Chapter 8: Aboard the Hogwarts Express
The station was alive with motion. Muggles hurried past in every direction, wheeling luggage, adjusting coats, and ushering along children as the metallic chime of train announcements echoed overhead. Arcturus stood still amidst the flow of travelers, gripping the handle of his trunk. He could hear the distant rumble of a departing train, the sharp hiss of steam escaping from unseen engines, but none of it held his attention.
His eyes were locked onto the solid brick wall between platforms nine and ten.
It looked perfectly ordinary. Unremarkable. But Hogwarts: A History had been very clear—all he had to do was run at it. Run at a very real, very solid wall. He had been willing to trust the book's account of magical architecture, but standing here now, surrounded by unsuspecting Muggles, the idea felt... foolish.
Could it be that simple?
His fingers flexed around the handle of his trunk as he took a cautious step forward. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected—a faint shimmer of magic, perhaps, or some sign that this was more than just an ordinary brick wall. But no, it stood there, still and unassuming, as if daring him to test his luck.
Then, movement caught his eye.
A wizarding family stepped up to the barrier, blending seamlessly into the busy station despite the quiet air of magic about them. The father, a broad-shouldered man with a warm but steady presence, adjusted the collar of his son's robes, his touch firm but affectionate. The boy, around Arcturus's age, had neatly combed hair and a look of nervous excitement flickering across his features.
His mother, a kind-eyed woman, was fussing over him, tugging at his sleeves to smooth out invisible creases. "Cedric, darling, hold still," she murmured, swiping a smudge of dirt from the corner of his mouth.
Cedric recoiled slightly, his ears burning pink. "Mum!" he groaned, casting a quick glance around as if to make sure no one had noticed.
His father chuckled, clapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Now, you remember what I told you—straight at the barrier. Don't stop."
Arcturus, leaning casually against the brick wall with his trunk at his side, watched closely.
Cedric squared his shoulders, gripped his trolley tighter, and—without another word—took off at a run.
For a split second, Arcturus braced himself, expecting a collision. But just as Cedric reached the wall, the bricks seemed to ripple—and then he was gone.
His parents exchanged smiles before linking hands, stepping forward together, and vanishing just as effortlessly.
Arcturus exhaled slowly.
So it really was that simple.
Before Arcturus even had the chance to pick up his trunk, a voice drifted through the bustling station, full of wonder and admiration.
"Fascinating. Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found to get along without magic."
Arcturus turned sharply toward the speaker.
A tall, thin man with faded red hair—already thinning at the top—was walking alongside a large family of redheads. His deep blue eyes were bright with curiosity as he studied a Muggle vending machine, reaching into his pocket for what appeared to be a Muggle coin. He examined it with the same reverence one might give an ancient artifact before nudging the eldest son beside him. "Absolutely brilliant Muggle engineering," he murmured, dropping the coin into the slot and pressing a button experimentally.
A shorter, round-faced woman beside him sighed, clearly used to this kind of behavior. "Arthur, do focus, dear."
Among them was a little girl, about Élodie's age, clutching her mother's hand with an eager expression.
The red haired woman turned toward the tallest of the children, a boy in his late teens with a freckled face and long hair tied back in a ponytail. "All right, Bill, you go first."
The boy—Bill, Arcturus realized—gave a lazy salute, gripping his trolley with practiced ease before striding confidently toward the barrier. A moment later, he disappeared through the bricks as if they weren't even there.
Arcturus blinked.
Then came another, this one broad-shouldered with windswept hair. He was grinning as he clapped his hands together. "See you on the other side, Perce!"
And just like that, the teen ran straight into the barrier and was gone.
The serious-looking boy—tall and lean, his horn-rimmed glasses perched precisely on his nose—gripped his trolley with steady hands. His father placed a firm hand on his shoulder, offering a small nod.
"Let's go, Percy," he said simply.
Without hesitation, Percy matched his father's stride, and together, they moved swiftly toward the barrier. In an instant, they vanished through the bricks, as if they had never been there at all.
Standing beside their mother was another boy, much younger than the others, freckles dusting his nose. He shifted from foot to foot, looking up at his departing brothers with wide, envious eyes. Arcturus caught the way his hands clenched at his sides, as if he was holding himself back from following after them.
Arcturus realized, if he was going to go next, he had to move now before another family arrived.
He strode forward, stepping up beside the remaining red-haired family members. He had barely positioned himself near the barrier when the mother's gaze landed on him, her kind brown eyes meeting his golden ones.
She caught sight of him and gave a warm smile. "Oh, you must be starting this year as well?" she said, her tone light but welcoming. "Nervous?"
Before Arcturus could answer, she gestured toward the two identical boys standing beside her, both sporting identical grins that hinted at trouble waiting to happen.
