The platform's hum died away as the train started moving, and the wheels settled into a rhythmic clatter against the rails.
We took our seats: me by the window, Blackmore beside me, Mark and Cassius opposite. Graham settled slightly apart, silent as usual, only throwing brief glances and listening.
"France, gentlemen's ," Avery began with the air of a connoisseur, leaning back and crossing his legs. "That's where magic smells different. They have their own magical alleys. The center of magical France is 'Rue Mirabelle'. Imagine: a street of grey granite, shop windows sparkling as if enchanted by Merlin himself. They sell potions with additives that are banned here, and no one even bats an eye."
"Banned, you say?" Cassius raised an eyebrow. "Can you buy powdered basilisk fang there?"
Avery smirked, adjusting his cuff.
"Almost. A real basilisk fang, of course, costs its weight in gold, but such powders are sold freely there. Generally, you can get anything there…"
The calm was broken. The compartment door slid open – and a future first-year's head poked through the gap. Huge eyes, a timid smile.
"Excuse me… is this compartment taken?"
"Yes, taken," Avery said lazily and flicked his wand, casting Colloportus.
The Locking Spell worked as intended, and the door slammed shut in the face of the boy, clearly not of noble lineage.
I, however, drew my wand and traced an arc in the air.
"Silentium Testudine," I said aloud.
A dome of the lightest magic descended upon the compartment, and suddenly the noise from outside became muffled, as if we were underwater.
Avery broke into a satisfied smile.
"A year ago, we dreamed of this. No noise, no tramping in the corridor…"
"A goal was set, a goal was achieved," I snorted.
We both laughed.
Graham looked up from his thoughts for a second and gave a barely perceptible nod, as if sharing the general satisfaction.
The Dome of Silence completely cut us off from the rest of the train. Outside, the clamor of first-years continued, but we could only hear our own voices. The atmosphere became almost homely.
"Well," Cassius drawled, looking around at everyone, "maybe we should change the subject. Marcus here has already buzzed all our ears off with his France."
"And I don't regret it," he retorted with a smirk. "If you want, go yourself."
"I will," Cassius snorted. "But later. For now, I've been training. Father personally taught me combat magic. Now the scum and weaklings from Knockturn Alley aren't scary, and I'm sure I could fend off an enraged centaur in the dark forest."
"Are you sure?" Blackmore grunted.
"Well, alright, not an enraged one. But I remembered a couple of moves," Cassius grinned. "And I also accidentally set fire to the edge of the forest near the house."
We laughed, and then the glances turned to me.
"And you, Arcturus?" Avery asked quietly.
I straightened up and placed my palm on the armrest.
"The summer was productive. Dueling lessons with a German master, but you already know that. But I'll say this, hiring that master was probably one of the best decisions. The teacher turned out to be an extremely practical man. True, a couple of times I almost lost limbs, risked breaking a few bones, getting serious cuts, but overall, I'm now ready for the Dueling Club at school."
Avery whistled.
"Now that sounds interesting. You're planning to join the Dueling Club?"
"No, we are planning to," I said calmly, looking at each person in the compartment.
Everyone nodded in agreement: Cassius and Blackmore were planning to go anyway, Graham would go where I go, but Avery…
"Every self-respecting wizard should be able to defend his honor in a duel," Dexter stated decisively, with which Warrington agreed.
"Well… it's not that it was in the plans…" Avery said with typical laziness, rolling his eyes and leaning back slightly. He was stalling for time to think. "But overall, it's a good option among the school clubs."
"You know, Marcus, duels are like chess, except they develop not only thinking but also skill. You don't have to come with us. But I guarantee, you won't regret it in life."
"Which is why I agree," Avery waved him off. "I, of course, prefer to do nothing, but I don't want to fall behind you all."
Why did I need to drag everyone there? Besides the fact that they would all, one way or another, gather around me, I would also get my own loyal group, capable of fighting at a basic level. Although I doubt the Dueling Club could provide even a tenth of the training I received from Krieger. After all, the school would clearly have stricter limitations than the dueling codex, where much is already forbidden.
