The afternoon had slowly begun its descent into evening, the pale light outside the windows of the train turning amber and then slowly bruising into violet. Shadows stretched long across the rolling countryside, and the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the rails had become a constant, almost comforting sound. It was the kind of sound that lulled minds into ease and invited conversations to grow softer and more honest.
After several hours inside the carriage, Ethan had come to know the two students sharing the compartment with him far better than he had expected.
The boy was named Maxwell, a Ravenclaw fifth year with sharp features and an easy curiosity in his eyes. He spoke thoughtfully, often pausing mid sentence as if weighing his words before letting them free. He had asked questions about everything from wand theory to obscure magical creatures, though he never pried too deeply into Ethan himself. There was a politeness to him, a distance that suggested he respected boundaries even when his curiosity burned.
The girl was Penny, a Gryffindor also in her fifth year. She was lively and expressive, her laughter quick and infectious, her opinions delivered with confidence and warmth. She spoke with her hands, told stories with dramatic flair, and had a habit of smiling even when she listened. Where Maxwell observed, Penny engaged. Where Maxwell contemplated, Penny reacted.
Ethan had chosen not to tell them who he truly was.
He had introduced himself only as Ethan, nothing more, nothing less. He had no desire to see the ease between them evaporate into awkward formality. He had no wish to watch their shoulders stiffen or hear their words grow cautious. More than that, he found that he enjoyed being treated as an equal, as simply another traveler on the train rather than an authority figure to be deferred to.
It was comfortable.
Penny was currently seated close to him, Nina curled contentedly in her lap. The naughty cat purred softly as Penny scratched behind her ears and along her back, her fingers moving with practiced gentleness. Nina had taken to her almost instantly, a rare thing, and now lay sprawled across Penny's legs as if she had claimed them as her own.
Ethan sat back in his seat, a book open in his hands, though his eyes had lingered on the same paragraph for some time. He found himself half listening to the quiet breathing of the carriage, half enjoying the simple peace of the moment.
Across from him, Maxwell had fallen asleep, his head tilted against the window, glasses slightly askew. The motion of the train had claimed him completely. Every so often, he muttered something unintelligible under his breath, the kind of half formed dream speech common among students exhausted by the term.
The train continued its steady journey until, without warning, everything changed.
The jolt came suddenly.
The sudden jolt was violent enough to snap Ethan's attention fully back to the world. The carriage shook as if struck by something massive, the metal groaning in protest. Penny gasped, clutching instinctively at Nina as the cat hissed and dug her claws lightly into the fabric of Penny's robes.
Maxwell jolted awake, blinking in confusion.
The train slowed abruptly, the familiar rhythm breaking apart until the wheels screamed and then fell into an eerie, unnatural silence.
Ethan was on his feet at once.
He moved to the window and looked out. The countryside beyond was still, far too still. No lights. Or any movement. The sky had darkened, clouds pressing low and heavy, swallowing what little remained of the day.
"What was that?" Maxwell asked, blinking sleep from his eyes as he looked around in confusion.
Something was wrong.
"Do you think we've arrived?" Ethan asked quietly, turning back to Penny.
Penny frowned and lifted her wrist, checking her watch. She shook her head almost immediately. "No. There's still at least an hour before we reach Hogsmeade."
"That's never happened before," Maxwell added, rubbing his eyes. "The train doesn't just stop suddenly until it reaches Hogsmeade."
Ethan nodded slowly. His instincts were already stirring, the calm surface of his thoughts breaking beneath something sharper and colder.
"You two stay here," he said firmly, his tone shifting just enough to command attention. "I'll go see what's happening."
Nina leapt down from Penny's lap and circled Ethan's feet once before hopping back up, her green eyes following him closely as he reached for the door.
Before either of them could argue, he stepped out into the corridor and closed the compartment door behind him.
The atmosphere outside was tense.
Students had begun to gather in the passageways, whispers spreading like sparks through dry grass. Anxiety clung to the air. Ethan moved forward with purpose, his eyes scanning faces and doors as he went.
He soon encountered several students wearing badges marked with a large P upon their chests. Prefects. They stood together, wands drawn but uncertain, exchanging glances that betrayed their confusion.
"What's going on?" Ethan asked as he approached them.
They turned toward him sharply. One of them, a blond haired boy with a rigid posture, narrowed his eyes.
"Who are you?" the boy demanded. "Why are you on this train with students?"
