The Darkmore Series (No 18)

by DeadGirlEtarnal

The Wizarding family, Darkmore. A strange and old family within the wizarding world, and now it's time for the oldest to attend Hogwarts, and adventures await her inside the castle walls, but who will she befriend along the way. As things become darker, the further she travels with her friends. Only Own OCS.

35. XXXIII: Zealous

XXXIII. Zealous

Showing great energy or enthusiasm in pursuit of a cause or objective.

The following morning, which doesn't seem so long as the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione only get a few hours of sleep. Mr Weasley uses magic to pack up the tents, and they leave the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr Roberts at the door of his cottage. The man has a strange, dazed look and waves them off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"He'll be all right," Mr Weasley assures them quietly as they march onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while…and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."

Meanwhile, across the way, at another campsite, the Darkmores are getting ready for their departure; Jayla quickly gets changed into a dark green skirt, white blouse, and black pumps as she helps Mason with his grey blazer, the eleven-year-old still loving his three-piece suits. Sophia helps Yazmin with her hair, putting it up like her big sister's retro bouffant hairstyle. "Is everything packed?" Daniel asks, taking the last bag to the car, planning to drive home as it's not far. At least a three-hour drive.

"Yeah, Mason helped," Jayla replies, putting a pale green coat over to help with the morning chill. The Darkmore family exited the caravan, locking it behind them before heading to the car with everything inside. Daniel makes sure his wife and children are buckled in before starting to drive home, letting the kids relax, though it seems Jayla is too engrossed in her book 'Wuthering Heights' that Hermione suggested.

The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione hear urgent voices as they approach the spot where the Portkey lies; when they reach it, they find a significant number of Witches and Wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamouring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Mr Weasley hurriedly discusses with Basil; they join the queue and are able to take an old rubber tyre back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun has really risen.

The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione walk back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because they are so exhausted and thinking longingly of their breakfast. As they round the corner and the Burrow comes into view, a cry echoes along the lane. "Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs Weasley, who evidently has been waiting for them in the front yard, comes running towards them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. "Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried -!" She flings her arms around her husband's neck, and the Daily Prophet falls out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Harry sees the headline: 'SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP', complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs Weasley mutters distractedly, releasing Mr Weasley and staring around at them with red eyes, "you're alive…. Oh boys…"

And to everybody's surprise, she seizes Fred and George, pulling them both into such a tight hug that their heads bang together. "Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs Weasley cries, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr Weasley tells her soothingly, prying her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he adds in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says. . . ."

The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione, cram into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione makes Mrs Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Molly insists on pouring a shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and Bill hands his father the paper. Arthur scans the front page while Percy looks over his shoulder.

"I knew it," Mr Weasley sighs heavily. "Ministry blunders . . . culprits not apprehended . . . lax security . . . Dark Wizards running unchecked . . . national disgrace . . . Who wrote this? Ah . . . of course . . . Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" Percy retorts furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —"

"Do us a favour, Perce," Bill says, yawning, "and shut up."

"I'm mentioned," Mr Weasley informs the others, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reaches the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.

"Where?" Mrs Weasley splutters, choking on her tea and whiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," He tells them. "Listen to this: 'If the terrified Wizards and Witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.' Oh really," Mr Weasley retorts in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? Rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods . . . well, there certainly will be rumours now she's printed that."

He heaves a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," Percy replies importantly. "Mr Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

He bustles out of the kitchen. Mrs Weasley looks most upset. "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," Arthur argues. "I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off. . . ."

"Mrs Weasley," Harry says suddenly, unable to contain himself, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" Mrs Weasley replies distractedly. "No . . . no, there hasn't been any post at all."

Ron and Hermione look curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look at both of them, he says, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah . . . think I will too," Ron replies at once. "Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione says quickly, and the three of them march out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asks his best friend when they close the door to the attic room behind them.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry says. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Ron's and Hermione's reactions are almost exactly as Harry imagined them back in his bedroom on Privet Drive. Hermione gasps and starts making suggestions immediately, mentioning several reference books and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looks dumbstruck.

"But — he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean — last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't at the house," he replies, not telling them the name of his new house, as it is a secret. "But I was dreaming about him . . . him and Peter — you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill . . . someone."

He teeters momentarily on the verge of saying "me," but can't bring himself to make Hermione look any more terrified than she already does.

"It was only a dream," Ron argues bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" Harry wonders, looking out the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it? . . . My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't — say — his — name!" Ron hisses through gritted teeth.

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry goes on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?"

Professor Trelawney is the Divination teacher at Hogwarts. Hermione's terrified look vanishes as she lets out a derisive snort. "Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," Harry argues. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance — a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again . . . greater and more terrible than ever before . . . and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him . . . and that night Wormtail escaped."

