Or at least try to pass without panicking at the end?"
Ron straightened, a grin forming like he'd been waiting for that.
"I've got a plan," he said. "I'm joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
Harry looked interested.
"Keeper?"
"Yeah," Ron said, leaning forward now, clearly getting into it. "Think about it—once I'm on the team, that's it. People actually notice you. Not just 'Harry's friend' or 'someone's brother'. Proper recognition."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"You do realize you'll have to actually be good," she said. "Quidditch trials aren't charity."
"I know that," Ron said quickly, though his confidence was doing most of the work. "I'll manage."
Victor glanced at him, expression unreadable.
"Fame through Quidditch," he said. "At least that's a clearer plan than whatever you usually come up with."
Ron frowned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Victor leaned back slightly.
"It means this time your plan has a direction," he said. "Even if your reasons are… questionable."
Ron squinted at him.
"My reasons are perfectly fine."
Hermione let out a small breath, clearly unconvinced.
"Yes," she said dryly. "Wanting to be famous has always led to excellent decision-making."
Ron ignored that completely.
Harry smiled faintly, watching them.
Victor said nothing more, though the slight look he gave Ron made it clear he didn't entirely trust whatever "motivation" was behind that plan.
The train picked up speed, the countryside beginning to replace the city outside, while inside the compartment the usual pattern settled in again—arguments, plans, and the same group, starting another year like nothing had changed.
As time passed, evening settled in, and the sky darkened faster than it should have. Rain began to fall, first light, then steady, tapping against the windows until it turned into a constant sheet that blurred everything outside.
The atmosphere inside the train shifted with it, the earlier noise fading into something quieter, heavier.
Then the cold came.
Not the usual chill from bad weather, but something sharper, unnatural. It crept in without warning, making the air feel thin and difficult.
The train suddenly jolted.
A harsh, rattling stop that ran through every compartment at once, throwing off the steady rhythm of the journey. Luggage shifted, voices rose outside in confusion, and the entire train came to a standstill in the middle of nowhere.
Ron straightened immediately, looking around.
"Why did we stop?" he asked, frowning as he leaned toward the window.
Victor didn't answer.
He was already looking outside, his gaze steady despite the rain making it almost impossible to see anything clearly. Lightning flickered faintly behind the clouds, but it didn't illuminate much.
Still—
He knew.
Dementors.
The feeling alone was enough to confirm it.
Ron pressed closer to the glass, wiping part of it with his sleeve, only to pull back slightly.
"It's freezing," he said, his voice dropping without him realizing it. "Why is it suddenly this cold?"
Hermione wrapped her arms slightly around herself, her expression tightening.
"This isn't normal," she said.
Before anything else could be said, the lights in the compartment flickered once—
Then went out completely.
Darkness filled the space at once, thick and immediate, broken only by faint grey light through the rain-covered window.
Ron flinched.
"Brilliant," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.
The compartment door slid open with a slow, dragging sound.
Hermione turned toward it immediately.
"Did someone just come in?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
A cold wind followed, sweeping through the compartment, sharp enough to make all of them stiffen. It wasn't a normal draft. It felt heavier, wrong.
Harry started to get up.
"I'll check—"
Victor lifted a hand slightly, stopping him.
"Sit."
There was no room to argue. Harry hesitated, then stayed where he was.
Victor had already taken out his wand.
The corridor outside their compartment had gone quiet.
Through the glass panel on the cabin door, a shape moved.
At first it looked like someone standing there, but as it drifted closer, the details didn't fit. The figure was tall, its body hidden under dark, tattered robes that hung loosely, as if there was nothing solid beneath them.
It glided.
Ron leaned forward slightly, then froze.
"What is that?" he whispered, his voice tight.
The figure stopped just outside their cabin.
The glass fogged instantly.
Frost spread from the edges, creeping inward in thin, jagged lines as the temperature dropped even further. Hermione pulled her arms closer to herself, her breath now visible in the air.
The door handle turned slowly.
*****
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