The train pressed ever northward, and the weather grew increasingly capricious. Raindrops pelted the windows like scattered bronze Knuts, creating a relentless drumming. Then the sun thrust half its face through the clouds, appearing feebly in one corner of the sky. When darkness finally descended, the compartment lights flickered to life.
At last, the train began its gradual deceleration. Students' voices swelled with anticipation as everyone scrambled for luggage and pets in chaotic disorder, forming queues to disembark. Ron and Hermione had departed once more for their patrol duties, leaving Orli, Harry, and the others to climb slowly from the train. The first breath of night air kissed their faces, carrying the earthy scent of rain-soaked pine bark.
Hundreds of students thronged the cramped platform. Ginny and Luna vanished into the surging crowd. Harry and Orli searched desperately for Hermione and Ron but came up empty-handed. They barely managed to claim a carriage at the platform's edge when familiar voices called from behind.
"Malfoy was absolutely terrorizing the first years," Hermione declared with blazing indignation. "I swear I'm reporting him! Three minutes with that badge and he's already ten times worse than before!"
"Did anyone spot Hagrid?" Ron asked anxiously. "Why is Professor Grubbly-Plank handling the first years?"
"We didn't see him either—couldn't even hear his voice," Harry replied.
"Hagrid wouldn't just... leave, would he?" Ron's voice carried a note of desperate uncertainty.
No one could provide an answer. Since his half-giant heritage had been exposed, Hagrid's position had grown increasingly precarious. Beyond Gryffindor students, precious few actually enjoyed his lessons.
The carriage began its familiar clip-clopping journey, swaying rhythmically while emanating that distinctive musty odor. As they passed through the wrought-iron gates and towering stone pillars, they strained to glimpse any light emanating from Hagrid's hut. Nothing but impenetrable darkness greeted them.
Hogwarts castle, however, rose majestically before them. Its razor-sharp towers pierced the obsidian night sky, while countless windows cast pools of golden warmth into the gloom.
The Thestral-drawn carriage lurched to an unsteady halt beside the stone steps leading to the castle's massive oak doors. They disembarked one by one, taking precious moments to smooth their robes before melting into the crowd.
The entrance hall blazed with torchlight, bathing everything in welcoming radiance. They processed into the Great Hall amid a symphony of shuffling feet, beneath that familiar starless black ceiling—a perfect mirror of the brooding sky outside—suspended above four gleaming House tables.
Thousands of candles drifted through the air above the tables, casting their warm glow over every face below. Students buzzed with animated conversation, trading summer adventures, shouting greetings to friends across House boundaries, and critiquing the latest hairstyles and robe fashions. Occasionally, furtive glances and whispered comments followed Harry's passage—clearly, more than a few had devoured those preposterous Daily Prophet articles.
They claimed seats near the middle of their table, then turned as one toward the staff table.
"Hagrid's not there," Harry observed, his voice flat with disappointment.
"He wouldn't just leave," Ron insisted, though tension threaded through his words.
"Then where could he possibly be?" Hermione asked, her voice strained with worry.
"Perhaps he's on some mission for Dumbledore," Orli murmured, barely audible above the hall's din. She harbored her own doubts, but the other three seized upon this explanation with almost desperate relief.
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