Blake turned his attention back to the view outside, watching the enchanted Ford Anglia flying in the sky above the train. "Oh," he murmured with genuine admiration, "that's quite the car. To think someone could transform a scrapped Muggle vehicle into something so functional and magical. That's impressive!"
Ginny, blushing furiously, stammered, "It's... my dad's work. He modified it."
Blake nodded thoughtfully. "Your father did an excellent job. The magic behind it must be complex. I wonder how he solved the energy issue. Did he enhance the engine with runes or perhaps use a charm for perpetual motion?"
Ginny blinked, unsure how to respond.
Blake's tone turned serious. "But as brilliant as it is, there's one problem. Your dad works for the Office for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, right?"
Ginny's face paled as she nodded.
"If someone sees this car—flying around in plain sight—it could land him in serious trouble."
Ginny's eyes widened in alarm. "I... I hope no one notices!"
Blake sighed, sitting back down and pulling out parchment and a quill from his bag. "Ginny, if we can see them, then it's likely others will too. Especially since they've been flying all the way from King's Cross Station. That's quite a distance. They're bound to have been noticed."
"But... but the car has an invisibility function," Ginny offered weakly.
Blake glanced out the window at the Anglia as it zipped through a cloud. "Clearly, it's malfunctioning. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to see it."
Ginny frowned, her worry deepening.
Blake began writing quickly on the parchment.
"What are you writing?" Hermione asked, leaning closer to see.
"A letter," Blake replied without pausing.
"To inform Mr. Weasley about the car?"
Blake shook his head. "By now, he's probably already realized it's missing. There's no point in informing him about what he likely already knows."
Hermione leaned closer, her eyes narrowing at the signature. "Why is it signed 'Gellert Grindelwald'?"
Blake smirked. "Because I know someone who can help. Someone with influence who can prevent this from turning into a disaster for Mr. Weasley."
He folded the letter carefully and reached into his bag, pulling out a large owl. The sight left Ginny and Luna gaping in astonishment.
"Take this to the recipient," Blake instructed the owl, handing over the letter. The owl gave him a proud, almost condescending look before taking off through the open window.
Blake turned back to the group. "The misuse of Muggle artifacts law is outdated. It was designed to prevent exposure to Muggles, but instead, it stifles creativity. Look at this train." He gestured to the Hogwarts Express. "It's a Muggle creation, yet we've enhanced it with magic to make it better. Why can't we do the same with cars or other devices?"
Ginny nodded, her expression shifting from worry to admiration. "Thank you for helping my dad," she said softly.
"You're welcome," Blake replied with a kind smile. "But you should still send him a letter, just to give him a heads-up."
Ginny hesitated. "I... I don't have an owl."
Hermione immediately offered, "You can use mine."
Meanwhile, outside platform nine and three-quarters, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood in shock, staring at the empty space where their enchanted car had been parked.
"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice rising with each word, "where's the car?"
Mr. Weasley looked equally baffled. "It... it couldn't have been stolen, could it?"
Before they could dwell further, a strange owl swooped down, dropping a letter into Mr. Weasley's hands.
He unfolded it, his expression shifting from confusion to relief. "At least the car wasn't stolen by Muggles."
"Then where is it?"
Mr. Weasley's eyes skimmed the letter. "According to Ginny... Harry and Ron took it. They're flying it above the Hogwarts Express."
Mrs. Weasley turned crimson. "WHAT?"
Mr. Weasley gulped, holding up the letter as if it might shield him from his wife's wrath. "They're following the train. It's fine. Everything's fine."
"Fine?" Mrs. Weasley hissed. "If the Ministry finds out... Arthur, you'll lose your job—or worse, end up in Azkaban!"
Mr. Weasley sighed heavily. "I'll handle it, Molly. Don't worry."
"You'd better!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.
Back on the Hogwarts Express, the train approached Hogsmeade as the sun dipped below the horizon. The flying car was no longer visible, and Blake guessed it had fallen behind due to a malfunction.
When the train finally stopped, Blake stepped off, letting the girls change into their robes without him in the compartment.
With a flick of his wand, his own casual clothes transformed into perfectly pressed Hogwarts robes. "If someone invented robes that could change like this, they'd make a fortune," he muttered to himself.
The platform was noticeably less crowded than usual, with many students having transferred to Nurmengard Academy. Blake couldn't help but reflect on the shift in numbers.
Hagrid's booming voice called out, "FIRST YEARS! FIRST YEARS, OVER HERE!"
Luna and Ginny waved to Blake before joining the first-years on their journey across the lake.
Blake followed the older students toward the Thestral-drawn carriages. As he approached, he paused to take in the sight of the skeletal, bat-winged creatures.
This was his first time seeing Thestrals. Last year, they had been invisible to him, but his summer experiences had changed that.
Hermione noticed him lingering. "What are you doing? There's nothing there," she said, her brow furrowing.
Blake reached out, brushing a hand along the Thestral's bony neck. "There's something here, Hermione. You just can't see it."
Cassandra interjected, "They're Thestrals. Only those who've seen death can see them."
Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at Blake, realization dawning. "You've seen death?"
Blake didn't respond, his gaze distant.
In the Great Hall, the Sorting Ceremony began. Luna was placed in Ravenclaw, and Ginny joined Gryffindor.
As the feast began, Blake noticed Snape enter the hall, his expression smug. He whispered something to Professor McGonagall, who quickly left her seat. Moments later, Dumbledore also exited the hall.
Blake smirked. "Looks like Harry and Ron finally made their entrance."
He was certain their arrival involved the flying car—and its collision with the Whomping Willow.
Professor Sprout soon approached him at the Hufflepuff table. "Blake, I need your help," she said briskly.
"What's wrong?"
"The Whomping Willow is badly damaged. I need assistance to stabilize it."
Blake nodded, standing up. "Lead the way."
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