𝘋𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘐𝘌𝘋/𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 (English version)

Chapter 47

The sound of trunks being dragged across the dirty asphalt echoed in Sarah's ears as she walked forward with her head down toward the familiar portal that would lead her to the Hogwarts Express.

London, as always, was shrouded in a cloak of gray. The rain fell heavily, seeping into every space, and for the first of September, the air was unusually cold. A chill that seemed to seep not only into the bones but also into the soul.

The train had already arrived, yet there were fewer people on the platform than usual. No one rushed to board with the enthusiasm of the past; the cheerful chatter of students had dwindled to a subdued murmur, broken only by the whistle of the locomotive. On the faces of those present, fear and tension were evident. Returning to school no longer meant seeking refuge in a safe place, protected by walls that had been a home for years. Now, Hogwarts was a trap, a hell from which there was no escape.

Sarah walked forward at a measured pace, accompanied by Ginny.
Neither of them spoke as they boarded the scarlet train, ignoring the world around them. Everyone seemed lost in their own torment.

Their usual compartment was already occupied, forcing them to continue down the corridor in search of an empty seat. They found one shortly after, in a carriage that housed several other students. Sarah placed Black, her cat, on her lap, sinking her fingers into his black fur.
Ginny turned to look out the window. The train began to move, slowly leaving the station behind.

Among the blurred crowd on the platform, the only familiar faces they could make out were those of the Weasleys, standing in the rain, their expressions tense in a somber farewell. No one was sure if returning had been the right choice, but by now, it was too late for regrets.

Seventh year was about to begin.

The compartment door opened, and Neville entered, dropping into the seat next to Sarah. She gave him a slight smile before returning her gaze to the landscape passing by beyond the glass. The silence between them was not uncomfortable—on the contrary. No one felt the need to speak; their mere presence was enough.

It was then that Sarah noticed a blond head a little farther ahead. Cormac McLaggen was sitting with a group of friends, speaking with his usual, irritating confidence. They laughed at his jokes with an almost jarring, out-of-place cheerfulness in such a setting.

When he noticed her gaze, he tilted his head slightly, watching her with interest. Sarah immediately looked away, pretending to focus on something indistinct outside the window.

"He never changes, that one," Neville muttered, breaking the silence. "That idiot grin is still plastered on his face, even now."

Sarah raised her eyebrows, caught off guard.
Then, meeting Ginny's gaze, she couldn't help but smile. She had never heard Neville say something like that. Maybe, after all, this year would have some surprises in store.
"I have a feeling that grin won't last much longer," Ginny added, pulling a book from her bag and starting to read without another word.
Sarah didn't reply.
The landscape outside seemed to mirror the unease tightening in her stomach. The sky, thick with clouds, made everything even gloomier, as if the entire world were waiting for something terrible to happen.

And that was when she saw them.

Black shapes,fast, indistinct, moved through the air beside the train. They appeared for a moment and then vanished, swallowed by the shadows. Sarah's heart skipped a beat.

She instinctively grabbed Neville's arm, squeezing it tightly. "Did you see that? Did you see it too?"
He shook his head, confused, but it didn't take long for him to understand what she was referring to.
The compartment door swung open with a sharp bang.
Two men dressed in black entered slowly, their eyes scanning every corner of the train, every student. The silence became suffocating, as if the air itself had grown heavier.
"They're looking for Harry,"
Sarah whispered, her throat suddenly dry. Their mere presence made her feel in danger, as if a single glance could put a target on her back.