Harry Potter and the Cataclysm

The last of the desserts vanished, and Dumbledore stood, causing the hall to fall silent once more.

"Now that we've all had our fill, I have a few important notices to share as we begin the new school year," he announced.

"First years should take note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students. Some of our older students would also do well to remember that."

His twinkling eyes drifted toward the Weasley twins, who grinned at him innocently.

"Furthermore, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that magic should not be used in the corridors between classes."

"The Quidditch team trials will take place in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in trying out for their house team should speak to Madam Hooch."

"And finally," Dumbledore's voice grew more serious, "I must warn you all that anyone who does not wish to meet an untimely, painful demise should avoid the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor."

Carnie nearly laughed out loud. There's the classic cryptic warning!

Harry and a few others chuckled, though most students looked confused or nervous. If Harry knew that this was a carefully laid trap specifically for him, he might not find it so funny. Or maybe he'd laugh even harder.

"Now, before we all head off to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore announced cheerfully.

He flicked his wand, and golden ribbons of text swirled into the air above the hall, forming lyrics.

"Everyone pick your favorite tune," Dumbledore said. "Ready? Sing!"

And with that, the entire hall erupted into chaotic, discordant singing.

🎶 Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

🎶 

Our heads could do with filling 

With some interesting stuff, 

For now, they're bare and full of air, 

Dead flies and bits of fluff.

🎶

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains rot.

The song ended in a complete mess of different melodies—some students finished quickly, while others, like the Weasley twins, deliberately dragged it out by singing in the slow, somber tune of a funeral march.

Carnie couldn't help but think, Who the hell wrote these lyrics? The song was awkward to sing, the words were ridiculous, and the lack of a unified melody made the whole performance sound like a drunken tavern chant.

Dumbledore, however, seemed absolutely delighted. He wiped at his eyes as if wiping away tears of joy. "Ah, music," he sighed, "a magic beyond all we do here! Now, off to bed, all of you!"

"First-year Gryffindors, follow me!" called Percy Weasley, standing up and motioning for them to come along.

Carnie followed the group out of the Great Hall, up the grand marble staircase, and through a twisting maze of corridors. Along the way, they passed shimmering suits of armor, paintings that whispered and gossiped, and staircases that shifted unpredictably.

At last, they reached the end of a long corridor where a large portrait of a plump woman in a pink dress awaited them.

"Password?" she asked.

"Dragon dung," Percy stated confidently.

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open, revealing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. The first-years climbed through the passageway and found themselves in a spacious, warmly lit common room. It was large, filled with comfy armchairs, sofas, and a fireplace that crackled invitingly.

Percy turned to the group. "The common room is where you'll spend most of your time outside of class. Every week, the password changes, so make sure to remember it—otherwise, you'll be spending the night in the corridor." He gestured to two spiral staircases. "Boys' dormitories to the left, girls' to the right. Off you go!"

The first-years climbed the stairs. Carnie and Neville found themselves sharing a dormitory with Harry, Ron, and Seamus Finnigan. Each of them had a four-poster bed draped in deep red curtains.

As soon as Neville changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, he was out like a light.

Carnie, on the other hand, still felt a bit sweaty from the long climb up all those stairs. He took a moment to wash up before returning to the dorm.

When he entered, he stopped in his tracks.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Carnie muttered.

Harry was sitting by the window in his pajamas, absentmindedly stroking his snowy owl, Hedwig. He gazed outside as if deep in thought.

"You're not sleeping?" Carnie asked.

"I just… I can't believe this is real," Harry admitted. "It's all so unbelievable. Magic is real. Tomorrow, we start learning how to do it. It just doesn't feel real yet."

Carnie smirked. "You mean, you're scared you'll wake up and find out this was all a dream?"

Harry turned to him in surprise. "Yeah… how did you know?"

Carnie didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed Harry's pillow off his bed and chucked it straight at his head.

The pillow hit Harry with a soft thump, knocking him slightly off balance.

