The next morning, Charlie dragged his suitcase into King's Cross Station.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was bustling with people, parents sending their children off to school everywhere. The Hogwarts Express stood on the tracks, its red body faintly visible through the steam.
Charlie boarded the train just in time.
The train was about to depart, and the carriages were already packed with students. He dragged his suitcase from the front to the back of the train; every compartment was full, with laughter and conversations rising and falling.
Reaching the end of the train, Charlie pushed open the door to the last compartment.
Inside sat a man, sound asleep by the window. He wore tattered Wizard robes, the fabric worn white and covered in patches. His face was as pale as if he had been seriously ill, and stubble was prominent on his chin.
On the adjacent suitcase, it read: R. J. Professor Lupin.
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?
That was easy to guess; after all, in Hogwarts, only this position was a yearly change.
He shoved his suitcase onto the luggage rack and sat down opposite him.
Last year's Lockhart, though he didn't vanish into thin air like Quirrell, was imprisoned in Azkaban by Dumbledore for stealing others' experiences.
Charlie highly suspected that old Dumbledore had known there was something wrong with Lockhart all along.
Professor Lupin was sleeping soundly, and Charlie didn't disturb him, sitting quietly opposite him.
He wondered about Professor Lupin's teaching ability; if it was like the previous two years, wouldn't this batch of Hogwarts students be ruined?
But this didn't concern Charlie much; he was already powerful, and not just a little bit.
Just then, the sliding door opened, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the compartment.
"Charlie!"
The trio were delighted to see Charlie, greeting him and sitting down beside him.
Hermione held an orange cat in her arms, its fur fluffy and its face flat as if it had been hit by a door.
This was Crookshanks, a pet Hermione had bought yesterday in Diagon Alley.
Crookshanks's eyes were fixed on Ron, or more precisely, on his pocket.
Ron immediately covered his pocket, his face full of vigilance.
"Hermione, control your cat!"
"He's just curious." Hermione hugged Crookshanks tighter.
"He won't eat your rat."
"That's not for sure." Ron's hand pressed firmly on his pocket.
"He looks at Scabbers like he's dinner."
Charlie glanced at Ron's pocket.
He remembered Scabbers the rat, dusty gray, dull fur, and eyes always staring blankly ahead.
How long can a normal rat live?
Two or three years?
But from what Ron said, Scabbers had been with the Weasley family for a very long time.
Charlie asked with some curiosity.
"How old is your rat?"
Ron paused, then scratched his head.
"I don't know. He used to be Percy's. After Percy became a Prefect, he bought a new Owl and gave Scabbers to me." He thought for a moment.
"It must be over ten years old."
Over ten years?
Charlie's eyes narrowed slightly; that didn't seem right.
Ron didn't notice Charlie's change in expression and continued to speak to himself:
"Scabbers is indeed old. He's listless every day and doesn't like to move. I have to feed him rat strengthening potion daily."
At this, his face fell.
"But last night I couldn't find the potion. I don't know where it went." Ron sighed.
"What if Scabbers gets sick?"
Charlie's doubts were largely dispelled. Perhaps this magic potion had kept Scabbers alive for so long.
"Third-years can go to Hogsmeade on weekends," Charlie said.
"You can just buy another one then."
Ron's eyes lit up.
"I've wanted to go to Hogsmeade for ages."
"Harry, we can go together. There's Honeydukes candy shop there; their candies are the best in all of Britain."
At the mention of Hogsmeade, Harry's face immediately fell.
He remembered the permission slip he had given to Uncle Vernon, which was probably still in the trash can on Privet Drive.
"I can't go." Harry's voice was a bit muffled.
"No guardian's signature."
Ron opened his mouth, wanting to say something comforting, but in the end, he just patted Harry's shoulder.
Hermione pursed her lips, her face full of sympathy.
But she also knew that rules were rules; unless there was a guardian's signature, Harry really couldn't go.
Moreover, with Sirius still out there, Hogwarts certainly wouldn't let Harry leave Hogwarts.
Charlie leaned back in his seat, pondering whether he could take Harry to Hogsmeade as bait.
The Hogwarts Express continued its journey.
At one in the afternoon, the Trolley Witch came to the compartment door, pushing her food cart.
She knocked on the door.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
Ron immediately stood up, his eyes shining.
"I'll take one of everything!"
He winced slightly as he pulled a Galleon from his pocket. His parents had given him pocket money for the trip to Egypt, and he had secretly saved some, finally able to treat his friends to food.
Ron bought a huge pile of snacks.
chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, they filled the entire small table.
Hermione reached for a pumpkin pasty, but her gaze fell on Professor Lupin.
The Professor's face was really too pale, as if he had been seriously ill, his eyes sunken.
"He looks like he needs something to eat," Hermione whispered.
She stood up, walked over to Professor Lupin, and gently nudged his shoulder. "Professor?"
Professor Lupin didn't move.
Hermione nudged him again, her voice a bit louder.
"Professor Lupin?"
Still no response.
Ron, his mouth full of pumpkin cake, mumbled indistinctly:
"He must be asleep, right? I mean, he's not dead, is he?"
Charlie gave him a speechless look. You little rascal, aren't you afraid he'll hear you? What if he's like Snape, you'd be toast.
Ron also realized his words might easily lead to a beating, swallowed the food in his mouth, and nervously looked at Professor Lupin.
Fortunately, the Professor still made no movement.
Ron breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down, this time eating much more quietly.
The train continued its journey, and the rain outside the window grew heavier. Raindrops pounded against the train window, making a dense pattering sound. The sky grew darker and darker; the fields and woods that had been visible before now blurred into a single shadow.
Time gradually passed, and the snacks from lunchtime were mostly digested.
Lights were lit in the carriage, and the orange glow made the atmosphere slightly warmer.
Suddenly, the train's speed slowed down.
Ron looked up.
"We must be there, right? I'm starving. Snacks just don't fill you up."
Hermione glanced at her watch, her brows furrowing.
"That's unlikely. It's two hours earlier than usual."
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