The long yet fleeting summer holiday ended, and Harry bid Sirius a brief farewell before boarding the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The summer heat had begun to wane, replaced by thick clouds and an unseasonable fog that shrouded the sunlight.
Through the train's window, Harry spotted Ron waving enthusiastically. Beside him stood Hermione, her bushy chestnut hair unmistakable. Harry waved back, hurrying to join their compartment.
Inside, across from Ron and Hermione, a weary man with graying hair slept soundly, his soft snores filling the space.
New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Or maybe Care of Magical Creatures? Harry mused, leaning toward the former. The man's tired face, clad in worn but Muggle-like clothing, resembled an exhausted adult from the non-magical world. Harry was certain the Care of Magical Creatures professor would exude a wild, wizardly eccentricity—something this man lacked.
Shifting his gaze from the sleeping stranger, Harry greeted his friends. "Hey, you're both here already. …This must be your cat, Hermione? Nice to meet you, Crookshanks. Say hi, Asclepius."
"Yo," hissed Harry's pet snake, Asclepius, in a playful tone. "I'm Harry's sidekick. Bet you're stressed with all these humans around, but bear with it, yeah?"
To Harry's surprise, Asclepius flicked his tongue, startled. "Oi, Harry, this cat's bilingual! It understands me!"
Hermione's cat, perched on her lap, indeed seemed to react, raising a paw slightly and letting out a soft "meow."
"Really?!" Harry grinned. "That's amazing! Hey, Crookshanks, you're one lucky cat. You've got the smartest witch I know as your owner. I'm her friend, so let's get along, alright? Just… don't eat Asclepius."
Crookshanks meowed again, almost dismissively. Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione, who were staring, bewildered by his Parseltongue.
"Where's Farkas?" Harry asked.
"Oh, um, he made it," Hermione said, pointing out the window. "I saw him. Not sure if he'll find us, though."
Harry waved, but Farkas, oblivious, boarded a forward carriage. "He didn't see us. I'll grab him," Harry said, stowing his trunk opposite Ron and Hermione.
En route to find Farkas, Harry brushed off Colin's eager chatter and invited Luna, who was reading The Quibbler alone in an empty compartment. With Farkas and Luna in tow, Harry returned to find Zabini and Azrael had joined the group. Azrael kept glancing at the sleeping man but broke into a smile, shaking Farkas's hand as they settled in.
The compartment buzzed with talk of Ron's Egyptian adventure. He described the ancient magic woven into the pyramids, recounting tales of mummies, sphinxes, and hidden chambers with infectious enthusiasm.
"The pyramid walls had puzzles," Ron said. "You had to solve them to move forward. You'd all love it."
"No way, that's epic!" Zabini exclaimed. "Your brother protects that stuff?"
"Yeah, Bill just started, but he's a brilliant guide. Ginny was terrified at first, but by the end, she wanted to go again."
"Reminds me of first-year traps," Harry said, warmed by the thought that wizarding traps could test wit, not just malice. The pyramid's creator, it seemed, wanted to ensure visitors were worthy of their legacy, not merely to harm them.
Hermione, studying Ron's puzzle sketches, seemed determined to crack the pyramid's trials herself. Meanwhile, the others peppered Ron with questions.
"Mummies… they're corpses, right?" Farkas asked. "How'd they stop them? Or make them move? Dark magic?"
"Tell us about the sphinx!" Luna piped up, her usual disinterest in crosswords replaced by curiosity about magical creatures.
Ron tackled Farkas's question first. "The mummies move by contract magic on the pyramid. Totally unethical—counts as dark magic now. Illegal in Egypt and Britain. You'd get Azkaban for sure, Dementors and all."
"So they follow the pyramid's keeper?" Farkas pressed.
"Yeah, they don't attack, just scare you. It was wild."
"Disgusting, moving corpses," Zabini muttered.
Ron nodded in agreement. Farkas said nothing but shot Harry a troubled look. Harry sipped his pumpkin juice, feigning nonchalance.
"Old wizards, you know…" Ron said.
"Values change," Azrael added matter-of-factly. "Back then, it wasn't even dark magic."
Both understood the ethical issue. No one with decent morals could condone animating corpses. Yet history's lens was different—mummies were from an era long gone, their kin no longer alive, their existence tolerated as relics.
"There's a record in Magic in Egypt," Hermione noted. "Mummies were used to prevent plagues and manage burials efficiently."
"History, yeah," Harry said. "Maybe it was fine then, but not now. Things change, bit by bit, and that's how we got here."
"I'd love to see the pyramids' grandeur," Azrael sighed.
"Go on holiday," Ron suggested.
Azrael shrugged. "Next break's packed, and summer's got the Quidditch World Cup. Who knows when I'll get the chance."
"Year after next… no, OWLs," Ron groaned.
"Regrettably, no time for travel," Azrael said.
"Here, cheer up," Ron said, tossing Azrael a Weird Wendelin Chocolate Frog card. "Pretty rare."
As Ron lifted Azrael's spirits, Harry's thoughts lingered on mummies. They're controlled like Inferi… Farkas mentioned those. Most spells don't work on them.
Tourists would see mummies shuffle within pyramids, like Hogwarts' soulless ghosts. But what if one escaped? Harry's unease grew.
"Ron, about the mummies…" he began. "Isn't it risky, leaving moving corpses in pyramids? What if they go rogue?"
Harry's concern stemmed from his knowledge of Inferi. Once enchanted, they could attack even without their caster, causing havoc if unleashed.
Ron shrugged. "They're bound to the pyramid, like Hogwarts' ghosts. Can't leave. It's safe."
Relieved, Harry realized mummies were governed by more complex magic than Inferi. Ron, eager to change topics, moved on.
