The Hogwarts Express clattered along the tracks, slicing through the Scottish Highlands like a particularly long and angry red bullet. Outside, rolling hills gave way to thick forests, and the sky darkened to a deep navy, the first pinpricks of stars appearing above. It would've been a picturesque, magical moment.
Inside the compartment? Utter chaos.
"DAPHNE, YOU ABSOLUTE PEASANT!" Tracey all but howled, clutching her head like she'd just witnessed the murder of good taste itself. "Wizarding fashion can be stylish! You just need to stop dressing like an off-brand Death Eater who got lost on their way to a tea party!"
Daphne, utterly unfazed, flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "You say that like I care."
Across from them, Neville was watching his wizard's chess pieces commit war crimes against Ron's army, his face an odd mixture of horror and awe.
"Oh, mate, you are so done for," Ron snickered as one of his knights straight-up suplexed Neville's rook into oblivion.
"I didn't even know they could do that," Neville mumbled.
And then, of course, there was Catpool.
"Ohhh, we're almost there!" the mutant cat yowled, rolling onto his back in Harry's lap. "Do I look presentable? Should I fluff up my fur? Maybe throw in a hint of 'mysterious rogue' meets 'irresistible bachelor'?" He flicked his tail dramatically, nearly slapping Harry in the face.
"You look like roadkill with commitment issues," Harry said flatly, shoving Catpool off his lap.
Catpool gasped, clutching his chest. "You wound me, Potter! I am classy! I am elegant! I am—"
"A fuzzy little war crime," Daphne said.
"Betrayal!" Catpool shrieked, leaping onto the seat in a melodramatic sprawl. "You know what? It's fine! I'll just pretend that didn't hurt my very delicate, very masculine, very sexual feelings."
Susan rolled her eyes. "Your feelings are about as delicate as a Crup with rabies."
"Correction: A sexy Crup with rabies," Catpool purred.
Jim, still in wand form, buzzed excitedly in Harry's hand like an over-caffeinated squirrel. "Ohhhh man, I love this energy! This is like prime 'Reality TV but with Magic and a Severe Lack of Adult Supervision' energy! I live for this!"
"I swear, I will leave you both on this train," Harry grumbled, rubbing his temples.
Jim scoffed. "Please. You'd be lost without me."
"He definitely would," Catpool agreed, licking his paw smugly.
Harry groaned, running a hand down his face.
And then the train lurched, the brakes screeching like a banshee on a bad hair day. Outside, lanterns flickered to life, casting a warm glow over Hogsmeade Station.
"All right, everyone, grab your stuff," Hermione announced, snapping her book shut with the air of a woman who had tolerated far too much nonsense for one lifetime. "And please, for the love of Merlin, let's not cause a scene the moment we step outside."
Harry shot her a wicked grin. "Hermione, it's us."
Hermione exhaled through her nose. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Students began pouring out onto the platform, the night air crisp and cool. Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage, hoisted his trunk, and—because life was cruel—scooped up Catpool, who immediately flopped over his shoulder like a particularly deranged mink stole.
"Ohhh, my noble steed," Catpool purred. "Take me to the promised land."
"I am this close to throwing you into my trunk," Harry muttered.
Catpool gasped. "Animal cruelty! I'll sue!"
"Shut up, Catpool."
And that was when a voice—deep, booming, and loud—cut through the air like a battle horn summoning them to war.
"FIRS' YEARS! OVER HERE! FIRS' YEARS!"
The group turned and—oh. Oh, wow.
The man waving a lantern at them was huge. Not 'tall guy at the grocery store' huge, or even 'big football player' huge. No. This was 'escaped from a mythology book and probably fought a minotaur once' huge. He had wild hair, an even wilder beard, and the distinct air of someone who had wrestled a bear at some point in his life.
Jim whistled. "Well, that's a lot of person."
Harry blinked. "No kidding."
Then the man's dark eyes landed on him. He froze for a second, then his face split into a wide, beaming grin.
"Blimey," the giant breathed. "Yeh look just like yer dad—except fer the eyes. Yeh've got yer mum's eyes."
Harry blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… thanks?"
Hagrid cleared his throat, shaking himself out of his daze. "Right! Name's Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys an' Grounds at Hogwarts! Firs' years, follow me! We're takin' the boats ter the castle!"
"Boats?" Neville whispered, his face going a bit pale. "As in, over the lake?"
"Oh yeah," Ron said, grinning. "It's a tradition."
