Chapter 32: The Journey to Hogwarts
The Hogwarts Express slowed, steam billowing from its scarlet engine as the rhythmic clatter of wheels faded. Beyond the window, a starry night stretched over rolling hills and shadowed forests, the air crisp with wet earth and pine. Clark Kent felt the train's hum through his Kryptonian senses, his anticipation sharp—Hogwarts was near, a stage for his empire.
As the train stopped at Hogsmeade Station, students spilled into the corridors, their chatter a lively buzz. Clark, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy stepped onto the platform, their breaths misting in the cold. Owls hooted, and distant whinnies from thestral-drawn carriages echoed, the night alive with magic.
A booming voice cut through. "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"
Hagrid, a towering half-giant, loomed over the crowd, his tangled beard glowing under lantern light. He waved a massive hand, herding first-years toward docks where small boats bobbed on a dark, mirrored lake. "Three to a boat!" he called.
Clark, Hermione, and Draco climbed into a wooden vessel, the cool water lapping its sides as it rocked. Draco dusted his robes with a sneer, his aristocratic disdain clear. Clark smirked, amused by the boy's posturing, his mind already weighing Draco's use. The kid's arrogance grated, but his pureblood knowledge could be a tool, much like Petunia's submission in his pocket universe ring.
The boats glided across the lake, its surface still as glass. Draco, seizing the moment, turned to Clark, his tone that of a smug tour guide. "Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff—the greatest witches and wizards of their time. The castle's unplottable, hidden from Muggles and outsiders. It sits on dungeons and secret tunnels, many still undiscovered."
Clark listened, his smirk faint but cold. He'd seen Hogwarts in films, read its lore, but Draco's words made it real, pulsing with potential. The boy's knowledge was useful, but his arrogance was a leash Clark could tug. A sidekick, perhaps, if he proved loyal. "Interesting," Clark said, his tone dismissive, a subtle challenge that made Draco's eyes flicker.
Hermione sat quietly, her sharp eyes tracking the exchange, her bookish intensity a contrast to Draco's swagger. Clark noted her silence, another piece in his game.
"Duck!" Hagrid bellowed as the boats neared a jagged cliffside. They lowered their heads, passing under a rocky archway. When they emerged, Clark's breath caught, his Kryptonian composure tested.
Hogwarts loomed, a grand castle of spires and turrets piercing the night sky. Golden lights glowed from its windows, their reflection dancing on the lake like scattered stars. Its majesty dwarfed any screen depiction, a fortress of power Clark would claim.
"Amazing," Clark muttered, his awe genuine but laced with ambition.
Draco smirked, smug. "Told you. Nothing like Hogwarts."
The boats reached the shore, and the first-years clambered onto solid ground. Hagrid led them up a winding stone path, the castle growing larger, its presence a weight on the air. They stopped before massive, ornate doors. Hagrid's fist pounded—BANG. BANG. BANG.
The doors swung open, revealing Professor McGonagall, a strict headmistress in emerald robes, her glasses perched on sharp, intelligent features. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice commanding, her gaze sweeping the students like a general inspecting troops. "In a moment, you'll enter the Great Hall and be sorted into your Houses. Follow me."
Clark's eyes locked on her, his smirk subtle but predatory. McGonagall's authority was magnetic, her confidence a challenge he relished. Not young, but her sharp mind and commanding presence stirred his ambition—he'd charm her, bend her respect to his will, just as he'd broken the Dursleys' public scorn and private fear. The pocket universe ring, holding Petunia's obedience, hummed faintly, a reminder of his growing power.
His mind raced, picturing McGonagall as a key ally in his Hogwarts conquest, her stern facade a puzzle to unravel. He imagined winning her trust, her sharp gaze softening under his influence, a victory sweeter than magic itself. Hogwarts wasn't just a school—it was a chessboard, and Clark played to win.
This wasn't just a school year. This was going to be an experience—one that, if he played his cards right, could be far more interesting than just learning magic.