CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── "Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Triwizard Tournament."
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Y/N POV
It had been a month since the Quidditch World Cup, but the weight of what happened that night still hung over me. Things had felt off since the Death Eater attack. My parents had been particularly quiet, their expressions tight whenever I tried to bring up the subject. Draco, too, hadn't mentioned it since we'd fled the camp, but something unspoken sat in the air between us.
Now, standing in my room at Clearwater Mansion, I glanced at my trunk, already packed and ready for the new school year at Hogwarts. The familiar sight of my robes and books should have brought comfort, but this year felt different. Everything did.
I reached for my wand, running my fingers over the wood as my mind drifted back to the attack. The screams, the flashes of light, the feeling of utter helplessness as we ran...I hadn't stopped thinking about it since.
"Y/N, are you ready?" My mother's voice echoed from downstairs, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I sighed, taking one last look around my room. Then, I grabbed my trunk, and headed downstairs.
My mother was waiting for me in the foyer, her usual smile strained. She'd been on edge since the World Cup, her normally carefree demeanor replaced by a nervous energy that hadn't gone away.
"Before you ask, yes. I have everything."
"Okay, dear," she replied. "Your father's meeting us at the train station. He's had a busy morning."
Of course he had. Ever since the attack, my father had been busier than ever, constantly involved in meetings and discussions with other wizards about what had happened. Everyone was talking about it — the return of Death Eaters, the Dark Mark in the sky. It was all anyone could focus on.
As we neared the station, the familiar sight of King's Cross came into view, and my chest tightened. Another year at Hogwarts.
When we arrived at the platform, my father was already there, standing tall and composed as ever. He smiled as we approached, but there was something different about him. He looked tired, more serious than usual.
"Ah, there you are," he said, kissing my mother on the cheek before turning to me. "Ready for another year?"