"These two are starting, too—Fred and George. Merlin help us all."
"Oi!" one of them protested. "You make it sound like we're a menace."
"We haven't even done anything yet," the other added, looking thoroughly offended.
Their mother gave them a pointed look before turning back to Arcturus. "Well, not today, at least."
They were unmistakably up to something.
Arcturus gave the twins a wary glance before focusing back on the barrier. "Ehh… 'Ow does zis work, exactly?" he asked, his French accent curling around the words. "I just… run at ze wall? Zere is no password? No secret spell? I would prefer not to break my nose before I even arrive at 'Ogwarts."
The twins exchanged a glance, then turned to him in eerie synchronization, their expressions solemn.
"Oh, there's a password," one said gravely.
"Ancient Hogwarts tradition," the other added. "Only first-years know it."
Arcturus frowned. "I—"
"But we can't tell you."
"Top secret."
Their mother groaned, rubbing her temples. "Fred, George—"
"Last year's password was 'Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Barrier Regulation, subsection C, paragraph five,'" Fred declared, completely straight-faced.
George nodded sagely. "Had to say it exactly right, or you'd end up in a closet."
Arcturus stared at them, unimpressed. "Zat is ridiculous."
Fred clapped him on the shoulder. "Tell that to the poor bloke still trapped in there."
"Terrible fate, really," George added. "We tried to visit, but the closet's got rules about that."
Their mother let out an exasperated sigh, visibly restraining the urge to scold them. "For Merlin's sake—"
Fred grinned. "Relax, mate, no password—unless you're a spy?"
Arcturus blinked. "Pardon?"
George gasped, eyes widening. "He does have an accent."
The red-haired woman's patience officially snapped. "Enough!"
The twins flinched at her sharp tone, though they still looked far too pleased with themselves.
She turned back to Arcturus, her expression softening into something far more patient. "Ignore them, dear. Just walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten—don't stop, and don't hesitate. That's the important part."
Arcturus exhaled and adjusted his grip on his trunk, the smooth leather familiar beneath his fingers. It wasn't cumbersome—thanks to the subtle weightless charm woven into its seams—but it carried a different kind of weight, one that settled deep in his chest.
He dipped into a small, instinctive bow. "Merci—" He froze, ears tinging pink the moment the word left his mouth. Clearing his throat, he hastily corrected himself, his accent thick as he stumbled over the words. "Er—zank you…" His brow furrowed, and with a quiet huff, he forced himself to say it properly. "Thank you."
The red-haired woman's brows lifted in pleasant surprise, but she simply smiled. "Oh! How polite—off you go, then!"
He squared his shoulders.
A deep breath.
A firm grip.
And then—he ran.
It worked for that boy Cedric. It worked for the redheads. It will work for me.
The bricks loomed ahead—solid, unyielding, entirely too real. His heartbeat quickened, every logical instinct in his body screaming that this was a terrible idea.
For a fleeting moment, panic surged through him. The wall rushed closer, the bricks unmoving, no shimmer of magic, no sign that this was anything other than a collision waiting to happen—
And then—
The world shifted.
There was no impact, no sudden jolt—only a strange, fleeting pull, like stepping through a curtain of water. The pressure changed around him, a muffled whoosh filling his ears, and in the blink of an eye—
The bricks were gone.
The chaotic hum of the Muggle station behind him faded into something altogether different—livelier, richer. The scent of coal smoke and warm metal filled the air, interwoven with the crispness of early autumn. Voices layered over one another—students calling out goodbyes, parents shouting last-minute instructions, the occasional hoot of an owl punctuating the chatter.
And right before him, stretching across the platform, was the Hogwarts Express.
Arcturus inhaled sharply.
The scarlet train gleamed under the morning sun, steam hissing from beneath its massive iron wheels. It was exactly as he had imagined it—no, grander. The carriages stretched far beyond what seemed possible for a single train, their deep red paint polished to a perfect shine. The golden letters emblazoned on the side—Hogwarts Express—looked almost alive in the flickering light.
For the first time since arriving in King's Cross, a genuine, unguarded smile flickered across his face.
He stepped aside, allowing the red-haired family to follow through the barrier, and turned his gaze across the bustling platform.
Students of all ages hurried about—some already in their Hogwarts robes, others still in Muggle clothing. Older students moved with practiced ease, chatting in small groups as they loaded their trunks onto the train. Younger students, mostly first-years like himself, hovered uncertainly, clutching their luggage and looking around in wonder.
A pair of boys—twins, judging by their identical black robes and messy dark hair—shoved at each other playfully near the train steps. A cluster of girls in blue-and-bronze scarves huddled near the front, one of them animatedly gesturing as she spoke about something that had their entire group hanging onto her every word.