There is a silence in which Ron fidgets absentmindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asks. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar before leaving," He replies, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" Ron exclaims, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," Harry sighs, though he knows that he's starting his new job.

"But we don't know where Sirius is . . . he could be anywhere or something, couldn't he?" Hermione argues reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."

"Yeah, I know," He replies, but there is a leaden feeling in his stomach as he looks out the window at the Hedwig-free sky.

"Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry," Ron suggests. "Come on — three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play. . . . You can try out the Wronski Feint. . . ."

"Ron," Hermione says, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-verysensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now. . . . He's worried, and he's tired. . . . We all need to go to bed. . . ."

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," Harry replies suddenly. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt."

Hermione leaves the room, muttering something that sounds very much like "Boys."

The Darkmore family make it home to find Flora and Dobby outside, waiting for them with tears in their eyes as they watch the car come to a stop in the driveway. Jayla opens the door, letting Mason and Yazmin out before stepping out behind them, helping her mum unpack the car of their belongings. Daniel takes Yazmin, who immediately falls back asleep in his arms. Dobby and Flora help Sophia and Jayla with their bags inside. Getting inside, Mason brings his and Yazmin's bag and goes upstairs, leaving Sophia to go into the kitchen, wanting to start on breakfast. Jayla heads to the stairs, passing her dad, who looks at her. She sees the black bags under her eyes and the fact that she seems to be swaying. Daniel catches her as she falls, her knees buckling under her. "Jayla!" Mason shouts, coming down the stairs from his room and seeing his big sister in his father's arms. This alerts Sophia, who runs out of the kitchen with Dobby and Flora not far behind.

"What happened?!" Sophia exclaims, looking at her oldest daughter in her husband's arms and taking her from him, checking her over carefully and fearfully. "Jayla… Jayla…" She tries to wake her exhausted daughter when she begins snoring.

"I don't think she's slept," Mason remarks, looking at his parents.

"Did she have her candle?" Daniel asks his son, looking at him.

"I don't think so," he replies, looking at Jayla as Daniel takes her back into his arms, lifting her up and holding her carefully, not waking her up as they walk to Jayla's room.

"Does Mistress Sophia wish to continue making breakfast?" Flora asks, looking at Sophia, who looks at her.

"Could you both do it, but leave Jayla's, we'll make a big dinner later," Sophia tells them. "Thank you."

Neither Mr Weasley nor Percy are at home much over the following week. But leave the house each morning before the rest of the family get up and return well after dinner every night. "It's been an absolute uproar," Percy tells them, importantly, the Sunday evening before the teens are due to return to Hogwarts. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk, and my best quill reduced to cinders."

"Why are they all sending Howlers?" Ginny asks, who is mending her copy of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire.

"Complaining about security at the World Cup," he replies, acting all important. "They want compensation for their ruined property. Mundungus Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with an en-suite Jacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks." He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Even had the Darkmores filing a complaint." This gets the other's attention. Hermione had received a letter from Jayla about what was happening, even about her fainting spell, but she didn't want the boys to know.

Mrs Weasley glances at the grandfather clock in the corner. Harry likes this clock. It is utterly useless if you want to know the time, but otherwise very informative. It has nine golden hands, each engraved with one of the Weasley family's names. There are no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be.

'Home'

'School'

'Work'

'Travelling'

'Lost'

'Hospital'

'Prison'

And in the position where the number twelve would be on a regular clock. 'Mortal Peril'.

Eight hands are currently pointing to the 'Home' position, but Mr Weasley's, which is the longest, still points to 'Work'. Mrs Weasley sighs. "Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," she remarks. "They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?" Percy comments. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first —"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!" Mrs Weasley snaps at her third son, flaring up at once.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," Bill argues, who is playing chess with Ron on the red and white chess board the younger Weasley boy got for Christmas from Jayla the year after last. "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

"Well, it is a bit long, dear," Molly says gently. "If you'd just let me —"

"No, Mum."

Rain lashes against the living room window. Hermione is immersed in 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4', copies of which Mrs Weasley bought for her and Ron in Diagon Alley. Charlie is wearing a fireproof balaclava. Harry is polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione gave him for his thirteenth birthday, which is open at his feet. Fred and George are sitting in a far corner, their quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.

"What are you two up to?" Molly demands sharply, her eyes on the twins.

"Homework," Fred replies vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," she snaps, glancing at her twin boys, knowing they're up to something.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," George replies calmly.

"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" Mrs Weasley asks shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," Fred replies, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughs, even Mrs Weasley.

"Oh, your father's coming!" Molly announces suddenly, looking up at the clock again. Mr Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from 'Work' to 'Travelling'; a second later, it had shuddered to a halt on 'home' with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen.

"Coming, Arthur!" Mrs Weasley calls, hurrying out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr Weasley enters the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looks completely exhausted.

