Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye. Cael spent most of his days refining spells, reinforcing the wards around his house, and drilling his defense work in the chamber he had built beneath the floorboards. Hermione visited often—sometimes to practice spells, sometimes just to talk. Crookshanks, who had fully claimed her as her own, had also taken a curious liking to Cael's spell scrolls, frequently lying across the most important lines.
But August 31st had come at last—the eve of a new Hogwarts year.
Cael packed his bag early that morning, using an enchanted rucksack with a bottomless interior. Robes, books, cauldron, wand holsters, and even his mother's rune journal were tucked safely inside. After one last inspection of the house, he reactivated it's defensive runes, then stepped into the fireplace, tossed a pinch of Floo Powder, and vanished in a swirl of green flame.
He emerged at King's Cross Station 2 hours ahead of schedule—just the way he liked it.
The sky above London was grey and misting with rain. A few early arrivals milled around on Platform 9¾, but most compartments were still empty. Cael placed his bag on a seat inside one of the rear train carriages and promptly stretched across the bench. With two hours to spare, he closed his eyes and dozed off to the sound of distant voices and clanking trolleys.
He awoke with a splash.
"AARGH—!" Cael jerked upright, drenched, wand already in hand and pointing at—
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" said Fred cheerfully.
"Thought you needed a bath," added George. "You're welcome!"
Both twins were doubled over, laughing as Cael shook his soaked hair like a dog and muttered a drying charm.
"You idiots dumped a river on me," he grumbled, wand still raised.
"Correction," said Fred, "a controlled stream. Very civilised."
Cael rolled his eyes, cast a drying spell on himself, and sat back down. "Merlin, I missed you both."
"You're lucky we're delightful," George said. "Now come on, we've got gossip to catch up on."
Cael smirked. "I saw the newspaper. Egypt, huh? You lot went international."
Fred puffed up with fake pride. "Indeed. Our dear father won a Ministry lottery. Dragged the whole family off to visit our curse-breaking brother Bill."
George nodded. "Saw the Pyramids. Fought a mummy. Mum nearly hexed Fred into a sarcophagus."
Fred shrugged. "Totally worth it."
"And you," said George, leaning forward with a grin. "Heard you served Lucius Malfoy a five-course meal—mud pie entrée with a side of public humiliation."
Cael chuckled. "Yeah… got a little carried away."
"Legendary," Fred said. "Wish we'd been there."
"But be careful," George warned. "That snake's got fangs. The kind that sue you."
"I'm not worried about Lucius," Cael said with a shrug.
"Speaking of insufferable people," Fred muttered, "guess who got the Head Boy badge?"
"Percy," Cael said instantly.
"Ding ding ding!" George said. "He practically wrote his own anthem. Walks around with his badge polished so bright you can use it to signal ships."
Fred put on a fake deep voice and puffed out his chest. "'I swear to uphold the honour of Hogwarts with unwavering justice and absolute fairness, blah blah blah—' Honestly, I think he cried when McGonagall gave it to him."
"Do you know," George said, "he's already planning patrol shifts for Christmas break?"
Cael laughed. "Why would Dumbledore even pick him?"
"Politics," Fred said. "He's a Gryffindor, it's his final year, and it'll look great when he applies to the Ministry of Red Tape."
Just then, as if summoned by mockery alone, the carriage door slid open.
There stood Percy Ignatius Weasley, radiating authority like a badly enchanted lamp. His chest puffed so far forward it was a miracle he could balance upright. The Head Boy badge gleamed like it had been kissed by the sun.
"I'm warning you," he said in a pompous voice that immediately killed all joy in the compartment, "this year, there will be no nonsense. I am Head Boy, and I expect all of you to behave accordingly. Especially you three."
Cael raised an eyebrow. "Didn't stop us last year. Or the year before."
Fred leaned forward. "Dear Percy, if I breathe wrong in a corridor, will you deduct house points?"
"Will there be a chart?" George added. "Color-coded, maybe?"
Percy glared at them, red ears already starting to glow. "I will be watching you personally, Cael. The moment you step one foot out of line—one toe in the wrong corridor—I will be on you like Filch on confiscated dungbombs."
Cael smiled. "So it's a duel, then?"
Percy stiffened. "Whatever you call it. Just remember—I am the authority now."
And with a swirl of robes and ego, he was gone.
The second the door closed, all three boys collapsed in laughter.
Fred wiped a tear from his eye. "Did he really say 'on you like Filch on dungbombs'?"
George groaned. "If he polishes that badge one more time, it's going to peel the enamel off his teeth."
Lee Jordan entered a few moments later and flopped into the seat. "Oi, Cael! I sent you three letters over the summer—every one bounced back!"
"I wasn't in England," Cael said. "I was in France."
Fred leaned in, eyes gleaming. "France? What were you doing there, monsieur mysterious?"
Cael hesitated. "Something personal. I found some things that belonged to my mum. Books. Records. The kind of stuff not even the Ministry kept."
"Did you visit Beauxbatons?" Lee asked eagerly.
"No. It's warded tighter than Gringotts. But I did visit a few magical spots. Picked up a few souvenirs, too."
He pulled out a few sleek prank props he'd brought for the twins—trick ink that glowed like fire, a box of exploding licorice, and a pair of enchanted socks that never matched but always itched.
"For Lee," Cael said, handing him a polished microphone enchanted with amplification and audio charmwork, "something a bit more professional."
Lee's eyes went wide. "This is brilliant! I'm gonna use this when I do match commentary. I swear I'll become a professional announcer someday."
"You'd better," Cael said with a grin.
The train had long since filled, and the trolley witch came by. They stocked up on snacks, laughing and chatting—until the mood shifted.
Dark clouds rolled in, and the light dimmed unnaturally. The train jerked once, then came to a complete halt.
Everyone froze.
Cael stood immediately, eyes narrowing. He reached for his wand. "Lee. Twins. Get your wands out. Don't leave this carriage."
"What's going on?" Fred asked, standing too.
"This… this isn't normal," Cael said quietly. "Stay alert."
Outside, the windows began to frost over. The rain had turned to a slow, cold mist. And something was moving—just beyond the glass.