Neville looked about three seconds away from having a panic attack.
Harry clapped him on the shoulder, his grin downright satanic. "Don't worry, Nev. If you drown, I'll totally make sure they name a really nice bathroom stall after you in memoriam."
"Harry!" Hermione scolded.
"Oh, come on, that was funny," Harry protested.
Neville groaned. "I hate you all."
Jim, meanwhile, was vibrating in Harry's grip like a sugar-high toddler.
"Ooooooh, this is gonna be fun," Jim cackled.
And Harry, because the universe hated him, had a sinking feeling that Jim was way too excited about whatever came next.
And knowing his luck?
He was probably right.
—
The first years stumbled forward in the dim light, following Hagrid like a bunch of sleep-deprived ducklings. Overhead, unseen by mortal eyes, three celestial beings floated in all their shimmering, timeless glory—having finally shed their disguises as eleven-year-olds.
Which, if you asked them, was the real victory of the evening.
Clotho, the youngest-looking, stretched with an exaggerated sigh. "Do you know how exhausting it was pretending to be a child? I almost had to—ugh—learn things." She gave a full-body shudder. "I don't know how mortals do it. All that listening and following rules—what kind of hellish existence—"
Lachesis, ever the diva, tossed her long dark hair over one shoulder and adjusted the cosmic dress that barely obeyed the laws of physics. "I swear, if that Hufflepuff kid had talked one more time about his frog collection, I was going to unravel his entire ancestral bloodline just out of spite."
Atropos, the eldest and the only one actually taking this seriously, crossed her arms and let out the world's longest suffering sigh. "Yes, yes, we get it. You're both deeply traumatized by the horrors of childhood. Now can we focus?"
She tilted her chin toward the boy walking just behind Hagrid—the boy who, according to every single tangled, infuriating thread of fate, was the lynchpin of everything.
Harry Lokison.
Clotho studied him as he trudged along, trying—and failing—to pry a particularly clingy mutant cat off his shoulders. "So, this is our guy? He's supposed to be the deciding factor in the battle of fate and free will?" She squinted. "He gives off major golden retriever that just knocked over the trash can and is now pretending it wasn't him energy."
Lachesis hummed, inspecting the threads of destiny. "Mmm. But look at his entourage."
And, to be fair, they were an interesting lot.
Hermione Granger—already mid-lecture about the depth of the Black Lake, referencing Hogwarts: A History like it was gospel.
Ron Weasley—grinning as he nudged Neville Longbottom, who looked one strong gust of wind away from passing out.
Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis—whispering in that we're plotting something and it's probably illegal kind of way.
Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott—watching the absolute circus that was Harry and his foul-mouthed, fourth-wall-breaking cat with the same expression one might have watching an oncoming car crash.
"They'll be important," Lachesis murmured, tracing invisible lines in the air. "Some more than others. But him—" she pointed at Harry "—all roads lead to him."
Atropos studied him with narrowed eyes. "He's supposed to set things right. But right now? He looks about as prepared as a Muggle thrown into a Greek tragedy."
"I dunno," Clotho said, grinning. "Tragedies can be fun if you know how to cheat fate."
Atropos shot her a look. "We are fate."
"Exactly!" Clotho winked.
Down Below, On The Mortal Side of Things
Jim—still in wand form—buzzed so hard in Harry's grip that it felt like he'd transformed into an overexcited electric toothbrush.
"Ohhhh, this is so dramatic! The air's all thick with Destiny! The stars are aligning! The forces of the cosmos are watching! Or maybe that's just indigestion from that Chocolate Frog I ate earlier—hard to say!"
Harry gave his wand the flattest of looks. "Jim, if you vibrate any harder, I'm going to use you as a back massager."
Jim gasped. "How dare you. I am a legendary artifact! The ultimate weapon! I demand respect!"
"You're literally a stick."
"EXCUSE ME?"
Harry deadpanned. "A stick. A glorified magical twig with a superiority complex."
"Oh, that's rich coming from you, Mr. 'I Can't Even Get Through One Day Without Nearly Dying.'"
Up above, Clotho giggled. "I like this one."
Lachesis smirked. "He is amusing."
Atropos just sighed. "Just watch."
Meanwhile, At The Lake
The first years finally reached the edge of the lake, where the looming silhouette of Hogwarts cast jagged shadows against the starry sky.
Gasps of awe rippled through the students as they took in the legendary castle for the first time.