"Well, the fat's really in the fire now," Mr Weasley tells Mrs Weasley as he sits in an armchair near the hearth and unenthusiastically toys with his somewhat shrivelled cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago."

"Mr Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks," Percy remarks swiftly.

"Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky," He argues irritably. "There'd be a week's worth of headlines in his House-Elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark."

"I thought we were all agreed that that Elf, while irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?" Percy replies hotly.

"If you ask me, Mr Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to Elves!" Hermione barks.

"Now look here, Hermione!" He retorts. "A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants —"

"His slave, you mean!" She snaps, her voice rising passionately, "because he didn't pay Winky, did he?"

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" Mrs Weasley suggests, breaking up the argument. "Come on now, all of you. . . ."

Harry repacks his broomstick servicing kit, puts his Firebolt over his shoulder, and goes back upstairs with Ron. The rain sounds even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud whistling and moaning from the wind, not to mention sporadic howls from the ghoul who lives in the attic. Pigwidgeon begins twittering and zooming around his cage when they enter. The sight of the half-packed trunks seems to have sent him into a frenzy of excitement. "Bung him some Owl Treats," Ron tells him, throwing a packet across to Harry. "It might shut him up."

Harry pokes a few Owl Treats through the bars of Pigwidgeon's cage, then turns to his trunk. Hedwig's cage stands next to it, still empty. "It's been over a week," Harry says, looking at Hedwig's deserted perch. "Ron, you don't reckon Sirius has been hurt, do you?"

"Nah, it would've been in the Daily Prophet," He assures his best friend. "The Ministry would have said something, and even if they didn't, I'm sure Jayla would have told us."

"Yeah, I suppose. . . ."

"Look, here's the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley, she said it was a few little things she noticed you might need. And she's got some gold out of your vault for you . . . and she's washed all your socks." He tells Harry, heaving a pile of parcels onto his camp bed and dropping the money bag and a basket of socks beside it. Harry starts unwrapping the shopping. He sees a handful of new quills and a dozen rolls of parchment. He knew he was forgetting something when he and Sirius went with the Darkmores. He just piles his underwear into his new case with an undetectable extension charm when Ron makes a loud noise of disgust behind him.

"What is that supposed to be?"

Harry turns around to see Ron holding up something small, white cotton. It has straps, and Harry realises what it is when there's a knock on the door, and Mrs Weasley enters, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes. "Here you are," she says, sorting them into two piles. "Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me something of Ginny's," Ron tells her, handing it out to his mother.

"Of course, I haven't," Mrs Weasley dismisses but looks at what Ron holds. "Oh, I did," she takes it from him as Ginny comes running to her mother.

"Mummy, have you seen my-?" Ginny asks but stops when she sees Molly holding it.

"I have it here dear," She informs her, handing it over, not being discreet for the sake of her daughter, and Harry tries not to look.

"Mum!" The Weasley girl cries, yanking it out of her hand and hiding it behind her back, away from the boys' eyes.

"Oh, there's nothing to be so bashful about, dear, come on," Mrs Weasley assures her daughter, who looks at her with bright red cheeks.

"I can't believe you!" Ginny cries before running downstairs. "You're so embarrassing Mum!"

"She's not even a teenager," She grumbles, thinking about what will come from her only daughter. "Goodnight boys, get some sleep before it's too late," she tells the boys before closing the door behind her. Harry checks everything in his trunk and finds a book he's been looking for, wanting to read it before bed.

"Excited for this year, Harry?" Ron asks his best friend, looking at him as he finishes packing his trunk.

"Yeah," Harry replies, settling on the camp bed with his book.

"What book is that?" He asks, looking at the worn leather.

"Jayla gave it to me. It's the Original' The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe'. The Boy-Who-Lived replies, smiling. "She said I'd like it, I've only read a few chapters, but I'm invested."

"I don't think you mean, just the book," Weasley jokes, teasing his best friend, who fakes a glare at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry retorts, turning back to his book and trying to hide his blushing red cheeks.

"Say that to your face," Ron says, settling into his bed after rechecking his battered trunk. "Are you ever going to confess to Jayla?"

"I will. I think this year is the time to do it," Harry replies, smiling.

"Thank Merlin," he mumbles before turning off the light.

At the Darkmore Manor, Jayla sits downstairs in the living room, watching the fire. Her obsession and fear have become constant over the summer since facing her Boggart in school last year. She hears footsteps behind her but doesn't budge. It's been a strange week after the Quidditch World Cup. First, she collapses from exhaustion and receives a lecture nearly an hour long from her parents about being careful and looking after her health. Second, Jayla has noticed Hades and Loki seem closer, which worries the girl because Hades is like her daughter; her dad says she's a fur baby. Third: Sophia has been acting strange since yesterday; Jayla knows she has a vision about something, and it's worrying everyone. Sophia has clung to Mason out of fear, not just because he's leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow.

