It was pouring down with rain the morning they had to catch the Hogwarts Express. As they waited in the hallway for the taxis Mrs Weasley had arranged, Harry glanced at the fleet of enormous Hogwarts trunks stacked by the door. "Mrs Weasley," he piped up tentatively. "Should we maybe use shrinking charms on the trunks? Muggle taxis might not have enough space for all this." It would be bad enough travelling with Pig and Crookshanks — Hedwig was off delivering a letter to Gorrak, under the guise of Harry writing to Sirius. Mrs Weasley, already flustered from her husband's unexpected disappearance to deal with Mad-Eye Moody, looked up with a worried expression on her face.
"Harry's probably right," Bill agreed, pulling his wand from his jacket pocket. In short order, he and Charlie had the trunks shrunk, and they ended up in Mrs Weasley's enormous handbag.
As Harry suspected, the three taxi drivers seemed utterly bewildered at the owl in the cage; Pig wasn't helping, making quite the racket as he was wedged into the back seat on Ron's lap. Crookshanks wasn't thrilled either, and by the time they all reached King's Cross, Harry, Ron and Hermione were covered in scratches.
"I'm really sorry," Hermione said for the hundredth time as they stepped through the barrier onto platform 9 & 3/4, her cat tucked securely under her arm. They stepped to the side, and Charlie started resizing everybody's trunks.
After they'd found a compartment and stowed their luggage away, they all returned to the platform to say goodbye to Mrs Weasley, Bill and Charlie. "Keep in touch," Bill urged with a grin, pulling Ron into a hug once he was done with the twins. "You lot are in for one hell of a year, I want to hear about all of it. You too, Harry," he added, hugging the dark-haired teen tightly.
"I might see you all sooner than you think," Charlie confessed, releasing Ginny with a kiss on the forehead.
"Why's that?" Fred asked quickly. Charlie tapped his nose conspiratorially, winking.
"Secret," he insisted. "Don't tell Percy I mentioned it. It's 'classified information until the Ministry sees fit to release it'," he droned with a roll of his eyes. Harry's gaze narrowed thoughtfully; did that mean Charlie was involved in the Tournament somehow? The two eldest Weasley boys delighted in taunting their siblings with veiled references to the secret surprise right up until the whistle blew, and they had to hurry to catch the train. Harry spotted Neville wandering with his trunk as they headed for their compartment. "Oi, Neville!" he called, waving an arm. The round-faced boy looked up. "Wanna sit with us?"
Neville grinned, nodding, and the four of them took their seats, shoving Neville's trunk into the luggage rack with their own and shutting the compartment door. "Why wouldn't they just tell us what's going on this year?" Ron groused. "We wouldn't tell anyone."
"From the sounds of things, we'll find out tonight anyway," Harry placated, as if he didn't already know the secret. "How was your summer, Neville?" He acted as if he hadn't been writing to the other boy regularly, and Neville grinned at him.
"It was great! Gran let me put a whole section for aquatic plants in the greenhouse." As he enthused about all the new specimens he had, Harry's mind turned to the dilapidated greenhouse at Seren Du. He'd intended to start clearing it out over the summer, maybe grow some potions ingredients — he actually enjoyed gardening at the Dursleys — but it had turned out to be a much bigger project than any of them had anticipated. Remus and Sirius had promised to get it emptied out ready for the next summer. Maybe by then Harry would be able to tell Neville about it and get some advice. Neville didn't even know the truth about Sirius, yet.
Several familiar faces stopped in on them throughout the journey, and with each one Ron's retelling of the events of the Quidditch World Cup got more and more elaborate. While he gave Neville a fairly accurate recount, by the time Seamus and Dean reached them he was describing their narrow escape from a pack of Death Eaters, who apparently almost hexed him several times. Harry and Hermione merely shared an exasperated glance.
At one point, they managed to turn the conversation to the match itself rather than the chaos after it, Neville listening enviously as Harry and Ron described it all. "Gran didn't want to go," Neville said miserably. "She's not into quidditch. It sounds amazing, though."
Ron jumped up to rifle through his trunk, pulling out his little figure of Viktor Krum. "Look at this! We saw him right up close, too. We were up in the top box—"
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley." The familiar drawl made Harry's head snap up, and he was glad for his darker skin when he felt his cheeks heat ever so slightly. Draco's hair was a little longer than it had been at the Cup, falling into his silver-grey eyes. He looked good. Behind him were Crabbe and Goyle, looking appropriately menacing. "Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," Harry said coolly, hoping to head off any truly explosive argument before Ron could get a word in. They all had their roles to play, of course, but he didn't want to get into a fight before the term even began.
Sadly, it was not to be. As much as Draco and Harry were friends now, the same couldn't be said for him and Ron, and Draco took any chance to taunt the redhead. "Weasley, what is that?"
A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was sticking out of his trunk, obviously dislodged when Ron had grabbed the Krum figurine. It was swaying with the motion of the train, the lace cuff very obvious. Ron made to shove it out of sight, but Draco was too quick, and soon he was holding the robes out in front of him.
"Good Merlin!" he exclaimed. "Weasley, you weren't thinking about wearing these, were you?" He looked them over in consideration. "I'm sure they were the height of fashion in, oh, about 1890…" he trailed off with a laugh, Crabbe and Goyle laughing right along with him. Ron's face was burning bright red. Harry tried to bring himself to be offended on his friend's behalf, but he just couldn't do it; the robes were awful. Ron should've just taken Bill's old ones, pink or no pink.
"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron scowled, snatching the robes back and tossing them into the corner of the compartment. Even Neville was eyeing them with a grimace.
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