"Right then!" Hagrid called, his massive frame silhouetted against the moonlit water. "Four ter a boat!"
Harry turned to Ron, Hermione, and Neville. "Alright, let's—"
But before he could finish, Catpool launched himself onto the nearest boat with all the grace of a drunk acrobat.
"I call dibs on this one! Also, I get to be the captain! First Mate Harry, grab me a snack, stat!"
Harry stared. "Catpool, you're a cat. You can't be a captain."
"I can and I will! Now bring me a goblet of mead, peasant!"
Harry gave him the flattest stare in the history of flat stares. "I am going to drown you."
"Animal abuse!"
"Shut up, Catpool!"
"You shut up! This is my boat now! It's called the S.S. Eat My Furry Ass, and I will not be taking questions at this time."
Ron looked between Harry and the very loud, very feral cat. "Mate, your cat's insane."
"Oh, now you notice?"
"Look at him!" Neville whispered, eyes wide. "He's just sitting there. Menacingly."
Susan nudged Hannah. "Is this normal?"
Hannah, already resigned, sighed. "I think it is now."
Meanwhile, up in their invisible Observing All of Time balcony, Clotho clapped her hands. "Oh, yes. This is going to be fun."
—
Welcome to Chaos. Population: Harry & Co.
The boats bobbed on the inky surface of the Great Lake, mist swirling over the water like some overdramatic horror movie set. Hogwarts loomed in the distance, all towering spires and gothic grandeur, looking like the kind of place where either great destinies unfolded… or a whole lot of questionable decision-making went down.
Naturally, Harry Potter was about to contribute to the latter.
Harry had just helped Hermione, Susan, and Daphne into their boat when Jim, his ever-dramatic, ever-obnoxious sentient staff—currently in wand form and strapped to his wrist—buzzed excitedly in his mind.
"Ohhh, the atmosphere! The tension! The mist! The perfect cinematic setup! If this were a movie, this is where the swelling orchestral score would—"
"Jim," Harry cut in, already exhausted, "if you start humming the Jaws theme, I will throw you in the lake."
Jim gasped. "HOW DARE YOU. I am a legendary weapon! A divine artifact! A—"
"A glorified glow stick?" Hermione muttered under her breath.
"EXCUSE YOU—"
Meanwhile, lounging at the front of the boat like the world's most arrogant hood ornament, Catpool—the foul-mouthed, telepathic, fourth-wall-breaking, possibly-immortal cat—let out an exaggerated groan.
"Ugh, can we get moving already? I have places to be! People to annoy! Life is short, and my attention span is shorter!"
"You have nine lives," Daphne pointed out, unimpressed.
"Yeah, and I plan on wasting at least eight of them by the weekend," Catpool shot back.
Just as Harry was contemplating tossing Catpool and Jim into the lake, a familiar, unwelcome voice sliced through the evening air.
"Out of the way, Mudbloods and nobodies!"
Draco Malfoy strode onto the dock like he thought he owned it, flanked by his usual bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. An extra had joined their entourage: Pansy Parkinson, who somehow looked both disgusted and smug at the same time, like she was personally offended by the oxygen lower-class people were breathing in her presence.
Harry had been having an okay night. That was about to change.
Draco shoved a pair of smaller first years aside, claiming a boat for himself and his gang. The two kids—a mousy boy and a girl with oversized glasses—stumbled back, faces red with humiliation.
Jim cackled in Harry's mind. "Oh, we've got a classic case of Entitled Brat Syndrome. A favorite among inbred aristocrats! Shall we respond with dignity and grace?"
Harry smirked. "Oh, absolutely."
Without moving, without so much as blinking, he cast the spell.
Locomotor Wibbly.
And just like that, Draco Malfoy, Heir to House Malfoy, Pureblood Elite, and General Pain in the Arse—turned into a malfunctioning marionette.
His knees buckled. His legs wobbled like a newborn giraffe on roller skates. Crabbe and Goyle—blessed with even less coordination—toppled like a pair of overfed dominoes.
Pansy, mid-laugh, took one ill-fated step backward—
SPLASH.
All four of them went headfirst into the lake.
A heartbeat of stunned silence.
Then—
"OH MY GOD, THAT WAS AMAZING!" Catpool shrieked, tail puffing up with excitement. "HARRY, I COULD KISS YOU RIGHT NOW!"
"Try it, and I'll drown you," Harry replied smoothly.
From the other boat, Ron doubled over, wheezing with laughter. "That—was—the best thing I've ever seen!"
