The Hogwarts Express rolled steadily through the countryside, the summer sun glinting off the windows as it carried its magical cargo north. Inside the compartment where Elias, Draco, and Daphne sat, conversation had drifted into lazy silence again, the kind that only comes from the comfort of familiar company.
Draco had just pulled out a chocolate frog, casually flicking the card inside toward the floor with a scoff—"Yet another Dumbledore"—when a sudden shadow streaked across their window.
Elias leaned forward, frowning. "Did you see that?"
Daphne turned toward the window, curious. "It looked like… something flying?"
Before anyone could react, a loud vroom and a flash of sky-blue paint passed their window again.
Draco jumped up, pressing his face to the glass. "No bloody way…" His eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed with amused contempt. "Is that… Potter and the Weasley idiot in a flying car?!"
Elias stood and calmly moved to look, expression blank but eyes sharp. Sure enough, a bright blue Ford Anglia floated alongside the train, weaving unsteadily through the air.
Daphne stared. "They're actually flying a Muggle car to school? Are they insane?"
"They're Gryffindors," Draco drawled, dropping back into his seat with a theatrical sigh. "Stupidity is their house trait."
Elias chuckled under his breath but remained focused, watching the car wobble slightly in the wind. "If they don't crash into a tree before the station, I'll be shocked."
"I hope they do crash," Draco sneered, brushing imaginary dust off his robes. "With any luck, they'll be expelled the moment they land. And honestly—flying a car into a magically concealed train route? Do they want to start a Ministry investigation?"
"Even worse," Elias said, finally returning to his seat, "imagine how this reflects on Arthur Weasley. A Ministry employee, head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, whose own sons are illegally enchanting and flying a car in public."
Daphne nodded, brows raised. "It's a disaster waiting to happen. The Prophet will have a field day with this. You'd think someone in that family would understand responsibility."
Draco smirked and leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Elias, do you think we could… get Weasley's father sacked over this? Would serve him right for his pathetic Muggle-obsessed nonsense."
Elias gave him a cool look, fingers tapping lightly on the seat. "No. Dumbledore would never allow it."
Draco frowned. "Why not?"
"He's one of Dumbledore's people—Order of the Phoenix," Elias explained. "Protected by the old man's favor. Even if the Ministry tried, Dumbledore would step in. He'd frame it as 'protecting the hardworking, underappreciated father' or some such nonsense."
Draco scoffed. "Ridiculous. So we just let him get away with this?"
"Not necessarily," Elias said, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "If direct removal isn't possible, then pressure should be applied in smaller, more politically acceptable ways. A formal reprimand. Fines for magical misconduct. Maybe a temporary deduction in salary for failure to control misuse of magical property within his household."
Daphne grinned, clearly impressed. "That would sting more in the long run. And it wouldn't look like a personal attack—it would look like the Ministry doing its job."
Draco chuckled darkly. "I like it. Subtle punishment. Let the old fool keep his job, but remind him of his place."
They all turned back toward the window as the car veered off course briefly before correcting. Inside, they could just barely make out Ron's freckled face behind the wheel, mouth moving rapidly in panic.
"Honestly," Daphne muttered, "how do they survive every year?"
Draco let out a low laugh. "Because Hogwarts has no standards anymore."
The three of them sat back, smug and composed as if watching from the judge's stand of a grand trial. The contrast between their calculated elegance and the ridiculousness of the flying car couldn't have been starker.
But beneath Elias's composed smile was something sharper—Another year begins. Let the pieces move.
The train whistle blew as the Hogwarts Express began to slow, its red engine chugging with a hiss of steam as the station platform of Hogsmeade came into view through the misty windows.
"Finally," Draco muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "My legs are stiff."
Elias stood calmly, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve before reaching up to take down his trunk from the overhead rack. "We're back."
Daphne adjusted the silver clasp on her dark green cloak, her eyes lighting up at the familiar view beyond the window. "It feels good, doesn't it?"
Outside, the weather had cooled noticeably. Though summer still lingered in Britain's countryside, the breeze carried the first hint of autumn—the kind that whispered of ancient stone corridors, floating candles, and the rustle of parchment in quiet libraries.
The trio stepped off the train and onto the cobbled platform, the usual buzz of excitement rising all around them. Older students gathered in small groups, while the younger ones looked around wide-eyed, already missing home—or anticipating adventure.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" boomed a familiar voice, and Elias turned just in time to see the half-giant Hagrid waving a massive lantern over his head, beckoning the small figures of nervous first years into his care.
Elias, Draco, and Daphne made their way toward the edge of the platform, where a line of enchanted carriages stood waiting—horseless, or so they appeared to most.
A large thestral, its skeletal wings folded neatly against its flank, pawed the ground near one carriage. Elias gave it a fleeting glance, his mind noting the tension in its stance before turning away.
They climbed into one of the carriages, the door creaking softly as it shut behind them. With a gentle jolt, the vehicle began to move along the familiar path leading up to the castle.
"I still say the castle looks better in the snow," Draco said as he peered out the window, watching the silhouettes of towering trees as they passed into the forest's edge.
"It does," Elias agreed, his tone even. "But the first night always has its own kind of magic."
From the hill ahead, the vast shape of Hogwarts Castle emerged, its turrets and towers glowing softly with golden candlelight. It loomed above the lake, regal and eternal, as if carved into the very essence of the land.
Daphne smiled. "It really never gets old."
"No," Elias murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "It doesn't."
The carriage wheels crunched over gravel as they passed through the gates. A pair of stone boar statues stood watchful on either side, their eyes glinting faintly with enchantments old as the Founders.
As they approached the wide stone steps leading to the entrance, the castle doors swung open with a creak of ancient hinges, and warm light spilled out across the courtyard. Professor McGonagall stood at the doorway with her usual stern expression, guiding students inside.
"Blackthorn. Malfoy. Greengrass," she greeted with a sharp nod.
"Professor," Elias returned politely, the others following suit.
Inside the Entrance Hall, the air was thick with warmth and the scent of beeswax polish, aged wood, and candle smoke. The familiar hum of excited voices filled the space as students filed in, laughing and calling out to friends they hadn't seen all summer.
The doors to the Great Hall stood open ahead, the floating candles visible above the four long tables already filled with returning students.
As they passed beneath the enchanted ceiling, Elias glanced up—it mirrored the sky outside, now a deep indigo hue, scattered with early stars. A chill had crept into the air, but inside the Hall it was cozy, illuminated by hundreds of candles and the low golden glow of wall sconces.
The Slytherin table was already half full when the three of them arrived. Blaise Zabini waved them over lazily, sliding aside to make room.
"Look who survived the summer," he muttered with a smirk.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Barely. Father made me read six books on French politics."
Elias sat down quietly, his gaze wandering the hall briefly. At the head of the room, the staff table was occupied by familiar faces—Flitwick's cheerful smile, Snape's unreadable stare, and Hagrid's wide grin.
But there were new faces, too. Elias made a mental note.
Elias smiled faintly but said nothing, folding his hands on the table as the Sorting Hat's song began.
Another year had begun. Another step forward.