Ethan met his gaze evenly. "I'm a new professor," he replied calmly. "I was assigned to accompany the train."
Suspicion flickered across their faces. The blond boy studied him for a moment longer before finally shrugging.
"We don't know what's happening either," he admitted. "We came to check on the situation and make sure the students stay in their compartments."
"Good," Ethan said. "Keep doing that. Look after the younger ones."
They nodded, reassured at least by the certainty in his voice.
Ethan continued forward.
As he moved through the train, the carriages changed. The further he went, the more refined the interiors became. Plush seating. Polished wood. Elegant fixtures. Students here wore tailored robes, jewelry gleaming softly in the low light. Their voices were hushed, their expressions irritated rather than afraid.
Ethan immediately understood where he was.
This carriage was reserved for the wealthy and the pureblood families.
He ignored the stares and murmured comments as he passed through, his focus fixed on the door ahead. He opened it and stepped into the driver's cabin.
The driver stood at his post, staring straight ahead.
"Captain," Ethan said. "Why did we stop?"
There was no response.
Ethan took a step closer. The man did not move. Did not even made a single noise.
A chill crept down Ethan's spine.
He reached out and tapped the man's shoulder.
Nothing.
Up close, the horror became clear. The driver's face was frozen in an expression of pure terror. His eyes were wide, glassy, unfocused. His body was rigid, locked in place by magic.
"Petrified," Ethan murmured.
His hand went to his wand.
The moment he whispered the incantation for a revealing charm, the air exploded into motion. A red spell streaked toward him from the shadows.
Ethan reacted instantly, throwing up a defensive barrier. The spell shattered against it, sparks flying.
He spun, wand raised.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
There was no answer.
A second spell followed, this one pulsing with an unnatural purple hue. Ethan twisted his wrist, redirecting the spell into the wall, where it exploded in a shower of sparks. He countered immediately, his own spell striking the floor between them and detonating with a thunderous bang.
The door burst open behind him.
Two prefects rushed in, wands raised. One of them shouted, "Out of the way. I'm the Head Boy. What's going on here?"
Ethan did not have time to explain.
"Get out,"
He shoved them back into the corridor with a forceful gesture and sealed the door behind them. Another spell flew toward him, narrowly missing his shoulder.
"Enough."
Ethan flicked his wand, flooding the compartment with blinding white light. The shadows peeled away, revealing a tall figure clad entirely in black. A silver mask covered the attacker's face, its surface etched with strange, unsettling patterns.
Without hesitation, Ethan struck at the figure.
The gravity like charm slammed the masked figure into the floor with a bone rattling force. The man coughed violently, pinned in place by unseen pressure.
Before Ethan could bind him, a chill ran down his spine.
The prickling sensation raced across his skin, every instinct screaming warning.
He dropped low just as a spell tore through the air where his head had been moments before. It struck the front window of the train and detonated in an explosion of shattered glass.
Ethan spun towards the place the spell came from.
Another masked figure stood behind him, already casting again. Students screamed as the attacker fired spells indiscriminately into the carriage.
Ethan moved like lightning.
He deflected and redirected spells, twisting their trajectories away from students, blasting them harmlessly into walls and ceilings. He disarmed the first attacker with a sharp motion and sent him slamming unconscious into the floor.
"Defend yourselves," Ethan shouted. "Older students, wands up."
Some obeyed. Others froze in terror.
The masked attacker advanced relentlessly.
A flash of light from behind caught his attention.
A young girl stood trembling but determined, her wand raised as she struck the masked figure from behind.
Ethan did not waste the opportunity.
He lunged forward, ripping the wand from the attacker's hand and snapping it cleanly in two. The figure collapsed, restrained moments later by enchanted bindings summoned by arriving prefects.
"Send an owl to Hogwarts immediately," Ethan told the girl.
She nodded and ran back towards the other end of the train.
Ethan surveyed the shaken students. "Check on each other. Stay together. Protect those who can't defend themselves."
Then he turned back toward the driver's compartment.
The second attacker was gone.
The driver lay slumped now, freed from the spell but unconscious. Whatever magic had frozen him had been lifted in the chaos.
"Fuck"
Ethan swore under his breath.
He secured the captured attacker and moved through the train once more, coordinating with the prefects. When he reached the exit, he opened the door and stepped into the night.
The air outside was slightly cold, and Ethan paused, scanning his surroundings for any sign of danger. The night remained still, offering no hint of movement or threat. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the captured figure. His hand lifted, fingers closing around the edge of the mask, ready to reveal the face beneath it.
