Chapter Four

The carriage stood before them, seemingly floating on its own, but Harry noticed something odd—Tracey was patting the air with a soft, affectionate motion. A sudden chill ran down his spine as he approached.

"Ah... Tracey, are you okay?" Harry asked, his voice betraying a hint of unease.

"Of course, Harry. Why?" she replied, her clear blue eyes meeting his.

"Then... what are you patting? I thought these carriages were pulled by magic," Harry said, his confusion deepening.

Tracey smiled slightly, a mysterious glint in her eyes. "Well, that statement is half right."

Before Harry could ask more, Daphne called from inside the carriage, "You two coming or what?"

Harry quickly helped Tracey into the carriage, feeling the warmth of her hand as she climbed in. With the last available seat beside Tracey, Harry's heart raced as he gathered his Gryffindor courage and sat down. As soon as he made contact with the seat, the carriage jolted forward, and Harry instinctively grabbed onto Tracey, his hand landing in an awkward position against her waist.

Tracey laughed softly, her voice light. "Not that I mind where your hand is, Harry, but at least ask me out to a Hogsmeade weekend first," she teased, helping him straighten up.

Harry stammered, pulling his hand back, his face burning with embarrassment. Before he could respond, Tracey leaned in and kissed his cheek, her lips soft and quick against his skin. "And don't worry, I liked it," she added with a playful wink.

Harry's face turned as red as Ron's hair, the warmth of her kiss lingering on his cheek as the carriage carried them towards Hogwarts.

~ Scene Break ~

As the carriages rolled towards Hogwarts, the darkening sky grew restless, the wind whipping through the trees with a wild ferocity. The distant rumble of thunder echoed off the castle's ancient stone walls, and Harry felt a knot tighten in his stomach as the storm began to unleash its fury. Rain lashed against the carriage windows, the icy droplets splattering with a sharp, relentless rhythm that matched the growing sense of unease within him.

When the carriages finally halted at the castle's entrance, the students were forced to pull up their hoods as they stepped out into the storm. Harry shivered as the cold rain soaked through his robes, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and the metallic tang of lightning. The wind howled, drowning out the sounds of their footsteps as they hurried inside, where the warmth of the castle welcomed them like a thick, comforting blanket.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were there to greet them, their stern faces softened by the flickering torchlight. The Great Hall loomed ahead, its vast doors swinging open to reveal a room that was both familiar and strange. Harry noticed the head table had been enlarged to accommodate more people, the polished surface reflecting the golden glow of the enchanted ceiling above.

As they took their seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry's gaze was drawn to the head table. The usual faces were there—Professor McGonagall on Dumbledore's right, her sharp eyes scanning the room—but on Dumbledore's left sat a man Harry had never seen before. His thinning grey hair caught the light, and he wore a pinstriped suit under a lime-green cloak that seemed out of place amidst the traditional wizarding robes.

"Hermione, who's that sitting next to Dumbledore?" Harry whispered as he sat down, the scent of old wood and warm candle wax filling his senses.

Hermione looked up, her brow furrowing as she followed his gaze. "That's Cornelius Oswald Fudge, current Minister of Magic. Next to him, wearing all that pink and looking like a toad, is Senior Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge. And then, of course, there's Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father and your godfather, as well as the Senior Adviser to the Minister. I'm not sure about the others."

Ron, who had been impatiently drumming his fingers on the table, finally spoke up, "Quick, alert the Daily Prophet! Hermione Jean Granger doesn't know everything."

Harry shot Ron a look that said, "Really?"

"What? It was a joke," Ron muttered, just as the massive doors to the Great Hall creaked open again. Professor Flitwick entered, leading the line of nervous first years to the Sorting Ceremony. A small boy with mousy brown hair waved excitedly at the Gryffindor table, and Harry noticed Colin Creevey wave back, a proud grin on his face.

"That's my brother Dennis, Harry."

"Wow, Colin," Harry replied with a genuine smile, the warmth in his voice cutting through the lingering chill of the storm. "It's very rare for Muggles to have two magical children. Tell your parents congratulations."

The Sorting Ceremony passed quickly, the hat's raspy voice echoing in the hall as each new student found their place. The storm outside raged on, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the enchanted ceiling. As Flitwick removed the stool and the Sorting Hat, Dumbledore rose to address the students.

The Great Hall fell into a tense silence, save for the distant rumbling of the storm outside. Dumbledore began with the usual announcements: the Forbidden Forest was off-limits, and a new list of banned items had been posted. Harry noticed the Headmaster exchange a glance with Fudge before continuing.

"Also, this year, the normal inter-house Quidditch competition will be put on hold..."

The uproar was immediate. Every table erupted in protest, with the loudest voices belonging to Fred and George Weasley, their shouts of outrage echoing through the hall.

"Silence!" Dumbledore called, his voice carrying above the storm. "As I was saying, the Quidditch competition will be on hold this year because we will be hosting a special event on the 24th of November."

As he spoke, the ceiling above reflected a sudden flash of lightning, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. A bolt of lightning struck the enchanted roof, sending a ripple of energy across the hall. Before anyone could react, a heavily scarred man at the head table whipped out his wand, casting a powerful shield charm that deflected the bolt harmlessly out a nearby window.

The hall was momentarily stunned into silence, save for the rain now pattering against the windows. Dumbledore greeted the scarred man with a nod, as if the event was nothing out of the ordinary.

