Cho Chang said her goodbyes to everyone and left.
As she turned to go, she cast a single glance back at Harry silently.
Even so, Harry felt as though an invisible thread had taken hold of him. He rose to his feet and followed her out.
Cho smiled when she saw that lookinh pleased.
She took hold of the compartment door and held it open, keeping it from swinging shut.
Only when Harry came to join her in the corridor did she let it go.
Ginny, watching all of this, felt a familiar ache settle in her chest.
'A perfect match. Clearly taken with each other. Made for one another—'
A string of phrases surfaced in her mind, one after another.
But—
The bitterness lasted only a few seconds. So did the thought of Harry and Cho together.
Then Ginny straightened her back.
The dullness that had crept into her eyes vanished. They brightened again, like obsidian tempered with starlight.
In that moment, Ginny clenched both fists and made a decision. A bold one.
With that decision came a new steadiness in her gaze.
Harry returned quickly enough.
By then, the rhythm of the train wheels against the tracks had begun to slow, and the carriage filled with the clatter of arrival. The rumble of rolling trunks across the floor, the restless hooting of owls, the calls of students weaving between one another, everyone scrambling to gather their things at once.
Watson, Hedwig, and Crookshanks all grew restless in their carriers.
The group hauled their heavy trunks out of the compartment and joined the press of students shuffling down the corridor toward the doors, like drops of water merging into a stream.
As they inched forward with the crowd, a gust of cold air swept in to meet them.
It carried the sharp, clean bite of the Scottish Highlands light as needles against the skin yet threaded through with the damp scent of pine needles and earth.
When they stepped off the train and onto the platform, the rich fragrance of pine filled their lungs completely. It rose from the ancient trees lining both sides of the path down to the lake, a smell that felt at once familiar and deeply comforting.
In years past, this was the moment when Hagrid's great booming voice would have cut through the dark. He would have been standing at the far edge of the platform, lantern in hand, wide as a mountain, bellowing for the first-years to follow him.
Tonight, that familiar sound never came.
In its place rang out a crisp, no-nonsense woman's voice: "First-years, queue up here! All first-years, follow me!"
With the voice came a lantern, swaying through the darkness toward them.
The light was dim and yellowish, but bright enough against the night for figures to make out the shape of the person holding it.
The lantern hung noticeably lower than when Hagrid carried it. In its glow, a sharp face gradually came into focus: a prominent jaw, and dark brown hair drawn back so neatly that not a single strand was out of place.
It was Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank.
When Hagrid's half-giant heritage had been exposed by Rita Skeeter and public opinion had turned against him, Dumbledore had arranged for this meticulous professor to step in and take over Care of Magical Creatures for a time.
Her lessons had focused primarily on unicorns—well-structured, thorough, and informative and since unicorns were considerably more agreeable than Blast-Ended Skrewts, she had earned near-universal praise from the students. When Hagrid eventually resolved his troubles and returned to teaching, she had quietly disappeared.
No one had expected to see her again this term—let alone doing Hagrid's job of shepherding the first-years.
"Where's Hagrid? Where's he gone?"
Harry pushed forward a few steps, unable to keep the urgency from his voice. Hagrid was his first real friend, and his concern for him was totally genuine.
Ron knitted his brows and shook his head, his accent thickening in the cold: "I dunno, do I?"
"Hey, could you move—you're blocking the whole door."
An impatient voice came from behind them, accompanied by the rumble of a trunk.
"Oh—sorry, sorry."
Harry and Ron jumped aside, nearly toppling a stack of luggage.
The first-years filed dutifully after Professor Grubbly-Plank toward the boats, while the older students continued along the platform toward the station exit.
Beyond Hogsmeade Station, the street outside was still dark and slick from rain with over a hundred horseless carriages drawn by Thestrals, waiting patiently for their passengers.
By now, the friends who'd been spending time with Sherlock had come to understand something about those creatures.
Put simply: only those who had witnessed death could see Thestrals.
More precisely: witnessing death alone was not enough. Only those who had seen death directly and truly understood what it meant could perceive them.
Because of their association with death, Thestrals were widely regarded as ill omens.
Of the group, only Sherlock and Luna could see them.
Harry had witnessed death but he'd been barely a year old, far too young to comprehend what had happened.
Last year, the four of them—Sherlock, Hermione, Harry, and Ron had all shared a carriage.
This year, however, the second-years (last year's first-years) seemed to be a notably larger cohort.
And Cho had separated from the group before they'd even gotten off the train.
Without Cho's thoughtfulness to include her, Luna was left on her own.
Ginny had already made up her mind. Seeing the situation, she made it up further and tugged Luna along into the carriage with her.
Six people in one carriage. Not unbearably cramped, but hardly spacious.
Before Ginny and Luna had climbed in, the seating had been Sherlock and Hermione side by side on one bench, Harry and Ron across from them.
But the moment Luna ducked through the door, she walked straight to Sherlock's side and sat down.
Ginny, seeing this, strode over to Harry without a word, dropped into the seat beside him, and yanked the carriage door shut behind her.
Harry: "…"
Hermione: "…"
Ron: "…"
Something feels off, but I can't quite say what.
Ginny sensed that she and Luna had made the atmosphere inside the carriage a touch awkward. She cleared her throat and moved quickly to break the silence: "You all saw Professor Grubbly-Plank, right? Why is she back? Hagrid's not really leaving Hogwarts, is he?"
"I'd be delighted if he did," Luna said, with her characteristic candour, unswayed by however close the others were to Hagrid. "He's not a very good teacher, is he?"
