The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, steam hissing as students bustled onto the platform. Harry stepped off the train, stretching slightly before turning to Hermione and Ron.
"Feels good to be back," he said with a grin.
Hermione nodded, already scanning the crowd for any changes. "It really does."
Ron, however, was more focused on the first-years struggling to get onto the boats with Hagrid. "Blimey, were we that small when we started?"
Harry chuckled. "Speak for yourself, mate."
Together, they made their way to the carriages pulled by Thestrals—not that they could see them, of course. The ride to the castle was smooth, and soon they found themselves stepping through the massive wooden doors of Hogwarts once again.
Inside the Great Hall, the familiar warm glow of floating candles and enchanted ceiling greeted them. The Gryffindors took their seats at their table, chatting among themselves while waiting for the new batch of first-years to be sorted.
The Sorting Ceremony went as expected—some nervous first-years, the Sorting Hat's cryptic mutterings, and the occasional cheer as students found their new houses.
Afterwards, the feast was as grand as ever. Platters of delicious food appeared before them, filling the hall with the rich aroma of roasted meats, fresh bread, and sweet pumpkin pasties. Harry indulged in the meal, occasionally exchanging banter with Ron and Hermione.
Once the feast ended, the students made their way to their respective dormitories. Harry climbed the familiar stairs to Gryffindor Tower, his body already adjusting to the comforting atmosphere of his home away from home.
But just as he was settling into bed—
POP!
A sharp crack echoed through the room, making Ron jolt awake with a strangled noise.
"Wha—? Who—?"
Harry, however, was already alert, his eyes narrowing at the small, trembling figure before him.
A house-elf.
Its large green eyes were filled with desperation, and its ears flopped down in distress.
"Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts," the creature whispered, wringing its hands. "Terrible things are happening! Terrible, terrible things!"
Harry blinked before rubbing his temples. "Mate, I am at Hogwarts."
Dobby let out a strangled squeak. "Then Harry Potter must leave at once! There is a plot—one most vile! He must not be here when it unfolds!"
At that, Harry tilted his head, his emerald eyes gleaming with something unreadable. Slowly, his lips curled into a pleasant, almost lazy grin.
"Well," he said lightly, "I've killed Voldemort twice now. What's stopping me from doing it again?"
The moment he spoke, the air shifted.
A suffocating pressure filled the room, something dark and dangerous. It wasn't magic—it was something deeper, something primal.
Ron, still half-asleep, felt it and shuddered.
"Mate," he muttered, staring at Harry, "you really give off 'terrifying powerful wizard' vibes sometimes."
Harry merely chuckled, the killing intent vanishing as quickly as it came.
Dobby, meanwhile, looked even more horrified—but also slightly in awe.
"But—Harry Potter mustn't—!"
With a casual wave of his hand, Harry dismissed him. "If you really want to help, keep an eye on things. Let me know when something actually happens."
Dobby hesitated, then with a defeated sniffle, vanished with another POP!
Ron groaned. "That was so weird."
"Welcome to my life."
With that, they both went back to sleep.
The next morning, Harry and Hermione met up for their usual morning run. The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a soft golden glow over the castle grounds. The cool air was refreshing, and their footsteps echoed softly along the path.
They ran in comfortable silence—until Harry heard it.
Hunger.
Control.
Purity must be preserved. The tainted ones will be consumed.
Harry stopped.
Hermione, noticing his sudden halt, turned back. "Harry?"
He didn't respond immediately, his head tilting as he listened closely. The voice was powerful, female, ancient. It resonated in his very bones.
Then—just as quickly as it appeared—it faded.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
Something was here. Something old.
Something dangerous.
But for now, it was dormant.
With a thoughtful hum, he started running again.
"Harry?" Hermione prompted.
He glanced at her, debating whether to tell her. Instead, he smirked. "Race you to the castle."
She gave him a suspicious look but took off running, leaving him to his thoughts.
The rest of the day was mostly normal—well, as normal as things got for Harry Potter.
In class, he outshined nearly everyone, casually performing spells with way more finesse than necessary. Hermione, never one to back down from a challenge, pushed herself to rival him, turning their studies into an unspoken competition.
"Merlin, you two need to chill," Ron muttered, watching them transfigure objects perfectly while everyone else struggled.
Neither of them responded.
It wasn't serious, not really—it was just fun. A way to push each other, to see how far they could go.
And so, the first day of the term ended without much issue.
But in the back of Harry's mind, he knew—
He'd have to check this Snakey out sooner or later; Harry would prefer sooner, though.