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"Can you believe our luck?" Ron said miserably, crouching down to scoop up Scabbers. "Of all the trees out there, we had to crash into the one that hits back."
"Less talking, more walking. Let's try to get inside before the Sorting Ceremony starts," Augustus said, waving them forward. He grabbed his suitcase and started dragging it up the grassy slope toward the two giant oak doors.
"I think the feast's already started," Harry said, dropping his trunk at the foot of the steps. He crept over to one of the brightly lit windows and peeked in. "Hey, you guys, come look—they're sorting!"
Dozens of candles hovered in mid-air, lighting up four long, crowded tables and making the golden plates and goblets sparkle.
Above, the enchanted ceiling glittered with stars, mirroring the night sky outside.
Through a sea of black pointed Hogwarts hats, Harry saw the first-years lined up nervously, waiting to be sorted. Ginny was among them—her bright Weasley red hair stood out clearly. At the same time, Professor McGonagall, with her tightly pinned bun and glasses, placed the famous Sorting Hat on a stool in front of them.
Every year, this patched-up, filthy old hat sorted the new students into one of the four Hogwarts Houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin.
A nervous boy with amber eyes and a bit of a limp stepped forward and put on the hat. Harry's eyes drifted to the staff table, where Dumbledore sat watching the ceremony. His long silver beard and half-moon glasses sparkled in the candlelight.
A few seats down, Harry spotted Gilderoy Lockhart in bright aquamarine robes. At the far end was Hagrid, broad as ever, with his wild beard and hair, raising a mug and drinking cheerfully.
"Wait a sec…" Harry said in a low voice to Augustus. "There's an empty seat at the staff table... Where's Snape?"
"Maybe he's sick!" Ron said hopefully.
"Or maybe he finally quit," Harry added. "Probably got fed up with not getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!"
"Stop guessing," Augustus sighed, half amused, half exasperated. "We should really get inside now—any later and it'll all be over."
"Or maybe," said a cold voice behind them, "he's been waiting to hear why you didn't take the school carriages."
Harry spun around—and there was Severus Snape, robes billowing in the chilly wind. He was pale and thin, with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy black hair that hung to his shoulders. One look at the expression on his face told Harry they were in serious trouble.
Augustus picked up his trunk, resigned. So much for sneaking in unnoticed. Welp, guess they were busted.
"Follow me," Snape said coldly.
Harry and Ron didn't dare meet his eyes. They trudged behind him up the steps, through the torch-lit entrance hall echoing with the sounds of the feast. Delicious smells drifted from the Great Hall—but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase to the dungeons.
"In." Snape barked, opening a door in the cold, dark corridor and pointing inside.
Shivering, they stepped into Snape's office. The walls were dim and lined with shelves full of glass jars containing all sorts of disgusting things floating in murky liquid. Harry had no interest in learning what any of them were.
The fireplace was unlit and pitch-black. Snape shut the door behind them and turned, arms crossed, to glare at the three boys.
"What exactly," Snape said icily, "did you do to that car?"
Ron opened his mouth but no sound came out. Snape gave Harry that same piercing look that always made him feel like his thoughts were laid bare. But then the mystery cleared up—Snape held up that day's Evening Prophet.
"You were seen," he said mercilessly, showing them the headline: Flying Ford Anglia Shocks Muggles. He read aloud: "Two Muggles in London claim they saw an old car flying past the post office tower… In Norfolk at noon, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss was hanging laundry when... Mr. Angus Fleet of Peebles told the police...
That's six or seven Muggles in total. If I'm not mistaken, your father works at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he asked Ron, with a particularly nasty smile. "Oh dear… his own son…"
Harry felt like the Whomping Willow had just smacked him in the gut. He hadn't even thought about the trouble this could bring to Mr. Weasley if someone found out he'd bewitched the car...
"I also happened to notice," Snape went on, "that one very valuable Whomping Willow suffered significant damage."
"Professor, that was my fault. I take full responsibility," Augustus said firmly, looking Snape in the eye.
"Of course it was you," Snape sneered. "Who else could've cast spells powerful enough to do that kind of damage—certainly not Potter or Weasley. Should I award you ten points for effort, Augustus?"
This was the first time Snape actually seemed angry at Augustus. Normally, Augustus was his prized student—the Slytherin star and his personal favorite. But this time, even Snape's bias couldn't hide his disappointment. And the fact that Augustus had teamed up with Harry and Ron? That just made it worse.
"That tree did more damage to us than—" Ron blurted out.
"Silence!" Snape snapped again. "What a pity… You're not in my House. I don't have the authority to expel you. But I know someone who does. Wait here while I fetch her."
Harry and Ron exchanged pale looks. Harry didn't feel hungry anymore. He felt sick. He tried not to glance at the disgusting, slimy thing floating in green goo on a nearby shelf. If Snape was bringing Professor McGonagall, they were still doomed. She might be fairer than Snape, but she could be just as strict.
Ten minutes later, Snape returned—and sure enough, McGonagall was with him. Harry had seen her angry before, but maybe he'd forgotten how tightly her lips could press together… or maybe he'd just never seen her this furious.
She looked like a completely different person. The moment she stepped into the room, she raised her wand. Harry and Ron flinched—but she only pointed it at the fireplace, and flames roared to life.
"Augustus," Snape said, "go write a reflection report for me. You're done here. The welcome feast is over—go straight to the Slytherin common room. You still need to serve as witness for the Prefect selection this year."
With Harry and Ron watching enviously, Augustus nodded and walked out of the dungeon.
"....."