"Wait."
Harry spoke calmly, without arguing with Hermione.
At that very moment, a toad flew through the compartment door and landed precisely in front of Harry.
"Look," he said, pointing. "Isn't this the toad you were looking for?"
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at Harry.
The Summoning Charm was a spell only fourth-year students were taught. She had merely come across it the night before while reading out of curiosity.
"That's incredible!" Ron straightened up, genuinely impressed. "Mate, you really live up to the title of the boy who defeated the Dark Lord!"
Hermione, who had been struggling not to show her frustration, finally relaxed.
Of course. He was the saviour.
"I'll return the toad to Neville," she said quickly, picking it up. "He's frantic. Thank you, Harry. I'll be back later — I still have loads of spells I want to ask you about."
Without waiting for an answer, Hermione hurried out of the compartment.
"She's a bit terrifying, isn't she?" Ron muttered, glancing at the door with lingering unease. He couldn't explain it, but Hermione always made him feel strangely pressured.
Harry shrugged. Back when he used to pester Sebastian to teach him duelling, he had been far more irritating than Hermione ever was.
"No matter which house I end up in," Ron continued, "I just hope I'm not sorted into the same one as her. Honestly, she reminds me of Percy — only worse."
Without looking up, he tossed his wand into his trunk.
"That spell was never going to work. Just another one of George's tricks." He sighed. "When we get to school, watch out for those two. Don't believe a word they say, and definitely don't eat anything they offer you. I'm serious."
Harry nodded. The twins had even fooled their innocent, good-natured younger brother. Their sense of humour was, at best, questionable.
"Which house are they in?" Harry asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Gryffindor," Ron replied. "My parents were in Gryffindor, and all five of my brothers were sorted there too. If I don't get into Gryffindor… I don't even want to think about what they'll say." He grimaced. "Ravenclaw doesn't sound too bad, but please — anything but Slytherin."
"Why?" Harry asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Because Slytherin is full of Dark wizards," Ron answered as if it were obvious.
Harry raised an eyebrow. While it was true that many Slytherins didn't shy away from studying darker magic, the statement felt exaggerated.
Had the divide between the houses really grown that deep after a hundred years?
"Why do you think that?" Harry pressed.
"Because the Man of Slytherin was born there," Ron muttered. "And after him, nearly all Slytherins became his followers or sympathisers. You know what kind of person he was. What decent people would follow someone like that? They were Dark wizards — people who despised life itself."
Harry sighed.
Damn it. How had Slytherin become like this?
"I'm back!" Hermione's cheerful voice came from the corridor. "It took ages to find Neville, so I ended up locking the toad in his desk. What were you talking about?"
"The houses," Ron replied, forcing a smile.
Noticing his discomfort, Hermione asked with concern,
"Are you all right, Ron?"
"I was just thinking about what happens if I don't get into Gryffindor." He rested his chin on his hands. "Fred told me first-years have to pass an entrance trial to be sorted, and that in his year they had to fight trolls in groups of ten."
"But didn't you say," Harry pointed out, "that you shouldn't believe anything they tell you?"
"I know, but I asked my dad," Ron replied, looking even more uneasy. "And he said it was true — though in his year it was only five people against an eight-eyed spider. One unlucky bloke got bitten and spent a month in hospital before waking up."
Just then, a slow, arrogant voice drifted in from the doorway.
"So it's true… Harry Potter really is on this train?"
All three turned around.
Standing there was a thin boy with very pale blond hair slicked back with far too much wax, clearly trying to look older and more important than he was.
Blond hair. Grey eyes. A smug expression.
Harry recognised him instantly.
Another Malfoy.
Flanking him were two boys — one tall and bulky, the other short and thickset — both dull-looking and obviously there as muscle.
"This is Crabbe. This is Goyle," the blond boy said, gesturing toward them. "And I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."
Ron covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.
"You think my name is funny?" Draco asked coldly. "I don't need to ask who you are. Red hair, second-hand robes — a Weasley, obviously. My father says the Weasleys have far too many children to support properly."
He then turned to Harry.
"You'll soon learn that some wizarding families are far better than others, Potter. You don't want to associate with the wrong sort, do you? I can help you choose the right friends."
He held out his hand.
Harry felt his temper flare.
The arrogance reminded him of Cassandra — but Cassandra would never humiliate someone over their family.
This boy, however, seemed utterly devoid of manners.
"I think you owe him an apology," Harry said coldly. "A well-brought-up child doesn't gossip about other people's families."
"I think Harry's right," Hermione said, standing firmly beside him.
Ron's eyes reddened with emotion; he hadn't expected such fierce support from people he'd only just met.
"And who are you?" Draco sneered at Hermione.
"Hermione Granger," she replied, lifting her chin.
Draco's expression twisted into contempt.
"So you're just a Mud—"
"Shut up!" Ron leapt to his feet, wand raised. "How dare you say that word!"
Draco laughed and cast a smug glance at his cronies.
"Defending your little girlfriend, Weasley?" he mocked. "Are you sure you want to cast a spell at me? My father's on the school board. With a single word, he could have your father sacked." He smiled cruelly. "Your family can barely make ends meet as it is. What would you do then?"
The answer came in a single word:
"Leviosa!"
A beam of yellow light struck Draco, lifting him into the air and sending his head thudding into the doorframe as he floated awkwardly.
It wasn't Ron.
Nor Hermione.
It was Harry.
/------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/
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