"After the pyramids, we toured Egypt. Percy tried learning magic from Bill and got wrecked."
"Percy?" Harry said, stunned. Percy Weasley, Hogwarts' top student, was a prodigy, nearly on par with adults.
"They were Apparating and dueling like crazy," Ron said. "Couldn't follow half of it."
"Gringotts elites are something else," Zabini said, impressed.
Ron nodded, a spark in his eyes. "Watching them made me… want to study more. Not saying I'll be Percy, but maybe I could spook him in Dueling Club."
"You?" Harry blinked.
"Study?" Hermione echoed.
Everyone, even the usually dreamy Luna, stared at Ron, stunned. Ron, who teased Hermione and Harry for their bookishness, wanting to study was unheard of.
"You're not Ron!" Azrael teased, pointing his wand. "Revelio!*"
"Hey, that's harsh!" Ron protested, laughing.
Nothing happened—Ron was genuine. Hermione beamed. "You studied over summer? That's wonderful!"
"Well, some subjects…" Ron hesitated, glancing around nervously. "How'd you all do with Care of Magical Creatures prep? I had Fred and George's old textbook, so I managed…"
"Sirius had an old copy at his place," Harry said.
"My dad's old book…" Farkas added.
"Lucky you lot with connections," Zabini grumbled. "Hermione and I hit the library. That class already smells like a rubbish teacher."
"The Monster Book?" Azrael said. "I'm thrilled I skipped that class."
Care of Magical Creatures had a new professor, as Kettleburn had retired. Harry and his friends didn't know who, but they agreed the replacement would be… colorful.
"That Monster Book ate my other textbooks," Harry groaned. "I chucked it in the bin."
"I let mine loose in the garden," Farkas said. "Saved my dad's old books. Maybe it'll eat the garden gnomes."
The Monster Book is a disgrace to books… but it's practically a dark artifact, Hermione thought, though she cleared her throat, wary of the sleeping man. "Let's not forget there's a potential teacher here."
"He doesn't look like the Care type," Zabini said. "Not crazy enough to assign that book."
"Don't judge by appearances," Hermione scolded.
"Hope he's not another Lockhart," Zabini muttered.
Hermione sighed, torn between stopping their banter and letting it slide.
The Monster Book of Monsters, the assigned Care text, detailed creature care but was a nightmare—literally. A Ministry-approved book, it could be tamed by adult wizards, but for Hogwarts students, barred from magic over summer, it was a disaster. The book scuttled like a spider-crab hybrid, biting anything in reach. Hermione had knocked hers out with a broom but couldn't decipher its contents.
Harry and Farkas kept joking about their Monster Book battles, debating who'd tamed it best. "Fed it dog food, and it calmed down," Farkas boasted.
"Genius!" Ron laughed.
"No way!" Harry chuckled, tears in his eyes.
As they laughed, footsteps approached. Harry recognized them instantly: a platinum-blond boy, flanked by two larger boys. In Slytherin, Harry had noticed something about Draco Malfoy. Initially, he'd thought Crabbe and Goyle were just bodyguards. But Draco, sharp and studious, tutored the less academic pair, a dynamic Harry hadn't expected.
"Well, hello, Harry," Draco drawled, taller after the summer, his slicked-back hair now a trendy center-part like Azrael's. "Dismal weather, but you're as predictable as ever. When will you ditch Weasley and… that lot?"
"Oi," Zabini snapped.
"You—" Farkas growled.
"Stop it, both of you," Harry said, raising a hand to calm them.
The compartment's peace shattered, tension crackling. Zabini, sensitive to slights about his family's struggles, glared, and Farkas, whose own hardships ran deep, mirrored his disgust. Harry tried to address Draco, but a loud thud interrupted.
"I'm sick of you mocking my family," Ron said, voice low and furious. "Enough."
Oh no… Harry thought.
Luna, seated diagonally from Ron, buried her nose in The Quibbler, pretending not to notice. Hermione failed to stop Ron, who, red-faced, lunged at Draco, only to be blocked by Crabbe and Goyle.
Zabini and Farkas rose, ready to back Ron, but Harry and Azrael held them back. A brawl was brewing—Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Farkas could turn it into chaos. Harry tried words instead.
"Draco, I get your point, but can you at least think before you speak?" he said sharply.
Draco's taunts, whether to divide Harry from his friends or to scorn his non-Slytherin ties, hit a nerve. Harry could brush off insults, but his friends couldn't—nor could he ignore their pain. Draco was to Ron and Zabini what Aunt Marge was to Harry.
"Think?" Draco sneered. "I just don't see the point of you hanging with them, Potter. Zabini's family—"
Zabini's glare was molten, a rare flash of fury. Draco faltered, sensing his misstep, and pivoted to Ron. "Weasley's family, though—rubbish. The papers said your dad won the lottery, yet you're still in secondhand robes and wands?"
Crabbe and Goyle guffawed. "Hanging with them?" Draco continued.
"Ron, calm down," Hermione urged, stopping Ron's retort. He gaped at her, betrayed.
Harry stepped in. "Draco, Vincent, Gregory. There's a teacher here. Don't start trouble."
"Teacher?" Draco scoffed, noticing the snoring man in Muggle attire—a worn shirt and tie. Frowning at the man's apparent poverty, Draco held his tongue. Even he wasn't foolish enough to insult a teacher to his face. With a small tsk, he turned to leave.
Then, a deafening roar shook the compartment.
Harry froze, as if bound by invisible chains. This wasn't the cold fear of facing Quirrell in first year or the fiery anger against Tom Riddle in second. Something far worse enveloped him, chilling his core.
His vision darkened, and he collapsed.