"Real enough for you?" Carnie asked dryly as he climbed into his own bed.

Harry blinked, then laughed softly, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, okay, I get it."

"Go to sleep," Carnie muttered. "I have a feeling you'll be late tomorrow."

Harry sighed, but after a moment, he crawled back into bed, still smiling a little. "Talk about a rude wake-up call..." he muttered, but there was amusement in his voice.

Hogwarts, however, was not entirely asleep.

Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office – Eighth Floor

In the dimly lit office filled with bizarre magical trinkets and bookshelves stacked to the ceiling, Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, stroking his long beard thoughtfully. In his hands, he held the Sorting Hat.

He placed it on his head.

"Anything unusual about this year's new students?"

For a moment, the Sorting Hat remained silent. Then—

"You are quite bold, my dear Headmaster!"

Dumbledore nearly choked on his own saliva. "Excuse me?"

"Ah, my apologies, Albus. I picked up a new phrase from one of the students this year—very interesting vocabulary."

The headmaster raised an eyebrow. "A new phrase?"

"Yes! 'You are quite bold!'—or rather, 'You are quite...'"

Dumbledore quickly cast a few detection spells, just in case some mischievous student had cursed the hat. No dark magic was found. He hesitated before putting the hat back on.

"Are you alright, old friend?"

"Oh, quite fine! I was merely quoting a fascinating first-year student. Carnie Stran, to be exact."

Dumbledore's expression turned contemplative. "Ah. Him."

"Curious one, that boy. Most peculiar. When I tried to read his mind, I found… nothing."

The headmaster's blue eyes sharpened. "Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing. No thoughts, no emotions—like staring into a void. I could not glimpse even a flicker of what lay within him. He chose Gryffindor himself. I had no choice but to accept."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Interesting…"

A knock sounded at the office door. Moments later, Professors McGonagall and Snape entered.

"Albus, you called us?" McGonagall asked.

Snape, as usual, remained silent, his piercing black eyes studying Dumbledore.

"It's about Carnie Stran," Dumbledore said.

McGonagall blinked. "Stran? Headmaster, is there something special about him? You asked me to personally guide him to Diagon Alley, but I didn't notice anything unusual. His magic seemed… average."

Snape's lip curled. "If this is all, I have more important matters to attend to."

"Patience, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly. "I wanted your opinion as well."

Snape remained silent, though his expression clearly stated, Hurry up, old man.

"You both know how Hogwarts identifies magical children and sends out letters," Dumbledore began. "Typically, a child's magic manifests before they turn eleven. Their emotions influence their surroundings, triggering detectable magical fluctuations."

McGonagall nodded. "Yes. That's how the Quill of Acceptance works."

Dumbledore's fingers tapped the desk. "Carnie Stran's name appeared in our records before he was even born."

McGonagall's eyes widened slightly. Snape, however, stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"When I attempted to send his Hogwarts letter, I discovered he had not yet been born—only a few months away from entering the world."

McGonagall's lips tightened. "Albus, do you think he could be… a Obscurial?"

Snape frowned at that, but Dumbledore shook his head. "No. His magic is completely stable. There are no signs of suppressed magical outbursts."

He turned to Snape. "Severus, you are well-versed in Legilimency. Did you sense any traces of Occlumency in the boy?"

Snape's expression darkened. "Occlumency? From an eleven-year-old? That would be ridiculous." He paused, then grudgingly admitted, "However… if he is practicing Occlumency, he is either an unparalleled genius or something else entirely. Because I sensed nothing from him."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Exactly. The Sorting Hat confirmed as much—it could not read him at all."

For a long moment, silence filled the office.

Dumbledore finally sighed. "For now, let's keep an eye on him. If anything changes, inform me immediately."

McGonagall nodded firmly. Snape scowled but said nothing.

As they departed, Dumbledore looked out the window at the sleeping castle.

Hogwarts had many mysteries.

And tonight, it had gained one more.