Neville, gripping the boat like it was the last stable thing in his life, blinked. "I—uh—is it bad that I kind of feel bad for them?"
Hannah, ever the concerned Hufflepuff, nodded sympathetically. "I mean… there is a giant squid in the lake…"
Tracey, on the other hand, looked positively feral. "Serves the little ferret right." She turned to Daphne. "Your bestie is drowning."
Daphne sighed, watching Draco flail. "He's not my bestie. He's more like an embarrassing family friend I can't get rid of."
"Like a rash?" Susan supplied helpfully.
"Exactly."
Meanwhile, in the lake—
Draco surfaced, gasping like a dying fish, his slicked-back hair now plastered to his pale, horrified face. "YOU—" He pointed a dripping finger at Harry. "YOU DID THAT!"
Harry blinked innocently. "Who, me?"
"YES, YOU!"
"Draco, please. I've been sitting right here the whole time. How could I possibly have done anything?"
Draco's left eye twitched.
Crabbe and Goyle, struggling to climb out, looked more like wet, angry walruses. Pansy was screeching about her hair and how she would never recover from this social assassination.
Jim, vibrating with joy, whispered in Harry's mind, "Harry, my dear, sweet, wonderful chaos gremlin, I am so proud of you."
"Whoops," Harry deadpanned. "Must've been a coincidence."
Up above, unseen by mortal eyes, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos—the three Fates—watched from their perch in the heavens.
Lachesis smirked. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
—
The boat jerked forward as Draco and his gang scrambled on board, looking like they'd just survived an impromptu drowning contest. They were dripping wet, shivering like a bunch of poorly-dressed penguins, and glaring at Harry like he was the one who'd pushed them in. Draco was busy trying to smooth out his hair—too bad it was plastered to his face like a soggy pancake. Goyle and Crabbe, on the other hand, were too busy trying to figure out why their clothes were suddenly five sizes too heavy to care about their hair. Pansy? She was clutching her damp hair with the kind of desperation you only see when someone's about to lose their last shred of dignity.
And that's when Jim—who had been quietly nestled in Harry's wrist holster like a mischievous little sidekick—let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, this is glorious," Jim said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I mean, look at them! They look like a bunch of sad, soggy breakfast sausages. Do you think they need a towel? Or maybe a bit of sympathy? Oh wait, I forgot—there's no room for kindness in this chaotic masterpiece!"
Harry couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips. Draco's misery was almost a work of art. But before he could properly savor the spectacle, Hagrid's booming voice cut through the soggy silence like a chainsaw cutting through a marshmallow.
"All right, yeh lot, off we go! Boats, move forward!"
And just like that, the boats jerked to life, gliding forward as if they were part of some magic-powered amusement ride. The mist curled around them like some sort of enchanted fog machine, and Hogwarts Castle loomed in the distance, looking simultaneously majestic and kind of like it was ready to eat them alive.
The boats glided silently across the lake, save for the occasional soft splash of water that seemed to mock Draco's dramatic shivering. The air was thick with awkward tension, a quiet buzz of discomfort, and a lot of I might die of secondhand embarrassment energy.
Draco was the first to break the silence—mostly because his teeth were clattering so loudly, he couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Potter," he sneered, voice high-pitched and ragged from the shock of the cold water. "You—"
"I didn't do anything," Harry interrupted smoothly, flashing an innocent smile. "Maybe the lake just decided to punish you for your life choices."
Draco's face went a shade of red that suggested his embarrassment was about to morph into an absolute meltdown. "That's not how it works, you filthy—"
"Not a filthy thing, actually," Harry cut him off, enjoying himself far too much. "Just an innocent bystander in a totally random incident. Crazy how life works, huh?"
"You—" Draco sputtered, looking like he might lose it. The pathetic, wet mop of his hair stuck to his forehead like it was glued there. He was getting dangerously close to a full-on tantrum. Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle just blinked at the world like confused children who'd been dunked into a pool of cold reality. They clearly hadn't yet figured out how water worked, and at this point, Harry didn't think they'd ever get it.
Jim, still perched in Harry's wrist holster, leaned in like he was about to drop a bomb. "Oh, sweet justice. I can practically hear the gears in Draco's brain grinding to a halt. Are you sure you don't want me to add some dramatic music here? Maybe a little Jaws theme, or would you prefer something a little more edgy? Eye of the Tiger, maybe?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Jim, if you suggest one more ridiculous soundbite, I will personally throw you into the lake."
