After what felt like an endless journey through the Scottish Highlands, the scarlet Hogwarts Express finally shuddered to a halt at Hogsmeade Station in the evening.
The familiar whistle that usually announced their arrival was almost drowned out by the relentless drumming of rain against the train's windows.
When Harry and his friends stepped down from their compartment onto the station platform, they were immediately assaulted by the ferocity of the storm.
Torrential sheets of rain fell with such violence that they created an almost impenetrable curtain of water around the platform, turning the familiar station into an alien landscape of blurred shapes and echoing sounds.
The raindrops struck their faces with the force of tiny hammers, so hard and fast that keeping their eyes open became a genuine struggle.
"This bloody weather!" Ron roared over the thunderous sound of the downpour, attempting to pull his school robes up over his head like a makeshift hood.
The cloth, however, was already so thoroughly saturated that it provided about as much protection as a fishing net.
Water streamed down his face and dripped steadily from the end of his nose, giving him the appearance of a half-drowned cat.
The platform around them had fallen into controlled chaos.
Students emerged from the train cars only to immediately huddle against the carriages or press themselves against the small station building, seeking any available shelter from the assault of wind and rain.
The usual excited chatter that accompanied the return to Hogwarts was replaced by shouts and exclamations as people struggled to protect their belongings and themselves.
Fortunately, they were no longer helpless first-years completely dependent on others for magical assistance and were also at Hogwarts.
Hermione waved her wand and cast three Impervious Charms, instantly creating a transparent barrier above the three of them that kept the pelting rain at bay.
"When did you learn to do that?" Ron asked in genuine amazement, tilting his head back to stare up at the magical barrier that floated above them.
Rain struck the invisible shield and simply slid off in all directions, creating the surreal effect of standing in the eye of a very localized hurricane. "I don't remember covering weather charms in any of our classes."
Curious, he reached up tentatively to touch the barrier, only to discover that his hand passed through it without resistance.
The charm seemed specifically designed to repel water while allowing everything else to pass through unimpeded, it seemed to be a remarkable piece of practical magic.
"I learned it over the summer," Hermione replied with pride at the successful demonstration of her new skills. "Professor Westeros taught me quite a few useful everyday charms during our study sessions. He said that practical magic should make life easier, not just provide ways to hurt people or show off."
Her tone carried a slight note of superiority that showed she had been looking forward to demonstrating her expanded magical repertoire to her friends.
Harry took a moment to glance around the platform, observing how the older students were coping with the adverse conditions.
His study revealed a fascinating variety of magical solutions to the same basic problem.
Some of the seventh-years had transfigured their surrounding tools and twigs into proper umbrellas.
Others had picked for variations of Hermione's approach, surrounding themselves with shimmering barriers of repelled water that created small pockets of calm in the midst of the storm.
A few particularly creative students had managed to transfigure their school robes into hooded cloaks that seemed to actively repel rain though it didn't seem to have much effect.
But what caught Harry's attention most were the Slytherin students who had decided to make entertainment out of others' misfortune.
Several of them had conjured small, dark rain clouds that followed specific Gryffindor students around the platform like malicious pets, drenching their targets with concentrated rain while their creators stood safely aside, laughing at the results.
"How absolutely childish!" Hermione muttered with obvious disdain, watching a group of fourth-year Slytherins snicker as their conjured cloud soaked a pair of first-year Gryffindors who were already struggling with the natural rain.
Without hesitation, she flicked her wand in a sharp movement.
A vivid golden light flashed from the tip, and the hovering rain cloud immediately transformed into something resembling bright pink cotton candy.
The transformation drew immediate bursts of laughter from nearby students of all houses. The conjured sweet continued to float above the now-embarrassed bullies, dripping pink syrup instead of rain and attracting a small flock of curious birds that had apparently mistaken it for an actual treat.
As Harry continued scanning the crowd, his attention was drawn to a familiar figure standing near the edge of the platform.
