"My wand is second-hand, so the spell didn't work!" Ron insisted defensively.
"Is that so, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione retorted, her tone dripping with skepticism. "Then perhaps you should take it back to Ollivanders for a refund."
Ron's face and ears turned as red as his hair at Hermione's taunt. He had just tried to show off, boasting that he could turn his pet rat, Scabbers, yellow. Of course, the spell had failed; it was a nonsense rhyme his older brother Fred had taught him as a joke.
Scabbers, a mangy-looking rat missing a toe, was currently burying his head in a pile of discarded snack wrappers, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was watching him with keen interest. Lucien narrowed his dark green eyes, his gaze fixed on the hairless rodent. This mouse, he knew, was the Animagus Peter Pettigrew, who had been hiding with the Weasley family for over a decade.
'Hehe' Lucien mused. You'd think the Weasleys would have questioned how a common rat could live for so many years.
His thoughts drifted in another direction. Animagus transformation was the highest achievement of modern Transfiguration, allowing a wizard to transform into an animal while retaining their magical abilities. He needed to master this knowledge and successfully perform the transformation himself within a year. Having a subject to observe would undoubtedly speed up the process. The problem was that registered Animagi were exceedingly rare. As for unregistered ones like Peter Pettigrew and Harry's father's group, they were, by definition, hidden.
Professor McGonagall was an extremely skilled Animagus, and Lucien could certainly seek her guidance. But he couldn't exactly ask to casually observe and analyze her transformation. Peter Pettigrew's pet rat, Scabbers, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. He was not only an illegal Animagus but also a traitor who had framed Sirius Black and betrayed Harry's parents. If Lucien were to use him for a few... observational experiments, who could Pettigrew possibly complain to?
Thinking of this, an unconscious smile touched Lucien's lips. He waved his wand, and a piece of pumpkin pasty floated over to Scabbers. The rat looked at the pastry, then up at Lucien. For some inexplicable reason, Lucien's kind-looking smile sent a sudden chill down Pettigrew's spine. He felt an instinctual urge to refuse the food, but he knew it would be strange for a simple rat to reject a treat. Gritting his teeth, Scabbers began to nibble at the pastry.
Harry, who had been watching Hermione and Ron bicker, noticed Lucien's casual spellcasting again. A pang of envy struck him. Though he was famous as the "Boy-Who-Lived," he had never had any formal contact with magic. He couldn't cast even the simplest of spells. Having lived with his magic-hating relatives his whole life, he had never been taught. As for self-study? The very sight of the spellbooks Hagrid had bought for him made his head spin.
He envied Hermione for her ability to learn from books. He envied Ron for growing up in a wizarding family. But most of all, he envied Lucien, who could wield magic with such effortless skill. Harry didn't understand the intricacies of magic, but seeing the awe on Neville's face earlier, he knew Lucien's abilities were far beyond their peers.
"Lucien?" Harry pushed his glasses up, leaned closer, and asked softly, "I feel like you're really good at casting spells. Did a wizard in your family teach you?"
Lucien, who was still contemplating how he might borrow Scabbers from Ron in the future, answered Harry's question absently. "Oh, no. I come from a Muggle family. I learned all these spells from books."
Lucien's light-hearted answer left Harry stunned. It also brought the argument between Hermione and Ron to an abrupt halt.
"You're a Muggle-born too!?" Hermione looked at Lucien in utter shock. His effortless spellcasting had convinced her he must be a pure-blood, or at the very least, a half-blood. But to hear that he, like her, came from a non-magical family and had learned everything from books... the disparity in their results was staggering. When she had repaired Harry's glasses, she hadn't been completely sure it would work; she had only tried out of pride after being provoked by Ron.
Beyond the shock, however, Hermione felt a new sense of closeness to Lucien. Among the four of them, Ron was a pure-blood, and Harry's parents were both wizards. She had thought she was the only one with no magical heritage. She had read about the prejudice against Muggle-borns and, with her proud nature, had refused to feel inferior, practicing for hours to barely master a single Mending Charm. Now, here was Lucien, who shared her background and had achieved so much more through the same methods. The little witch's eyes grew brighter as she looked at him, the friendliness in her gaze becoming more obvious.
Ron was simply stunned, staring at Lucien in disbelief. "You learned that yourself? Magic? You achieved that level of skill just by reading?" As the child of two pure-blood wizards, Ron had grown up surrounded by magic. He knew, better than anyone, just how impressive Lucien's Summoning Charm had been—successfully used on an unfamiliar, unseen object at a distance. If Lucien had been taught by a family member, Ron could have understood it. But to have learned it from a book? It was almost unbelievable. Ron's brothers were a dragon tamer, a Gringotts curse-breaker, and a Hogwarts prefect; he knew what "gifted" looked like. But Lucien... he was something else entirely.
Compared to Ron's complicated expression, Harry's was much simpler. He just looked at Lucien with pure admiration. He didn't understand the nuances, but he knew it was amazing that someone could master magic through self-study. He even had the urge to ask Lucien to teach him, but considering they had only just met, he suppressed the idea.
Lucien was quite satisfied with their reactions. He needed to build not only a good relationship with them but also an image of reliability and competence. That way, when they inevitably stumbled upon clues about the Philosopher's Stone, they would think to come to him for help. Making plans to get the stone was one thing; ensuring he could actually acquire it and use it to brew his potion was what truly mattered.
"Woooo-woooo!"
The shrill, loud blast of the steam whistle echoed through the train. A voice magically amplified, announced, "We will be arriving at Hogwarts shortly. Please change into your school robes."