"What's wrong, Little Baby Girl?" Daniel asks, sitting on the coffee table behind Jayla.

"It's going to get worse, isn't it?" Jayla says, turning away from the fireplace and looking at her dad.

"I'm afraid so," he replies, and Sophia enters the room.

"Please watch out for your brother," Sophia pleads with her oldest daughter, who looks at her. "I saw something. It is getting worse, Jayla. I need you both to be safe." She moves towards the Heiress, pulling her into her arms.

"He's coming back, isn't he?" Jayla sighs, thinking of everything that's happened over the past three years and what could possibly happen from now on.

"I need you to be careful. Promise me," she begs, pulling Jayla tighter into her chest.

"I promise, Mum," the Heiress assures her, wrapping her arms around her. "I don't think it's going to get any better now."

"We can only hope."

A definite end-of-the-holidays gloom is in the air the following morning when Harry wakes the next day. Heavy rain is still splattering against the window as he dresses in jeans and a sweatshirt; they will change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express.

He, Ron, Fred, and George just reach the first-floor landing on their way down to breakfast when Mrs Weasley appears at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed. "Arthur!" She calls up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

Harry flattens himself against the wall as Mr Weasley comes clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtles out of sight. When Harry and the other enter the kitchen, they see Mrs Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers - "I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr Weasley bending over the fire, talking to -

Harry shuts his eyes hard and opens them again to ensure they are working correctly. Amos Diggory's head is sitting in the middle of the flames like a giant, bearded egg. He's talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around him and the flames licking his ears. "... Muggle neighbours heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there -."

"Here!" Mrs Weasley exclaims breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr Weasley's hands.

"-it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," Mr Diggory's head remarks. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off - if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur -."

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" Mr Weasley asks, unscrewing the ink bottle and loading up his quill before preparing to take notes.

Amos' head rolls its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" Arthur asks, scribbling frantically.

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," he replies. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up —"

Mr. Weasley groans. "And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," Mr Diggory's head retorts, rolling his eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it — think of his record — we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department — what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," Arthur says, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," Amos jokes, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."

"All right, I'm off," Mr Weasley tells him, and he stuffs the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashes out of the kitchen again. Mr Diggory's head looks around at Mrs Weasley.

"Sorry about this, Molly," he says, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything . . . but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night . . ."

"Never mind, Amos," Mrs Weasley assures him. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"

"Oh go on, then," Mr Diggory replies, and Mrs Weasley takes a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, puts it into the fire tongs, and transfers it into Mr Diggory's mouth. "Fanks," he says in a muffled voice, then vanishes with a small pop.

Harry can hear Mr Weasley calling hurried goodbyes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five minutes, he is back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair.

"I'd better hurry — you have a good term, boys," Mr Weasley says to Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"

"Of course I will," Mrs Weasley assures her husband. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine." As Mr Weasley vanishes, Bill and Charlie enter the kitchen.

"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asks. "What's he been up to now?"

"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," Molly informs her eldest son.

"Mad-Eye Moody?" George questions thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter —"

"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," Mrs Weasley says sternly, looking at her son.

"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" Fred remarks quietly as Mrs Weasley leaves the room. "Birds of a feather . . ."

"Moody was a great Wizard in his time," Bill argues.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" Charlie questions, looking around the table.

"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" Fred retorts. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything . . ."

"Who is Mad-Eye?" Harry asks, looking at the Weasleys.

"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," Charlie replies. "I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror — one of the best . . . a Dark Wizard catcher," he adds, seeing Harry's blank look, but it's not because he doesn't know, but because he's thinking about Sirius. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though . . . the families of people he caught, mainly . . . and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark Wizards everywhere."

The Darkmore family arrive at King's Cross Station with plenty of time; Daniel grabs a trolley for Jayla and Mason, putting their trunks and pet carriers on before heading into the station and seeing a few familiar faces. Jayla flattens her black skirt, making sure it hasn't rolled up while in the car, though she's wearing black tights, thick for the cold and rain. She tightens her black raincoat over her mustard yellow jumper with a white collar and suspenders with cat clips.

"Have you got everything?" Sophia asks her son and oldest daughter as they walk through the station.

"Yes, Mama," Mason replies, sighing, which makes the family smile because, for the past few days, all Mason has done is obsess over Hogwarts, even packing his trunk a week ago.

"Excited to go on the Hogwarts Express?" Jayla asks, smiling at her little brother as she takes the trolley. Daniel takes Mason's, but he's too small to see over the trunks. As they stroll through the station, Yazmin sits in front of Jayla's trolley.

"Of course!" He retorts, grinning as he walks beside his big sister. This isn't completely unknown but a new experience for the Darkmore boy.

"I felt the same way," she smiles at her little brother. Daniel leads the children through the crowd towards the platforms.