"And now, on to the new additions to our teaching staff," Dumbledore continued as if nothing had happened. "First, we have Alastor Moody, retired Auror and a dear friend. Next, we welcome Marcus Williams, CEO of GAIA Industries and now Professor of the new Tech Studies class here at Hogwarts."

At the mention of Marcus's class, a loud, exaggerated cough drew everyone's attention. Dolores Umbridge rose from her seat, her face twisted into a smug smile as she joined Dumbledore on the top step.

"This school," she began, her voice grating and saccharine, "has stood the test of time with its traditional classes and time-honored ways of teaching the next generation of witches and wizards. The Minister and I will not let this new class last the year, Headmaster, and—"

But her words were cut off as she clutched her throat, suddenly silent. Lucius Malfoy lowered his wand with a cold smile, his voice dripping with disdain. "Madam Umbridge, do yourself a favor and shut up. Please, Headmaster, continue."

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said, his tone calm but with a hint of amusement. "As I was saying, a special event will be held on the 24th of November, and Hogwarts will be hosting four other wizarding schools from around the world. They will arrive on the 30th of October and the 31st. For more details, I hand you over to Professor Williams."

Marcus Williams stepped forward, a confident smile on his face. "Thank you, Headmaster. As you've heard, we will be hosting a special event, but it's more than just that. My team and I have created the first SRMMORPG—Second Reality Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game. We've named it GAIA ONLINE, and students from fourth year and up are welcome to enter their names. You'll learn more during my classes."

As Marcus returned to his seat, Harry noticed Umbridge's narrowed eyes fixed on him, her expression filled with venom. Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the tables filled with food and drink. The hall was once again filled with the familiar sounds of clinking silverware and chatter.

Ron immediately dug into his meal, piling food onto his plate with enthusiasm, while Harry found his appetite suddenly gone. Pushing his plate aside, he glanced across the room. His eyes met Tracey's at the Slytherin table, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement as she sat between Daphne and Draco. Harry quickly looked away, his mind swirling with thoughts of the evening's events.

~ Scene Break ~

The Great Hall buzzed with the contented hum of students who had eaten their fill, the warm scents of roasted meats, fresh bread, and sweet puddings still lingering in the air. Harry could feel the weight of the meal in his stomach, the rich flavors still fresh on his tongue. The firelight flickered softly, casting long shadows across the tables, as the last of the goblets were drained.

Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table, his presence commanding immediate attention. The clatter of cutlery and the murmur of conversation fell silent. "Now, it's time for bed," he announced, his voice echoing warmly through the hall. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." With a simple wave of his hand, the remnants of the feast vanished, leaving the tables bare.

The prefects of all four houses stood in unison, their robes rustling as they moved to gather the first years, who looked around with wide eyes, overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all. Harry began to make his way toward the stairs leading to the Gryffindor Tower, the noise of students shuffling and chatting filling the air. But before he could take more than a few steps, he felt a hand grip his arm, pulling him sharply to the side.

Suddenly, he was in the dark, cramped space of a broom cupboard, the scent of wood polish and dust filling his nose. Before he could react, soft lips pressed against his, warm and urgent. The surprise kiss sent a jolt through him, his senses overwhelmed by the unexpected intimacy. The taste of pumpkin juice lingered on his lips as he registered the faint floral scent of the girl in front of him.

As the kiss ended and the warmth of her presence pulled back, Harry blinked in the dim light, struggling to catch his breath. A familiar voice broke the silence.

"Sorry, just couldn't wait any longer," Tracey whispered, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves.

"Tracey, what… why…?" Harry stammered, his mind racing. He could still feel the tingling sensation on his lips, the closeness of her body, and the quickened beat of his own heart.

"Harry," she began, her tone soft yet direct, "I know you don't have a lot of experience with girls. I mean, you treat Hermione like a sister, and I can't see you hooking up with Ginny."

"Ginny… she's like a baby sister to me," Harry replied, still trying to process what was happening.

"So," Tracey continued, her voice dropping to a nervous murmur, "I was hoping that maybe… Will you be my boyfriend?"

Harry watched as Tracey's cheeks flushed red, the color spreading to the tips of her ears, reminding him of the Weasleys. Her clear blue eyes held a mix of fear and hope that made something in his chest tighten. Without thinking, Harry reached out, pulling her into a hug, his arms encircling her. He tilted his head down and captured her soft lips with his once more. The world outside seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of Tracey's body against his and the gentle pressure of her lips on his.

When they finally broke apart, Harry's heart was pounding, his breath coming in short bursts. He looked into her eyes, emerald meeting blue, and asked quietly, "Tracey, would you be my girlfriend?"

For a moment, Tracey simply stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Then, with a burst of energy, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, clinging to him as if she never wanted to let go. The two of them were so caught up in the moment that neither noticed the door to the cupboard slowly creaking open.

The sudden light from the corridor made them both blink, and Harry turned his head to see half the school standing there, their expressions ranging from shock to amusement. But it was the stern face of Professor McGonagall that made Harry's heart drop.

"Now that you two have declared your feelings for each other," McGonagall said, her voice laced with a mix of disapproval and wry humor, "would you kindly disentangle yourselves and make your way to your common rooms?"

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," Harry and Tracey mumbled in unison, quickly stepping apart and straightening their robes, their faces flushed with embarrassment.