But for someone like Avery, it would be enough to at least stand up for himself if needed. And it would be an initial stage: later, I would personally train them further if everyone showed interest. And I needed experience not only in duels against peers, not just a mastodon like Krieger, but also experience fighting multiple opponents, even if they were like that.
Although, perhaps I had become too proud – Cassius and Blackmore could probably give me some competition. Overall, it was even pleasant to return to the castle, I was even happy to sit like this in the cozy compartment of the Hogwarts Express. At school, we were no longer the main larvae, so everything would be much more interesting, and we would finally break out of the bubble of our year.
Dusk was already settling over the station when the train smoothly stopped at the platform. Steam still escaped from under the wheels, hissing, covering the platform with a white mist. The doors opened, and students of all years spilled out. Noise, laughter, shouts – everything blended into a booming echo.
As always, I stopped the guys, and we waited for everyone to get off; I didn't want to get caught in the crowd. When we finally exited, I turned and noticed a bunch of first-years, trembling with excitement, gathering around Hagrid. The huge figure of the half-giant towered over them just as it had towered over me a year ago. Back then, I stood in such a crowd too.
"Funny," I muttered. "Exactly a year has passed."
"It's funny to look at them," Cassius snorted. "But we stood there as the same idiots."
"Not idiots, newbies," Avery corrected and pointed with his hand: "Look, the carriages."
Rows of dark carriages stood nearby. For most, they were empty. For me – not. I saw silhouettes that others would call nightmares. For many, there was only empty harness, and the carriage moved and flew by magic, but I saw… thestrals.
Thin, dead bodies, as if desiccated by decay. Dark skin stretched over bones, long wings – deathly black, as if cut from the night, like the whole body. And white, empty eyes – completely without pupils. But it was in this empty, silent gaze that there was more truth than in a hundred smiles and phrases.
I slowed my step, in no hurry to get into the carriage. One of them turned its head, and I… I don't know, I seemed to fall into my own thoughts. I felt the gaze of the steed of death. And death always looks deeper than anyone. It sees not the face or the body. Only the essence.
I reached out my hand. The thestral moved closer. Its breath was cold, like grave chill before dawn. The skin on its neck slid roughly under my fingers. I ran my palm over the bone, over the sinew – and felt no disgust. On the contrary.
For a second, it seemed the world around had gone silent. Only me and this creature, which seemed to have chosen me as its interlocutor.
The thestral seemed to say: "So, Arcturus. You, too, are marked by death. That's why you see us. We are more alike than you think." Foolish thoughts? Perhaps.
"How strange…" I exhaled almost soundlessly, in a whisper. "People call you freaks, undead, but I see… grace."
A thought flashed in my head: I had seen death. I had walked beside it. I remember its taste. And therefore, I have nothing to fear. But is that true? Or am I deceiving myself… don't I want to live forever!? I do!
The thestral snorted, its wings twitched slightly, as if answering me.
"You feel that I understand?" I whispered so quietly that only a soft rasp escaped. "You also live on the boundary. You live to remind us that everything ends."
"Arcturus…" Avery's voice came from the side. I didn't want to tear my gaze away from the grace of one of death's forms, as if enchanted.
I turned and noticed their stares. Mark, Cassius, Blackmore, even the silent Graham – all were gaping as if I were talking to emptiness. Ah, yes…
Avery showed off his knowledge, but quieter than usual:
"Thestrals. Only those who have encountered death can see them. That's why it seems to us that the carriages move and fly into the air by themselves."
I looked at the thestral again. It didn't look away. The white, empty eyes held neither pity nor malice. Only recognition?
I see you. And you see me. Perhaps we are both reminders. I am a reminder that death has been, you are a reminder that death always will be.