Arcturus shifted his grip on his trunk, suddenly aware of the weight of his belongings—and of the journey ahead.
A sudden bang somewhere down the platform made him jump slightly, and he turned his head just in time to see a trunk explode open—books flying in every direction. A frazzled-looking boy, already in his Hogwarts robes, scrambled after them with frantic apologies, while an exasperated-looking girl tried to help.
Before he could fully process the scene, movement in the corner of his eye made him turn.
The red-haired family began to disperse— the oldest son pulling his mother into a final hug before striding off toward the train with an easy confidence. The broad-shouldered one followed soon after, pausing only to ruffle the youngest boy's hair (much to the child's loud protest) before stepping onto the train himself.
Fred and George, however, hadn't moved toward the train just yet.
They stood a few feet away, heads tilted together in hushed conversation, their identical grins practically vibrating with barely-contained mischief. Every so often, one of them would glance around the platform, as if scouting for the perfect opportunity to cause trouble—or, at the very least, to test the patience of an unsuspecting victim.
Arcturus reached the edge of the platform and hesitated, his gaze flickering back toward the barrier. It stood there, unassuming, just a wall once again. The world beyond it—Muggles rushing to catch their trains.
A slow breath.
No turning back now.
He tightened his grip on his trunk, its smooth leather warm beneath his fingers. It looked heavy—should have been heavy—but the subtle weightless charm woven into its seams made it glide effortlessly as he maneuvered it up the steps. Not quite floating, but light enough that it didn't slow him down.
One last breath.
Then, with a roll of his shoulders, he stepped forward and boarded the train.
The corridor of the Hogwarts Express stretched endlessly before him, lined with compartments brimming with students. The chatter of excited voices blended with the rhythmic clatter of the train as it rumbled to life beneath his feet. Arcturus walked at an even pace, his gaze flickering over the occupied compartments as he passed.
Most compartments were already claimed—students leaning out of doorways, calling to friends, laughter spilling into the hallway. In one, a group of older students were hunched over textbooks, deep in discussion, their voices quick and animated. Another was filled with a trio of kids eagerly unwrapping colorful sweets, passing them around between bites of laughter.
Further down, two boys sat close together, speaking in hushed tones, their expressions sharp with amusement—conspiring, maybe, or simply exchanging secrets. Arcturus didn't slow down. He wasn't in the mood for forced conversation, nor did he want to wedge himself into a space where friendships had already formed.
He pressed on.
The air felt warmer the further he walked, the steady hum of voices growing softer as he moved past the more crowded sections of the train. Soon, the compartments became emptier, the gaps between occupied ones growing longer. He finally reached a door that, when he slid it open, revealed an empty compartment.
Relief settled over him like a heavy cloak.
Arcturus stepped inside, maneuvering his trunk into place on the overhead rack with ease. Satisfied, he turned and let himself drop onto the seat.
For a moment, he simply breathed.
The cushioned bench was firm, but welcoming, the gentle sway of the train beneath him oddly soothing. The compartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of voices beyond the glass and the rhythmic thrum of the wheels on the tracks. He hadn't realized how much tension had coiled in his shoulders until now, but as he sat there, the exhaustion of the morning settled into his limbs like lead.
Finally.
He leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes for a brief second, but the moment of peace didn't last.
Because behind his eyelids, he saw snow.
A weak fire. A slouched figure, bloodshot eyes glinting in the dim glow. And beside him—the hooded thing.
Arcturus's eyes snapped open.
His stomach twisted as the vision pressed into his thoughts, unwelcome and insistent. His hands clenched against his knees as he stared at the empty space before him, his mind spiraling over what he had seen.
The father of Ollivander. A dementor. A moment frozen in time.
What did it mean?
His fingers itched, and almost without thinking, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wand. It rested easily in his palm, the polished elder wood smooth beneath his fingers. For a brief moment, it was warm—a familiar hum vibrating through his bones, like it always did when he held it.
Then, just as quickly—it turned cold.
Not just cool against his skin, but biting. A creeping chill that sank deep into his fingertips, coiling through his veins like frost.
Slowly, he turned the wand between his fingers, watching the way the light hit its polished surface. He had grown used to this sensation—the way his wand always shifted between warmth and ice, a subtle, constant reminder that it was different. But today, after what he had seen, that difference felt more ominous than ever.
His hand drifted back into his jacket pocket. His fingers brushed against the folded parchment hidden there, and he pulled it free.
The note.
His eyes scanned the words for what felt like the hundredth time.
"The thread you carry is bound tighter than you realize. Shadows remember, even when we forget. Tread carefully—what once served darkness cannot always walk in the light unscathed. Be wary of whispers in the quiet, and do not let curiosity guide your hand too far. This is all I can say for now."