Meanwhile, not far behind the Darkmores, the Weasleys are getting ready to depart for King's Cross Station. Even Bill and Charlie decide to come and see everyone off, but Percy, apologising most profusely, says that he really needs to work. The Weasley brothers aren't that bothered if they were sincere. "I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he tells them, acting important. "Mr Crouch is really starting to rely on me."

"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" George replies seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."

A little later, Mrs Weasley braves the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London. It doesn't take too long for them to arrive, and Mrs Weasley turns to Harry as they stand in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars.

"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs Weasley whispers to Harry. "But there weren't any to spare… Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?" Harry doesn't like to tell her that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transport over excited owls, and Pigwidgeon is making an ear-splitting racket. Nor does it help that several 'Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Star, No-Heat Fireworks' are going off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk springs open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks claws his way up the man's leg.

The journey into London is rather uncomfortable, mainly because their trunks are jammed in the back of the taxis. Molly is with Fred, George, and Ginny, while Bill and Charlie have their own, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione are alone. The twins moan about being stuck with their mother, but she argues about the fireworks and not trusting them to not set them off while they're driving. Mrs Weasley wants to keep an eye on them for now until they board the Hogwarts Express.

Crookshanks takes quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time they enter London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all severely scratched. They are very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain is coming down harder than ever, and they get soaked carrying their trunks across the busy road and into the station.

Harry is used to getting onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by now. Walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing Platform Nine and Ten is a simple matter. The only tricky part is unobtrusively doing this to avoid attracting Muggle's attention. They did it in groups today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione - the most conspicuous, since they are accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks, Hedwig is a gem - go first; they lean casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly and slide sideways through it…and they do so, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters materialises in front of them.

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, is already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appear like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon becomes noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. "I'd know that sweet hooting anywhere," they hear their friend's voice approaching them. They turn towards the voice to see Jayla with her family walking towards them. Jayla quickly hugs Hermione; though it has only been a week, they still miss each other; she goes to Ron and then Harry, lingering a little. This makes the Weasley boys grin and mock Harry as Jayla, and he pulls away. Harry pushes Ron away, making him stumble into Fred. Jayla turns to Crookshanks, Hedwig and Pidwidgeon, happily saying her hellos to the animals, who happily reply, surprising Bill and Charlie.

"Harry!" They hear another familiar voice and turn to see Sirius walking towards them, surprised to see him.

"Sirius!" Harry beams, glad to see his godfather before he leaves for Hogwarts. "I thought you had work?"

"I'm on my lunch break," Sirius replies, hugging Harry. "I don't want to miss this chance to see you before you leave for Hogwarts."

"Uncle Siri!" Yazmin exclaims, making everyone look at the youngest Darkmore, who jumps from the trolley as Daniel and Sophia take the trolleys, leaving their children with the Weasleys and Hermione, putting the trunks into the luggage compartment with some help.

"Hey, little one," He smiles, hugging her. "Going to miss your sister and brother?"

"Loads! But I get to play with my new dolls without Mason trying to paint them," she retorts, making the Weasley twins laugh.

"I did that once," Mason grumbles as his parents return.

"Come on, it's almost time for the train to go," Daniel tells them. The Weasleys and Hermione move along the train, putting their trunks in the luggage compartment and find their usual compartment empty and setting their bags with a few things and school uniform inside before hopping back onto the platform to say goodbye to Mrs Weasely, Bill, Charlie, Mr and Mrs Darkmore, and Yazmin.

Mason and Jayla hug their parents and little sister, saying their goodbyes, and Sophia looks at her daughter, who catches the look and nods. "I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," Charlie remarks, grinning, as he hugs Ginny goodbye.

"Why?" Fred asks keenly.

"You'll see," He replies. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it . . . it's 'classified information, 'until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," Bill comments, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?" George asks impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," He retorts, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it. . . ."

"A bit of what?" Ron asks, the younger brothers looking at them.

But at that moment, the whistle blows, and Mrs Weasley chivvies them toward the train doors. They say their final goodbyes, stepping onto the train. "Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs Weasley," Hermione says as they climb on board, close the door, and lean out the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs Weasley," Harry says and looks at the Darkmores. "Thanks, Mrs Darkmore, and Mr Darkmore."

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," Mrs Weasley replies. "I'd invite you all for Christmas, but . . . well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with . . . one thing and another."

"Shh, Molly, don't tease them," Sirisu remarks as Sophia kisses Mason and Jayla's foreheads through the door.

"Mum!" Ron snaps irritably. "What d'you six know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," Mrs Weasley assures them, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting — mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules —"

"What rules?" The boys ask together, looking at the adults.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"

The pistons hiss loudly, and the train begins to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellows out the window as the adults and Yazmin speed away from them. "What rules are they changing?"

