Neville was still asking about the whereabouts of his toad when Loren, taking advantage of Trevor hopping into the compartment, quietly cast a Revealing Charm.
A toad appeared silently by the door, immediately spotted by the two young wizards watching.
"There it is!"
Harry quickly pointed Trevor out. Hearing him, Neville bent down at once, scooping the toad into his arms and clutching it tightly, relief written on his face.
"Finally found you! I was so worried you'd get lost. Don't be naughty again."
Trevor rolled his eyes in Neville's crushing grip. Hermione hurried forward, urging Neville to put him down. This time Trevor didn't even bother pretending—he vanished right before Neville's eyes.
Neville looked on the verge of tears again when Loren reached out casually and grabbed hold of the invisible Trevor. Feeling the danger, Trevor immediately reappeared and went still in Loren's hand.
"Neville, see? Trevor's here. Don't get too worked up. You nearly smothered him just now—it's no wonder he hides from you."
"What should I do, Loren?"
Neville took Trevor back carefully, asking anxiously.
"Don't worry. You and Trevor are bound by a contract. He won't ever leave you. He may vanish sometimes, but when you really need him, he'll be there. Just don't push him too hard."
As Loren spoke, he glanced over at Harry and Ron, his eyes landing on the wand in Ron's hand.
"Oh? You were about to cast a spell? Could you show us? Hermione and I are Muggle-born, and Neville here, though from a wizard family, can't really do magic yet."
At Loren's words, Neville tucked Trevor into his pocket and leaned forward eagerly, just as curious. He'd never actually seen someone his own age perform magic.
Hermione nearly rolled her eyes, but Loren hadn't lied—she and he really had only just begun with magic. Loren could already cast silently and without a wand, and she too could manage wandless spells. Clearly, Loren was trying to make new friends.
Ron basked in their eager, admiring looks, his confidence swelling. He cleared his throat, waved his wand at Scabbers, and intoned:
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
Nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray, snoring away.
"That's a spell I've never seen in any book. Must be a family spell. But with such a long incantation, no wonder it's tough to pull off."
Loren stepped in to save Ron's pride, then led Neville and Hermione to sit down in the open seats.
"I tried a few simple spells at home, but they only work sometimes."
With that, Loren flicked his wand at Harry's taped-up glasses. Twice, nothing happened. The third time, the wand sparked and Harry's glasses instantly repaired themselves, good as new.
"See? That's how it is with me. Takes a few tries before it works."
Loren showed Ron with a straight face.
"You didn't even say an incantation," Neville whispered.
"In the shows on television, the little spells are just a wave of the hand. Only powerful magic uses those long incantations."
Loren answered seriously.
Neville was left speechless. Ron, meanwhile, was baffled—what was "television"? Harry leaned closer to explain quietly, with Neville listening in, equally curious.
By the end, Ron and Neville understood Loren's earlier words. Ron, catching Loren's look of admiration again, blushed scarlet and hurried to change the subject.
"Anyway, I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Harry Potter."
The name made everyone perk up—Hermione and Neville with genuine excitement, Loren feigning it.
Neville introduced the three of them, then immediately began peppering Harry with questions, much like Ron had done before, burning with curiosity about his story.
Harry had to recount his painful past all over again, the joy of his mended glasses fading away.
Hermione, watching Neville, saw in him a reflection of herself not long ago. She was about to say something when Loren nudged her, giving her a look. She caught on quickly and followed his lead.
"Ron, Neville—do you know which house you'll be in? I read that Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, so it must be a good house."
The mention of houses snapped Harry's attention away, and he turned eagerly to Ron.
"Ron, your brothers are at Hogwarts. They must have told you."
He wanted to know everything about Hogwarts, and nothing seemed more important than Sorting.
Ron shrugged under Harry's gaze.
"All of us are Gryffindor. I reckon I will be too. Gryffindors are brave and stand up against evil."
"My parents were Gryffindor as well," Neville added quietly. "But I don't think I'll make it. I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff. I'm too timid."
"Hufflepuff is a fine house. Most of the Ministry officials come from there, I think."
Loren reassured him.
"Did your brothers tell you how Sorting works?" Harry pressed, and Hermione leaned in too. She hadn't found the answer in Hogwarts: A History, and no one in Diagon Alley would say—only that there was a ceremony.
"My brother told me you face a dangerous magical creature, and depending on how you handle it, that's how you're Sorted."
The thought made Ron shiver.
It was tradition—every wizard who knew the truth about Sorting never told the younger ones, always inventing some terrifying trial to scare them. If they'd suffered the rain, then they made sure the next generation had to stand out in the storm—and maybe poured a little extra water for good measure.
Neville shared his great-uncle's version, another dreadful tale.
Harry and Ron both shook with nerves. Hermione, though, wasn't fooled. Thanks to Loren, she knew better—there'd be a Sorting, but nothing so awful.
The conversation died into a tense silence until the door suddenly slammed open.
"So it's true? The whole train's talking—Harry Potter's in this compartment. That's you, isn't it?"
Three boys entered, the pale-faced one in front flanked by two large, thuggish companions.
"Yes."
Harry stood to answer.
"Oh, these are Crabbe and Goyle," the pale boy said carelessly, catching Harry's glance. "I'm Draco Malfoy."
Ron coughed lightly to hide a laugh.
Draco noticed, his eyes narrowing. He looked around the crowded compartment, then sneered at Ron.
"Look what we've got here. Red hair, freckles—clearly a Weasley. Too many children for the family to afford."
His eyes shifted to Neville.
"And a crybaby only Hufflepuff would bother with."
Then to Loren and Hermione.
"Two filthy Mudbloods."
Finally, he turned on Harry.
"You'll soon learn the difference between noble pure-bloods and the rest. You don't want to make friends with the wrong sort, Potter. I can help you with that."
He extended his hand.
Harry hadn't reacted yet when Neville shot to his feet, face burning red.
"Malfoy, I won't let you insult my friends like that! You apologize right now, or you'll answer to me!"
"Oh, the crybaby Longbottom. What will you do? You're useless. All you can do is hide and cry."
Draco sneered, dismissing Neville.
Neville was steaming, ready to push past Ron and swing at him.
Before he could, Loren intervened, pressing him back down.
"Don't let him get to you, Neville. Anger only punishes yourself. Sit down."
Neville sank back into his seat under Loren's hand. All eyes turned to Loren, waiting to see what he would do next.
Loren, feeling the attention, didn't lash out at Malfoy. Instead, he turned to calm the others.
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