The thestral bent its head closer, and I touched its muzzle. My fingers trembled – not from fear, from something greater. From realization. As if I understood something deep inside, but my consciousness understood nothing.
"They're frightening," Cassius muttered. "I've seen pictures in a book. Why are you petting it as if it were a horse?.."
"A thestral is also like a horse, just in a different form, in the form of a symbol of death without the illusions of life. Don't you find that amusing?"
I removed my hand, and the thestral snorted again, spread its wings, and tightened the harness. The carriage wheels creaked, and only then did I notice we had been standing too long.
"Let's go," I said shortly.
We climbed into the carriage. But a strange heaviness remained inside me. Not a gloomy one, no. Rather – a clear, cold certainty. The thestral reminded me of what I always knew: everything will end. But until it happens – one must live worthily.
Death had already taken me once. But does that mean I was always its prisoner? Or, on the contrary – its companion? I don't want to be a prisoner, I want to be free even from the chains of death.
During the flight, I just brushed off Avery's questions – I simply wasn't in the mood for him. I wanted to understand what it was that I had "understood" from all this.
Hogwarts greeted us as if summer had never passed. The towers stood just the same, dark against the sunset sky, and the lit windows reflected in the black mirror of the lake, while the first-years sailed in boats towards the castle. Immediately, memories flared up in my head: the image of the night castle rising above the black lake, reflecting the entire sky. It's a pity these first-years were unlucky – today the stars were hiding behind clouds.
The carriages, one after another, rolled up to the main gates, and the familiar noise of hundreds of voices immediately enveloped everything.
We, as befitted second-years, took our places in the Great Hall a bit further from the teachers: no longer in the front rows, but still far from the back benches where the senior years sat. The space was different and our mood was too – not excitedly scared like last year, but confident. And our position at the table gave a reason to feel at ease. All our classmates, happy, were chatting with neighbors they hadn't seen during the holidays. I didn't lag behind either, finally setting aside deep thoughts about life and death for later.
After all, I had pressing matters here. I needed to talk to all my acquaintances, exchange at least a few words with each. Plus, I needed to try to remember some of the first-years to make it easier later. And also to greet the new prefects, who were nervous themselves. After all, Snape had appointed prefects from the fifth year, so establishing contact would be easy, and they would be prefects for more than one year. I needed to try to make two extremely useful acquaintances, and then I could become a prefect myself.
Amanda sat opposite us with her friends. We had already exchanged a few words. She had managed to grow up a lot over the summer. Though, I had grown quite a bit too. In my opinion, and by my desire, I would definitely grow into a tall man. And if not, I doubt the magical world is short on ways to change one's height or body.
"Well, here it begins," Avery said, nodding towards the doors. "First-years."
The doors swung open, and behind them appeared a line of children – even smaller than we remembered ourselves a year ago. They moved in a crowd, craning their necks, looking at the ceiling reflecting the sky.
When the stool and the Hat were brought onto the platform, the hall fell silent instantly. The first names began to sound, and I, although pretending to exchange pleasantries with Amanda, found it important to memorize the surnames – especially those who meant something, however little. The faces, the children's reactions, and which House they were Sorted into.
Because here, under the vaults with the magical sky, not only friendships and rivalries were being laid, but also the future. And watching this was not a pastime for me, but almost an obligation.
One by one, they approached the stool: some trembling, some with the air of a future hero. I noted some surnames in my head immediately – children of those whose parents carried more weight than others.
When the last voices faded and the Hat was returned to its stand, there was a short speech from Dumbledore, and then the feast. But the day was far from over.
After the feast, everyone rushed to the common rooms while the prefects frantically gathered the first-years. As it happened, when we had already separated from the other Houses and were heading towards our common room, I crossed paths with Amanda in the crowd.
I had something to talk to her about, and apparently, she also wanted to talk face-to-face. We slowed our pace, letting the stream of Slytherins go ahead. The stone corridors immediately became more spacious, and our footsteps echoed hollowly under the vaults. We walked slightly behind the rest of the crowd. One-on-one conversations are always more valuable than any shared laughter in the corridor.
