Harry Potter: Westeros’s Plant Life
0216 On The Way

On the way to King's Cross Station, Fred and George were sitting on both side of Harry.

"You brought that thing, didn't you?" Fred said quietly, his voice dropping to a whisper that immediately caught Harry's attention.

"What?" Harry blinked, momentarily confused as his mind struggled to shift gears from the dark thoughts that had been occupying it.

The sudden change in topic left him feeling slightly disoriented, like someone waking from a vivid dream.

"The broomstick," George said excitedly from the other side, leaning closer with enthusiasm. "We heard you got a Firebolt."

Harry's expression shifted to one of understanding, mixed with a touch of exasperation. "Ron told you, didn't he?"

He turned to look toward the front of the car, where Ron was sitting beside Mr. Weasley, and his ears were already turning red with embarrassment.

"Sorry, is that not, okay?" Ron twisted around from the front passenger seat. "I didn't think it was a secret or anything."

"Of course not," Harry shook his head, his smile becoming more genuine as he looked at his friend's worried expression. "Everyone will know sooner or later—I'm not planning to hide it. It's in the trunk right now."

"It's really true!" Fred exclaimed, his voice cracking with excitement. Without warning, he threw his arm around Harry's neck in an enthusiastic embrace that nearly knocked Harry sideways. "The best Seeker plus the best broomstick—I dare say we've already reserved this year's Quidditch championship."

Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks as he smiled sheepishly. "Who can say for sure? It's just a broomstick."

"You're too modest," George said with equal happiness, practically bouncing in his seat. "Can I touch your Firebolt?"

The question came out in a rush, as if he'd been holding it back for as long as he could manage.

Before Harry could respond, Mr. Weasley's voice came through their excitement from the front of the car. "We're here, children."

The announcement brought an immediate end to their conversation as everyone began gathering belongings and preparing to get off.

The group pushed their various pieces of luggage through the entrance to King's Cross Station.

Harry found it strange that the station seemed particularly empty today, almost eerily so. Most of the Muggles were nowhere to be seen, leaving the station feeling like a theater after the audience had gone home.

But he soon learned the reason for this unusual emptiness. When entering the main entrance, a large notice board nearby caught his attention with its bold, official lettering:

"Facility maintenance—most trains will be suspended on September 1st."

'Probably because of Black,' Harry thought.

Harry knew the Ministry of Magic had connections with the Muggle government. It would be simple for the Ministry to shut down a station, to clear the area of innocent bystanders who might become injured in their hunt for Sirius Black.

When entering the platform, he also saw several oddly dressed people scattered throughout the usually bustling space.

When Mr. Weasley passed by, one of them even greeted him: "Hello, Arthur, how are things?"

"Going smoothly enough," Arthur replied casually without stopping.

'Probably one of Mr. Weasley's acquaintances from the Ministry,' Harry thought silently.

Passing through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters again, Harry immediately felt much more relaxed.

Indeed, the wizarding world was more suitable for him.

Because they arrived rather late, the platform was more sparsely populated than usual. The usual crowds of early arrivals had already boarded the train, leaving behind a gathering of families making their final farewells.

"Hey! Harry, Ron! Hurry up!" The familiar voice came through the ambient noise.

The two boys looked up to see Hermione leaning out of a window in the last carriage as she waved enthusiastically at them.

Seeing this, Harry and Ron quickly said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and rushed onto the train, as did the other Weasley family members—there were only ten minutes left before the train's departure.

In the train corridor, Harry immediately noticed that all the compartment doors were tightly closed. The openness of the Hogwarts Express, where students usually moved freely between compartments, visiting friends and sharing sweets, was noticeably absent.

Although students' laughter and chatter could be heard from inside the doors, Harry felt something was wrong with the atmosphere.

When they reached the last compartment, the door suddenly opened just a crack, revealing Hermione's worried face.

"Quick, come in, hurry," Hermione's voice came from the narrow opening. Her brown eyes darted nervously up and down the corridor, as if checking for threats that might appear at any moment.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, both with incredulity showing across their faces. They were both thinking the same thing: What on earth was going on?

After they entered and sat down, Hermione immediately closed the door tightly again with a decisive click.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Ron was completely confused. "Why is everyone keeping their doors closed?"