He let his thumb linger over the inked words, pressing against the sentence that now rang differently in his mind.
Shadows remember, even when we forget.
He swallowed.
The vision—was it a memory?
Not his own, but something buried within the very thing he now carried. The thread in his wand. A fragment of the past, woven into its core.
The thought sent an eerie shiver down his spine.
He wasn't sure how dementors worked. He knew they were dark creatures—soulless, wretched things that feasted on despair, that drained the light from everything around them. But could they... remember?
Could something of them linger?
He tightened his grip on the note, his mind racing through the implications. If the thread in his wand had once been part of a dementor's cloak—if the material still held some imprint of its past—then what he had seen in the vision wasn't just a stray dream.
It was real.
He had seen something his wand remembered.
The air in the compartment felt colder all of a sudden.
Arcturus exhaled sharply, forcing himself to loosen his grip on both the note and his wand. He tucked the parchment back into his pocket, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration.
Before he could dwell on the thoughts swirling in his mind, the door to his compartment slid open.
He barely had time to school his expression into neutrality before a boy with dark dreadlocks and a bright, mischievous grin leaned into the doorway.
"Oi, thought this one was empty. Guess not," the boy remarked, peering inside with a curious glance.
Arcturus regarded him for a brief moment before nodding toward the opposite seat. "'Eet is not taken."
The boy stepped in without hesitation, dragging his trunk behind him. "Good, 'cause everywhere else is packed," he said cheerfully, plopping down onto the bench across from Arcturus. He stretched out his legs with an easy grin.
Arcturus went to slip his wand away, but the boy's gaze flicked to it before he could.
"Whoa—nice wand," he said, leaning forward slightly, interest sparking in his tone. "What's it made of?"
Arcturus's fingers tightened around the elder wood before he smoothly tucked it into his pocket, pretending not to notice the way the warmth in it had already faded to ice.
"Wood," he said flatly.
The boy snorted. "No way. I thought they made wands out of cheese."
Arcturus blinked, before realizing he was being teased. The boy's grin widened, clearly pleased with himself.
"Lee Jordan," he introduced, extending a hand.
Arcturus hesitated only a second before shaking it. "Arcturus Black."
Lee's eyebrows lifted. "Black, huh? Any relation to—"
Arcturus tensed, but Lee only shrugged. "Eh, never mind. Not important. French, right?"
Arcturus nodded. "Oui."
"Thought so. Accent gave it away." Lee leaned back, stretching out his legs as if they had known each other for years. "'Haven't met many French wizards before—well, except this one bloke my mum works with, but he is like a hundred years old and smells like burnt parchment, so you are already much better company."
Arcturus let out a small huff of amusement, barely noticeable, but Lee caught it and grinned like he had won a challenge.
"Speaking of my mum," Lee continued, "she nearly hexed my dad this morning 'cause he lost track of time, and I almost missed the train. You ever see a grown man try to tie his shoes with magic while running at full speed? Not pretty."
Arcturus raised a brow. "You almost missed ze train?"
"Yeah. Literally had to sprint through the barrier, dragging my trunk behind me like a madman. Thought I was gonna end up halfway between platforms, stuck in the bricks."
Arcturus found himself half-smiling at the image. "But you made it."
"Obviously," Lee said with a dramatic sigh, slumping back against the seat. "Unless this is just a very elaborate dream, and any second now, I'll wake up late for the train. Again."
Arcturus tilted his head, his expression perfectly neutral—except for the slight, knowing glint in his golden eyes.
"If zis were a dream, I would 'ave picked a quieter travel companion."
For half a second, there was silence. Then—
Lee burst into laughter, loud and unapologetic. "And here I thought you were the serious type! So, what about you? Get 'ere all right?"
Arcturus hesitated for a fraction of a second before offering a careful nod. "Oui. I came wiz Portkey"
Lee let out a low whistle. "Ah, Portkey travel. Nothing quite like feeling like a quaffle getting yeeted across the countryside."
Arcturus huffed a quiet laugh. "It was not zat bad."
Lee snorted. "Yeah? You actually landed on your feet, then? That's a win."
The train rumbled steadily beneath them, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks filling the quiet spaces between conversation. Somewhere along the way, time had slipped past unnoticed.
Arcturus and Lee had fallen into an easy discussion—one that had quickly turned to Quidditch.
"—I'm just saying, Puddlemere United's strategy last season was a disaster," Lee argued, leaning back in his seat with the confidence of someone who could coach them to victory himself. "They kept relying on that bloody reverse Wronski Feint, and every team caught on by mid-season. You can't outfly the entire league forever."