Before he could pull it away, two loud bangs shattered the silence. The sharp crack of Apparition echoed through the air. Ethan looked up just in time to see two figures materialize in front of him. They landed with practiced precision, cloaked and masked, their wands already raised and pointed in his direction.
Ethan lifted his wand.
Now that they were away from the students, he did not hold back.
The battle erupted violently.
Magic tore through the darkness, lighting the countryside in violent flashes as Ethan advanced to meet them, his expression calm, focused, and utterly unyielding.
The night rang with thunder and spellfire as the fight continued.
Spells tore through the night like shards of lightning.
Each incantation screamed as it cut the air, lighting the darkness in violent flashes of blue, red, and violet. Ethan stood his ground, boots digging into the gravel beside the halted train as he raised his wand again and again, answering every attack with measured precision. Defensive charms bloomed before him in rapid succession, shimmering shields that absorbed the impact of incoming magic before shattering into sparks.
The masked figures pressed him relentlessly.
They moved with unsettling coordination, their silver masks catching the light of their own spells, reflecting distorted images of fire and fury. Their robes fluttered wildly as they advanced and retreated, attacking in alternating waves designed to overwhelm. These were not amateurs. Their movements were disciplined. Their spellwork efficient and merciless.
From the train, faces appeared at the windows.
Students stared in horror and awe as the duel unfolded in the open darkness. Gasps echoed from the carriages as spells collided and detonated, the ground shaking beneath the force of magic unleashed so close to them. Some students shouted warnings. Others cried out in fear.
"Back away from the windows," Ethan shouted without turning. "Everyone get away from the sides of the train. Prefects, move them back now."
His voice carried authority, cutting through panic like a blade. Prefects reacted at once, shouting orders and herding younger students deeper into the carriages, forcing doors shut and drawing protective wards where they could.
A curse streaked toward Ethan's head.
He twisted aside, deflecting it with a sharp flick of his wrist, then retaliated with a spell that ripped a slab of stone free from the earth. The ground groaned as the boulder tore itself loose, soaring through the air at terrifying speed toward one of the attackers.
The masked figure barely had time to react.
The stone slammed down with a thunderous crash, crushing the ground beneath it and pinning the attacker's legs completely. The figure screamed, a raw and furious sound torn from behind the mask, hands clawing desperately at the earth as he tried to free himself.
Ethan did not linger.
Another spell came screaming toward him from the remaining attacker. He raised his wand, but the timing was wrong. His attention had shifted for only a heartbeat, but that was enough.
The spell struck his hand.
Pain exploded through his arm as bone snapped with a sickening crack. His wand nearly slipped from his grasp as agony surged through him, white and blinding. A sharp sound escaped his throat, half breath and half curse, but he did not fall.
He did not stop.
He clenched his teeth, forcing his fingers to close around the wand despite the unnatural angle of his hand. His vision blurred for an instant, then sharpened again as sheer will dragged him back into focus.
"Merlin's sake," he muttered under his breath. "I did not sign up for this."
Blood dripped from his hand, dark against the earth, but he ignored it completely.
The remaining attacker hesitated.
That hesitation was fatal.
Ethan advanced, driving the masked figure back with relentless pressure, each spell forcing the attacker to retreat step by step. The trapped figure continued to struggle beneath the boulder, snarling in rage and pain, but could not free himself.
Ethan's breathing was heavy now. Sweat clung to his skin. His arm throbbed violently, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through his body. Still, he fought on, careful to angle his spells away from the train, constantly aware of the students behind him.
Then the air changed.
A sudden flash erupted at the attacker's feet, followed by an unnatural haze that spilled outward in all directions. A thick fog surged across the ground, swallowing light and sound alike. It was not magic in the traditional sense. Ethan felt it immediately.
It was Alchemy.
"Clever," he muttered.
He slashed his wand through the air, chanting a clearing spell. Wind burst outward, tearing at the fog, scattering it in ragged waves. The ground reappeared. The train loomed behind him once more.
But the attackers were gone.
The boulder remained, cracked and heavy, but the figure beneath it had vanished. Blood stained the earth where he had been moments before, droplets leading away into the darkness before abruptly stopping.
They had fled.
Ethan stood still for a moment, chest rising and falling as he scanned the surroundings, wand raised, senses stretched to their limits. The night was silent once more, broken only by distant murmurs from the train.