But Mrs Weasley, Mr and Mrs Darkmore, and even Sirius only smile and wave. Before the train has rounded the corner, Mrs Darkmore pulls Sirius away from the platform's edge before he falls. Bill, Charlie, and Mrs Weasley disappear from view, leaving the Darkmore family and Sirius on the platform.

The Golden Quartet return to their compartment, Mason joining them as he doesn't know anyone besides the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione. The thick rain splattering the windows makes it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undoes his bag, pulling out his school robes and flings it over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his excited hooting, but Jayla pulls it off, using her finger to stroke his feathers, which pleases the tiny owl. "Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," Ron says grumpily, sitting beside Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what —"

"Shh!" Hermione whispers suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. They listen and hear a familiar, drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

"Is that, Cousin Draco?" Mason mutters, leaning into the wall and pressing his ear against the wall.

"Mason!" Jayla hisses, pulling her brother from the bench and making him fall onto the floor.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knew the headmaster, you see, before he ended up in Azkaban," Draco explains.

"I'm telling Mama!" Mason snaps, glaring at his older sister.

"Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore — the man's such a Muggleborn-lover — and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away," he keeps talking, not hearing the Darkmore siblings arguing.

"How are you going to do that?" Jayla retorts, glaring at Mason as he gets up and sits beside Harry nearer the compartment door.

"Father said Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defence rubbish we do. . . ."

Hermione gets up, tiptoeing to the compartment door and sliding it shut, blocking out Malfoy's obnoxious voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" Hermione snaps angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"Durmstrang's another Wizarding school, right?" Harry asks, looking at the others.

"Yes," Jayla replies, holding Hermione's hand, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to 'An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe', it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts. Dad was fuming when Mason received his letters, one from Hogwarts, Drumstrang and Livermony. Like me, I got into Hogwarts, Livermony and Beauxbatons."

"Mama nearly pulled her hair out when she thought of us being in another country, let alone letting us go to Hogwarts," Mason smirks.

"I think I've heard of it," Ron says vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" Hermione retorts, raising her eyebrows.

"Er — why not?" Harry asks, looking at the others.

"Wow, you really are clueless," Mason teases, earning a nudge from Harry.

"I've gotten better," he argues, looking at Jayla.

"True, you do know more than you did last year," Jayla assures him, smiling at Harry, who smiles back.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," Hermione explains matter-of-factly.

"Come off it," Ron scoffs, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts — how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

"But Hogwarts is hidden," Jayla argues in surprise. "Everyone knows that . . . well, everyone who's read 'Hogwarts, A History', anyway." She looks at her best friend as they unlock their cats from their cages. Crookshanks meows before settling in Hermione's lap and Hades paws at Loki through the cage.

"Just you two, then," Ron teases the girls. "So go on — how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

"It's bewitched," Hermione replies, faking a glare at Ron. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a mouldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying danger, do not enter, unsafe."

"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"

"Maybe," She says, shrugging, "or it might have Mugglerepelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign Wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable —"

"Come again?"

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"

"Er . . . if you say so," Harry sighs, not wanting them to argue before they even start school.

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," Hermione replies thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

"Ah, think of the possibilities," Ron says dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident. . . . Shame his mother likes him. . . ."

"I like him, when he's not being a prat," Mason argues, making Ron look at him. "That's about 97% of the time, but he's gotten better."

"True, though I think Uncle Lucious' D.N.A. is too strong," Jayla grumbles, picking Hades up. "Hades, leave Loki alone." Mason smiles and moves to open the cage, but Jayla kicks his hand away. "No."

"What is going on?" Ron asks, looking at the siblings as Jayla stops Mason from opening Loki's cage again.

"Hades fancies Loki, and Jayla doesn't like it," Mason replies, smirking. "She's not handling it right. She's acting like our mother."

"Take that back!" Jayla snaps, glaring at her little brother. "NOW!" She launches at him, pulling him onto the floor and tickling him. The others watch, amused, as the siblings play-fight. Hades uses this opportunity to fiddle with the latch on Loki's cage and frees the white-haired cat.

"Let's cuddle," Loki suggests, making Jayla jump to her feet to see Hades and Loki cuddling on the bench behind them.

"This is what I'm talking about," Mason retorts, gesturing to the happily cuddling cats. "Our cats are together. She can't handle it."

"I can handle it," Jayla argues, sitting on the other side of Hermione as Loki and Hades lie together, curled around each other. "I can handle it. But if they have kittens, you're responsible for them." Mason turns to his sister, still sitting on the floor and jumping to his feet; he takes Loki from Hades, both cats protesting. "Who can't handle it now?"

"You are so like your mother," Hermione muses, earning a glare from the Darkmore Heiress.

"Whatever," She grumbles, folding her arms. "Anyway, what's been going on the last week since I saw you?"

