Harry Potter and the HQL - Chapter - 14

The morning sun had barely crested the hills beyond Runestone Castle when Harry Potter finished his last walk through the creature grounds. The tall grass swayed gently in the breeze, and the familiar sounds of magical beasts filled the air—soft chirps from the moon owls, the low hum of the willow-horn deer, and even the occasional indignant snort from the moss-backed crups who disliked goodbyes.

Harry knelt beside a grazing silver-maned hippogriff named Athor, who leaned forward and gently nudged his shoulder.

“Easy there,” Harry whispered, stroking its beak. “Just one more year, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

He passed through each section of the grounds, offering last-minute checks, spoken promises, and a few treats. The wards around Runestone shimmered faintly as if recognizing his presence one last time before he left.

When he returned to the manor gates, Norky and Rosley were already waiting in their best house-elf uniforms—clean tunics with the Gosling crest stitched in silver thread. Norky’s eyes were shining, while Rosalie sniffled softly into a lace handkerchief.

“Master Harry is leaving for the train…” Norky said solemnly. “And Norky wishes it weren’t so.”

“You will be safe and brilliant,” Rosley added, stepping forward to straighten his collar. “But you will eat properly, yes? Not those floating sausages every meal?”

Harry smiled. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I left instructions for the care of all the creatures. And the journal’s by the fireplace in case of anything urgent.”

“And your broom, sir?” Norky asked.

“I packed it already. The Starlord prototype’s staying locked away—no one’s flying it but me until production starts.”

The elves both bowed deeply, and then, in a rare show of emotion, Rosley rushed forward and hugged Harry’s waist.

“Come back soon,” she whispered.

“Highgarden and Runestone both miss you when you’re gone,” Norky added with a nod.

With one final smile, Harry climbed into the black obsidian-toned car waiting at the entrance—an enchanted Muggle convertible charmed by Sirius to function on both magic and petrol. The roof was down, and the engine purred like a cat under stasis magic.

Sirius Black, in dark blue robes and shades, sat at the wheel, smirking. “Ready to go, Mr. CEO-slash-Quidditch Legend?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Harry said, dropping into the seat beside him.

With a hum of magic, the car lifted two inches off the road, and then zipped forward with a streak of wind and laughter echoing behind them.

By the time they arrived at King’s Cross Station, the place was already buzzing with activity. Owls hooted, cats meowed, and the shrill noise of children both excited and nervous filled the air.

Harry and Sirius pulled up just outside the side entrance closest to the barrier, where several wizarding families were gathering. Even before they stepped out, Harry could feel the eyes turning toward him.

As he passed through the barrier to Platform 9¾, a small crowd gathered around him almost instantly.

“Mr. Potter! Is it true the Starlord will fly faster than the Firebolt?”

“Can my son pre-order the broom from your shop?”

“Will there be a junior version for under-fourteens?”

One by one, witches and wizards came up—parents, students, even a few first years—offering congratulations, shaking his hand, and asking about his new broomstick model.

“You’ve inspired a whole generation,” said one mother with misty eyes. “My daughter reads every issue of your club’s magazine. You’re her hero.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling and adjusting his trunk. “We’re just getting started.”

Further down the platform, Fred and George waved from behind a cart stacked with luggage. Neville stood beside them, already in uniform, chatting with Hermione and Luna, who had just arrived.

Fred gave a mock bow. “Look who made time for the commoners.”

George added, “We were afraid you’d be flying the Starlord to Hogwarts and skipping the train entirely.”

“Tempting,” Harry quipped. “But I thought I’d give the Express one more year.”

Neville grinned. “It’s good you did. We’ve got our first Stars Club meeting planned on the train. New schedules. New member badges. And Luna brought weird snacks again.”

Luna blinked innocently. “Dried fire crab tails dipped in mint. Quite refreshing.”

Hermione looked vaguely horrified. “I brought cauldron cakes. Normal ones.”

As the train whistle blew its first call, Sirius gave Harry a firm hug.

“Write me if anything strange happens. Or if nothing happens and you just want to talk.”

Harry grinned. “I will. You’ve got Runestone, the factory, and a goblin king to babysit. I think I’ll be the one writing letters to distract you.”

Sirius gave him a mock salute. “Deal.”

With a deep breath, Harry turned, joined his friends, and boarded the train. As the scarlet engine hissed and lurched into motion, he leaned against the window for a moment, watching the crowd thin and the platform drift away.

A new year at Hogwarts had begun.
And this time, the world wasn’t just watching Harry the Boy Who Lived.
They were watching Harry the Inventor.
Harry the Heir of Black.
Harry, leader of the Stars Club.


The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express roared to life with a huff of steam and a lurch forward, pulling out of Platform 9¾ as laughter and waving hands faded into the distance. Inside the train, the carriages buzzed with excitement—students swapping holiday stories, Prefects walking the corridors, and cats, owls, and toads creating their usual soft chaos.

In Compartment 18, however, something far more structured was happening.

The space had already been claimed by the Stars Club.

And it was no longer just a compartment.

Inside the magically expanded compartment—charmed expertly by Harry himself—the small seating space had transformed into a lounge-sized meeting room, complete with enchanted cushions, soft lighting, and a floating chalkboard that read:

STARS CLUB – HOGWARTS EXPRESS MEETING

One by one, the members of the club filtered in—Fred, George, Neville, Hermione, Luna, Daphne, Tracy, Padma, Blaise, Theodore, and a host of now second-years who had joined last year as nervous first-years. They settled in on conjured chairs and cushions, the younger ones still looking slightly nervous about having their first meeting in the moving train.

Fred leaned toward George.

“I say we start every school year with a mobile boardroom.”

George nodded.

“Next time with a snack bar.”

Harry stood at the front of the room near the floating board, hands clasped.