Hermione was about to answer when a harsh crackling sound came from the corridor.

 "Cough cough—Remus, are you sure this old broadcast still works—oh, it's working—Attention all students, emergency notice: during the train journey, do not come out into the corridor at will, or terrible things will happen. If you need to buy anything, please do so within the ten minutes before the train departs."

"Listen," Hermione sighed. "Professor Westeros also came to notify us personally just now, telling us not to open the compartment door."

Harry nodded. No wonder the voice on the broadcast sounded familiar—it was Professor Westeros. But the question was: why were they doing this?

Meanwhile, in a compartment at the front of the train, far from the students' worried conversations, Adrian was interestedly fiddling with the dusty broadcast equipment in front of him.

Remus sat beside him, his face grave and filled with worry.

The witch selling candy stood across from them, her usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a troubled expression.

"Looks like business will be particularly bad this year," the candy witch said, standing up with a sigh. "How terrible."

Remus smiled apologetically at her. He understood the impact their security measures would have on her business, on the students' traditional journey experience, but there was no alternative.

With that, the candy witch headed for the door—the next ten minutes were her only remaining work time.

The train slowly began to move.

After a few minutes, the candy witch made her rounds, and Harry selected several sweets from her cart. He chose a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, some Chocolate Frogs, and a handful of other favorites, trying to stock up for what was to be a long and restricted journey.

"These candies make me sick," Ron said with obvious disgust, pushing Every Flavor Beans across the small table with a grimace. "Yesterday Fred tricked me into eating a whole handful—they were all booger flavored."

His face twisted at the memory, and Harry could see him unconsciously wiping his mouth as if the taste still lingered.

"Oh, suit yourself," Harry shrugged, picking up one of the multicolored beans and popping it into his mouth before he could think better of it. The flavor hit him immediately—ugh rotten banana.

He managed not to spit it out, but his expression clearly conveyed his regret at the choice.

"I say," Hermione said, her voice interrupting through their candy-focused conversation, "aren't you worried at all?"

"Worried about what?" Ron asked around a mouthful of licorice wand, his words somewhat indistinct but his confusion clear. He was clearly trying to focus on the simple pleasure of sweets rather than consider whatever issues were troubling their friend.

"About this situation, of course," Hermione said, gesturing toward the sealed door with an expression of disbelief. "Why won't they let us out of the compartments? This is too abnormal."

"Ah, yes," Harry nodded, his expression becoming more serious. "When we get to school, we'll ask Professor Westeros."

However, Harry already had some guesses. If he was right, this definitely had something to do with Sirius Black. They probably thought staying in the compartments would be safer.

For the rest of the time, Harry took out the new set of Exploding Snap he'd bought in Diagon Alley, hoping the game would provide a distraction from the oppressive atmosphere. Unfortunately, they proved to be perhaps too exciting—during a particularly intense round, Ron got sprayed with unknown all over himself.

A thick, nauseating stench immediately filled the entire compartment. All three of them immediately began casting every Cleaning Charm they could think of, their wands working frantically to dispel the assault on their senses.

It took countless applications of "Scourgify" and several other cleaning spells Harry had never heard of before they finally managed to clear the air enough to breathe without gagging.

After that traumatic experience, Hermione absolutely refused to let them continue playing Exploding Snap, declaring the game banned for the duration of the journey.

With plenty of journey time left and their primary entertainment option eliminated, the compartment settled into a more quiet routine.

Hermione began reading what appeared to be a particularly thick textbook. She always had the habit of previewing textbooks in advance. This year she had chosen all the elective courses offered to third-year students, which meant she had an even larger mountain of material to preview.

Harry and Ron, left to their own devices, began playing wizard's chess.

The corridor outside was very quiet, without any sound.

When the journey was halfway through, Harry suddenly heard faint voices from outside.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, noticing Harry's sudden stillness.

"Shh—keep your voice down," Harry whispered urgently, holding up a hand for silence. He pressed his ear to the door, trying to make out the words being spoken in the corridor outside.

"I'll say it again, sir, control the dementors' behavior. They're only allowed to move in the corridor—don't let the dementors enter the students' compartments. If you insist on doing so, for the students' safety, I'll have to take some measures..."

Harry immediately recognized the familiar tone—it was their Professor Westeros.

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