Arcturus scoffed. "Puddlemere plays well. Zey just need better coordination between zeir Beaters and Chasers."
Lee shot him a look. "Oh, so you're a Puddlemere fan?"
Arcturus shook his head. "Non. I support Les Faucons de Bordeaux. Zey are ze best team in France."
Lee hummed in thought. "Never seen 'em play. Are they any good?"
Arcturus sat up straighter, his golden eyes lighting up slightly. "Zey are amazing. Fast, unpredictable. Zey play wiz precision, not brute force. And zeir Seeker, Bastien Moreau, is ze best in Europe. No one has reflexes like 'im."
Lee grinned. "Alright, alright, you convinced me. I gotta see them in action now."
The conversation shifted easily from Quidditch to other topics—magical sweets, the weirdest spells they'd heard of, Lee recounting a time his mother hexed a neighbor for trying to steal their Floo Powder supply. Arcturus, to his own surprise, found himself enjoying the company.
Then—
The compartment door slid open.
Two identical red-haired boys stood in the doorway, their matching grins practically humming with mischief.
Arcturus didn't need an introduction. He already knew exactly who they were.
Fred and George slipped inside the compartment, shutting the door behind them with an exaggerated level of caution.
"Right," Fred whispered dramatically, pressing his back against the door as if they were being pursued.
"I think we lost them," George added, peering out the window before flopping onto the seat beside Lee.
Arcturus and Lee exchanged amused glances.
"What did you do?" Lee asked, already grinning.
Fred smirked. "Oh, nothing too serious. Just a minor inconvenience to our dear, ever-so-lovable prefects."
George sighed wistfully. "Shame, really. They didn't seem to appreciate the effort we put into that stinkbomb."
Lee barked out a laugh. "You set off a stinkbomb on the first day?"
"Correction," Fred said, raising a finger. "We set off three."
"Strategic placement," George elaborated. "One in the prefects' compartment, one outside their window for good measure, and one in the corridor—so they had to step into the smell to get out."
Lee clutched his chest as if in admiration. "Brilliant. You two are men of culture."
Arcturus smirked, shaking his head. "And did zey catch you?"
Fred scoffed. "Please. They were too busy gagging to chase us."
George stretched out his legs, looking satisfied. "A job well done."
With the chaos now behind them, the twins finally turned their full attention to their compartment-mates.
"Now, now, we haven't been properly introduced," Fred declared, shifting in his seat. "And since we'll be sharing a train ride—and possibly a few detentions down the line—we ought to fix that."
"Quite right," George agreed, glancing between them. "Name's George Weasley. That's Fred."
"Or is it the other way around?" Fred mused, tapping his chin in mock thought.
"We like to keep people guessing," George said with a wink. "And you two are?"
Lee grinned, ever the easygoing one. "Lee Jordan."
Fred nodded approvingly. "Good, good. You seem like a lad with an appreciation for well-timed chaos."
Lee smirked. "Depends on how well-timed we're talking."
"And you," George continued, turning to Arcturus, "we met you by the barrier, but we didn't catch a name."
Arcturus met their expectant gazes and gave a small nod. "Arcturus Black."
The air in the compartment shifted.
"A Black?" Fred repeated, interest sparking in his tone.
George whistled under his breath. "Didn't see that one coming."
Arcturus had been expecting this. Most people did a double take at his last name.
He leaned back slightly, his expression calm. "Oui. But I 'ave not grown up wiz any Black family. I was raised in France. My uncle and aunt took me in when my parents died."
The twins exchanged a glance.
"So… you don't know—" Fred started, but Arcturus cut him off with a knowing smirk.
"My Uncle Sirius? Non. Never met 'im."
George raised a brow. "Or any of the others?"
"Nope."
"And…" Fred gestured vaguely, as if debating whether to ask the next part. "You don't, uh—"
Arcturus exhaled through his nose. "I do not know dark magic."
George held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Just making sure you weren't about to curse us or anything."
Fred grinned again, the easy humor sliding back into place. "Would've been impressive if you did, though. Dark wizard at eleven? Blimey, even You-Know-Who had to start somewhere."
Lee snorted. "Yeah, but I don't think Arcturus fancies himself the next Dark Lord."
Arcturus shook his head, amused. "Non. Too much effort."
That seemed to settle the matter.
Fred and George exchanged an approving nod before simultaneously sticking out their hands.
"Well then, Arcturus Black," George said, shaking his hand firmly.
"Welcome to the better half of Hogwarts," Fred finished.
Arcturus smirked. "Zat remains to be seen."
The compartment door slid open with a soft clack, revealing an elderly witch in a neat uniform, her cart stacked high with every kind of sweet imaginable—Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and more treats than Arcturus had ever seen in one place.
Lee let out a low whistle. "Now that's a beautiful sight."
