A Strange Premonition (Seeking Follow-ups)

In the eyes of Lockhart.

A group of fresh, ready-to-be-harvested leeks.

He took a deep breath, his smile becoming even more radiant: "My dear students, are you surprised as to why the professors have appeared here?"

"I have some unfortunate news to inform you; perhaps Hogwarts has encountered danger and requires me..."

"Professor Lockhart." Professor McGonagall interrupted him with a cold face, "It would be best if we did not delay the students' opening feast."

"Now."

"All students, line up and wait for the professors to inspect you."

Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

Two stern faces.

No one dared to defy them.

McGonagall waved her wand, invisible magic surging as it swept over them, while Snape held something that looked like a glass spinning top.

As he walked past a young wizard, the object would flicker with light and spin rapidly.

Snape remained expressionless, his cold eyes fixed upon them.

The young wizards trembled, pulling several items from their robes, all of which were Dark Arts objects of low danger.

While the two professors were busy.

Lockhart, like a peacock, was surrounded by a cluster of young witches; this charming wizard was teaching them some beauty spells.

How to make their hair soft and smooth, how to make their skin delicate and fair.

Even manicures, teeth whitening, and fresh breath...

Hermione peeked over.

These spells sounded so useful.

The two professors, with dark faces, finished inspecting all the young wizards; there were quite a few Dark Arts objects, with Slytherin being the hardest hit, and Ravenclaw having even more than Gryffindor.

Surprisingly, the Weasley brothers did not have a single Dark Arts object on them.

The Little Badgers were the most well-behaved; only one fourth-year witch was found carrying a Dark Arts object—and it wasn't even intentional, as it was a gift from her boyfriend at Durmstrang.

When Snape, face dark, snatched the amulet away, she burst into tears.

Potter is over there.

Go find him!

Most of the first-year students were bewildered and nervous.

Harry glanced over, noticed one of them, and asked Ron: "That red-haired girl, is she your sister?"

"Yes, the youngest sister in our family." Ron nodded and smiled, "She really admires you."

"It's a pity she hasn't been able to meet you until now."

Hermione scoffed.

Harry frowned: "She seems a bit nervous."

"Well, running into something like this right upon entering school." Ron spread his hands, "George and Fred didn't hold back on scaring her during the summer."

"Did you add fuel to the fire, too?" Harry added.

Ron was stunned and waved his hands: "I only slightly described the facts—that Harry Potter pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor before being sorted into Gryffindor."

Hermione said irritably: "Then your little sister is probably worried right now about whether she can even enroll."

Harry didn't continue speaking.

He took another look at Ginny—her nervousness was different from that of the other young wizards; she was afraid of something, afraid that some object might be discovered...

When they bought books that day, did the Weasley family have contact with Malfoy?

However...

Professor McGonagall walked past her without taking any action.

Professor Snape passed by, and the Sneakoscope in his hand did not spin.

Harry didn't pay any more attention.

Lockhart was chattering away, and the occasional gasps of wonder from the young witches were annoying.

"Our proud Professor Lockhart, the students and I have finished the inspection with Professor McGonagall; now, immediately, we are returning to the castle!" Snape gritted his teeth as he walked over to the group of witches.

He scanned them with cold eyes.

The young witches retreated, albeit reluctantly.

"Severus, you really should..." Lockhart waved his hand regretfully.

"We aren't on familiar enough terms for you to use my first name." Snape cut him off.

"Very well, Professor Snape." Lockhart did not look the least bit embarrassed. "We ought to be more tolerant of the young wizards."

"Perhaps," Snape said coldly, "but we should not be more tolerant of an adult wizard."

"Professor Lockhart, there are matters in the castle that require our attention." Professor McGonagall spoke up, rarely siding with Snape. "There is no time to spare for you to demonstrate your popularity among the young witches."

The three of them hurried away, carrying a pile of confiscated Dark Arts artifacts.

"I just realized Professor Snape is actually kind of handsome." Ron remarked with a sigh.

"He washed his hair," Harry said.

Ron froze.

"The smell of hair oil is much fainter," Harry added.

Ron sniffed the air. "You can smell that?"

"But it's not the shampoo I gave him," Harry nodded. "Does he not like that kind? I'll have to choose carefully for Christmas."

Ron opened his mouth, then stopped.

He felt that no matter which shampoo Harry chose, Snape would never like it.

But before he could speak, Hermione and Harry had already followed the other students toward a muddy path. He hurried to catch up, casting his thoughts aside—forget it, what did it matter to him whether Snape liked it or not?

At the end of the path, a line of carriages stood waiting.

"It seems we are to take carriages," Hermione said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "I've never ridden in one of these before."

Ron climbed into the carriage. "Fred said these are pulled by invisible horses. If you reach out, you can even touch them."

Hermione tentatively stretched out her hand.

