"No, that's not popular in the wizarding world!"
"He's just an exception."
The little witch sitting next to Hermione put down her book to defend the wizarding world. Usually, it was wizards who looked down on Muggles, and she couldn't let this idiot tarnish the reputation of pure-blood wizards.
She had already recognized the chubby boy. Among pure-blood families, Neville's name was well-known—but not for good reasons.
"Sorry, Trevor was a gift from my great-uncle when I was eight…"
Neville recounted his journey of awakening magic—a tale filled with trials and near-death experiences. Despite the hardships, he finally succeeded and was rewarded with the toad, Trevor.
Hermione, listening nearby, was stunned. She hadn't expected the wizarding world to be this intense.
"Are you sure your great-uncle gave you the toad out of joy, and not… something else?" Ethan asked, curious.
Although called a "toad" in Britain, toads weren't exactly ideal pets.
At Hogwarts, students were allowed to bring owls, toads, and rats. However, the real reason was practical—parts of toads were used in potions, and rats served as test subjects. Only a few actually kept them as pets, and the allowance was more about safety than companionship.
The Weasley family, for example, had rats because they couldn't afford better. If they could have afforded owls, would they still have chosen rats?
Like Percy—he got an owl as a prefect reward and promptly gave the family rat to Ron.
But the Longbottoms weren't poor. The Remembrall Neville's grandmother sent him was obviously expensive—likely a custom-made alchemical item.
"Probably! I've always been a bit clumsy, and I'm worried Hogwarts might send me back… I…"
Neville trailed off, slipping into a gloomy mood. He had long struggled with feelings of inferiority, thinking none of the four houses would even want him.
Hermione glanced at Ethan, speechless, as if to say, Look what you've done.
Another young witch scratched her forehead in frustration, thinking this boy might ruin the image of pure-bloods.
"Since you've received an acceptance letter, you're definitely going," Ethan said, trying to reassure him. "No one gets sent back after that."
And he was right.
If Neville hadn't been hit with a Memory Charm, he might have been as talented as Harry. The prophecy didn't only point to Harry—it applied to both of them.
Without Neville's pivotal sword strike on Nagini, Harry wouldn't have won. Both were crucial.
"Really?" Neville asked, perking up.
"Of course. Have you ever heard of someone receiving a Hogwarts letter and not being allowed to attend?"
Ethan shrugged.
He did know of one exception—a Squib who never received a letter but broke into Hogwarts on the first day of term and stole the Sorting Hat. The Hat told him he had no magical talent and couldn't be sorted.
"Neville Longbottom."
Neville straightened and introduced himself formally. Over the years, people his age had mostly mocked him. Kindness was rare.
"Ethan Adriane," Ethan responded.
"Hermione Granger," Hermione said with a warm smile.
"Cassandra Voleur—the future pride of Slytherin," the other girl declared proudly.
"You're in Slytherin?" Hermione asked, surprised. She had assumed everyone present was her age. Based on what she'd read about Slytherin, she wasn't fond of it.
"I'm starting first year this year too," Cassandra said confidently. "But I'll definitely be in Slytherin."
So that's who she is! Ethan thought. A game character—but her timeline seemed off.
Chapter 16: A Battle of Magic
"You all grew up in wizarding families—you must've seen magic since you were little. Can you show me something?" Hermione asked, both curious and nervous about her life at Hogwarts.
She'd always been top of her class, developing a strong competitive spirit. Her only academic defeat had been against Ethan. Since then, she'd studied hard and was determined not to lose again.
But magic was different. Without a teacher, it was hard to learn. Over the summer, Hermione had only mastered three spells: Lumos, Alohomora, and Reparo.
She feared she'd fall behind children raised in magical homes—becoming what she dreaded most: an underachiever.
Now, with an opportunity to gauge the level of her peers, she couldn't resist.
"Um…"
Neville stammered, unsure how to respond. Though he saw magic all the time, performing it himself was another matter.
Pfft!
Ethan couldn't help but chuckle. Hermione pressed eagerly, while Neville looked ready to shrink into his seat.
