The compartment was filled with the soft shuffle of cards and the distant hum of train wheels against track. Afternoon light filtered through the wide windows, slicing golden beams across the players' faces and catching in the dancing motes of dust.
Harry was losing.
Badly.
"How are you guys winning?" he grumbled, incredulous, glaring at his pitiful hand—a mismatched mess that defied both logic and luck.
Hermione didn't even look up as she aligned her final card with practiced ease. "It's just maths, really. Pattern recognition. Probability."
Harry let out a wounded snort. "Yeah, you I get. And James? Sure. Cold-blooded tactician. Probably memorized the deck order for fun. But Ron? Come on!"
Ron paused mid-bite of a Chocolate Frog, blinked once like he'd been shaken from a nap, and grinned.
"Well, my poor, cursed friend..." he leaned forward with theatrical flair, "...I have what very few possess—experience. Years of losing. Builds character. And strategy."
Harry groaned and let his forehead thud dramatically onto the table. "Bloody hell."
James chuckled softly, arms folded, his wand resting idly across his lap—an unconscious habit forged in caution. He let his gaze drift to the window, where the countryside blurred in long, lazy streaks of green, amber, and shadow.
Yes. This is how it should be.
Lighthearted banter. Laughter. No blood on the floor.
Then—
BOOM.
BOOM.
Two thunderous explosions tore through the quiet, rupturing the calm like claws raking through silk.
The train lurched, metal screaming against metal, wheels grinding as the carriage violently shuddered. The compartment convulsed, windows imploding inward in a storm of glass and pressure.
Hermione, seated nearest the window, took the blast head-on. The force threw her sideways, her head cracking against the wooden panel before her body slumped boneless to the floor.
James staggered. His hand flew to his face as pain bloomed across his forehead—warm blood trickling from a sharp slice just above his brow. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears, drowning out the screams and sudden chaos beyond the door.
"Hermione!" Ron's voice rang out, panicked. He scrambled toward her just as smoke began to pour through the corridor.
Harry was groaning, dazed under the bench, his glasses cracked. A pulse hung in the air—magic. Thick, electric, and wrong. The kind that always came before violence.
The train had been attacked.
Rear Carriage – Seconds Earlier
The rear-end Auror—a wizard in deep crimson robes—was already moving when the first blast struck. He kicked open the rear door, wand drawn in a white-knuckled grip.
CRACK.
Apparition. Two figures in black robes and silver masks appeared from the haze.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The Auror dove left, a crate splintering where he'd just been. His wand lashed out—Stupefy!, then Confringo! The first Death Eater caught the blast full-on, his body slammed backward, robes smoking.
But the second attacker was faster.
A vicious hex slashed across the Auror's neck. He collapsed wordlessly as the surviving assailant dragged his wounded ally toward the front.
Engine Car – Moments Later
CRACK.
The Auror stationed at the front barely turned before a dark blue bolt slammed into his spine. He collapsed with a grunt, twitching as his wand rolled from his fingers.
The lead Death Eater stepped over the corpse, consulting a crumpled bit of parchment. The masked face tilted upward—toward the carriages.
Target: Identified.
Back in James' Compartment
James blinked through the haze, pushing himself upright. His blood-soaked sleeve brushed Hermione's cheek as he knelt beside her.
She was unconscious—but breathing.
He turned his head. Harry was sitting up now, one hand bracing against the floor, the other fumbling for his wand. His face was pale beneath the smudges of soot.
James' jaw tightened. This wasn't just a random explosion. There was intent.
"Check Hermione. Make sure she's stable."
Harry nodded shakily.
Then—
FLASH.
A sickly green light poured through the shattered window, casting the compartment in an eerie glow. A Killing Curse—cast from outside.
James didn't hesitate.
He sprang to the door, boots crunching glass underfoot, and stepped into the smoke-filled corridor.
His eyes locked on a figure—cloaked in green, not black—moving through the grey like a phantom, wand still in hand.
Before he could process it fully, another CRACK sounded behind him.
Apparition. Inside the compartment.
Inside the Compartment Again
James whirled, wand raised and ready.
Two intruders had appeared.
Black cloaks. Bone-white masks.
One had his wand on Ron's slumped form.
The other—on the doorway.
They hadn't expected resistance so soon.
"Stupefy!" James snapped, his wand flicking upward in a controlled arc.
The red bolt struck the Death Eater by the door full in the chest. The man was blasted backward, his wand clattering to the floor as he collapsed in a heap.
The second attacker turned with a growl—too slow.
A violet hex burst from his wand, but James had already dropped into a half-crouch, twisting sideways, the spell searing past his ribs and scorching the wall.
James' counterspell was smoother—flatter arc, close aim. "Stupefy."
The spell caught the second intruder in the sternum.
THWACK.
He hit the ground with a solid, final sound.
Smoke swirled in the silence.
James strode across the room, chest rising with rapid breaths. His wand remained raised as he kicked one wand aside and checked the second attacker for movement.
Still.
He turned back. Harry was crouched over Hermione, checking her pulse with trembling fingers.
"She's alive. Breathing's a bit shallow."
James nodded. "Good. Ron?"
Harry swallowed. " out. But he's breathing too. They didn't finish the job. They are after me."
James looked at the crumpled bodies on the floor.
James stepped toward the window, the breeze now tugging at his bloodstained shirt. Outside, black clouds gathering, students screaming, and something dark circling above the train.
A plan was unfolding.
And Harry was the prize.
James clenched his wand. His mind was already racing—routes through the train, fallback points, tactical options. His calm, cold nature began to surface .
The train wasn't safe .