"Ooh, threatening me with my greatest fear," Jim quipped, his voice dripping with mock terror. "So original, Harry. You've truly outdone yourself."
Meanwhile, Catpool, sprawled lazily at the front of the boat like some kind of superheroic supermodel, stretched and yawned with all the drama of a diva who'd just woken up from a five-star nap. "Can we please just hurry up?" Catpool moaned, his voice exaggerated in the way only a true merc with a mouth could manage. "I've got a date with destiny—and maybe tacos. I can't be late for either. They're both equally important. You guys have no idea how important tacos are to my emotional well-being."
Hermione, ever the pragmatist, didn't even look at him as she muttered, "You literally don't need to breathe, let alone eat. You know, if you actually helped with anything—"
"Help?" Catpool shot back with a dramatic flutter of his hands, as if the very idea was beneath him. "Why would I help when I can just sit here, basking in my magnificent glory while you guys do the work? It's called 'superhero management,' darling."
"You're not a superhero, you're a supervillain," Hermione snapped, her voice edged with annoyance, but even she couldn't help but stifle a laugh as Catpool stretched out like a lazy cat in the sun, posing unnecessarily for dramatic effect.
Harry leaned over to her, grinning. "Technically, he's both. You know, the kind of morally flexible character the story's trying to pass off as a hero, but really, we all know he's one bad day away from a villain monologue."
Catpool shot Harry a thumbs-up. "See? That's why we're besties, Potter. You get me. Not many people understand the fine art of morally ambiguous heroism and occasional taco consumption."
Ron, who'd been shaking with laughter for the past five minutes, practically wheezed out, "I can't believe that just happened. I mean, seriously, Malfoy looks like a drowned ferret. The way he was splashing around—"
"I'll bet you five galleons that he spends the next week complaining about how cold he is," Neville interrupted, his face still a little pale but clearly enjoying the spectacle of Draco's misery. "Five galleons says he spends the feast whining about it."
"Five galleons?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "How about ten?"
"Deal," Neville said, eyes gleaming. "And if he makes an excuse to leave early because of 'emotional trauma,' I get a bonus."
The boats were nearing the shore now, the giant silhouette of Hogwarts growing larger and more imposing in the darkening sky. Harry couldn't help but feel the familiar flutter of excitement in his chest, though he knew the real chaos was only just beginning. Sorting ceremonies, after all, had legendary levels of chaos potential.
As the boats touched the shore, Hagrid waved them in with a giant grin that could rival a bear's. Behind him, the ominous silhouette of the castle stood tall—an imposing, magical fortress that Harry was now certain would be the source of all their problems.
Draco's voice rang out just as they were about to disembark, his tone practically dripping with fury. "Potter!" he snarled, his entire body shaking, either from the cold or from barely-contained rage. "This isn't over!"
Harry turned back to him, his grin sharp enough to cut glass. "Oh, I'm so looking forward to it, Malfoy. You know where to find me."
And with that, they were off to face whatever ridiculous, chaotic fate awaited them in Hogwarts. Because if there was one thing Harry knew for sure, it was that chaos was never far behind when he was involved.
—
As the boats drifted closer to the shore, the flickering torches lining the path cast long, ghostly shadows, revealing the towering form of Hogwarts. The castle loomed like something straight out of a fever dream—if that dream had included talking paintings, moving staircases, and the occasional magical mishap that could blow you up if you weren't careful.
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, his voice a mix of awe and "I might need therapy after this." "It's massive."
Neville was practically vibrating in his seat, staring up at the castle with the kind of look you give a giant spider you're pretty sure is about to eat your face. "What if it falls down?" he asked in a whisper, as if the very thought might bring the castle crashing to the ground. "You think they've got insurance for that?"
"Insurance?" Harry snorted. "Yeah, I bet Hogwarts has a special policy just for possible dragon attacks and 'let's see if we can survive the next Quidditch game without burning down half the castle.'"
Hermione, adjusting her glasses, looked completely unfazed by Neville's existential crisis. "You're forgetting cursed objects," she said. "Like a rogue Time-Turner or, you know, a random magical artifact that starts summoning curses just for fun."
Ron gave her a look. "And don't forget the ghosts. I hear they're a real liability around Halloween. You can't trust them."
