The train screamed into the station with a hiss like something alive.Brakes shrieked, wheels sparked, and the whole carriage shuddered as it slowed into Hogsmeade. The lamps outside looked dim through the rain, halos of gold in a drowning world.
Thunder rolled over the valley. The sky was a single black bruise, veins of lightning cutting it open every few seconds. The rain wasn't falling so much as attacking hard, slanted sheets that slapped against the windows and ran in silver veins down the glass.
Inside, students pressed against the panes, faces pale in the flickering light. Voices rose, ughter, shouts, the clatter of trunks being dragged down from racks. The moment the whistle sounded, the noise doubled; excitement always did that, no matter how grim the weather.
Draco stared out the window, horrified.
"You have got to be joking. That's not rain, that's a flood with ambitions."
Theo leaned slightly to see. "Welcome back to Scotland."
Lightning split the sky in a white crack. For an instant, the reflection of their faces flashed across the glass: Draco pale and indignant, Theo dryly amused, Alden motionless between them.
Alden's eyes followed the streak of light until it died behind the mountains.
"Storm season came early," he said, almost to himself.
Draco tore his gaze from the window, disbelief sharp in his tone.
"Storm? That's not a storm, that's a death sentence. My hair's going to look like a broom after this."
Theo gave a short laugh. "A small tragedy in the history of wizardkind."
"Laugh all you want, Nott, you're not the one whose mother expects photographs by owl."
The train lurched to a stop, a groan of metal and steam echoing through the corridor. Students were already rushing to the doors, cloaks flaring, voices high with complaint and thrill alike. The smell of wet earth and smoke seeped in as the doors opened.
Alden stood, smoothing his coat, movements measured even as the compartment tilted slightly from the stop.Outside, lightning illuminated the horseless carriages lined along the road, skeletal silhouettes gleaming wet under the downpour, their invisible thestral harnesses dripping and creaking in the wind. The rain struck the roof like thrown pebbles.
Theo slung his bag over his shoulder.
"If we run, we might stay half-dry."
"If we run, we'll die of pneumonia," Draco retorted. "I'm not stepping into that."
Another crash of thunder rattled the windows; the compartment lights flickered. Alden turned toward the door, unhurried, voice steady as the storm roared.
"Then you'll be late."
He opened the door, and cold air punched through the warmth. Outside, the platform was chaos, hundreds of students shouting, robes plastered to their legs, trunks splashing through ankle-deep puddles. Prefects yelled themselves hoarse trying to form lines. The rain made it all look like a battle viewed through smoke.
Alden stepped down first. His boots hit water that swallowed half his ankles, but his expression didn't change. The lightning behind him threw his silhouette across the ground, tall, still, framed in the brief, blinding white.
Behind him, Draco groaned.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Alden didn't answer. He simply looked up, watching the clouds coil and burst, rain hammering his coat, silver hair plastered to his temples. He could feel the storm's rhythm, iolent, clean, and absolute. It reminded him of magic at its truest form: uncontrolled, unapologetic.
Theo jumped down beside him, already drenched, water dripping off his fringe.
"We'll freeze solid if we stand here much longer."
Draco hesitated in the doorway, glaring out at the torrent as if it had personally insulted him.
"I'll wait until it lightens."
Alden turned back toward him, calm and unreadable under the flicker of lightning.
"It won't."
Thunder cracked again louder, closer, aking the rails underfoot. The storm had arrived in full.
Alden adjusted his gloves and started toward the carriages, the water parting beneath each step. Behind him, Theo sighed and followed. Draco muttered something about "madmen and masochists" but grabbed his trunk all the same.
The night swallowed them in silver rain.
Another fork of lightning ripped the sky open, so bright it burned its after-image into the eyes.The crack of thunder that followed came almost instantly heavy concussion that rolled down the valley and made the windows ring.
The rain, impossibly, found a way to fall harder.
Students shrieked and bolted for cover; a few first-years dropped their trunks entirely, books and quills tumbling into black puddles. Steam from the engine mixed with the downpour until everything was a blur of white hiss and movement.
Draco had one boot on the step when the next flash hit. The thunderclap made him flinch back inside as if the air itself had swung at him.He slammed the door, breathless.