"I must admit," I said, accidentally touching Amanda's shoulder, "over the summer, you've only become more beautiful."
Amanda slightly raised the corner of her lips, but her eyes remained cold and appraising, as always. Yet the slight smile was sincere.
"You know how to choose your words, Arcturus. But you know, I have a bitter feeling that behind every compliment of yours, there's always a proposal."
I shrugged, smiling with the corner of my mouth.
"Let's just say I know how to use a suitable moment. But otherwise – it's not cheap flattery. Just a fact that's impossible not to notice."
She averted her eyes for a second, as if checking if anyone was listening, but for some reason, I thought she just wanted to hide a smile.
"In that case, thank you, I'm flattered. You know, the summer wasn't so bad. Books, trips, tutors, walks with friends… and, of course, potions," she spoke in an almost indifferent tone, but with a noticeable shadow of irritation. "I even managed to read the full treatise 'Compatibility of Mineral and Animal Ingredients.'"
"Voluntarily?" I squinted.
"Believe it or not," she snorted. "At some point, it even became interesting."
"So, things are really bad. That's why you're a bit irritated," I noted with a light smirk.
She snorted but quickly became serious:
"No, I had a productive summer. What irritates me… is Nott, who managed to get on my nerves quite a bit last year. She sticks her nose everywhere. You just turn away for a moment – and she's already there, with her 'advice'. It's hard to brush her off without showing too much."
"She even managed to get to you?" I pretended to be surprised. "I thought you could handle her. And she seems quite sweet and calm on the surface."
At my last words, Amanda sharply furrowed her brows and tightened her fingers on the sleeve of her robe.
"A puddle can be avoided. But if a splinter gets into your boot – you have to pull it out," she replied dryly.
I noted how skillfully Amanda could complain without appearing weak. A form of discontent behind which calculation always hid.
"That's bad, because this year everything will be different," I said, glancing around the walls. "Second year is no longer the first. The older students will start pulling us into their games. The balance will shift, and the only question is – in whose favor. And if we all get pulled in different directions, we'll end up with nothing, especially if we can't even manage our own year."
The hint at problems with Nott was obvious, but I needed to touch on her weak spot. Amanda nodded slightly, and her hair slid over her shoulder.
"You want us to keep the entire second year of Snakes together? The girls will follow me, the boys – you," Rosier said, adjusting her hair.
I looked directly into her eyes, not turning away.
"No. You already lead the female part, and I the male. I want it differently: for everyone to follow us. The year needs to be held together. But I'll be honest – the boys won't obey the female part. That's why I'm saying: it's time to join forces. All of Slytherin should know that the center of power is us. Not to mention our year. If that doesn't happen – we'll be pulled apart piece by piece."
She narrowed her eyes. For a moment, her face became open, as if without a mask – just cold concentration.
"You understand that in such an alliance, my role will always be second?"
"I understand," I replied calmly. "And you must understand it just as clearly. But the second role doesn't mean 'weak'. I will help you with Nott. I'll talk to her in your presence."
Her lips were touched by a slight smile again.
"Alright. I'm not one of those who fears the second role. Especially if everything is played beautifully."
We started walking again, and to lighten the tension a bit, I asked:
"So, what else did you do over the summer, besides treatises, walks, and trips?"
"Missed your company," she answered unexpectedly simply, but immediately added, squinting slyly: "Though, perhaps, not yours. Who knows…"
I chuckled.
"Is that so. You know, I'm also glad to be back in this serpentarium."
The green opening to the common room was already glowing ahead, and we involuntarily slowed down.
"I take it we have an agreement… partner?" she tossed out, half-jokingly.
"Partner? Hah, you could say that," I replied. "But don't forget, Amanda… I get very angry when snakes bite not only enemies but also each other."
She smiled a little wider than usual.
"I'm just a sweet and kind little snake."