"You're all missing the point," Jim, Harry's cosmic weapon of over-the-top commentary, chimed in, practically bouncing in Harry's wrist holster like an eager jack-in-the-box. "It's not about insurance—it's about mystery!" Jim's voice was like a whirlwind of high-pitched energy, cutting through their conversation like a hyperactive child on a sugar rush. "It's about weird, magical stuff happening that you can't explain! It'll drive you mad! You'll be lying awake at night, wondering: is it a curse? A sentient broomstick on a rampage? A ghost who's been hitting the fire whiskey a bit too hard? So many possibilities!"
Harry couldn't help himself. He shot a dry look at his wrist. "Jim, if you don't zip it, I'm going to start writing a strongly worded letter to 'The One Above All' asking them to shut you up for good."
"Try it, Potter," Jim replied smugly, "You'd need a special waiver for that, a cosmic permission slip, and maybe a few terms and conditions you've never even heard of."
As the boats crept toward the shore, the first-years were starting to look like a mix of excited and terrified. Hogwarts didn't just look huge; it looked like it could eat you if it was hungry enough. The distant sound of muffled voices echoed from the castle, setting an eerie mood. Students. Professors. Probably some ghost giving a lecture on 'How to Haunt Like a Professional' or something.
"Oh, it's just a big, haunted mansion without WiFi," Catpool, ever the dramatic, over-the-top, foul-mouthed mercenary, declared, throwing himself dramatically across the bow of his boat like he was auditioning for the role of 'Most Extra Character in Fiction.' "Definitely staying here for a vacation someday, y'know? Just imagine me, lounging by the lake in my superhero spandex, taking selfies with the ghosts." He turned to Harry with a playful grin. "I'm definitely getting a spa treatment, though. First thing when I walk in."
Hermione, with her characteristic deadpan, muttered, "The last time you checked into a 'haunted hotel,' you set off every fire alarm. Remember that?"
Catpool shot her a look that could only be described as dripping with sass. "Oh, Hermione, darling. Fire alarms are just stress tests for my survival skills. What's the point of a haunted hotel if you don't leave a trail of destruction in your wake? It's a whole vibe."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Hermione, forget about history's greatest mysteries—Catpool's planning to destroy them all with his inability to read a room."
Hermione shot Harry a smile, though she couldn't help but chuckle. "You guys are a nightmare."
"I'm the nightmare," Catpool said with a smirk, "but you'll learn to love it, trust me."
Just then, the boats bumped softly against the shore. Hagrid, who looked like he'd grown another foot in the moonlight, waved them off. "Right, you lot! Time to head up! Follow me!"
The first-years scrambled out of the boats, and the wind hit them with an almost eerie chill. Hogwarts wasn't just big—it was ancient. The stone walls looked like they had been through centuries of magic and mystery. The distant hoot of an owl was the only sound cutting through the air, except for the occasional mutter from a nervous student, or, in the case of Neville, a frightened "What if the castle eats us?"
"Don't worry, mate," Ron said with a nudge to Harry, looking up at the massive towers. "The castle won't fall down unless, like, the magic holding it all together goes on strike. Which, let's be honest, is probably the only way this place would go under."
"Right," Harry replied, glancing up at the looming towers. "I'm sure the Ministry has a special team for rogue castles."
"Ministry of Magical Building Inspection," Ron deadpanned. "That's probably a department with its own weird set of rules. They send people around making sure the magic is still holding up, and if it's not, they just wave a wand and say, 'Good luck, guys.'"
Harry grinned. "Yeah, and then they send out the dragon to fix things."
Jim suddenly piped up from Harry's wrist. "But don't forget about the giant spiders. They're probably a real hazard in this place. Or even worse— MRS. BLACK'S YELLING VOICE on a loop for five hours straight."
"Are we sure this is a school?" Catpool interjected, his voice unusually serious. "It sounds like a haunted house disguised as an institution for education. Honestly, I'm just here for the drama."
"You guys are ridiculous," Jim muttered. "I'm literally shaking in my boots."
They all trudged up toward the great oak doors, the castle's shadow looming over them, and Harry couldn't help but smile. This was the beginning of something epic—if they survived the first few days at Hogwarts, that is. Jim was already buzzing with excitement in his holster, which could only mean one thing: Chaos was coming.
"Hold on tight, guys," Harry whispered to himself, barely containing his excitement. "It's gonna get weird."
And then, as they walked through the great oak doors into the darkened hall, Jim practically screamed in his mind. "Told you! The sorting ceremony, the magic, the chaos—it's all coming for you, Potter! AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
Yep. Definitely going to be an interesting year.
---
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