"Absolutely not," he declared. "That's suicide. I'm waiting till it eases."
Theo, dripping beside the open window, wiped rain from his brow.
"It won't ease. Scotland doesn't ease."
"Then I'll stay here. Father would never expect me to march into a hurricane."
Theo rolled his eyes. "Father also wouldn't expect you to hide behind a curtain."
Draco ignored him, tugging his cloak tighter and peering through the glass. The platform outside was nearly invisible, only vague silhouettes of carriages and the silver burst of lightning over the lake beyond.
"Look at that! You can't even see the path. The water's knee-deep. If we go out there, they'll be fishing us out of the Black Lake by morning."
Alden had not spoken. He stood at the threshold again, one gloved hand on the brass handle, the storm reflecting in his grey-green eyes. Rain beaded on his lashes, ran down the line of his jaw. When he finally turned, his voice was quiet enough that both boys heard him over the thunder.
"Draco."
"What?"
"We're going."
Draco blinked. "You can. I'll"
He didn't finish. Alden stepped back into the compartment, seized a handful of Draco's collar, and with one fluid pull lifted him off the seat. The motion was unhurried but absolute, the kind that left no room for argument.
"HeyDreyse! Put me down! Do you have any idea what this will do to"
"Your hair. Yes."
Theo snorted; it was impossible not to. Alden dragged Draco to the door, opened it again, and the wind immediately swallowed the rest of the sentence. Rain struck them like thrown nails. Cloaks snapped, lightning turned the platform white, and the smell of ozone was sharp enough to taste.
"This is barbaric!" Draco shouted, half-laughing, half-appalled, his words shredded by wind. "You're kidnapping me!"
"Correct."
Theo leapt down after them, hunched against the deluge. The three of them ran, running could be called that, trunks bumping against their knees, shoes sinking into mud that sucked like tar. Thunder bellowed overhead, a sound so loud it flattened speech into gesture.
The platform had become a battlefield of umbrellas and panic.Rain slammed down in curtains so dense it erased distance; faces blurred into moving shadows under the lamps. Every flash of lightning re-made the scene in white negativesdozens of figures mid-stride, trunks half-submerged, cloaks whipping like flags. The thunder answered seconds later, deep enough to shake the rails.
Prefects shouted above the storm.
"Carriages to the left! Don't push!"
Nobody listened. Students slipped in the mud, stumbled, laughed, or screamed. Owls screeched from their cages, feathers plastered flat against wire. A Gryffindor first-year lost a boot and hopped after it through the puddles while a Ravenclaw dragged her trunk with both hands, face streaked with rain.
Alden, Theo, and Draco pushed through it all three dark shapes in a world gone silver.Mud sucked at their shoes; each step landed with a heavy slap, spraying grit up to their knees. The air tasted of metal and smoke. Rain hammered their heads and shoulders until even shouting felt small.
Draco spluttered between gasps.
This is barbaric! We're supposed to be scholars, not fishermen!"
Theo, running beside him, laughed despite himself.
"Keep talking, it distracts from drowning."
Alden didn't answer. He moved steadily, eyes narrowed against the water, coat streaming. Each flash of lightning etched his outline in the storm-dark cut of motion amid chaos.
Ahead, the row of horseless carriages waited like a line of ghosts, wheels half-sunk in mud. Harnesses rattled in the wind; the unseen thestrals snorted and stamped, restless under the electric air. Students shoved forward in frantic waves, fighting for the nearest doors. Mud splattered robes, hands slipped on rails, laughter turned to curses.
Theo pointed through the deluge.
"That one's open!"
They sprinted. Draco nearly lost his footing on the slope; Alden caught his sleeve and pulled him upright without slowing. Thunder crashed again, a single blow that seemed to strike the whole valley. For a second the world was nothing but white light and the smell of ozone.
Then they reached the carriage. Alden wrenched the door open, motioned Draco inside. Water cascaded from their sleeves as they climbed up. The door slammed behind them, muting the storm to a distant roar.
Inside was dim and close. The windows were fogged, every breath turning to mist. Rain drummed on the roof like a thousand small fists. Draco slumped into the nearest seat, dripping on the floorboards, hair plastered to his forehead.