"Of course he is!"
"Hagrid is a good person!"
"He's a good teacher!"
Harry, Ron, and Ginny spoke almost simultaneously, exchanging a quick glance, their voices were equally firm.
Harry noticed Hermione hadn't joined in. He turned and shot her a pointed, dissatisfied look.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. She cleared her throat. "Well—yes—Hagrid—he's… quite decent, really."
The insincerity was plain to anyone listening.
In truth, she and Sherlock, Gemma, and Luna had discussed exactly this question during a trip to Hogsmeade the previous year.
Gemma had gently pointed out that Hagrid's knowledge of magical creatures was absolutely on par with Professor Grubbly-Plank's and in certain areas, particularly the fierce, the enormous, and the 'endearing' ones, perhaps even exceeded it. But when it came to actually teaching, conveying knowledge, structuring lessons, helping students learn, there was a genuine gap between the two professors.
Still, looking at Harry, Ron, and Ginny now, it was clear they'd made this personal.
Hermione had no interest in arguing over something so minor.
It wasn't a matter of principle, so she softened her position just slightly.
After all, whenever she spoke up for house-elves, her friends treated her the same way.
Harry could browbeat Hermione. Luna was a different matter.
"Oh, come on," Luna said, flatly. "Everyone in Ravenclaw thinks he's absurd."
If he hadn't known Luna, Ron would have fired back without hesitation.
But he knew her well enough by now. He knew that Luna, however blunt, meant no real harm. So, he simply rolled his eyes and let it go.
"Hagrid is a good person—but a good teacher, he is not."
Sherlock spoke up, saying plainly what Luna had already said: "By comparison, Professor Grubbly-Plank is knowledgeable, clear-headed, and far better suited to the position."
"See! Sherlock thinks so too!"
Luna clapped her hands together, her voice lifting like a melody, her eyes were brightening.
"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, with a shrug. "You two think the same thing sometimes, it's almost uncanny."
"So do I!" Hermione said, as if suddenly deciding where she stood. "Hagrid really does have deep knowledge of magical creatures—he just isn't very good at teaching it—"
"Hermione, you keep changing your mind," Ginny said, visibly put out.
"I am not—ahem—I've thought this all along—"
Hermione patted her hair self-consciously. "I think Hagrid is a good teacher too, just… Professor Grubbly-Plank is better."
"Pfft."
Ron made no effort to hide his contempt for this twofaced answer, then turned to Sherlock with curiosity: "Sherlock, you must know where Hagrid's gone. Don't you?"
Every head in the carriage twisted toward Sherlock.
"It's actually quite easy to work out," Sherlock said, entirely unbothered by the attention, his voice as calm as ever. "They've gone to find the giants."
Hermione and Luna both wore expressions of dawning recognition.
Harry and Ron looked at each other, then both spoke at once: "They?"
"Giants?"
"That's right. They refers to Hagrid and Madame Maxime. And by giants, I mean real giants—not half-giants like Hagrid or Madame Maxime."
"Sherlock, how do you—"
Ron had barely started when Sherlock was already explaining, words coming at a quick pace: "It's simple. Voldemort has returned."
As always, when Sherlock said the name, Ron and Ginny flinched despite themselves.
By now, both siblings knew that objecting would do nothing. So, they endured it, silently and with some indignity.
Beneath the rhythmic creak of carriage wheels, Sherlock's voice came through with unusual clarity:
"In any conflict between two opposing sides, rallying allies is always a crucial consideration—unless one side holds an overwhelming advantage. From our position, even if we can't bring the giants over to our side, we absolutely cannot allow Voldemort to recruit them first.
Sending Hagrid and Madame Maxime as envoys—the people best acquainted with giants, who are themselves of giant blood is a sound strategy. It's the best move available to us."
He paused, then added with a faint smile,
"There's something else worth noting. At the Yule Ball last Christmas, Hagrid and Madame Maxime had a falling out. But toward the end of last term, I noticed they had reconciled. It wasn't difficult to see that their renewed relationship was more than personal.
And given how firmly Madame Maxime stood against Voldemort once she learned of his return—when I saw that Hagrid hadn't come to meet the first-years tonight, the conclusion was immediate. Honestly, it's almost trivially simple."
"You always do this, Sherlock!"
Harry shook his head, genuinely marvelling: "Every time you explain something, it sounds so obvious. But before you explain it, none of us would ever have got there."
"My dear Harry, I'd have thought you were used to it by now."
Sherlock smiled slightly, clearly pleased by the admiration, and added. "On a related note—for the same reasons—I have some grounds for suspecting that Professor Lupin may also have been given a similar assignment. That said, I'll need more evidence before I can say so with confidence."
A chill settled over the carriage.
Hermione was the first to speak: "Sherlock… do you mean—werewolves?"
"What, Remus's going to make contact with werewolves?" Ginny stared.
"The conclusion seems rather unavoidable, my friends."
"That's dangerous!" Harry said. "We only just managed to keep Professor Lupin at Hogwarts and now he's going to spend time among werewolves?"
"My dear Harry." Sherlock turned his gaze toward the carriage window, watching the Thestrals' wings cut silently through the dark. "I rather suspect that both Dumbledore, as the Order's leader, and Remus himself are considerably more aware of that danger than you are."
He let the thought settle before continuing: "In any case, as far as genuine threats go—giants and werewolves aren't what concern me most. There's another creature that poses a far greater danger to us."
"What—what creature?"
The whole carriage leaned in at once.
Something more dangerous than giants and werewolves?
What could it possibly be?
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