“Alright everyone, settle down. I know we’ve had a long summer—and for many of you, this is your first time starting a school year with the Stars Club. So welcome back, and welcome officially.”


There was a round of polite applause, followed by a few excited cheers from the second-years.

“We’ve got a lot to cover today,” Harry continued, “but let’s start with the obvious. You’ve all heard about the... situation in the Wizarding World.”

The room grew a little quieter. Everyone knew what he meant.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry raised his voice just slightly—strong, clear, calm.

“I want you all to know: we are not changing our plans. The escape of one madwoman from Azkaban won’t stop us from building something new.”

He looked around the room, meeting eyes, especially those of the more anxious second-years.

“The Hogwarts Quidditch League is happening. Just like we discussed in Highgarden. The school version is just the beginning.”

Hermione nodded firmly. “It’s more than just a game. It’s about giving everyone a chance to play.”

“Exactly,” said Neville. “Every house, every student, not just the best seven per team.”

Harry turned back to the chalkboard and waved his wand. A sketch of a Quidditch stadium bloomed into view.

“After this year’s in-school league, we’ll expand. We’ll rent land from Hogsmeade next summer, and we’ll build our own stadium. With public access. People will buy tickets. Shops will sponsor us. And the Stars Club will be at the center of it all.”

Gasps and murmurs filled the compartment, but they were full of excitement.

George whistled. “We’re gonna have more Galleons than Gringotts if this works.”

“It will work,” said Harry. “But we need all of us to be focused. This school year is our trial run.”

Blaise raised a hand. “What about the Star Magazine? We’ve got two issues ready. Should we print right after we reach Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, already pulling out her planner. “Both are holiday specials. Perfect way to start the year.”

Daphne leaned in. “And we can use the next issue to launch publicity for the Quidditch League. Team sign-ups, match dates, rule structure.”

“And sponsors,” Harry added. “I didn’t accept any ads during the summer. Multiple businesses contacted me about advertising in the magazine, but I wanted to bring that to the club first.”

Instant reaction—hands shot up.

Padma asked, “Will we get more shares of the revenue if ads are added?”

“Yes,” said Harry. “We’ll divide ad revenue proportionally among contributors and editors.”

Fred grinned. “Finally, being the layout guy pays off.”

George nudged him. “You only volunteered for layout so you could hide weird jokes in the margin.”

“And they were funny!” Fred said indignantly.

The meeting continued with a list of tasks:

Finalizing Quidditch League rules.

Assigning house liaisons to recruit interested players.

Distributing Star Club badges and second-year mentor roles.

Planning the first Hogwarts print run once they returned.


By the end of the meeting, the compartment felt like home again. The room was filled with laughter, purpose, and the shared spark of ambition.

Harry sat back, watching them all with a quiet smile.

This wasn’t just a club anymore.

This was a movement.


The Hogwarts Express rattled comfortably along the track, the golden fields of the English countryside rushing past in a blur. Inside the train, laughter, footsteps, and chatter filled the air. Students were moving between compartments, swapping sweets, gossiping, and, of course, causing the occasional bit of mischief.

And right in the middle of it all, strutting like he owned the entire train, was Draco Malfoy.

Draco’s traditional sneer was in place as he led Crabbe and Goyle through each corridor. But this year, he had added a new twist to his performance.

“When my aunt Bellatrix hears about this,” he declared in a loud, dramatic voice, “you’ll wish you were expelled.”

A small group of first years froze in their seats. One of them, a muggle-born girl with wide eyes, clutched her pet rat tightly.

“Bellatrix?” she whispered. “The one from the wanted posters?”

Draco grinned smugly.

“Oh yes. Bellatrix Lestrange. The Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. She’s family, you see.”

Gasps echoed around the compartment. Normally, no one paid Draco’s “when my father hears about this” threats any mind, but now… even Slytherins looked uneasy.

Crabbe and Goyle laughed like trolls, loving the fear it caused.

Then Draco reached the Stars Club compartment. The meeting had just ended, and most members were making their way back to their seats. Harry, Neville, Fred, and George had remained behind to talk business—plans for expanding the Star Broomstick Company, dealing with sponsors, and how to license the Starlord internationally.

“Well, well,” Draco drawled from the doorway, his hands tucked behind his back. “Look at the Golden Boy, playing entrepreneur. Still pretending you’re better than the rest of us, Potter?”

Harry didn’t even look up.

“Not pretending, Malfoy. Just working.”

Draco’s smile thinned.

“Enjoy it while you can. You never know when Aunt Bellatrix might want to ask questions.”

Neville’s fist tightened.


There was a knock on the compartment door—slow, cold, hollow.

Fred stood. “If that’s Malfoy again—”

But Harry had a strange feeling. His breath came out as mist.

He stepped forward, wand already in hand. “No… that’s not Malfoy.”

The others fell quiet.

Harry pulled open the door.

The thing that floated just beyond the doorway was not a student, not a teacher, not anything that should have been aboard a school train.

It was a Dementor.

Its skeletal fingers curled around the doorframe. The black cloak around its body drifted like tattered mist. No eyes, no mouth—just a gaping hood, and the chill of absolute despair pouring from its presence like poison.

Harry gasped. The freezing air wrapped around his lungs like chains.

His wand slipped from his fingers.

A high-pitched scream echoed inside his skull—his mother’s voice—and he couldn’t move. Cold. So cold.

“No—please—don’t—Lily, take him and run!”

Then came laughter—a terrible, shrieking laugh.

His knees buckled.

And then—

Light.

A blast of silver erupted behind him. A massive shape—an ethereal fox, jaws bared—charged forward and struck the Dementor square in the chest. It howled silently and drifted back, fleeing down the corridor in retreat.

Harry collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.