The whistle blew, and the train began to move slowly.
Hermione and Loren kept discussing that lost piece of Hogwarts history, imagining what the school must have been like back then.
Just then, the door to their compartment was knocked on. After Loren called, "Come in," the door slid open, and a round-faced boy stepped inside, cheeks flushed as he asked timidly:
"C-could I stay here? The compartments up front are all full."
"Of course you can, there's nobody else here."
Loren immediately recognized Neville Longbottom's shy and timid demeanor standing at the door.
"By the look of your age, you must be a first year too. We'll be classmates from now on, so don't be shy—come in quickly, don't block the way for others."
Loren's tone was warm and kind. Neville Longbottom, the future swordmaster of Gryffindor, would make a fine friend indeed.
Neville, encouraged, fumbled with his luggage, trying to push it inside, but perhaps Loren's remark about not blocking the door spurred him too much. The wheels caught on the threshold, and after a few clumsy attempts he still hadn't managed.
Loren stood up, walked over, and with one hand easily lifted Neville's trunk and set it onto the luggage rack. Neville stared at him wide-eyed in astonishment.
"I was just born strong, nothing special. Don't stand there frozen, come on in."
Loren pulled Neville inside and nudged him into the empty seat opposite, closing the door behind them.
It wasn't until he was seated that Neville finally found his voice, quickly thanking Loren and introducing himself.
"Thank you for your help. I'm Neville—Neville Longbottom."
"No need to thank me. I'm Loren Angus, and this here is my girlfriend, Hermione Jean Granger."
It was the first time Hermione had heard Loren introduce her as his girlfriend in front of someone else. Her cheeks flushed pink, but she quickly shifted her attention to Neville. Loren had already told her about the old wizarding families.
"Neville, is your whole family made up of wizards? Both Loren's and my parents are Muggles."
"Yes, we're all wizards… though now I live with my grandmother. My parents… not long after I was born, they were ambushed by Death Eaters. Since then they've been at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries…"
Neville lowered his head to the table, voice heavy with sorrow.
"Then you must already know a lot of magic, right? Loren and I only found out about magic this past July—we could never compare to you in our studies."
Hermione tried to shift the conversation, hoping to lift his spirits.
"I've always been slow-witted… until I was eight, everyone thought I was a Squib. It wasn't until my Great-Uncle dropped me out of a window that I finally showed magic. After that, my gran never really taught me any spells—she said Hogwarts would teach me everything."
Neville's head sank even lower.
Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but Loren reached out discreetly to stop her, taking over the conversation before Neville buried himself entirely into the table.
"By the way, Neville, do you know about dittany? I read it's a common magical herb, really good for healing cuts. I thought of growing some at home—my mum is so clumsy in the kitchen she's always nicking herself. If I had dittany, she'd suffer a lot less."
Loren spun a harmless lie, steering the topic toward herbology. At once Neville perked up, eagerly explaining dittany's nature and how to cultivate it.
Loren kept asking questions about herbs, and Neville happily answered each one. The more they spoke, the more Neville felt they shared the same interests. By the end, he even thumped his chest, promising he'd write to his gran at once once they reached Hogwarts, and ask her to send Loren some dittany essence by owl.
Watching them, Hermione felt as though Loren were tricking a naïve child. But seeing how serious he looked, peppering Neville with questions about plants, even she might have believed him—if she hadn't already seen the potions hidden in his bag.
Not wanting to interrupt their cheerful talk, Hermione went back to her book, Hogwarts: A History.
Time slipped by, the train rattling out of London and across fields dotted with sheep and cattle.
By half past twelve, the sound of rattling wheels and loud clattering filled the corridor. Interrupted, Loren and Neville stopped their discussion.
A smiling witch with dimples pushed the trolley door open.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?"
Neville said he had a packed lunch. Hermione, raised with her parents' strict habits, disliked sweets, so she only bought a few Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Loren, however, indulged himself with Chocolate Frogs—other candies held no allure anymore, not after spending over a month wandering Diagon Alley.
When the trolley witch left, Loren laid the Chocolate Frogs and his packed lunch on the table, inviting Neville to share. Hermione followed suit, unpacking her own food.
Neville gladly joined in, taking out the lunch his grandmother had prepared. Now that Loren was already his good friend, it felt only natural to share.
The smell of food stirred Crookshanks awake. He climbed onto the table edge, paws gripping at the wood, peering at the meal.
"This is my pet, Crookshanks," Hermione explained, quickly scooping him up. "He's a greedy little thing. He's been asleep since we got on the train, but food always wakes him."
"Your pet's lovely, Hermione. Mine's a toad, named Trevor. My Great-Uncle gave him to me when my magic first showed."
As he spoke, Neville patted at his robes and searched around. Suddenly his face fell, his voice breaking with panic.
"Trevor's gone! I've lost him again—he's always trying to run away from me!"
"Don't worry, Neville," Hermione said quickly, rushing to comfort him. She shared what she'd heard from Professor McGonagall about magical contracts between owners and pets.
"Really?" Neville sniffled, trying to believe her.
"It's true," Loren added calmly. "I think Trevor must have some Chameleon Ghoul blood in him. He's not trying to leave you—he's playing hide-and-seek."
"Finding a toad with that kind of heritage takes a bit of effort. Let's eat first, then we'll have the energy to help you find him."
In fact, Loren had already seen the invisible toad hopping right by Neville's side, dodging his grasping hands. But he decided to use this as an excuse—after all, a certain famous meeting was about to happen.
Neville and Hermione hurried through their lunch, then stared impatiently at Loren until he gave in and finished quickly.
The moment he put down his fork, Neville jumped up and hurried into the corridor, Hermione signaling Loren to follow.
As he rose, Loren leaned close to Hermione and whispered, "Trevor's right behind Neville. Put on your glasses and look."
Hermione slid them on and immediately saw the faint green outline of a toad trailing him.
"Why don't you just tell him?" she whispered, scolding Loren.
He held her back gently, murmuring, "Neville's too timid—he needs a bit of practice. This way we're helping him grow braver. And Hermione, you don't need to take the glasses off; just tap the side once to turn off magical sight but keep the danger-warning active."
Then Loren walked after Neville. Hermione hesitated, then hurried to catch up.
She followed behind as Loren guided Neville from door to door, politely knocking and asking about the missing toad. Each time they were answered, he thanked them before shutting the door.
At first, Neville's words were broken by sobs, but gradually—encouraged by Loren—his speech became smoother, his voice steadier. Soon it was Neville doing the knocking and asking, with Loren standing supportively at his back.
"It really looks like Loren wants to be Neville's friend," Hermione thought, watching with quiet admiration.
They worked their way through the carriages toward the front, then circled back to the rear. Finally, Neville knocked on a door and slid it open.
Inside were two boys. One, with red hair, held a wand whose core peeked from its frayed tip, aimed at a rat. Beside him sat a bespectacled boy, watching intently. Both turned their heads when Neville entered.
"They're here," Loren thought to himself. This was the famous moment—the first meeting of Hermione and those two hopeless boys. He wondered if, under his influence, she would still end up carrying them through their adventures. Even now, Hermione's mix of humility and confidence hadn't changed her love of helping others. To her, every act of aid was its own adventure—after all, that adventurous spirit was etched deep in her bones.
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