The Hogwarts Express, stabilized in its slide, turned smoothly around the mountainside and entered a boundless, puddle-strewn marshland.
Vroom!
A fierce light flashed in Ares's eyes. Pressing his palms against the fabric of space, he sent out a ripple. The still-gliding steam engine finally shuddered to a halt.
The commotion caused by the final deceleration was significant. The coupling rods between the carriages groaned clack-clack, the carriages themselves twisted and tilted, and screams erupted from inside once more.
Under the blood-red setting sun, the scarlet Hogwarts Express was wreathed in thick white steam from end to end, panting like a Muggle athlete who had just finished a marathon.
Huff—huff—huff—
Ares no longer had the energy to immediately check how many young wizards had been seriously injured in the process. He lowered his trembling hands, slowly straightened his body, then shuffled to the edge of the heated tracks and sat down.
The wind became gentle. Along with the warm sunset, it caressed his sweat-soaked cheeks.
Violent magical energy was still tearing at his soul. Exhaustion left Ares unable to contemplate the aftermath of the Hogwarts Express going out of control... He knew it would cause a massive uproar.
Ares just wanted to rest. But some people refused to let him be.
Thump, thump, thump!
In his left pocket, the carrion fly that had been kept in the milk bottle had been restless ever since seeing Larry Gaspard. Now, it was in a state of utter frenzy.
Since the matter of Quirrell's commission had come to an end, it was safest to dispose of this "harmless" creature before arriving at Hogwarts.
Ares reached into his pocket, pulled out the milk bottle, and casually tossed it onto the tracks.
Crack—
With a flash of dark light, the glass bottle struck the gravel foundation in an arc and shattered. The magic contained within dissipated.
A woman appeared before Ares—reeking of sourness, skeletal, with hair like tangled weeds. Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Who are you!"
Although she had been trapped in the bottle, Bellatrix had perceived everything outside. She had witnessed the scene just now.
Stumbling backward, her harsh face was now filled only with terror. She screamed at Ares.
"Who the hell are you! You lied to me... You aren't serving the Dark Lord at all... You—you just... Where is the Dark Lord? I want to—go find my Master!"
Ares didn't speak. He looked at Bellatrix indifferently, having neither the energy nor the interest to joke with her anymore.
Ares raised his left hand, aiming it towards Bellatrix.
Without any hesitation, Bellatrix turned and ran towards the Hogwarts Express!
She had seen everything just now... even more than the young wizards on the train had seen. She was the only witness to what had happened in the last compartment earlier.
This man's magic... offers no possibility of resistance!
The only way to survive is to take a young wizard hostage, steal their wand, and immediately Apparate away.
After that, she would go find her wandering Master... Only the Master could stand against this man—Bellatrix was certain of this!
When Ares stopped the Hogwarts Express just now, Bellatrix had already planned this. So, she acted without hesitation.
However—
She wasn't far from the stranded train—less than a hundred feet. Yet Bellatrix felt like she had been running for at least a minute... The engine, which should have been within reach, remained as distant as the horizon!
Turning her head, Bellatrix despaired.
Ares was still behind her, staring at her with indifferent, emotionless eyes.
"I am the Dark Lord's most trusted servant!"
In her vision, Ares's outstretched hand grew larger and larger...
At first, it was only as big as a giant's hand. Then, like a small building—a castle—a towering mountain... Finally, it blotted out the sky and the sun!
"The Dark Lord will not forgive you!"
Bellatrix screamed with her most tragic, shrill voice. But in reality, the sound was as faint as an insect's chirp.
"Noisy."
Ares said flatly, closing his palm.
Click—snap—pop!
---
According to the laws enacted by the Ministry of Magic, underage wizards were not allowed to use magic outside of school.
However, the students on the train used their various spells to blast open the twisted doors. One by one, they scrambled and tumbled out of the carriages. As soon as they got off, they collapsed on the ground sobbing. Some even made the sign of the cross on their chests, praying devoutly.
About ten minutes passed before the crying and panting on the open field subsided somewhat.
The students... led by those who had been in the engine room earlier, approached Ares.
He was exhausted.
His eyes, expression, breathing... even his fluttering hair radiated exhaustion—the students clearly picked up on this.
Under the faint but clear starlight, they walked silently towards Ares, surrounding him.
Ares looked back at these students, at their timid faces, and gave a warm smile amidst his panting breaths.
Surprisingly, the first to offer a greeting was Neville Longbottom.
"How—how are you feeling, Professor?"
Neville asked cautiously, his cheeks flushed and his head tucked into his shoulders.
"Longbottom?"
Ares didn't answer the round-faced boy's question. Instead, he looked at him with a smile playing on his lips and asked softly, "Did you find your toad?"
"Toad... you mean Trevor?"
Neville looked blank. Instinctively, he turned his head to look around, then his gaze fixed on his own shoulder.
"Trevor, when did you get back?"
Strange...
Before the train accident, she didn't seem to ask the professor what Neville was looking for, did she?
Hermione, whose brown eyes were still filled with tears, flashed a hint of confusion.
But given that she had already mistaken this professor for a scammer, she said nothing... and never mentioned it.
It was only at a class reunion many years later, when they reminisced with a sigh about the runaway Hogwarts Express incident that shocked the entire wizarding world, that Hermione brought up this trivial confusion as a conversation starter.
Ares beckoned to Neville. He looked at the round-faced boy, whose expression was a mix of confusion and fear, gave him a gentle smile, and then examined the toad held in his palm.
"Tsk—"
Ares clicked his tongue at Trevor.
"Looks like you had quite a fright too, didn't you?"
The students were bewildered by this scene—the professor didn't care about their health, but was instead fussing over a toad?
"I think you should eat something to lift your spirits," Ares said softly, opening his palm. Lying there was a carrion fly, still twitching.
Neville's toad—Trevor—turned its head to look at its confused master, then tilted its head to look at Ares.
Thwip—!
In the next second, Trevor shot out its long tongue and swallowed the carrion fly whole.