"Do you really have a gift for Divination?"
That was maybe the tenth time Ron had asked Charles the same question.
Seeing the train begin to slow down, Charles replied, "You'll find out eventually. Right now, we need to change into our robes."
Harry and Ron had noticed the train slowing as well. They scrambled to pull their trunks down from the luggage rack and opened them to dig out their uniforms.
Charles was much more efficient. He simply raised a hand, and with a flick, a perfectly pressed set of Hogwarts robes appeared midair in front of him. He caught them just before they hit the floor.
"Whoa!" Ron's eyes lit up. "Is that… a Beaded Bag?"
Charles nodded. "Yep. You've seen one before?"
Ron, halfway into his robes, said, "I heard Fred and George—my twin brothers—muttering about wanting to make one. But the magic cloth's too expensive."
Charles launched into a mini-lecture about his prized bag. "Yeah, it was pretty pricey. The wizard who sold it to me and my granddad had a tiny shop in a little alley off Diagon Alley. Started at three hundred Galleons. We brought Ollivander along to appraise it—he talked him down to two hundred. Then we treated him to a meal for thirty Galleons."
Ron looked absolutely gobsmacked, like Charles was telling a fairy tale from another world.
And to be fair, Charles wasn't lying. Yesterday, Jack had tracked down a reclusive old wizard and hit him with the Imperius Curse, then marched him to Diagon Alley so Ollivander could vouch for the goods.
The thing was, they'd been buying a lot of books recently, and Jack had discovered that the crafting methods for magic weave had evolved over the last century. The bag Charles made used older techniques—easily spotted by any expert. They had to cover their bases.
By the time the train pulled into the station, the platform was buzzing with students pouring out in all directions. It didn't take long for the crowd to scatter the trio.
Luckily, Hagrid stood out like a lighthouse in the chaos, drawing the first-years toward him. In that regard, he was excellent at his job.
Charles caught a glimpse of the thestrals already pulling carriages into the sky in the distance. He wrinkled his nose, then turned and headed toward the boats.
Each boat could seat no more than four. Charles climbed into an empty one, standing at the bow as he stared quietly at the starlit castle on the horizon.
For someone who'd technically died once already, every breath in this second life felt like a bonus. Might as well enjoy it. Honestly, the reason he picked Hogwarts over the magic institute closer to Aragaki Yui's house was because the next few years here promised to be… well, entertaining.
The boat glided across the lake on its own, smoothly cutting through the water. Midway across, Charles casually asked the three boys sharing his boat:
"You lot can swim, right?"
Draco Malfoy and his two henchmen—Crabbe and Goyle—froze. They had just been planning to push Charles overboard. Now their six collective hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to continue or retreat.
They exchanged glances.
And made the wrong choice.
Someone grabbed Charles's robe—and in the next second, a loud CRACK echoed across the lake, followed by three startled yelps.
The boat gave a mighty groan as its wooden planks splintered beneath their feet. Malfoy and the others crashed straight through and into the icy water, legs awkwardly stuck in the gaps.
Charles shouted, full of theatrical panic, "Oh no! The boat's sinking!"
He launched himself off the prow in a single leap—except instead of falling into the lake, he ran straight across the surface like it was solid ground.
Everyone else on the lake gasped. The sinking boat was bad enough. But someone running on water? That was downright legendary.
A few kids, driven by adrenaline or envy, tried to mimic the move—only to be yanked back into the boat by their terrified companions. Hagrid's blood pressure visibly spiked.
By the time Charles reached the far shore, he didn't stop. He kept running, all the way up the steep cliff beside the castle, and by the time he reached the top, both Hogwarts and Dumbledore were in full view.
Charles dashed up to the Headmaster, grabbing his sleeve with exaggerated urgency.
"Headmaster! The boat—it broke! Some students fell into the lake! You have to help them!"
Without a word, Dumbledore raised his wand and flicked it toward the edge of the cliff. A massive stone arm burst from the ground and stretched out over the lake, plucking the shattered boat and the shivering trio from the water like a claw machine.
Charles stood gaping. Sure, Jack had once shown him an Unforgivable Curse or two, but this? This was next-level magic—pure cinematic spectacle.
The mini-Malfoy trio sat dripping and dazed, shivering like three vibrating phones. Malfoy stared off into the void, muttering, "I'm telling my father… I'm telling my father…"
Charles turned to him solemnly. "I heard from Mr. Ollivander that your father sits on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. If that's the case, someone really ought to increase funding. The boats are so old they're literally falling apart."
Dumbledore had been examining the broken craft, running a hand over the rough hole. It clearly wasn't a clean break.
At Charles's comment, he stopped and turned to the three soaked boys with a gentle smile. "It was an unfortunate accident. I'll personally write to your parents to explain."
With a flick of his wand, their soaking robes dried instantly.
Charles recognized the charm—Scourgify—used to clean anything. Jack had used it on his nappies. Incredibly efficient. Very eco-friendly.
After seeing to the boys, Dumbledore turned to Charles, gaze lingering with faint amusement.
Charles smiled politely. He could tell the Headmaster had definitely picked up on something suspicious.
Just then, the rest of the first-years were arriving at the dock. Harry came bounding up the path, caught sight of Charles, and immediately burst into laughter.
"I knew it was you! Just like when that dog chased you and you panicked and ran up to the roof—ow!"
Charles delivered a clean karate chop to Harry's head and stepped aside to make room for Dumbledore. "The Headmaster's here, and you didn't even say hello? Where are your manners?"
Harry, now standing straight, bowed quickly. "Hello, Headmaster!"
Dumbledore gave him a nod. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I hope your time here is enjoyable. Now, the Sorting Ceremony awaits."
And with that, he turned and vanished on the spot.
Harry's jaw dropped. "What spell was that?"
Charles shrugged. "Read a book."
"It's called Apparition," Hermione piped up as she walked past them. "It lets wizards travel instantly to wherever they want to go. But only the Headmaster can use it inside Hogwarts. It's mentioned in Hogwarts: A History."
Harry, following the rest of the first-years, frowned and asked, "Why's it called A History, not The History? Does that mean it's incomplete?"
Hermione blinked. "Actually… I noticed there's a three-year gap about a hundred years ago. No one knows why."
She turned to Charles. "Do you know anything about that?"
"Hmm?" Charles pretended not to hear. "Oh hey, look! We're at the castle."
The first-years had just reached the great wooden doors. Hagrid stepped up and knocked with a booming fist.
(End of Chapter)
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