Hoffa stared blankly at the now-empty compartment, thinking to himself what a mysterious guy that was.
By now, the train had come to a stop, and the torrential rain had eased into a light drizzle. Students were disembarking one after another.
Glancing at his watch, Hoffa didn't dare hesitate. He quickly ran back toward his original compartment. Strangely enough, after his brief conversation with that man, he felt an unusual sense of calm.
He stopped worrying about prisons and other chaotic thoughts. Maybe the man was right.
Everyone dies—early or late, it's all the same.
Why overthink it?
Jogging through the corridor, he returned to his compartment only to find it empty. His luggage and backpack were nowhere in sight, likely taken away by the house elves.
Looking down at the ordinary Muggle clothes he was wearing, he cursed inwardly. If he couldn't change into his school robes on the train, wouldn't it be too conspicuous to show up at school in these clothes? Wouldn't it be ridiculous if everyone else was in robes while he was in a shirt?
As he fretted silently, a faintly reproachful voice spoke behind him.
"You've been in the bathroom for ages."
Turning around, he saw Aglaia sitting in an open compartment across the corridor, wearing her blue-and-black school robes and holding his clothes in her arms. Her blue eyes sparkled in the darkness.
"I thought you might've fallen into the toilet," she said, handing over his robes.
She had waited here for him—who knew for how long. Seeing the robes in her hands, Hoffa felt a pang of guilt. Just hours ago, he had entertained the thought of never wanting to see her again.
Silently, he took the robes, closed the door, and put them on.
When he finished and reopened the door, he said, "Thanks for helping me."
"Thank Miranda," Aglaia said indifferently, turning her head. "She asked me to wait here for you."
"Where's your cousin?" Hoffa asked.
"She left—went with Miranda," Aglaia replied.
The two of them disembarked from the train onto the school platform.
By then, the main group was far ahead of them. Rain continued to pour steadily from the sky, and in the distance, they could see a group of first-years braving the turbulent waters of the Black Lake in small boats for their crossing ceremony.
Aglaia drew her wand, giving it a slight wave. The wand extended and unfolded into an umbrella.
"Impressive Transfiguration," Hoffa complimented sincerely.
"Nothing special," she replied.
Perhaps it was the long wait, a lingering grudge about being left behind, or maybe the awkwardness from the end of the summer holiday, but either way, Aglaia seemed far less talkative than usual.
Hoffa took the umbrella from her. Though Aglaia was still taller by about a centimeter, he held it as they walked together, catching up with the main group ahead.
The rain drummed steadily against the umbrella, filling the silence between them. This uncharacteristic quiet from his usually lively companion made Hoffa feel a little uneasy.
He remembered how, in their first year, she could talk for an hour just to show off a potion.
"After the birthday banquet, where did you go?"
Aglaia suddenly broke the silence. "I looked everywhere for you but couldn't find you."
Hoffa scratched his head awkwardly, not answering. He could answer most questions, but what he'd experienced over the summer was so insane that he didn't even want to talk about it.
Seeing his hesitation, Aglaia sighed and didn't press further. She simply remarked, "Seems like you've learned to keep secrets."
"And you? Don't you have any secrets of your own?" Hoffa asked, slightly annoyed.
"What do you think?"
Aglaia glanced at him coldly. "Hoffa, can't you just act normal for once?"
"What's so abnormal about me?" Hoffa retorted absentmindedly.
"You think you're normal?"
"What?"
"I said, you're far from normal. No owl, no interest in socializing, no hobbies of your own. Sometimes…"
Aglaia gritted her teeth. "Sometimes I even think you're someone who doesn't feel anything—no emotions, no desires."
Her words hit Hoffa like a dagger, piercing his Achilles' heel. He froze in his tracks, falling a step behind her.
She walked into the rain, and Hoffa noticed her head had gotten wet. He quickly ran up and held the umbrella over her head.
For the rest of the walk, the two of them didn't speak a word, just walking in silence.
When they arrived at the school's main entrance, a group of short first-year wizards stood in the rain, their heads shielded by a transparent barrier adorned with a silver phoenix that protected them from the rain.
The current Head of Ravenclaw and Deputy Headmaster, Dumbledore, stood on the stone steps, giving a pre-term speech to the new students. He wore a refined velvet coat, and the long hem of his robe flowed gently in the rain, not a drop touching him.
Behind him stood the heads of the four houses.
As Hoffa climbed the steps, he saw Aglaia's cousin, the Ravenclaw head of house, staring at him and Aglaia with furrowed brows.
He handed back the umbrella that had been transfigured from his wand, and Aglaia silently took it. Without saying a word, she turned and walked up the stairs, passing her cousin and disappearing into the castle.
Hoffa felt a little uncomfortable. After hesitating for a moment and putting some distance between them, he began to climb the stairs. But before he could enter the corridor, Dumbledore interrupted his speech to the first-years.
"Wait a moment, Bach, I need to speak with you."
Hoffa stopped. "What is it?"
Dumbledore bent down to Hoffa's side. "After the Sorting Ceremony this year, I'd like you to announce the new arrangements at the school."
"What?" Hoffa was taken aback by the suggestion.
Dumbledore whispered, "You've seen the state of the school this year. It's rather dismal. These new students need some hope, some encouragement. There's no one more suitable for this speech than you. After all, many of the students coming here this year were influenced by you last year."
Hoffa couldn't speak for a long moment.
Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder with a smile. "It's alright, don't be nervous. I've prepared the script for you, you can just read it. Of course, if you want to improvise a little, that's fine too."
Without waiting for Hoffa to respond, Dumbledore stuffed a parchment into his arms.
Hoffa looked at the parchment, his face going pale. The text was densely packed, like squirming tadpoles, and it made his scalp tingle. He tucked the parchment into his robes, feeling weighed down.
For someone like him—introverted and lazy—giving a speech felt like it would kill him.
Dumbledore left Hoffa standing by his side and returned to address the new students. "In any case, the rules this year aren't too strict, but I do hope that, during your limited free time, you will all find a sense of belonging in your respective houses."
Dumbledore continued speaking endlessly, as he always did.
Hoffa stood behind him, silently watching the group of first-years in the rain. He thought back to when he had first arrived at the school two years ago. The then-Deputy Headmaster, Professor Adébégosák, had said just one thing:
"Silence, wherever you're sorted, that's your house."
Thinking about Professor Adébégosák, Hoffa felt a bit disoriented, as if first year had been a long, long time ago. At that time, Professor Adébégosák had even given him a few individual tutoring sessions.
Unknowingly, he had already entered his third year.
Lost in thought, Hoffa suddenly felt a sharp pain in his neck.
His acute senses told him someone was watching him. He turned around and saw, from a third-floor window of the towering castle, a figure waving at him.
The figure then closed the window and disappeared from view.
It was just a fleeting glimpse, and Hoffa couldn't recognize the person who had greeted him.
(End of Chapter)
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