Draco Malfoy stood in relative comfort between his usual bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, holding an obviously expensive umbrella that looked like it had been crafted from black silk and decorated with genuine gold threads.
The umbrella was large enough to provide complete protection for all three Slytherins, and its elegant design made it clear that it had weather protection charm.
What struck Harry as odd, however, was Malfoy's unusual restraint.
Typically, the return to Hogwarts provided the Slytherin with ample opportunities to make snide comments about other students' appearances, mock the younger years for their obvious nervousness, or generally make himself an unpleasant presence.
Today, however, he seemed content to stand quietly under his umbrella, making no effort to draw attention to himself or cause trouble for others.
The change in behavior was so different that Harry began focused on observing Malfoy more carefully, trying to understand what might have driven such unusual restraint.
He looked thoughtfully toward Crabbe and noticed that Crabbe appeared dazed, with vacant eyes and a completely absent-minded expression.
'Poor fellow,' Harry thought silently to himself.
Crabbe must have received word of his father's death by now, though it remained unclear how much of the truth he had been told.
"Come on, Harry!" Ron's voice shattered through his melancholy reflections, calling from somewhere ahead where the crowd was beginning to move toward the waiting carriages. "What are you doing over there? We need to get going!"
"Coming!" Harry called back, shaking himself out of his thoughtful mood and hurrying to catch up with his friends.
The carriages that would transport them to the castle had been waiting patiently near the station despite the brutal weather conditions.
As Harry approached one of the nearby carriages, intending to climb aboard and escape the last traces of the storm. The Thestral harnessed to their carriage suddenly lifted its head and turned to look at him.
The creature's large, white eyes held an intelligence that many people found unsettling, but Harry had grown somewhat accustomed to the Thestrals during his Care of Magical Creatures classes.
What was unusual, however, was the Thestral's behavior. Instead of maintaining the distance, the creature took several steps in Harry's direction.
When it reached him, the Thestral lowered its great head and gently nuzzled Harry's outstretched hand with obvious affection.
Its breath was cold against his palm—not unpleasantly so, but with a peculiar chill that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than simple temperature.
"It likes you," came a dreamy, ethereal voice through the rain.
Harry turned to find Luna Lovegood standing just outside the range of Hermione's protective charm, apparently completely unbothered by the fact that she was being thoroughly soaked by the continuing downpour.
Her silvery hair hung in wet strands around her face, plastered to her cheeks and neck by the rain, while her pale eyes gazed at him with that expression of serene otherworldliness.
Despite being drenched to the skin, Luna seemed perfectly content with her situation, as if standing in a thunderstorm was no different from taking a leisurely stroll through a garden on a pleasant spring day.
"Luna?" Harry asked in surprise, raising his voice to be heard over the storm.
"Why aren't you getting in a carriage? You're absolutely soaked! Do you want me to ask Hermione to extend her Impervious Charm to cover you as well?"
"Oh, no thank you," Luna replied seemingly oblivious to the water streaming down her face and dripping from her chin. "I quite like the smell of rain, actually. It smells exactly like the moon does on clear nights."
Harry had no idea what the moon was supposed to smell like, but he was quite certain that they should all be getting into the carriages and heading for the castle rather than standing around in a thunderstorm discussing lunar aromatics.
Luna, however, seemed to be in no particular hurry to seek shelter or resume their journey.
"Did you know," she said suddenly, her dreamy voice taking on a slightly more serious tone, "that the closer you are to death, the more strongly Thestrals are drawn to you? They can sense the scent of mortality on a person, and they're attracted to it like flowers turn toward sunlight."
"What?" Harry blinked in confusion, not entirely sure he had heard her correctly over the sound of the rain. "Who told you that?"
"No one told me," Luna replied with a gentle shake of her head. "That's simply what I believe to be true. Well, goodbye then,"
Luna immediately turned and left, while Harry stood there completely bewildered.
"Hey!" Ron's increasingly impatient voice called from inside their carriage. "What are you standing out there for? We're all getting soaked just from having the door open!"
