It was a bleak September afternoon when Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached the castle. Each sound of the train screeching against the rails had made them jump. The rails sounded stunningly similar to the unearthly cries of death eaters. It seemed the sounds were amplified by the emptiness of the compartments. Absent were the giggling gossipers, threats of hexes flying between houses, booming resonation of exploding snap games gone awry, cries of laughter brought on by canary creams! What he wouldn't give for the sound of one person's laughter.
As the three felt the train slow, Hermione pulled out her wand and levitated their luggage down from the upper compartments.
"Watch it, under age wizards can't use magic during the summer holidays," remarked Ron wryly.
Hermione gave him a small, sad smile. They all knew that the Misuse of Magic Office had long since been obliterated. In fact, the entire ministry was no more than a feeding ground for thestrals. It seemed that Hogwarts was the only safe magical haven, until of course, Harry had received his letter.
"Well, we're here," he said, unnecessarily. "Do you think, maybe, there really is a new school waiting for us?"
Hermione gave him a long, thoughtful look before answering. "I suppose there must be, if Dumbledore gave his own life to create it. I suppose we're about to find out. Still, we don't know for certain that the death eaters didn't follow us, let's use your cloak!"
Harry looked away. Hermione, realizing her mistake, gasped in horror. "Harry, I didn't mean—"
"It's okay," he muttered. Voldemort had taken his cloak in their last encounter. He now wore it whenever he slaughtered a victim. Harry's stomach turned.
"So what if there is a brand new school?" said Ron. "What do we know about running a school? I'm gonna be the worst bloody teacher…"
"Dumbledore trusts us," said Hermione assertively. "Let's just get off this train. That's the first step. The next steps…will be up to fate."
Harry and Ron nodded, slowly stepping off the train, their luggage floating faithfully behind.
As they stepped off the train, Harry felt as if a dementor had sucked the last of his hope out of him. Before them, amidst a lush, green landscape adorned with a lake that would have made any giant squid jealous, was a smoldering pile – the ruins of their dream school, their last hope.
Ron turned away in defeat, but then yelled, "Hey! The train is leaving!"
"It's a trap!" moaned Harry.
"No, it's not at all!" said Hermione, her voice suddenly bright. "C'mon!"
Grudgingly, Harry allowed her to pull him along towards the broken castle, his throat burning with smoke.
"Really," he said angrily, pulling away as the heat from the flames intensified. "What do you plan to do? Rub it in my face some more?"
Hermione looked hurt, and instantly, he felt guilty. "I'm sorry, I'm just….sad, I guess," he finished lamely.
Hermione gave him a small smile and beckoned for Ron to come over. "Do you two recall our run in with Devil's Snare? Do you remember when I asked you to trust me?"
Harry nodded, frustrated with her evasive comments.
"Well," she continued, "Trust me now, and jump into the fire."
"That's it!" exclaimed Ron. "She's gone starkers! I should have seen this coming."
But suddenly Harry knew exactly why Hermione wanted him to jump to his doom. These weren't ordinary ruins. They were a disguise, just like those surrounding Hogwarts.
"After you," grinned Hermione as together they jumped into the fire, leaving a horrified Ron gaping at their disappearance.