Hermione looked somewhat pleased.

Apart from Professor Sprout, she had never seen anyone who could enjoy Harry's detention... Oh, no, anyone who could enjoy putting Harry in detention, not even Professor Snape.

Visible to the naked eye.

Since Harry entered school, Professor Snape's hair has become thinner every year, especially in the last one or two years. He looks more and more like a qualified middle-aged British man, except that his body is still thin.

"How can you call it detention?" Harry shook his head and interrupted him softly, "He's obviously an ambitious student who wants to climb to a higher position in the field of potions. Shouldn't a professor like Slughorn be willing to do that?"

They were talking and laughing.

The train stopped at the station.

The weather this year was not very good, and it was foggy. Hagrid still came to greet them, staring at an oil lamp in his hand, illuminating a small area in the thick fog.

He raised his walking stick-like magic wand, waved it gently, and said in a loud voice: "First-year students, come here."

"Oh, and Harry."

"Can you please come to the cabin this weekend?"

Harry agreed: "Of course."

Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief, "That's great."

He waved the huge oil lamp, and his wand produced silk, which he tied around the hands of each little wizard. He originally wanted to tie them around their necks, which was his usual method for dealing with magical creatures. But just as the silk was about to reach the neck of a little wizard, he realized that these little cubs were wizards, not the cubs of the Thestrals, unicorns, or centaurs.

Haze weather is more dangerous than any other weather.

On rainy days, these kids could still realize that it would be dangerous if they didn't follow the professor holding the oil lamp closely, but the foggy weather numbed their nerves and made them mistakenly believe that it was not that dangerous.

It is not uncommon for the opening dinner to be ruined due to foggy weather where little wizards run around and get into trouble, forcing all professors to go out to look for them.

The senior students led the team, and the junior students followed behind.

Ron has just organized the second and third grade teams.

On the other side, a violent conflict broke out.

"Malfoy, what on earth are you trying to do!" Zabini, who had just met Harry and the others in Box C, roared, "Do you really think you are a Slytherin prefect?"

"Are you bossing us around?"

"What do you think?!"

All the students looked over. Even some lagging first-year wizards heard the noise and curiously poked their heads out to look, but they were dragged by the silk. All the first-year wizards who would be attending the four colleges in the future could not hold Hagrid together.

The Gryffindors were no exception and all stopped.

Malfoy's face could not be seen clearly in the thick fog, but his artificial eyes inlaid with emeralds were shining brightly and eye-catchingly: "Aha, you can even say such stupid words..."

"It makes me wonder how you managed to stay in Slytherin for five years."

He raised his wand slowly.

The tone was as cool as the night air.

"Zabini, you really should go to Gryffindor."

Ron cursed directly. What did he mean? Gryffindor is now the best house in Hogwarts. Owls, four of the top ten students are in Gryffindor. Four! Slytherin almost fell to the same level as Hufflepuff, with only two people in the top ten.

Without waiting for him to finish scolding.

Malfoy chanted the spell.

The gestures and speech were so fast, and almost instantly, a white light flew out.

Ropes flew out and bound him.

The second spell was cast almost at the same time as the first, silently, with only astonishing magical power filled with malice. It fell on Shabini, and the skin on his face immediately cracked, with blood gushing out.

"Malfoy, you bastard whose father is dead." A seventh-year student took out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

He roared and was about to cast a spell.

But how could a student who only had experience in bullying his classmates possibly have more combat experience than a desperado who had escaped death several times in half a month.

He didn't even finish a single spell.

Malfoy casts a spell.

A mischievous spell - Fat Tongue Swollen. The Slytherins who were keen on bullying and took it as a hobby were very familiar with it. In the second and third years, they often used it for fun. George and Fred's Fat Tongue Toffee was inspired by it, but later this spell was abandoned by them.

It's not a change of heart.

However, this minor physical change no longer satisfies their interest in "little jokes".

The seventh grader only then realized how useful this spell was in a duel.

Unable to chant the spell.

"My father died to protect his family." Malfoy's face darkened and he took a deep breath, as if even his other eye was stained with the color of emerald. "But what about your father?"

"I heard about it recently."

"They are so busy trying to keep their jobs."

"It's really disappointing. Did Dumbledore's weakness give them more than ten years of confidence, allowing them to think they can do it now?"