Fred and George exchanged grins, already eyeing the stash like it was the greatest treasure trove in wizarding history.
Before anyone could move, Arcturus shifted forward, pulling out a small pouch of gold and setting it on the trolley with a decisive clink.
"I'll take everything," he said simply.
Three pairs of eyes snapped toward him.
"Everything?" George repeated, his tone somewhere between admiration and disbelief.
"You're joking." Fred looked equally astonished. "You have to be joking."
"Not joking." Arcturus handed the trolley lady her payment. "Take whatever you like. Just leave anyzing wiz strawberries for me."
The trolley lady, who had been in this business for years, paused for a brief moment before offering a slow, knowing smile—the kind that suggested she'd seen plenty of things on this train, but this was a first.
"My, my," she chuckled, weighing the pouch in her hands before tucking it away. "A generous one, aren't you? Lucky friends you've got."
Fred and George beamed, clearly pleased with their new friend.
"Brilliant," George declared.
"Absolutely brilliant," Fred agreed.
Lee, still in mild shock, shook his head with a laugh. "Well, mate, you just secured your legacy on this train."
Arcturus smirked, already reaching for a strawberry cream pastry before the chaos erupted.
The compartment was a battlefield of wrappers. Chocolate Frog cards were stacked haphazardly in the middle of the table between them, and an unfinished game of Exploding Snap lay forgotten beside a half-eaten Pumpkin Pasty.
The conversation had drifted between Quidditch rivalries, the best pranks pulled in Hogwarts history, and a heated debate about which Bertie Bott's bean flavors were actually edible.
"Look, I don't care what anyone says," Fred announced, "grass-flavored beans? Not bad."
"Yer mad," Lee shot back. "Buttered toast is elite."
Arcturus smirked, biting into a strawberry cream pastry. "You are all wrong. Zis is ze best."
"Yeah, yeah," George waved a hand, "we get it, you've got a strawberry obsession."
Fred popped another Every Flavor Bean into his mouth and immediately regretted it.
"Ugh—soap."
George smirked. "That's what you get for boasting."
The train rattled on, the sky outside deepening into warm oranges and purples, the long ride growing shorter with every mile.
The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and violet. The rolling countryside outside the window had transformed—what had once been bright fields and winding rivers now blurred into shadows and mist, the last golden streaks of daylight clinging to the horizon.
Inside the compartment, the lively chatter of the train had softened. Laughter still echoed from other compartments, but it had taken on a different tone—one laced with excitement and nerves.
"You lot don't even need to think about it," Fred declared, stretching out dramatically across the seat. "Gryffindor's the only real option. Bravery, heroics, devastating good looks."
George, lounging beside him, snorted. "We have the same face."
Fred pointed at him. "Exactly."
Lee, sprawled comfortably in his corner, propped his feet up on the seat beside him, looking utterly at ease. "You're all thinking too small. Hufflepuff. Best house, best food, and nobody sees you coming. You can get away with anything."
Fred made a dramatic face, clutching his chest as if physically wounded. "Hufflepuff? Seriously?"
Arcturus raised a brow. "An' what's wrong wiz 'Oufflepuff?"
Fred turned to him as if he had just suggested they all take up knitting instead of Quidditch. "Mate, you can't tell me you're actually rooting for Hufflepuff."
Arcturus smirked. "Lee 'as a point. food, no crazy expectations, an' nobody would ever suspect a Hufflepuff of anything. Seems like an excellent setup to me."
Lee shot a triumphant grin. "See? He gets it."
George hummed thoughtfully. "Y'know… that's actually not a bad angle. No one expects a Hufflepuff to cause trouble."
Fred groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Don't tell me you're considering it."
George shrugged. "I'm just saying, if we end up there, we'll make history."
Lee leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Exactly! The most legendary Hufflepuff pranksters Hogwarts has ever seen."
Fred scoffed, crossing his arms. "If we end up in Hufflepuff, I'll eat my own socks."
Lee smirked. "I'll hold you to that."
George tapped his chin, "Actually I dunno, I think we'd be a bit much for the Hufflepuffs."
Fred nodded. "They wouldn't survive us."
George gave a dramatic sigh. "That's it. We'll all just get sorted into Gryffindor. Nice and simple."
Fred leaned forward, nudging Arcturus. "You wouldn't mind that, yeah?"
Arcturus tilted his head, considering.
He'd never thought much about the Sorting before. It didn't really matter to him—he'd read about the houses, of course, but he hadn't had strong opinions.
But now?
He looked around the compartment, at Lee still smirking, at Fred and George with matching grins.
He imagined spending the next seven years with them.
Arcturus shrugged, lips twitching. "I suppose zat wouldn't be so bad."
