"Can you believe our rotten luck?" Ron said miserably, cradling his rat, Scabbers. "Out of all the trees, we had to hit the one that punches back."
"Enough complaining. Let's go. We'd better get into the school before the Sorting Ceremony starts," Augustus said, waving them forward. He grabbed his suitcase and began dragging it up the grassy slope toward the massive oak doors.
"I think the feast has already started," Harry said, dropping his suitcase at the foot of the stairs. He crept to a brightly lit window and peered inside. "Hey, come look! They're doing the Sorting!"
Countless candles hovered mid-air, illuminating four long tables packed with students. The golden plates and goblets glittered in the light.
Above them, the ceiling sparkled with stars, enchanted to mirror the sky outside.
Beyond the sea of black, pointed Hogwarts hats, Harry saw the nervous line of first-years entering the Great Hall. Among them was Ginny, her unmistakable Weasley-red hair standing out. At the same time, Professor McGonagall, her hair tightly drawn into a bun and her glasses perched on her nose, placed the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat onto a stool in front of them.
Each year, this patched, dirty, and tattered hat sorted the new students into one of Hogwarts' four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin.
A boy with amber eyes and a slight limp was called forward to wear the Sorting Hat. Harry's gaze wandered to the staff table, where Dumbledore watched the ceremony, his silver beard and half-moon glasses gleaming in the candlelight. A few seats over, Harry noticed Gilderoy Lockhart in aquamarine robes, and at the far end, Hagrid, burly and bearded, was raising a tankard in a toast.
"Wait a second," Harry whispered to Augustus. "There's an empty seat at the staff table. Where's Snape?"
"Maybe he's sick!" Ron said hopefully.
"Or maybe he's left," Harry suggested, "because he didn't get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!"
"Stop speculating," Augustus said with a wry smile, looking at the two boys. "We should get inside before everything's over."
"Maybe," a cold voice behind them said, "he's waiting to hear why you didn't take the school train."
Harry spun around. Standing before them was Severus Snape, his black robes billowing in the breeze. His sallow skin and hooked nose seemed even more severe in the dim light, and his greasy black hair hung to his shoulders. The smile on his face told Harry they were in serious trouble.
Augustus sighed, picking up his suitcase. There was no sneaking in unnoticed now. Resigned, he thought, Well, it's my unlucky day.
"Follow me," Snape ordered.
Harry and Ron didn't dare protest as they followed Snape up the steps into the vast, torch-lit entrance hall. The warm aroma of food wafted from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away, down a narrow stone staircase to the chilly dungeon classrooms.
"Inside!" Snape snapped, opening the door to his office and motioning them in.
They shivered as they entered the dimly lit room. Shelves lined with large glass jars contained grotesque things floating in murky liquid, none of which Harry wanted to identify. The unlit fireplace loomed dark and empty. Snape shut the door and turned to face them, his expression cold and unforgiving.
"What," Snape asked icily, "did you do to that car?"
Ron was speechless, gaping like a fish. Snape's piercing gaze made Harry feel like his thoughts were being laid bare.
It all became clear when Snape unrolled that day's Evening Prophet.
"You were seen," he said mercilessly, holding up the newspaper. The headline blared: Flying Ford Anglia Stuns Muggles!
Snape read aloud, his voice dripping with disdain. "Two Muggles in London claim they saw an old car fly over a post office... Mrs. Hetty Bayliss of Norfolk spotted it while hanging her laundry… Angus Fleet of Peebles reported it to the police... A total of six or seven Muggles witnessed the event." He lowered the paper, his sneer widening. "I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, doesn't he?"
Ron winced as Snape continued, "How ironic. His own son—"
Harry's stomach sank like he'd been struck by the Whomping Willow again. He hadn't even considered the repercussions if someone discovered Mr. Weasley had enchanted the car.
"And as for that precious Whomping Willow," Snape said, his voice dangerous, "it's sustained significant damage."
"Professor, the damage to the tree was my fault. I'll take full responsibility," Augustus said firmly, meeting Snape's gaze.
"Of course," Snape replied coldly. "It couldn't possibly have been caused by Potter and Weasley. Shall I award you ten points for this, Augustus?"
For the first time, Snape's icy demeanor betrayed anger toward Augustus. As a Slytherin star and Snape's prized student, Augustus rarely incurred his ire. But this time, his involvement with Harry and Ron had clearly crossed a line.
"That tree did more damage to us than—" Ron began hotly.
"Silence!" Snape barked. "It's truly a pity you're not in my house. I'd have the pleasure of expelling you myself. As it is, I'll summon someone with that authority. Wait here."
Harry and Ron exchanged pale, horrified looks. Harry no longer felt hungry. He averted his eyes from a large, slimy thing floating in green liquid on Snape's shelf. McGonagall wouldn't be much better, even if she were fairer than Snape.
Ten minutes later, Snape returned with Professor McGonagall in tow. Her tightly pressed lips and furious expression made Harry's stomach churn. She pointed her wand at the empty fireplace, and flames roared to life.
"Augustus, write me a report on this incident and return to the Slytherin common room," Snape said curtly. "You've got other responsibilities tonight, like overseeing the prefect selection."
With a reluctant nod, Augustus left, much to the envy of Harry and Ron, who remained to face their punishment.
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