When Harry Potter stirred awake in the Forbidden Forest, his senses were alert for the chaos that typically accompanied him when he had left it—echoes of dark magic and the menacing presence of Death Eaters. But there was only an eerie stillness, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the wind. No signs of recent activity marked the ground, and no footprints marred the earth, leaving Harry bewildered amidst the silent canopy of trees.
Panic clawed at his chest as he sprinted toward what should have been the safety of Hogwarts. With each step, his mind raced, trying to make sense of the inexplicable emptiness around him. Yet, as he burst from the forest's edge, the dread that gripped him was suffocating. Before him lay not the grandeur of Hogwarts Castle, but a desolate ruin, its once majestic spires now a crumbled ruin uninhabited for what looked like centuries.
It was then that Harry realised the chilling truth—he had boarded the wrong train.