Fred grinned. "That's the spirit."
George draped an arm over his twin's shoulders. "We'll be unstoppable."
Lee chuckled, shaking his head. "Or expelled."
Fred wagged a finger. "Ah, but legendary."
Arcturus laughed, the sound coming easily.
Outside, the sky had darkened, and the train rattled on, carrying them toward the unknown.
The train's steady rhythm shifted. The once constant clatter of wheels against the tracks softened, the motion becoming slower, steadier—enough to be noticeable.
Someone down the corridor let out a sharp, excited exclamation.
"We're here! Look—Hogwarts!"
A scramble of movement followed, students pressing up against windows, eager to catch their first glimpse of their new home.
Arcturus felt a thrill of anticipation curl in his stomach. He leaned forward, pressing a hand to the cool glass.
And then—
There it was.
Hogwarts.
It rose against the night, vast and impossibly grand, its towers stretching toward the sky like something from an old storybook illustration. The castle loomed high above the Black Lake, its reflection shimmering on the dark waters, the countless windows blazing with golden light. It seemed to float, suspended between the earth and sky, both untouchable and welcoming all at once.
Even from here, even through the slight distortion of the glass, it was breathtaking.
"Whoa," Lee breathed, pressing up against the window beside him. "That's—" He trailed off, apparently unable to find the right word.
Arcturus didn't answer.
Because for the first time, standing before something so grand, so much bigger than him, he realized—
The compartment was momentarily silent, all four boys mesmerized. Even Fred and George, who had been joking nonstop for the past hour, had gone quiet.
Then—
"Right!" Fred clapped his hands together, shaking off the moment. "Uniforms! We should probably—"
A loud, piercing whistle rang through the train, signaling their impending arrival.
"—change before we get there," George finished.
Lee groaned, already digging through his trunk. "Ugh, should've done this earlier."
Fred shrugged off his jacket. "Ah, it's just robes, how hard can it—"
He had barely finished speaking when absolute chaos erupted.
The narrow space of the compartment became an immediate battlefield.
Lee attempted to change while still sitting, nearly toppling sideways in his attempt to pull his robes over his head. Fred got tangled in his own sleeve, cursing as he nearly knocked over George in the process.
Arcturus, normally composed, had to duck when a sock went flying.
"Move over, I can't—"
"Merlin, zis is ridiculous," Arcturus muttered under his breath, dodging Lee's flailing elbow.
At some point, Fred managed to get his head stuck inside his robes.
"George, I'm blind. Help me."
"Hold still, you twit—"
With zero coordination, the four of them wrestled into their uniforms, robes getting stuck, elbows knocking into sides, the compartment filled with laughter and groans.
Arcturus finally yanked his robe over his shoulders, ruffling a hand through his hair to smooth it back into place—but, as usual, it refused to be tamed.
Fred, victorious at last, spread his arms. "Behold!"
Lee snorted. "You're wearing your robe inside out, mate."
George cackled. "Oh, he is. Spectacular."
Fred glanced down, then grinned. "Eh. A bold fashion statement, I say."
The train gave one final lurch.
The excitement hit them all at once.
They were here.
The moment Arcturus stepped off the train, the crisp September air hit him like a wave.
It was colder than he expected. The warmth of the train, the laughter, the lively chatter—it all faded the second his boots hit the stone platform.
Chaos surrounded him.
Students rushed past in every direction, some reuniting with old friends, others craning their necks to take in their surroundings. The air buzzed with excitement and nervous whispers, the energy contagious. Somewhere nearby, an older student called out to a friend, their voices blending into the sea of sound.
But above it all—
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years, this way!"
The deep, booming voice cut through the platform like thunder, and instinctively, Arcturus turned toward the source.
And froze.
A giant of a man stood at the far end of the platform, a wild mane of hair and a thick beard making him look almost like something pulled from an old fairytale. He held an oil lantern aloft, its golden glow casting long shadows over his massive frame. His expression, despite his sheer size, was warm—welcoming, even.
Arcturus wasn't the only one staring.
Some of the first-years gawked openly, their heads tilted back just to take in the full height of him. Others whispered amongst themselves, eyes wide with curiosity—or mild intimidation.
The giant clapped his free hand against his coat, then grinned. "C'mon then! No more'n four to a boat!"
The words barely registered before the first-years began moving, some still sneaking wary glances at the man as they followed.
Arcturus exchanged a glance with Fred, George, and Lee. There was no need to speak. Without hesitation, they stuck together, weaving through the crowd and stepping onto a narrow path that sloped down toward the lake.
The world grew darker as they descended, the warm glow of the station fading behind them.
Then, suddenly—
The Black Lake stretched out before them.
Arcturus stopped short.