"I can't feel my fingers," he muttered. "Or my dignity."
Theo wrung out his sleeve. "Both will recover."
Alden said nothing. He stood for a moment, eyes half-closed, water pooling at his boots. Then he raised his wand in smooth, minimal motion and traced a silent curve through the air.
Warmth spilled outward like a sigh.The droplets on their clothes shimmered, then vanished; steam rose faintly, curling toward the ceiling. The air filled with the smell of heated rain and clean wool. In seconds the chill was gone.
Draco blinked, flexing his fingers.
"You could've done that before we were halfway drowned."
Alden lowered his wand. "You weren't halfway drowned yet."
Theo snorted laughter into his sleeve. Outside, the carriages began to lurch forward, wheels grinding through mud, carrying them up the slick road toward the castle. Through the blurred glass they could see lightning strike the mountainside, lighting the sky in fractured white.
For a heartbeat, the flash caught Alden's reflection in the windowcalm, unreadable, a faint ghost of green-grey eyes above the rolling storm.
Then the darkness closed again, and the journey to Hogwarts began.
The carriage jolted forward, wheels grinding through mud that sounded more like the sea than soil. Rain hammered the roof hard enough to blur thought; every flash of lightning turned the fogged glass into a mirror of white fire.
For a long moment none of them spoke. The noise outside filled every ear: the shriek of wind, the clash of distant thunder, the rising chorus of students shouting through the storm. The carriage lamps swayed, throwing gold across three faces that looked too pale against the dark.
Draco broke first.
"I swear the road's turned into a river. Look at that! That's water moving uphill! Do you have any idea how filthy this mud is going to be?"
Theo peered through the window. Between lashes of rain, shapes ran along the platformstudents scrambling, cloaks plastered to their backs, one carriage already half-tilted in the ditch. Lightning showed everything at once: the carriages jerking forward, prefects waving wands like beacons, a girl trying to haul a trunk out of the mud while someone else yelled at her to leave it. The next thunderclap erased it all again.
"Could be worse," Theo said. "Could be on foot."
"I'd rather apparate blindfolded into a volcano," Draco shot back, rubbing at his sleeve. "This is ridiculous. Hogwarts should cancel weather."
Another jolt rocked the carriage; the three of them grabbed at the side rail. Through the drenched window, they saw a tree bending under the windthen splintering. It crashed onto the road behind them, showering sparks from a carriage lamp it crushed. Someone screamed. A boy in the next carriage flung the door open as if to leap clear, only to be dragged back inside by two others before the wheels could overturn.
Theo exhaled. "Well. There's enthusiasm."
Draco pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm traumatized. I'm sending a letter to the Board."
Alden's gaze remained on the window. Rain streaked down in silver rivers, each drop catching the lightning for a heartbeat before vanishing into the next. He lifted his wand with a movement so slight it hardly disturbed the air, drew a single line from shoulder to knee.
The spell left no light, only effect: the mud stains on Draco's cloak vanished, boots polished themselves to mirror black, and the scent of damp wool faded into nothing.
Draco looked down, startled. "Thank you."The words sounded awkward on his tongue, as though they'd escaped before permission.
Alden didn't reply; he only lowered the wand and rested it against his knee.
Theo raised an eyebrow. "That the deluxe service, or should we tip?"
Draco ignored him, adjusting his collar with renewed pride.
"Still, it's good to travel with people who maintain standards."
Outside, thunder rolled again, louder but further away now, echoing off the hills. The carriage climbed the narrow road that wound toward the castle. Through the rain-streaked glass, the three boys could see flashes of torches along the lake shore, the faint golden smear of light that marked Hogwarts through the storm.
Theo leaned back, eyes half-closed.
"Home sweet fortress."
Draco gave a snort that was half-laughter, half-fatigue. "Assuming we make it alive."
Alden's reflection in the window flickered with each flash of lightning-silver hair, calm eyes, a faint ghost of a smile that might have been approval or simply relief.
The carriage rattled onward, leaving behind the drowned chaos of Hogsmeade Station. Outside, the storm raged; inside, the air was warm, dry, and steady order reasserted by a single motion of a single hand.
And above it all, the thunder kept time for the new year beginning.
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