"They are Thestrals," Harry explained, his eyes softening. "Magical creatures that can only be seen by those who have witnessed true death."

Ron and Hermione froze, feeling a wave of sorrow for Harry.

"Harry, those things are in the past..." Hermione pursed her lips, offering a weak attempt at comfort.

"It's a pity you can't see them," Harry sighed. "They are truly beautiful, though a bit thin."

A Witcher might be able to get by without a sorceress friend, but he could never go without a trusted horse.

The two of them froze again.

Terrible, he had forgotten that Harry's train of thought was different from everyone else's.

They sat down in the carriage.

Harry was pondering how to tame Dumbledore into letting him take a Thestral; he was still missing quite a bit of equipment to be a qualified Witcher.

A good horse, for instance.

The carriage jolted.

Along the way, the magical aura of the first-year enrollment surged once more, deepening the impression left behind earlier.

Upon entering the castle, the young wizards were buzzing with excitement about the day's events—it was unusual for the professors to be so serious.

Small Dark Arts trinkets were not exactly rare.

Older students inevitably came into contact with some—whether as part of their exams or out of their own curiosity.

The Restricted Section openly displayed books on the Dark Arts, and even some that could be considered... profound.

Previously, as long as it wasn't exposed under the professors' noses, everyone kept a tacit understanding.

Was it because of what happened with Quirrell last year?

They discussed the reasons fervently.

It wasn't until Professor McGonagall led the young wizards inside that the chattering subsided. After listening to the hat sing its song, each first-year student was sorted into their house.

Harry couldn't wait to walk over and take the hat into his hands.

"Harry!" the Sorting Hat exclaimed excitedly. "We meet again at last. You missed me too, didn't you?"

"The summer holidays were so boring. Dumbledore was always busy running about, and the portraits of the former headmasters didn't want to chat with me."

"Even Fawkes—he's nearing his next cycle, so he didn't have time to play with me... I mean, he didn't have the energy to bully me."

Harry stuffed it into his robes. "No, I just want the Sword of Gryffindor."

Compared to fighting Professor Flitwick, that sword made of stone just wasn't as handy as the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Can't you say something nice?" The Sorting Hat poked Harry's waist with its pointed tip. "At least lie to this old hat, coax me into a good mood, and perhaps I could provide you with more during the trials..."

"Wait!"

"What is your clothing made of? Why is it so hard?"

Harry skewered a sausage. "It's leather armor, made from the hide of that Troll."

"This is a school!" the Sorting Hat shrieked. "You look like you're heading to a battlefield; even Gryffindor never wore armor."

"Yes, this is Hogwarts," Harry nodded.

The Sorting Hat huffed. "The safest place in the world."

"Are you referring to the kind of safety that allowed a Troll, a snake, a hat, or perhaps a fragment of Voldemort to sneak in last year?" Harry swallowed the sausage in his mouth.

The Sorting Hat was speechless.

"You've been staying in the office this year, surely you've heard some rumors?" Harry continued, "Even though Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape have been conducting inspections."

"But..."

Before he could finish, leaving his words hanging, the Sorting Hat clicked its tongue and fell silent.

Hermione frowned, looking worried, and lowered her voice: "Harry, are you saying that it's very likely something will happen again this year?"

"Malfoy—I mean Draco Malfoy—might be a fool," Harry replied, "but his father clearly isn't."

Ron chimed in: "My father says Lucius Malfoy is incredibly cunning; he managed to scrub his identity as a Death Eater completely clean."

"He couldn't have failed to notice that Dobby went missing," Harry set down his fork, "yet he still had the mood to get into a brawl with Mr. Weasley."

Ron stiffened his neck: "He was the one who got beaten!"

"He is no match for my dad."

"Besides, I have a hunch," Harry shook his head, "Hogwarts might not be as safe as Hagrid says it is."

Hermione furrowed her brows.

"Why is it British food tonight?" Harry sighed, a cloud of gloom on his face, "Wouldn't French or German food be better?"

Ron expressed his deep agreement with this, then proceeded to gnaw on two more sausages.

After dinner.

Dumbledore stood up. He did not mention the matter of Dobby, nor did he explain why he had confiscated the Dark artifacts; he simply gave a brief introduction to Lockhart.

He also took the opportunity to trot out the same old clichés, reminding everyone of the rules at Hogwarts.

No spellcasting in the corridors, and no entering the Forbidden Forest.

That very night.

Harry draped his Invisibility Cloak over himself and slipped into the Forbidden Forest. He needed to confirm whether the activity patterns of the Bicorn had changed after the summer break.

Good news: there were no changes.

He could now begin preparing to hunt this most crucial magical creature.

Three chapters today!

Thanks to book friend ending in 1981 for the tip!

Thanks to Yue Xia Ren Yi Shi for the tip!

Thanks to Zhuge Kongming giao for the tip!