The water was like a pool of ink, smooth and endless, reflecting the deep navy sky above. A hundred thousand stars shimmered on its surface, faint ripples disturbing the illusion as small wooden boats bobbed gently at the shore.
And there, above it all—
Hogwarts.
It stood like a sentinel over the lake, high towers reaching for the heavens, its golden windows blazing in the night. From this angle, the castle seemed even more unreal, like something suspended between the stars and the water, untouched by time.
Arcturus gripped the edge of his cloak.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Even the most excitable first-years had fallen silent, the sheer sight of Hogwarts stealing the words from their tongues.
Then, Hagrid's voice broke the stillness.
"Four to a boat!"
The spell snapped.
Students rushed forward, and the four boys instinctively made their way to a boat near the edge of the dock.
Fred and George vaulted in first, the latter wobbling dramatically before catching his balance.
"Right then, let's not sink on our first day," George said, grinning.
Lee stepped in next, testing the boat with his foot before settling in. "Would be one for the history books, though."
Arcturus hesitated for only a second before following suit, his boots landing lightly on the wooden planks. The boat rocked beneath them, the sensation unsettling but not alarming.
And then—
Without warning—
The boats moved.
A few students gasped. Someone let out a startled laugh. But there were no paddles, no ropes pulling them forward—just silent, seamless movement as the fleet of boats glided across the lake on their own.
The air was cold, the wind crisp against Arcturus's face as the water stretched endlessly beneath them.
He gripped the edge of the boat, watching as the castle loomed larger and larger ahead of them, the details of its towering spires becoming clearer with every passing second.
No one spoke.
Even Fred and George, notorious for filling silences with jokes, simply watched.
The gentle lap of the lake against the boats was the only sound, the hush of the journey making everything feel even more unreal.
They were almost there.
The boat nudged the dock with a gentle bump, the wooden planks creaking under its weight.
Arcturus let out a slow breath, the cold air rushing past his lips in a ghostly wisp.
Hagrid stepped onto the dock first, his massive boots thudding heavily against the wood. He turned, grinning down at the wide-eyed first-years, and gestured toward the path that led up from the lake. "Everyone out, nice an' easy now. Watch yer step!"
Fred and George hopped off the boat in perfect synchronized ease, their movements quick and light.
Lee followed, stretching his arms above his head with a low whistle. "Merlin's beard, that was unreal."
Arcturus stepped onto the dock last, his boots meeting the stone with a quiet thud.
The air was different here. Cooler. Heavier.
The lake behind them stretched into the darkness, its smooth surface barely disturbed by the ripples of their arrival. Ahead, a narrow, winding path led up toward the castle, its edges lined with flickering torches that barely cut through the growing night.
Hagrid motioned for them to follow. "Come on, this way! Don' be dawdlin'!"
The dirt path curved steeply, forcing Arcturus to focus on his footing as he climbed. The chill in the air deepened, wrapping around them as they left the water behind and pressed forward into the looming shadow of the castle.
Even from a distance, Hogwarts had seemed impossibly large, but now—now, it was something else entirely.
The stone walls stretched high into the sky, vanishing into the darkness above. The torches flickered against intricate carvings and age-worn gargoyles, their unblinking eyes staring down at the new arrivals.
Arcturus felt their gaze, a strange, watchful presence, as if the castle itself was studying them.
They reached a wide stone staircase, the final ascent before the entrance. Hagrid took the steps three at a time, his massive form barely slowed by the incline. The first-years, however, moved slower, some gaping up at the sheer size of the doors before them.
They stood at least three times Hagrid's height, the wood so dark and polished it gleamed beneath the torchlight. Great iron hinges framed the entrance, curling into twisting patterns that spoke of old magic, of centuries of history.
Arcturus took it all in, the weight of the moment settling heavily in his chest.
The massive wooden doors groaned as they swung open, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down the spines of more than a few first-years.
Standing before them was a tall, severe-looking witch, her emerald robes crisp, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. Her gaze swept over them with piercing sharpness, her expression unreadable.
Arcturus straightened on instinct. There was something about her—an air of authority that needed no words to be understood.
She let the silence stretch, commanding their attention without effort, before finally speaking.
"Welcome to Hogwarts."
The words rang out, crisp and certain, but she did not stop there.
"Within these walls, you will learn, grow, and be tested. Friendships will be made, challenges will be faced, and the choices you make will shape the years ahead. But first—your Sorting awaits."
She stepped aside, the grand entrance of the castle now fully open to them. The torchlight flickered, casting long shadows against the stone floor.
"Follow me."
The first-years stood frozen for half a second, as if the weight of those words had settled over them all at once. Then, with a quiet ripple of motion, they stepped forward into the castle, crossing the threshold into the unknown.