"Well, Harry told us about his scar hurting and a dream he had about You-Know-Who," Ron informs her, and Jayla looks at Harry, who ducks, trying to avoid her gaze, but she doesn't have any right to judge.

"What did you see?" The Heiress asks, and Harry explains. Jayla looks at him and nods; once he finishes talking, she sighs. "It could be a number of things. It could be real, it could be a terrible nightmare, but the worst could be that you're connected to him." Ron and Hermione look at Jayla. "It could be that you and Voldermort are connected in a way that could be very bad. I mean, if you are connected, he could see through your eyes and into your dreams. We need to find a way to stop that before something bad happens."

There's a silence that suffocates the compartment as they think about it. The rain becomes heavier and heavier as the train moves farther north. The sky is so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns are lit by midday. "Sorry, I've ruined the mood," Jayla sighs, looking at her brother and friends. "But I think you need to talk to our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher or Dumbledore, Harry. I mean it."

"I will, I promise," Harry assures her, and he knows that he needs help, but he's scared if Jayla's right; if he is connected to Voldemort, what does that mean?

"It'll be okay, Harry, I know it," she reassures him, leaning over and taking his hand.

The lunch trolley comes rattling along the corridor, and they hear the familiar voice of the Trolley Witch. "Anything from the trolley? Anything from the trolley?" The lady soon appears at their door, opens it, and looks at the teens. "Anything from the trolley dears?" Ron jumps from his seat and goes over.

"Packet of drewbals and a liquorice wand," Ron requests, counting his money, but sees that he doesn't have enough. "On second thought, just the drewbals." Harry joins him with Jayla behind him.

"It's alright I'll get it," Harry offers, wanting to help his friend, but Ron sighs, not wanting handouts.

"Just the droobles, thanks," he repeats, taking them and walking back into the compartment when Cho Chan walks up to the trolley from down the train.

"Two pumpkin pasties please," Cho asks, and Harry looks at her, smiling, but looks away, seeing Jayla beside him and admiring her. "Thank you."

"Anything sweet for you, dear?" The Trolley Witch asks, turning to Harry and Jayla.

"Oh, uh, 1 pumpkin pastie, 2 peppermint toads, 1 Bertie Botts, 3 liquorice wands, and 2 sugar quills." Harry lists off, and Jayla looks at him in shock as she hears two of hers and Mason's favourite sweets.

"Harry, I can pay for mine," Jayla protests, but Harry smiles, handing over the money. The Trolley Witch hands over the handful of sweets to Harry and Jayla. "Thank you." They head back into the compartment, handing Mason and Ron their sweets.

"This is horrible, how can the Ministry not know who conjured it," Hermione grumbles, reading the newspaper for the seventh time. "Isn't there any security or something?"

"You heard my dad, loads," Ron replies, taking the liquorice wand; though he hates it, he sees Mason and Jayla enjoying their sweets. "That's what worried them so much. Happened right under their noses." Hermione sees Harry rubbing his head again.

"It's hurting again, isn't it, your scar?" She asks, looking at him.

"I'm fine," Harry assures them but looks at the others. "I'm fine." He digs into his pumpkin pastie, not wanting to discuss it anymore.

"You've talked to Sirius about it, right?" Jayla argues, looking at him as she picks through her Bertie Botts.

"Yeah, but we didn't get a chance to talk," he replies, shrugging.

"He'll send you a letter when he gets the chance," she assures him. "He only just started his new job, give it time for a reply, but we still need to find an answer to what is going on."

Several of their friends look in on the Golden Quartet and Mason as the afternoon progresses, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who has been brought up by his formidable Witch of a grandmother. Seamus is still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic seems to be wearing off now; it is still squeaking, "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way.

"Are you ever going to take that off?" Jayla asks, smiling at Seamus, who happily glares at her.

"Never," Seamus laughs. "Looking forward to the new Quidditch season?"

"Of course, I've come up with three new strategies," she informs them. "We're going to win hands down."

"I thought Angelina was the Captain?" Neville asks, looking at them.

"So? I've always helped the team. And let's be honest, Angelina loves my brutal plays." The Heiress jokes.

After half an hour or so, Hermione grows tired of the endless Quidditch talk, burying herself once more in 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4', and starts trying to learn a Summoning Charm, and Jayla helps her. Neville listens enviously to the others' conversation as the boys relive the Cup match.

"Gran didn't want to go," Neville says miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."

"Apart from the almost getting attacked part," Mason retorts, making the boys look at him.

"It was," Ron replies, ignoring Mason. "Look at this, Neville…" He rummages in his bag in the luggage rack and pulls out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.

"Oh wow," Neville marvels enviously as Ron tips Krum onto his pudge hand.

"We saw him right up close, as well," He boasts. "We were in the Top Box —"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley." An obnoxious voice says, and they look to see Draco Malfoy appear in the doorway that was left open.

