As the train headed north, the sky gradually darkened.
Apart from Hermione's brief return after leaving, no one else disturbed their compartment.
The snacks Wayne had bought were devoured by the four of them, except for a few Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
Fred swore on his hairline that those beans were either booger or cockroach flavoured and inedible.
But as night fully descended, their stomachs growled, reminding them they were still hungry.
"Shouldn't we be arriving soon?"
Cedric looked out the window at the now pitch-black sky and made a guess. Sure enough, half an hour later, the train's announcement sounded.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."
"Finally. I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow," Fred grumbled.
The group stood up, removing their jackets and pulling on their robes.
It was now 6:30 p.m., and the train had been running for nearly eight hours, covering over a thousand kilometres. They had reached the northwestern edge of the British Isles—the Scottish Highlands.
Wayne mused about how, in later years, Scotland's push for independence had grown fierce, desperate to break away from the Commonwealth.
He wondered if, should they succeed, the school would still be considered part of British wizarding society.
With these amused speculations, Wayne stepped out of the compartment and off the train onto a small, dark platform.
Though it was still September, the air here was bitingly cold, carrying a sharp chill. Many young witches and wizards instinctively tightened their robes around themselves.
"Wayne, over here!"
Hermione spotted him first and called out loudly. The boy walked over, noticing Neville was no longer by her side.
Just then, a lantern flickered to life.
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years, over 'ere! Follow me, yeh lot!"
At the sight of Hagrid's enormous frame, several first-years trembled like quails, obediently trailing behind him like chicks following a mother hen.
They made their way down a steep, narrow path, flanked by darkness on either side, when Wayne suddenly felt a tug on his arm.
It was Hermione. The young witch didn't say a word, gripping his sleeve tightly.
"Afraid of the dark?" Wayne smirked, tilting his head to look at her.
"Of course not!" Hermione retorted stubbornly. "I'm just a bit nervous in a completely unfamiliar place. Who's scared of the dark at eleven years old?"
"Ow!"
A cry of pain came from ahead of them. A girl had slipped—the damp air had made the path treacherously muddy. Hermione quickly stepped forward to help her up.
"Thank you," the girl said gratefully, though she looked on the verge of tears upon seeing the mud stains on her robes.
At that moment, Wayne drew his wand and murmured, "Scourgify!"
Instantly, the grime vanished from the girl's robes, leaving them pristine once more. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "You already know how to use magic? That's amazing!"
"Not bad, Wayne," Hermione remarked, raising an eyebrow.
The difference from the scene she'd witnessed on the train was staggering.
"Well, all those books weren't for nothing," Wayne chuckled. "Let's hurry and catch up with the others."
Both girls nodded and fell into step beside Wayne.
After another ten minutes of walking, they rounded a bend—and gasped in unison.
At the end of the narrow path lay a vast black lake, and on the opposite shore, perched atop a cliff, stood a towering castle. Its turrets pierced the sky, and lights flickered in the windows like scattered stars.
Wayne, too, admired the breathtaking sight of Hogwarts Castle, its aura of mystery and the unknown captivating him.
In another world, countless children dreamed daily of an owl arriving with a letter. Now, in a way, Wayne was fulfilling that dream for them.
"No more'n four ter a boat!" Hagrid called out, pointing to the small vessels moored at the shore before climbing into one by himself.
The wooden boat visibly sank under the half-giant's weight, raising doubts about its sturdiness.
Wayne and the girls ended up in the last boat, just the three of them. As the boat glided toward the castle, the girl introduced herself.
Susan Bones.
Wayne remembered her as a minor character from the original story, with relatives holding high positions in the Ministry of Magic.
"'Eads down!"
Hagrid's booming voice reached them as the boats neared the cliff. Hermione and Susan immediately ducked, but Wayne remained upright.
Once they'd passed under the curtain of ivy, Hermione straightened up, glaring at him. "Why didn't you listen? What if there'd been danger?"
Wayne gave her a look of pity. "That giant is taller sitting down than I am standing. If he could pass without ducking, why should I?"
Hermione's mouth fell open. For once, she was at a loss for words, her face flushing with indignation. "Then why didn't you warn us?"
Susan Bones nodded vigorously in agreement. Exactly! How rude!
Wayne waved a dismissive hand. "If I'd warned you, it would've just made you look sillier."
That finally left Hermione speechless. Fortunately, the small boats soon reached the shore, breaking her awkwardness.
The group followed Hagrid up a flight of stone steps and gathered before the massive oak door. After a quick headcount confirmed no one was missing, Hagrid raised his enormous fist and knocked three times on the castle gates.
The doors creaked open slowly, revealing Professor McGonagall standing at the entrance, clad in her usual emerald-green robes. Many first-years felt the stern pressure emanating from her and didn't dare breathe too loudly.
"All th' firs'-years're here, Professor McGonagall."
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here."
McGonagall gestured for the doors to open fully, and the young witches and wizards filed in. The entrance hall was brilliantly lit and warm, with burning torches placed every half metre.
The faint hum of voices could already be heard from the right, but McGonagall led them to a small chamber on the other side of the Great Hall instead.
After a brief introduction about the upcoming Sorting Ceremony, Professor McGonagall left, promising to return in five minutes.
This time was meant for the young witches and wizards to straighten their robes and steady their nerves.
Though the professor had left the room, the atmosphere grew even more stifling. No one spoke; everyone was unbearably tense.
Wayne glanced around, muttering under his breath, his expression growing increasingly agitated. His striking appearance already drew attention, and finally, a young witch couldn't resist asking:
"What are you doing?"
Hooked.
Wayne narrowed his eyes, resembling a rather handsome fox.