Chapter 44: Second Year Begins

The steam that poured from the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express curled into the sky like dragon's breath, warm and white against the late August sun. Ethan stood at the edge of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, his suitcase already stowed, his wand tucked safely inside the wand holster, ready for whenever a situations arises. Students bustled around him, laughing, shouting, some exchanging goodbyes with teary parents, others ducking heads to avoid familiar faces.

Ethan stepped aboard without fanfare, saying goodbye to his mother who was talking to some people he didnt know.

He made his way down the narrow aisle past compartments filled with chattering students before finding an empty compartment near the rear and slid the door shut behind him.

They were a bit early getting here, so he just relaxed into the seat, listening to the muffled cluder of people outside and inside the train as they hurried to where they needed to be.

Soon, a group of three people opened his compartment door.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" The person who opened the door nicely said. They all seemed to be younger than him, but barely.

'Must be first years.' he thought. "Of course I don't mind." He answered, though he did mind, but there were no good reasons to say no.

They all sat down after that and not even a couple minutes later, the train gave a shudder, and with a long, echoing whistle. Ethan watched the platform slide away through the glass as the train churned into motion.

The journey passed to hogwarts was silent, albeit not for the other three people in the compartment. He reread the first chapter of Intermediate Transfiguration twice, then gave up and simply watched the countryside stream by.

The three friends sometime asked him some things, but he was only half paying attention, giving them short answers and not much else.

Trees blurred into fields, which blurred into hills, until the sun began to dip lower and the sky burned orange at the edges.

By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, the lamps inside were flickering with soft golden light. Ethan stepped onto the platform along with everyone else and took in the scent of damp earth and pine. The air was cooler here, brisker than London. Somewhere in the distance, owls hooted, and the rhythmic splashing of water echoed from the distant lake's edge.

"Hurry along now! First-years this way!" came the familiar voice of Hagrid, who stood tall with a lantern in one hand, waving his massive arm to beckon the new students. A few dozen small figures gathered around him, wide-eyed and talking in both excitement and nervous energy. Ethan watched as they followed him toward the boats that would ferry them across the black waters of the Great Lake.

He remembered his own journey across that lake. The way the castle rose out of the darkness like a dream made solid. The cold mist that had curled around his fingers as he leaned over the side of the boat.

He didn't feel that wonder now. Not exactly. As if the sight of Hogwarts no longer thrilled him like it did a year ago.

He turned and headed for the carriages.

Rows of them lined the path beyond the station, waiting for the second-years and above. Students climbed into them without hesitation, chatting excitedly. The creatures pulling them, if you could call them creatures, were invisible to most. But as Ethan stepped forward, his foot crunching against the gravel, he stopped dead.

He could see them.

The thestrals.

He for some reason had never thought about often expected to see them. Their leathery wings stretched and twitched, dark as oil slicks. Their pale eyes, vacant yet watchful, tracked every motion. Long, bony heads turned toward him, as if curious. As if recognizing him.

Ethan stared.

He had read about thestrals before, beings that could only be seen by those who had witnessed death firsthand. They were supposed to be rare, misunderstood, even feared by some. Most students couldn't see them. Same as himself.

Because he hadn't seen anyone die.

Had he?

A flicker of cold passed over him, not physical, but something deeper. Like a memory knocking at the back of his mind, only it wasn't from this life.

A shriek. A steering wheel jerking left. Glass. Then silence.

A memory not his, but his all the same.

One must have seen death to see thestrals, he remembered reading. But what about experiencing it?

What about himself dying?

He approached one of the thestrals slowly. It didn't move away. Its skeletal wings shifted slightly, and its head dipped. Its breath steamed faintly in the cooling night air. For a moment, Ethan felt something like reverence. Not fear. Not disgust. This was the first thing to truly remind himself about his past.

The past life he so carefully never thought about.

He climbed into the carriage along with a couple more students when it began to move without prompting, hooves clopping softly along the path that led up to the castle.

The ride was brief, but his thoughts twisted in ways he couldn't quite untangle. The feeling of having seen death, without seeing someone else die. No one else would understand. No one could.

The carriages rolled up the long incline to the castle gates. Everyone seemed to not want to talk and just exporenced the ride towards the castle. Once stopped, he stepped down, letting the crowd carry him into the entrance hall. The sound of shoes against stone echoed from every direction, a blend of voices growing louder as more and more students poured into the Great Hall.

The four long tables waited, each already half-filled with returning students, their house banners hanging proudly above.

He walked towards the Ravenclaw table, though his eyes scanned the staff table at the front of the hall. He wanted to see the new DADA Professor, until he stopped dead in his tracks.

There, seated between Professors Vector and Flitwick, was a new face.

His mother.

Chloe Wright, wearing midnight-blue robes with silver trim, sat upright with a composed expression and sharp, thoughtful eyes. She looked every bit the professor, even as a few of the other teachers whispered to her in introduction.

Ethan stared, the realization hitting him with all the weight of a stunned silence.

She hadn't said a word.

She hadn't mentioned it, hadn't even hinted that she would be here, not as a guest, but as staff. A professor.

At Hogwarts.

His breath caught for a moment, not from shock exactly, but from something stranger. A knot of questions suddenly twisted inside him. Why hadn't she told him? Had she planned this? Had Dumbledore asked her? What would she be teaching? How long had this been decided?

Please, don't let it be that class.