Behind Draco stands Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, who appear to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently, they overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus left ajar.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," Harry retorts coolly, glaring at the bleach-blond boy.

"Weasley . . . what is that?" Malfoy asks, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A part of his school robes moves away and reveals Pigwidgeon, who happily hoots at the arrival of new people.

"Yes, Pig, this is my cousin Draco, the one I told you about," Jayla smiles, stroking Pigwidgeon's feathers. "I know, he does look a little funny."

"Cousin, don't be mean," Draco scoffs, making the others look at them.

"I'm not, just because your own owl doesn't like you half the time, and I had to talk to him about it before he'd listen to you again, doesn't mean anything," she replies, shrugging. The boys look at them, unsure what's happening, but they love that Jayla is doing it to Malfoy.

"Whatever," Draco huffs and storms back to his compartment with his two henchmen. Hermione slides the door closed with her foot, and the Gryffindor boys laugh.

"God, whenever he's here, he's insufferable," Jayla groans, sliding down the bench and putting her book over her face. "I don't understand that boy."

"I don't get how he's related to Aunt Narcissa, she's really sweet and he's such a clotpole," Mason grumbles, making Seamus and Dean look at the boy.

"That's Jayla's baby brother," Ron tells them, and it clicks for the boys, who look at him. "Beware, he's like Fred and George in one smaller body."

"God, that's gonna be bad for everyone," Dean jokes.

"I don't know. The twins are geniuses," Jayla argues, making everyone look at her silently. She moves the book away from her face to look at them. "What? They asked for my advice on their new business idea."

"You helped them with that?" Ron asks, looking at her. "My mum is ready to murder them because of that."

"I think it's genius, they're going to build up a clientele already before leaving school and making money." she argues. "If I was your mother, I'd be helping them with everything to achieve their dream, but they won't take the money I offered them."

"Wait, you want to pay for their business?" Seamus asks, looking at her in shock.

"Of course, do you know how much money Zonko's makes a year, just from Hogwarts students alone?" The Heiress reasons, looking at them. "More than enough to pay for a nice house and live a comfortable life."

"You've really thought about it, haven't you," Neville muses, smiling at her.

"Of course," Jayla replies. "I'd do it for any of my friends."

"So, would you help me open a shop?" Mason asks, and she looks at her little brother.

"No, you have a trust fund, you open it yourself," she retorts, making Mason groan and flop back into his seat.

"So, if I asked, would you help me?" Seamus asks, looking at Jayla, who turns to him.

"And what would you like to do, Seamus?" The dual-haired colour Witch asks, making him gulp as she has a look in her eyes. "Nevermind."

The boys laugh and joke around for the rest of the journey. They soon have to change into their school robes, and the girls go to the bathroom, letting the boys have the compartment. When they return, Jayla smiles and helps Mason with his tie, seeing it's crooked. "You look so perfect," Jayla says, straightening his robes. "I love you." They are still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slows down at last and finally stops in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade Station.

As the train doors open, there is a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundles Crookshanks in her cloak, and Ron leaves his school robes over Pigwidgeon as they leave the train. Jayla smiles as she watches them grab an umbrella from her bag and unfurl it before stepping off with Mason and Harry. Ron and Hermione look at them with betrayal and try to hide under the umbrella as students walk past them, wishing they'd thought of that. The rain is now coming down so thick and fast that it is as though buckets of ice-cold water are being emptied repeatedly over them. "Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yells, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellows back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

"What?!" Mason yelps, looking at the half-giant in shock, who laughs.

"You'll be fine," Jayla promises him and hands him another umbrella. "Make some friends and don't try to look for the Giant Squid."

"No promises," he lies, not planning to do that until the weather clears up.

"See you in the Great Hall," she replies, kissing his cheek before heading out of the station and leaving the first years for the traditional venture to Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," Hermione remarks fervently, shivering as they inch slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd.

"Thanks, I'll tell Mason that," Jayla jokes, holding the umbrella and being careful not to slip from the wet stone under her feet. "I love the rain, but this is annoying."

"I'm not dancing with you this time," Harry mutters, looking at her, and she glances back at him.

"Shame. I loved our dance," she retorts, and Harry nearly slips as they walk down the steps towards the carriages.

A hundred horseless carriages stand waiting for them outside the station. Harry, Ron, Jayla, Hermione, and Neville climb gratefully into one of them. The door shuts with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages is rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle. "What House do you think Mason will get into?" Ron asks, looking at Jayla as she puts her umbrella down by her feet and gets out her book for the long carriage ride to the Castle.

"I'm not sure, I mean, I'd be surprised if he got into Hufflepuff," Jayla replies, thinking of a certain Hufflepuff she never wants to see again. "Slytherin would be a shoe-in, though I think he's gonna be a Gryffindor. Like his amazing big sisters."