The wind howled across the wilderness, occasionally carrying the long, eerie howl of a wolf, adding to the terror of the night.
Especially since, after the sun went down, the darkness deepened at an almost exponential rate with each passing second.
Twenty minutes later, when a large group of horseless carriages flew low along the railway line and discovered the stranded Hogwarts Express, the boundless marshland had already become a terrifying abyss of darkness.
"Gallopin' gargoyles!"
Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts—a man twice the size of a normal human—jumped from a carriage, landing with a heavy thud.
Staring at the twisted wreck of the Hogwarts Express, his mouth opened and closed silently beneath his bushy beard, and his beetle-black eyes instantly grew misty.
Following Hagrid off the carriage was the Head of Slytherin House.
He stared at the train, his face even paler than usual. Then, he turned and fired a brilliant red firework into the sky, large enough to cover an area the size of the Hogwarts grounds.
The Healers from St. Mungo's and the Ministry officials couldn't arrive that quickly; they needed time to organize their personnel.
But Albus Dumbledore had arrived immediately with every staff member he could muster, even dragging Argus Filch, the caretaker, to the front lines.
No questions were needed. One look at the battered train, with many of its wheels flown off, was enough to tell how perilous the situation had been!
"Albus, are there any students..."
Several strands of gray hair had escaped from Professor McGonagall's tight bun. Clutching her chest, her thin frame swayed slightly in the cold wind.
"I can't bear to imagine..."
The train was completely dead; even the lights were out. The students huddled in groups of three or five inside compartments with shattered windows and doors, curling up to fend off the cold, lighting their wands like helpless little animals.
Of course, Snape's red firework had caught their attention.
Tender faces, streaked with tears and blood, poked out of the broken windows. The students discovered the arrival of the Headmaster and professors.
Only now did they dare to believe they were truly out of danger!
But... honestly, few students were cheering. Most were just sobbing quietly.
Harry, staying in the prefects' carriage, naturally spotted the Hogwarts staff. He looked at them curiously—mostly at the old man with the silver beard and hair at the very front.
It was hard not to notice him. The indescribable aura surrounding the Headmaster was simply too striking.
He was like the morning star, signaling the coming dawn all by himself!
Harry blinked, his gaze tracking Dumbledore as he prepared to board the train.
Compared to the Dumbledore on the Chocolate Frog card he had gotten not long ago, the Dumbledore before him didn't look so cheerful. His aged face was grim, and a terrifying anger flickered within his clear blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles!
Dumbledore stopped Hagrid from boarding the train. Leading the staff, he entered the carriage where the prefects' compartment was located. In the gloom, the sound of weeping was constant.
Harry, like the other students, left the compartment to greet the Headmaster and professors—
"Lie down, quickly!"
A witch with a tight bun, who also looked quite old, suddenly fixed her eyes on Harry and exclaimed.
Harry knew the blood on his face must have scared her, so he quickly explained,
"Oh, ma'am... Professor, I'm fine. I just bumped my forehead a couple of times."
"Don't be silly, child!"
The professor commanded in a tone that was both heart-wrenching and stern.
"Lie down immediately... right there on the seat. Don't worry, someone will come to give you first aid soon!"
Harry had to obey. As his gaze inadvertently swept over Dumbledore, he noticed the famous wizard was also looking at him. A look of—er, relief at his survival?—flashed across the aged face.
Harry wasn't sure. When he tried to get a clearer look, Dumbledore had already turned his face toward Percy Weasley.
Unlike most people, Percy Weasley looked quite spirited. His robes were dusty, but the prefect badge on his chest still shone brightly.
He squeezed in front of Dumbledore, looking eager, as if waiting to be questioned.
"So, Mr. Weasley, do you..."
Dumbledore seemed to see right through him and asked directly.
"I've already checked, Professor Dumbledore!"
Percy said excitedly.
"No students have died!"
"Oh, don't look so delighted about it, Mr. Weasley!"
Professor McGonagall couldn't help but scold him, though she let out a heavy sigh of relief afterward.
Percy shrank back in fright. He glared at Ron, who was snickering, then turned his burning gaze back to Dumbledore.
"You must want to know what happened, Professor Dumbledore!"
So, without waiting for Dumbledore to stop him, he began to recount the events, and the other prefects chimed in one after another.
Words and phrases like "scar," "stream of light," "out-of-control train," "shattered glass outside the window," and "Professor stopped the train" were mentioned repeatedly.
"Quiet!"
Dumbledore raised a hand, his voice resonant, stopping the babbling prefects.
"Understanding what happened is certainly important, but compared to that, your health is of much greater concern."
Dumbledore continued, "I implore each of you to return to your seats, remain calm, and wait for the examination by the arriving Healers. Then, it will be decided whether you can board the carriages directly or require a stretcher."
Percy, having his enthusiasm dampened, looked embarrassed and could only go back to sit in the compartment.
"So... Oh, excellent. I believe the Healers from St. Mungo's have arrived."
Just as Dumbledore finished speaking, a large group of people descended from the sky beside the train.
A tense but orderly rescue operation began immediately. Experienced Healers boarded the train one by one with expressions of shock and started their examinations.
The noise rose again—
"Oh, I'm fine! Stop poking and prodding me!"
A blond boy shouted, but was quickly and ruthlessly shut down.
"Sit down, child! You might have internal injuries you haven't noticed!"
"You should look at my nose first! Some bastard kicked me in the face... Oh, if I find out who that bastard was, I'll tell my father to... Ow!"
The staff also joined in maintaining order and assisting with the rescue. Having reached the middle of the train, Dumbledore withdrew his gaze from Draco Malfoy's face. He looked around, and finally, his penetrating gaze fixed on the rear of the train. He began to walk towards it.
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