"I'm really looking forward to the day when our fathers meet again in hell."

He waved his wand again.

The seventh grader's robe twisted and turned into a long stick, which was passed under his and Zabini's wrists, lifting them up and hanging them in the air.

"Now, does anyone else have any objections to what I said?" Malfoy clenched his wand and slowly loosened it, his eyes sweeping over those eccentric Slytherins who had fought the most with him in the past two years.

No Slytherin dared to speak.

After a short silence.

Malfoy nodded gently: "Very good, then do as I say, everyone line up, the younger grades follow the older grades."

The Slytherins left in silence.

Malfoy walked in front, his steps firm and steady.

The young wizards from the remaining three academies looked at this scene in surprise.

Ron smacked his lips meaningfully.

"Harry, I think he's copying you." When they reached the Thestral carriage, Ron slapped his thigh. "No wonder his posture looked so familiar to me."

Harry said nothing.

Luna suddenly leaned over and said, "This is normal. Malfoy needs to protect himself, so he will naturally choose to be the best among his peers."

Ron was startled by her: "Luna, why are you here?"

"Ginny and Neville, and another couple." Luna answered obediently, shaking her head and swinging her carrot earrings. "They seem to be preparing for some activities, so they asked me to come find you."

"Did Neville encounter a Scimitar-Horned Snorlax during the summer vacation?"

They chose to ignore what followed.

"Mom told her to take good care of you before school started." Ron sighed, opened the carriage door, and walked in first.

"Little Ronnie can see the Thestrals?" Luna was the second one to follow and asked a question out of the blue.

Ron looked at him and asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Harassment." Luna raised her hand and waved it over Ron's head. "There's a large group of people around you. I've only seen this on a large scale in fourth-year Hermione."

Ron shook his head left and right, following her lead in dispersing the things around him. It took him a while to react: "There's no such thing!"

"Yes." Luna was stubborn.

Ron sighed and stared at the Thestrals pulling the carriage and slowly pedaling their hooves.

Until this year, he had never seen this creature.

Until, he saw Neville and Bellatrix fighting to a draw, and saw Neville chop off Bellatrix's head, and now he could see the Thestrals.

This made Ron feel complicated.

When he couldn't see this kind of creature, he was very envious because his friends could see it, but he couldn't.

But when I really saw it...

This creature didn't look good. It was very thin, with bones connected to skin and no flesh at all. It looked like a mummy, black, but not the shiny black like Sirius's. Even its hair was lifeless.

The Thestrals are not as cool as I imagined.

Death is not as elegant as I imagined.

Luna chattered on and on, telling them many things that happened during her summer vacation, most of which focused on her father. Mr. Lovegood had become a very popular pie now, with an endless stream of ladies visiting him every day, even the most famous Mrs. Zabini.

The lady was very good at choosing her husband. She was only 35 years old this year, and she had already had seven husbands in her short life.

She inherited her surname from her first husband.

The property in her hands was inherited from her other six husbands.

Each of her husbands was short-lived, with an average tenure of less than three years. The Ministry of Magic had reasonably suspected more than once that Mrs. Zabini was involved in some murders, but it had never found any evidence. Each of her husbands was willing to love her to death.

Now...she's got her eyes on Lovegood.

When talking about this, Luna's tone was full of deep dissatisfaction, but the result was very good. The editor-in-chief who sang the devil's advocate seemed unable to appreciate the charm of women.

When Mr. Lovegood invited the charming Mrs. Zabini for the third time to go with him to the Amazon rainforest to look for the Scimitar-horned Snorkeller, this well-mannered lady could no longer endure it.

Ron was delighted.

Just as Luna was about to talk about the fourth lady who pursued her father, the carriage stopped at the castle gate.

They walked over to the long table and made it.

Professor McGonagall hurried over: "Oh, no, Harry, I didn't realize until the beginning of the term that the Sorting Hat was in your hand the whole time!"

Harry took off his hat. "Sorry, I'll need it for a lot of things during the summer vacation."

Professor McGonagall took it and shook it twice: "Can you call it back?"

Harry raised his wand and tapped it.

The breath circulated, and the hat came back. It grumbled unhappily, "Harry, I'm having a great time flying. Haha, you'll never guess where I am now."

"Haha, you'll never guess what time it is now." Harry said softly, laughing coldly.