The experiences of the past nine years had made Phineas yearn for friendship and family more than ever. Unfortunately, these were the very things most out of reach for him at this time.
After a short period of calm, the train finally began to slow as it approached Hogsmeade Station—signaling their arrival at Hogwarts.
Phineas stood and put on his specially tailored Hogwarts robe, which bore a nameplate engraved with his name. Though the robe concealed a full set of casual clothes, it was well-made and not uncomfortable to wear.
A voice soon echoed throughout the train:
"We will arrive at Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage in the carriage. It will be brought to the school separately."
Phineas didn't rush to leave his compartment. He knew the corridor would be packed with students—noisy, crowded, and chaotic. Better to wait a few minutes and avoid the crush.
Sure enough, once the worst of the crowd had passed, the corridor became more manageable. Not all the students had disembarked, but Phineas was no longer in danger of being jostled and shoved.
Following the flow of students off the train, he stepped onto a small, dark platform. The evening air was cold, and a biting wind made even Phineas—clad in two layers—shiver slightly.
A flickering lantern bobbed up and down in the distance, rising above the students' heads.
Then came a loud, booming voice:
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"
The voice belonged to Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts' gamekeeper and one of Headmaster Dumbledore's most loyal supporters. A half-giant, Hagrid had once been a student himself, before being expelled under unfortunate circumstances.
Kind-hearted though he was, Hagrid's warmth didn't extend to Phineas—not with his last name.
With his thick hair and beard nearly obscuring his face, Hagrid's bulky form weaved through the crowd like a giant bear.
"C'mon now! Any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, follow me!"
He held the lantern aloft—though perhaps not intentionally, as his great height made it seem that way regardless.
The first-years stumbled after him down a narrow, winding path flanked on both sides by forest. It was dark and steep.
Hagrid guided them with loud encouragement:
"Yeh're abou' to see Hogwarts for the firs' time. Jus' round this bend—"
And just like that, the trail opened up. A vast black lake stretched before them. At its far end, perched between two towering peaks, was the magnificent castle of Hogwarts. Its many towers and turrets sparkled with light under the starry sky.
"Hello, Hogwarts," Phineas whispered to himself.
In his previous life, what child hadn't dreamt of turning eleven and receiving a letter with a grand "H" and four house crests, delivered by an owl tapping at their window?
No one ever got that letter back then. But now—he had made it.
"Four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, pointing toward the boats moored along the shore.
Just as on the train, most students avoided Phineas. No one wanted to share a boat with a Black.
But the number of boats was fixed to match the number of first-years. Being alone wasn't an option.
Eventually, a boy and two girls hesitantly climbed into the boat with Phineas.
"Everyone in?" Hagrid bellowed from the lead boat. Once he was sure no one was left behind, he shouted, "Right then—forward!"
As the boats glided across the lake, one of the girls sitting with Phineas asked timidly:
"Um… why does everyone seem afraid of you?"
Her question made the other two students stiffen in fear. Their faces paled visibly.
Phineas glanced at them and instantly understood—they were likely half-bloods or pure-bloods from families loyal to Dumbledore.
He turned to the curious girl and gave her a small smile.
"Your parents are Muggles, right? You know what that means, don't you?"
She nodded shyly. "Yes… ordinary people who can't do magic. Professor McGonagall explained when she visited us."
"Right," Phineas said, nodding. "That's why you don't know."
He raised his hand slightly, flashing the ring of the House of Black.
"I'm from the Black family—one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families. That alone makes others either afraid of me… or hate me."
The girl looked puzzled, clearly unfamiliar with the legacy of war in the wizarding world.
Phineas sighed, then continued gently:
"You've heard of Voldemort, yes? My family was one of the few that openly supported him during the last war. So many half-bloods and Muggle-born families now see us as dangerous."
The girl trembled slightly. Her confusion had turned into unease.
"But I don't support him," Phineas added quickly. "He was unhinged. Mad, really."
The other two students stared at him in shock. Even after nine years, Voldemort's name still evoked fear. Saying it aloud was enough to unnerve even the bravest.
Phineas, however, was unmoved. He shook his head in disappointment.
In his eyes, Voldemort had been a narrow-minded fanatic. A man with grand ideals but no real vision—more terrorist than revolutionary.
He didn't even expand beyond Britain. The first Dark Lord had global reach. Voldemort? Just a local tyrant.
The two magical-born students looked stricken, as though he'd uttered the unthinkable. Phineas merely shrugged.
"That's why they fear me."