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In the cold night, the wizards who had just gotten off the Hogwarts Express climbed down from the Thestral-drawn carriages and hurried toward the distant castle. In weather like this, they did not want to stay outdoors for even a moment. They missed the castle's warm fires desperately, to say nothing of the lavish dinner waiting for them.

"Professor Harris." In the biting wind, that voice made many young wizards shiver. When they realized Professor Snape had stopped Professor Harris, they hunched their necks and walked even faster, even more urgently.

Although Allen's Magic Robes could regulate their temperature, the feeling of that bone-piercing wind scraping across his face was not pleasant. By the great iron gates, an orange-yellow lantern swaying wildly in the wind lit Snape's figure. His hooked nose and the hand holding the lamp had both gone red with cold. Beneath his long, greasy black hair, his eyes looked at Allen with urgency.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Allen said. Then his indistinct voice sounded again in the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's heart. "Professor Snape, this is hardly a good place to talk. When you're done here, go to the Potions classroom. I'll come find you in a while."

A little later, after the last few students pulled up the hoods of their robes under Snape's impatient stare and scurried quickly toward the castle, Snape swung the lantern. Expressionless, he shut the gates of Hogwarts with a clang, then tapped the chains with his wand. Amid a burst of metallic clattering, the chains darted like snakes and locked the gates tight.

At that moment, Allen was climbing the broad steps toward his own common room. In the brightly lit Hogwarts castle, Anka drew attention once more. This time it was not only the young wizards; even