Scene: Hogwarts Express — A Compartment Somewhere Mid-Train
The rhythmic clatter of the train hummed through the compartment like a slow heartbeat, lulling and endless. Outside the window, the Scottish countryside blurred in shades of green and grey, mist rising like veils between the hills.
Harry sat by the window, one arm resting on the sill, cheek pressed lightly against the cool glass. He wasn't really looking at the passing landscape. His eyes drifted, unfocused, and every now and then they flicked toward his friends across the compartment.
Ron and Hermione were squabbling—something about prefect duties and chocolate frogs—though it lacked the real heat of an argument. Ron had one leg propped up, looking amused at Hermione's indignation, and Hermione, as usual, was barely suppressing a lecture. Ginny, curled up in the corner with her legs drawn to her chest, was flipping through a book idly, glancing up every so often to smirk at her brother or toss in a sharp comment.
They were here. The same people. The same train. The same ritual. And yet, it didn't feel the same at all.
Last night's conversation with Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black hovered in the back of Harry's mind like a heavy fog that refused to burn off. The way the former headmaster had spoken—cynical, sardonic, but unmistakably sincere—had shaken something loose in Harry's chest. Warnings cloaked in riddles. Promises of change. The idea that things weren't as simple as good and evil—friends and enemies.
"Not all who surround you are friends, and not all who bear titles deserve them. Keep your eyes sharp, Heir Black."
That title still echoed in him. Not just Harry Potter. Heir Black. The legacy of a family he'd barely begun to understand.
The door to the compartment slid open with a soft clunk.
Luna Lovegood stood there, her wide silver-blue eyes blinking calmly at them all as if she'd just wandered into a quiet dream.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, already stepping inside before anyone answered.
"Sure, Luna," Ginny said, scooting aside.
Luna settled beside the window across from Harry, her radish earrings swaying slightly as she moved. For a while, no one spoke. Luna simply stared out the window, lips parted ever so slightly, as if listening to something only she could hear.
Then she turned to Harry.
"You're humming differently this year," she said, matter-of-factly.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Your magic. It's humming like a whisper that remembers thunder. Like something old is waking up inside you." She tilted her head. "It's not bad. Just... destined."
Ron paused mid-bite of a chocolate frog. Hermione's brow furrowed, but Luna had already gone back to staring out the window.
Harry felt a cold shiver at the base of his neck. Her words weren't threatening. They weren't even particularly ominous. But they hit—hard. The way the portrait had spoken. The way Luna had echoed that sense of inevitability, of something ancient shifting beneath the surface.
Something was coming. He could feel it. And if Luna could hear it too...
"Look forward to this year, young Black. The world always changes when your kind walks the halls."
Harry let his gaze rest on Luna for a moment longer before turning back to the window.
Outside, the hills rolled on.
And inside, beneath the hum of the train, magic stirred.