"What are you laughing at?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing!" Ethan said innocently, hands raised.
"I'll show you what real magic is," Cassandra declared confidently. Though she didn't think much of Neville, she liked Hermione even less—a Muggle-born wizard she preferred not to associate with.
Still, she was just an eleven-year-old child, and showing off was only natural.
Under the group's gaze, Cassandra drew her wand with elegance and pointed it into the air.
"Incendio!"
Flames erupted from her wand's tip, forming a swirling, bright orange vortex that lingered mid-air.
She looked proudly at Ethan. In her eyes, he was the only one worth impressing.
Ethan must be a half-blood, she guessed. She knew every pure-blood family in Britain and had never heard of "Adriane." And his extravagant spending in Diagon Alley? That didn't match the profile of a Muggle-born.
So, by process of elimination, he must be a half-blood.
"That's the Fire-Making Spell, right? I've tried it so many times but couldn't get it to work!" Hermione jumped up, eyes wide, staring at Cassandra's spell.
So this is the gap between Muggle-borns and wizard-raised kids, she thought.
Ignoring Hermione's amazement, Cassandra turned to Ethan, asking pointedly:
"What spells have you learned?"
She had bought upper-year textbooks and studied intensely—all to surpass Ethan. She needed to know his level. Hard work mattered, but if he lacked talent, he wasn't even worth her rivalry.
"Incendio!"
The same spell burst from Ethan's wand. The flame vortex he produced was nearly identical in size and intensity to Cassandra's.
He hadn't focused much on this spell, but Ethan had excellent magic control and more magical power than most first-years. Replicating the spell wasn't difficult.
"Ethan, you can do it too?" Hermione asked, amazed.
She had accepted her earlier defeat, but to lose again in magic?
Cassandra's lips curled into a competitive smirk. Now this is interesting. If Ethan had no talent, this would've been boring.
With a flick of her wand, Cassandra's flame took shape, becoming a small fire snake that lunged at Ethan's vortex as if to devour it.
A silent challenge.
But reality was cruel.
The moment their spells collided, Cassandra's flames faltered. Neither dared to expand the fire within the cramped carriage, so the outcome depended entirely on magical control.
Cassandra could only watch as Ethan's flame surged thirty centimeters before her—then dissipated.
Though they looked like flames, it was really a test of raw magical strength and spellcasting control. Without fuel, and unlike Fiendfyre, these spells didn't burn endlessly.
"Ethan, we're both from Muggle families and had no exposure to magic before. How did you do it?" Hermione asked, her curiosity genuine.
She could admit when someone was better than her.
"We geniuses are just like that!" Ethan said with a cheeky grin.
"Then teach me! You must have some tricks!" Hermione pleaded.
She didn't want to be a poor student. She'd excelled in the Muggle world—why not here too?
Hermione convinced herself it was just a matter of learning the magical way of studying.
"Wait—did you say he's Muggle-born?" Cassandra interrupted, shocked.
"Yes, I know him," Hermione confirmed.
"I lost today, but this isn't the right place. Next time, I'll win," Cassandra said seriously.
As the pride of her family and a recognized genius, Cassandra couldn't accept defeat. She would come back stronger.
Chapter 17: Malfoy Gets Beaten Up Again and Again
At Hermione's insistence, Ethan began sharing tips on spellcasting—how to wave the wand, channel magic, control the spell's output, and more.
Neville chimed in occasionally with trivia from the wizarding world. In turn, Ethan and Hermione asked him questions that only someone raised in that world could answer.
Cassandra, meanwhile, sat reading silently—but it was clear her mind wasn't on the book, which hadn't been turned in a while.
The carriage had a peaceful, pleasant atmosphere.
At lunchtime, they brought out their food and bought some treats from the trolley witch. Everyone had money—even Hermione had saved some Galleons.
Time passed as they talked and laughed. By the time the sky darkened, Ethan was drowsy, staring out the window at the passing scenery.
"It sounds like a fight's going on next door," he murmured, just as a piercing scream echoed from the adjoining carriage.