Harry quickly climbed aboard, settling into the interior of the carriage while his mind continued to puzzle over Luna's strange words.
Perhaps the rumors about Hogwarts weren't wrong—this girl really was a bit mad.
The carriage traveled smoothly toward the castle through the storm. Harry gazed out at the torrential rain and couldn't help but worry about the first-year students, they would need to cross the Black Lake in small boats in this weather, and if they capsized...
The carriage soon came to a smooth stop, and Harry followed the crowd up the steps.
Professor McGonagall was already waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall.
"Quickly now, everyone inside," She called with abrupt efficiency, raising her wand as students began streaming up the steps in small groups. "No dawdling in this weather."
With a series of complex wand movements, Professor McGonagall began casting warming and drying charms on each group of students as they passed.
Everyone's robes immediately became dry and warm, and the water droplets in their hair vanished without a trace.
Harry entered the Great Hall, which looked exactly the same as always with floating candles, the four house tables, and a ceiling like the starry sky. After taking his seat, his gaze involuntarily swept toward the staff table, where all the professors were already seated, including Professor Westeros.
Of course, as always, the most intriguing figure at the staff table was whoever had been chosen to fill the cursed position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Sure enough, after a brief observation, Harry spotted an unfamiliar figure at the professors' table, sitting right next to Professor Westeros.
He appeared to be a middle-aged wizard, or perhaps older. The most striking feature about him was a bright blue magical eye that kept rolling around constantly. Besides that, his face seemed covered in scars, and his nose looked like a chunk had been bitten off, giving him a rather horrifying appearance.
"Do you see him?" Harry whispered to Ron, nodding sneakily toward the staff table. The new professor, he has a fake eye."
"I think I might know who that is," Ron replied in an equally low voice, squinting as he tried to get a better look at the intimidating figure. After a moment of concentration, his expression suddenly shifted to one of recognition and excitement. "Oh! I remember now: that's Moody. Mad-Eye Moody!"
Harry was about to ask for more details about this apparently famous person when the Great Hall's doors opened once again.
Professor McGonagall led a group of first-year students into the Great Hall, and it was immediately obvious that their traditional boat journey across the Black Lake had been even more distressing than Harry had feared.
They looked absolutely miserable, with several children's lips turned purple from cold.
"They must have had a terrible time crossing the lake in this weather," Hermione observed with genuine sympathy. "Those poor children look like they're ready to collapse."
Harry nodded in agreement.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall was not inclined to let the children suffer any longer than absolutely necessary.
With the same efficient wand work she had demonstrated at the entrance, she began casting warming and drying charms over the entire group of first-years. Steam rose from their robes as the moisture was extracted, while color gradually returned to pale faces and blue-tinged lips.
Within minutes, the disheveled, half-frozen children had been restored to something approaching normal appearance.
Once all the first-year students had been properly attended to and had managed to arrange their appearance into something suitable for a formal ceremony, Professor McGonagall led them to the front of the Great Hall where the traditional Sorting would take place.
Under everyone's watchful gaze, Professor Westeros stood up from the staff table, brought over a three-legged stool and placed it in front of the new students, then set the tattered Sorting Hat on top of it.
Ah yes, this year's Sorting ceremony would be conducted by Professor Westeros—Dumbledore had personally entrusted him with this task.
Adrian had thought that Dumbledore's urgent summons meant something important was happening, but it turned out to be just this. Well, it wasn't bad, at least it was more interesting than sitting stupidly at the staff table applauding.
"Ahem," Adrian cleared his throat formally. "Now then, would all first-year students please—"
"Excuse me!" the Sorting Hat interrupted with obvious indignation. "Aren't you forgetting something rather important here? I haven't performed my song yet!"
"Oh, my apologies," Adrian replied with good humor, stepping back from the stool with an appropriately remorseful expression. "Please, by all means, proceed with your performance."
________________
You can read more chapters on:
/IamLuis