Footsteps approached cautiously.
Several prefects climbed down from the train, wands held tightly in their hands. One of them, a girl with a trembling voice, stepped closer.
"Professor," she said. "Are you all right?"
Ethan turned toward them. His face was pale, his hair damp with sweat, but his expression remained composed.
"Yes," he replied. "I am."
Her eyes dropped to his hand.
It hung at an unnatural angle, fingers twisted, blood seeping through torn skin. She inhaled sharply, her face draining of color.
"But your hand," she whispered.
Ethan followed her gaze, then calmly lifted his wand and summoned a length of cloth. He wrapped it around the injury with swift, practiced motions, concealing the worst of it from view.
"It is not serious," he said evenly. "Focus on the students. Search the train. Make sure no one is hurt."
The prefects nodded, reassured by his tone even if their eyes still held fear. They hurried back toward the carriages, calling out to one another as they moved.
Ethan remained where he was, scanning the darkness one last time.
Only when he was certain there was no immediate threat did he turn and reenter the train.
Inside, the atmosphere was heavy with shock.
Students sat huddled together, whispering urgently, eyes wide as they followed him with their gaze. Some stared openly. Others whispered about his battle. He ignored them all, moving steadily down the corridor toward his carriage.
When he opened the door, Penny and Maxwell were already on their feet, wands raised.
"What happened," Penny demanded, her voice shaking despite her attempt at bravery. "We saw the light and the spells and then everything stopped."
Maxwell nodded, his expression pale. "Are we in danger?"
Ethan closed the door behind him and let out a slow breath.
"There were attackers," he said simply. "They are gone now."
"That is all," Penny insisted. "Who were they?"
"I do not know," Ethan replied. "What matters is that you are safe. The professors and the Ministry will arrive shortly. We will continue once everything is secure."
They did not look entirely convinced, but his calm steadiness grounded them.
He moved to his seat and set his bag down. With careful motions, he retrieved several small vials. He unwrapped the cloth from his hand and poured a thick potion over the wound.
Penny gasped.
Nina hissed sharply, leaping from Penny's lap and turning her head away, fur bristling at the scent of blood and potion.
The potion burned as it worked, knitting flesh and slowing the bleeding. Ethan remained silent throughout, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on his hand until the worst of the damage was stabilized. The bone remained broken, but the bleeding stopped.
"That is enough for now," he murmured.
A sudden crack echoed through the carriage.
Ethan's head snapped up. He was on his feet instantly, wand raised, moving toward the door.
More cracks followed, unmistakable.
It was Apparition.
He stepped into the corridor just as figures materialized in a swirl of displaced air.
At the forefront stood Minerva McGonagall, her expression thunderous, tartan robes billowing slightly as she took in the scene before her. Several other professors appeared behind her, wands drawn, scanning the train with sharp eyes.
She spotted Ethan immediately.
"What happened here," she demanded. "I received word from the Head Girl that the train was attacked."
Ethan lowered his wand. "Yes. The train was halted near Hogsmeade. The driver was petrified. Three attackers boarded the train."
He spoke clearly and concisely, recounting the events without embellishment. As he spoke, professors spread through the train, checking compartments, soothing students, inspecting damage.
McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line as she listened, anger simmering beneath her composed exterior.
When he finished, she exhaled sharply. "This is unacceptable."
A calm voice spoke from behind her.
"Indeed."
Ethan turned toward the voice.
Albus Dumbledore stood there, serene as ever, a phoenix perched upon his shoulder, its feathers glowing softly in the dim light. His gaze moved slowly across the scene, missing nothing.
"Let us not linger here," Dumbledore said gently. "The students have endured enough. We will proceed to Hogwarts and discuss matters there."
His eyes flicked to Ethan's bandaged hand. "You are injured."
"I will manage," Ethan replied.
Dumbledore nodded. "Professor McGonagall, see to the students. I will repair the train."
With that, he moved past them, wand already raised.
McGonagall turned back to Ethan. Her anger softened slightly. "You did well tonight. Go and rest."
Ethan inclined his head and returned to his carriage.
A couple of minutes later the train shuddered, then slowly began to move once more.
Ethan sat back in his seat, Nina curled against his uninjured arm as he stared out the window. The countryside slid past once more, dark and quiet, as if nothing had happened at all.
But his thoughts were far from calm.
Silver masks. Coordinated attacks. Alchemical tools.
Whoever they were, they had planned this carefully.