Chapter 542: Hogwarts Dryer
The train slowed to a halt on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the rain pouring down in relentless sheets. Raindrops hammered the ground, splashing up into countless rings of water. Everyone else had already returned to their compartments, tidying up and changing clothes. Theo stood up, preparing to exit, when Michael reached out and stopped him.
"Wait a bit longer," Michael said. "The interior entrance is probably flooded with students by now."
Through the glass, they could hear the clamor of voices from the corridor—students shouting, urging each other forward.
Theo sat back down, then seemed to be sitting on a porcupine, constantly rising to peek outside. After a while, seeing the crowd in the corridor had thinned considerably, he finally said, "Most of the older students have already left. Let's go too."
Liam chuckled and stood up, followed by Wade.
Michael sighed. "Honestly, I’d rather wait until everyone’s gone. The school’s not going to leave us stranded on the train."
"Come on, get up," Liam said, grabbing Wade by the arm and pulling him off the seat.
Wade pulled his raincoat from his pocket and shook it, restoring it to its original size. "Need a raincoat?" he asked Michael.
When boarding, only Michael had been soaked—clearly, he hadn’t brought an umbrella when stepping off the platform.
Michael grinned. "I’ve been practicing Transfiguration lately. Watch this."
He pulled a Chocolate Frog wrapper from the table, pointed his wand at it, and muttered a Transfiguration charm. In moments, the wrapper expanded, transforming into a striking cobalt-blue cloak, intricately embroidered with golden patterns.
Liam, waiting by the door, gave a thumbs-up. "Nice!"
Michael raised an eyebrow, draping the cloak over his shoulders. "I hope you’re actually praising my Transfiguration—rather than just the design."
He stepped forward, and Wade, trailing behind, couldn’t help but laugh—the back of the cloak still bore a silly, dazed-looking frog.
At the interior entrance, sure enough, a small crowd still lingered. Wade waited a moment longer before finally stepping out.
Standing on the pitch-black platform, he finally understood why everyone had moved so slowly—many older students were holding leaf umbrellas or flower umbrellas, deliberately strolling along the edge, showing off their Transfigured creations.
"Wade, they’ve stolen your idea!" Michael grumbled indignantly.
"Come on, let’s go," Liam urged. "I’m about to freeze to death."
As they walked from the platform toward the Night Kneazle carriage, Wade noticed that some of the Transfigurations were failing. The once-sturdy leaf umbrellas were now sagging, their centers heavy with rainwater. Suddenly, one tipped sideways, drenching the student beneath it from head to toe.
Michael couldn’t help laughing, yet he still nervously pulled the wrapper cloak tighter around himself.
The storm raged on—torrential rain and howling winds lashing at them from every direction. No umbrella could withstand it. But thankfully, the Chocolate Frog company had been thoughtful—the wrapper was coated with wax, making it waterproof and moisture-resistant. By the time the carriage rocked into Hogwarts, Michael’s cloak remained intact.
No one paused at the doors. Wade stepped off the carriage and hurried up the staircase, into the castle, through the Great Hall, and into the warmth of the welcoming chamber—only then did he finally breathe easy.
He nodded at Theo, removed his cloak, and shrunk it before tucking it away. As he sat down at the Ravenclaw Long Table, he heard a sudden scream from the entrance.
Harry and the others burst into the Great Hall, soaked to the bone. A group of fifth-year girls followed close behind, shrieking as they ran.
"Hey, what’s going on over there?" Fred called out, curiosity lighting his voice as he passed down the middle of the table.
"Peeves is throwing water bombs," Ron grumbled. "Just our luck..."
They sat at the Gryffindor Long Table, directly facing Wade. The sound of their wet socks squelching with every step was unmistakable.
Harry was already pulling off his shoes, trying to pour the water out. Before he could finish, a boy hurried over, eyes gleaming. "Harry! Guess what? My younger brother’s also enrolled! His name’s Dennis!"
Wade’s fingers twitched. He turned to look at the boy.
Colin Creevey. He and his younger brother were both devoted admirers of Harry Potter. As far as he remembered, both had died in the final battle—before they’d even turned eighteen.
"Hey, Colin," Michael called out, turning around with a mischievous grin. "You didn’t bring your camera, did you? You’re missing a golden opportunity to capture the ‘soaked chickens’ version of Harry Potter."
"Michael!" Harry shouted.
"Brilliant idea!" Colin’s eyes lit up. He held up his camera eagerly. "Can I take just one photo? Please?"
"Thanks, but no," Harry said firmly, pulling his damp, freezing shoes back on.
At that moment, the Great Hall doors swung open with a sudden gust. Professor McGonagall entered, leading a group of first-years.
The students instantly fell silent, turning their attention to the new arrivals.
The children looked like they’d been pulled straight from the lake—shivering, drenched, one even wearing Hagrid’s mole-fur coat, waving excitedly at Colin.
"I fell into the lake!" the boy mouthed, grinning wildly.
As Professor McGonagall brought the new students forward and pulled out the Sorting Hat, Harry leaned over and tugged at Wade’s sleeve.
Wade turned. Harry whispered, "Help me, Wade. We’re all soaked to the bone."
Back on the train, Michael had enthusiastically explained Wade’s self-invented Warm Breeze Spell. If clothing could be dried, who would willingly endure the chill of wet fabric clinging to their skin?
"Oh, Harry," Nick said, leaning in with sudden helpfulness. "If you need it, I can fetch you two candles."
Harry’s lips twitched. Hermione cut in, "Thanks, Nick, but we need something faster."
She wrung out the hem of her robe, her hair still dripping like seaweed freshly pulled from the ocean.
Wade smiled, drew his wand, and flicked his wrist. "Warm Breeze."
A stream of hot wind spiraled from the tip of his wand, rippling across the hall like a wave. It swept over Harry, then Hermione, and within seconds, it had filled the entire Great Hall.
In the whooshing sound of the wind, the Sorting Hat—just moments before preparing to sing—opened its mouth, its fabric puffing out in the heat. Several girls gasped as their wet hair instantly fluffed up, becoming soft and dry. Professor McGonagall’s pointed hat flew off her head for a split second before she caught it mid-air.
At the Slytherin Table, Malfoy’s perfectly styled hair exploded into a dandelion-like puff, while Pansy’s looked like a lion’s mane. On the staff table, Professor Snape’s robes suddenly billowed open before he suppressed them with a glare—then shot a furious look at Wade.
Professor Dumbledore, however, reacted swiftly, pressing a hand to his beard to keep it from being blown about. Then, with a contented squint, he leaned back, enjoying the warmth.
Above, the candles flickered wildly, their flames dancing but not going out. A few bats startled, darting across the ceiling in alarm.
Moments later, the warm wind faded.
Silence fell across the Great Hall.
The first-years stared at their dry clothes in disbelief. Several Muggle-born wizards’ eyes sparkled with wonder.
(End of Chapter)
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