human again / hp.

Chapter 23

The Hogwarts Express stood proudly on the platform at King's Cross, its gleaming red exterior shining against the crisp September morning. Steam hissed and curled into the warm air, swirling around the throng of students and parents exchanging farewells. The sound of laughter and hurried goodbyes filled the air, but I barely noticed it. Father's final words lingered in my mind, as heavy and unyielding as the trunk I carried.

"Remember your place, Celeste. No foolishness this year."

The memory of his cold, measured tone sent a chill through me. The confrontation at Flourish and Blotts had already made his expectations painfully clear, but he'd felt the need to underline them once more before we left. As always.

"Come on," Draco called, snapping me out of my thoughts. He strode ahead, leading the way down the crowded platform. His gait was confident, his platinum hair catching the light as if it were a beacon. I trailed behind, my fingers tightening on the strap of my bag as we approached the train.

Crabbe and Goyle were already wedged into a compartment at the front of the train, their hulking forms taking up more space than seemed reasonable. Blaise Zabini was lounging in the corner, his dark eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as he acknowledged us with a slight nod.

Draco claimed the seat beside Blaise, gesturing for me to follow. I slid into the bench by the window, setting my bag down with care. The leather felt smooth and familiar under my fingertips, but it did little to steady the unease twisting in my stomach.

The train gave a lurch, then began to glide forward, the platform slipping away in a blur of color and movement. Draco wasted no time launching into a tirade about Gryffindor's "inevitable downfall," punctuated by a detailed critique of the Quidditch lineup.

I tried to listen, but my attention wavered as the countryside began to roll past the window. Golden fields and dense patches of forest blurred together, a serene backdrop to the growing noise inside the compartment. Draco's voice rose and fell, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling at all the right moments, but I barely heard a word. My thoughts drifted, tugged toward familiar faces I hadn't seen on the platform.

Harry. Ron. Hermione.

Were they on the train? Tucked into a compartment somewhere, laughing and plotting as they always did? I hadn't allowed myself to look for them—hadn't dared. And yet, I couldn't stop the pang of something sharp and raw that curled in my chest. Guilt? Regret? I didn't want to name it.

"Celeste?" Draco's sharp tone cut through my thoughts. His silver eyes fixed on me, a flicker of irritation in his gaze. "Are you even listening?"

"Of course," I lied, straightening in my seat. "You were talking about Quidditch."

"Obviously," he said, leaning back with a smirk. "It's going to be our year. With me as Seeker and Flint as Captain, Gryffindor doesn't stand a chance."

Crabbe and Goyle grunted their agreement, and Blaise offered a languid nod. I forced a faint smile, but my heart wasn't in it.

I had once dreamed of playing Quidditch. The thought of soaring through the air, of catching the Snitch and hearing the cheers of the crowd, had filled my childhood daydreams. But Father had forbidden it. A Malfoy daughter, playing against Slytherin? It was unthinkable. And so, I had buried the dream, along with so many others.

The rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels began to lull me into a strange sort of stupor, the conversation around me fading into background noise. My head rested against the cool glass of the window, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the steady motion of the train.

A sudden commotion jolted me upright.

"What in Merlin's name—" Draco started, standing to peer out the window. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled to join him, their massive frames crowding the narrow space. Even Blaise looked mildly intrigued as he leaned forward.

Curiosity got the better of me. I stood, brushing past Draco to get a clearer view, and froze. There, wobbling precariously through the sky, was a blue Muggle car. My stomach dropped as I recognized the figures inside: Harry and Ron.

The car swerved dangerously, its enchanted engine roaring as it struggled to keep pace with the train. My pulse quickened, a mix of fascination and dread tightening in my chest.

"It's Potter," Draco sneered, his voice filled with derision. "Flying a car. How very... typical."

"Typical Weasley, you mean," I said dryly. "I suppose they couldn't afford the train ticket this year."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed, their laughter booming through the compartment.

"Maybe they're just trying to make an entrance," Blaise said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Very subtle."

Draco's smirk widened, and he settled back into his seat. "Subtle isn't exactly their strong suit. They're probably hoping Dumbledor gives them extra points for creativity."

The others laughed, but my amusement faded as I watched the car dip suddenly, narrowly avoiding a cluster of treetops. My stomach twisted. What if they crash? What if they don't make it to Hogwarts at all?

"Let's see how long it takes them to get caught," Draco drawled, his tone smug. He turned away from the window, his interest in the spectacle waning. "They're not worth the trouble."

The others followed his lead, their attention drifting back to Quidditch strategies and idle gossip. But I couldn't look away. I stayed at the window, watching as the car fell further behind, its jerky movements growing fainter until it disappeared entirely.

My chest felt heavy, though I didn't understand why. They'll be fine, I told myself firmly, tearing my gaze away. They always are.

"Celeste?" Draco's voice cut through my thoughts again, this time tinged with suspicion.

"What?" I snapped, more sharply than I intended.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "You're awfully quiet today. Something on your mind?"

"Just tired," I replied, sinking back into my seat. "Wake me when we get there."

Draco didn't press further, and the conversation resumed around me. I closed my eyes, feigning sleep, but my mind remained restless. I couldn't shake the image of that car, the familiar faces inside it, and the uneasy certainty that this year would bring far more than I was prepared for.